Operation Prince Charming

by Phyllis Bourne

  He was early, she thought, taking in the slim black jeans and gray silk T-shirt. She wanted to run her hands over the ultrasmooth fabric of his shirt and feel the hard body beneath it.

  “I could have used your help today over at my grandma’s old place,” he said.

  Genuinely happy to see him, she smiled before she could stop herself and began climbing down the ladder. “Sorry, but Sandy already has dibs on me. I’m helping her install a new kitchen faucet tomorrow.”

  He walked over to steady the ladder and she found herself dangerously close to him by the time her foot touched the bottom rung.

  An easy grin spread over his face, his white smile contrasting against his smooth brown skin. She breathed in his shower-fresh scent and willed her knees not to go limp.

  Ali cleared her throat. “So, how is that project coming along? You were redoing the kitchen, right?” Still her voice sounded unnaturally high, as if she’d taken a hit from a helium balloon.

  Hunter released the sides of the ladder and took a step back, giving her some much-needed space. “No, the kitchen’s complete. I’m working on the dining room walls.”

  Ali walked over to the wall switch. She’d already checked the motor on the new fan, but wanted to see the blades in action. She flicked on the switch, and they began to rotate.

  “Feels cooler in here already,” Hunter said, looking up at it.

  “Give me a moment to ditch this tool belt, and we can get started with your lesson,” she said. “But first I want to hear all about last night.”

  Hunter’s brow creased. “Last night?”

  Ali unbuckled her tool belt as she walked out of her aunt’s office. “Your big opera date? I hope it wasn’t that unmemorable.”

  He followed her down the corridor. “Oh, it was great.”

  “Did you get to show off your quickie opera crash course for Erica?”

  His girlfriend’s name felt awkward on her lips, but Ali had said it on purpose. It reminded her Hunter was in a relationship. There was little chance Erica or any woman would let a man like him go.

  Ali stole a glance at him. Hunter was forbidden fruit. But that was the problem with something forbidden. It made you crave it even more.

  “Yeah, Erica noticed,” Hunter replied. His tone was dry and he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he changed the subject. “Enjolique Redmond was everything you said and more. I couldn’t believe all that voice was coming out of her petite body,” he said, sounding like himself again.

  “I know,” Ali said. “I have a few of her CDs. You can borrow them if you’d like.”

  Hunter nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good, I’ll make sure to have them with me when you come in for your next lesson.”

  “My last one.”

  Ali felt a lump of disappointment lodge in her chest. She’d known he’d only one lesson left. So, why did she feel almost blindsided?

  She should be celebrating.

  After all, she’d wanted to get his class over with as quickly as possible to put an end to this attraction she had to him. An attraction that seemed to intensify the more she got to know him.

  “I know we haven’t even started this one, but what’s my last lesson on?” Hunter asked.

  “How’s your dancing?”

  “I don’t dance. Don’t know how,” he said.

  “You will after your last lesson.”

  They turned into the room where Ali conducted lessons.

  “Feels nice in here.”

  Ali inclined her heard toward the new portable air-conditioning unit, courtesy of the fat fee Erica had paid the school for Hunter’s classes.

  Guilt pricked Ali’s conscience. The moment Hunter was in eyesight, she went from competent professional to a high school freshman with a crush on the captain of the football team.

  Her thoughts drifted to her former best friend. Was this how Kay had felt about Brian? Had she been so overwhelmed by her attraction to Brian, she hadn’t been able to stop herself?

  No, Ali thought. There was no justification for what Kay had done to her, just as Ali couldn’t continue to rationalize standing around drooling over another woman’s man.

  She wasn’t on a date with Hunter. It was time she acted like the professional she was and did her damn job.

  Ali stiffened her backbone and squared her shoulders, before facing him.

  “I think we’ve had enough small talk this evening,” she said in her very best all-business voice. “Let’s get to work on those manners of yours.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Hunter replayed yesterday evening in his head for the hundredth time. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what he’d said to make Ali change right in front of him.

  How could a simple comment about a new air conditioner make her go from warm and friendly to ice cold in seconds?

  He shifted in the hard, plastic chair as the commander’s voice droned on in the background, basically repeating what they already knew.

  The bottom line was the mayor had taken a bite out of the police chief’s ass. The chief had taken a bite out of the commander’s ass. And if the pinched look on the lieutenant’s face was any indication, the commander had chomped on his.

  Hunter had no doubt, if the shit kept making its downward spiral, he and the rest of the precinct’s detectives would be missing sizeable chunks from their own behinds by the time the meeting ended.

  What they needed was a break on this burglary case, he thought.

  The guy had hit two more houses today. He and Pete had spent all day canvassing another new subdivision talking to victims, neighbors, construction and utility workers, but nobody had seen anything out of the ordinary.

  Pete’s chin dropped to his chest, and Hunter threw him an elbow to wake him.

  “I miss anything?” Pete whispered groggily.

  Hunter shook his head. Their commander, known for loving the sound of his own voice, continued talking. The monotone drone allowed Hunter’s thoughts to once again drift.

  Only this time he didn’t think about last night’s lesson on first impressions and party conduct. He thought about afterward, long after they’d said good night.

  Ali had invaded his dreams. Erotic dreams where she’d dropped not only her guard with him, but her clothes and her inhibitions. He’d made love to dream Ali until his buzzing alarm clock had yanked her out of his bed.

  Now he yearned for the real thing.

  “Coleman. Bishop.” Hunter heard his sergeant bark out his name, and straightened in his seat.

  “Yes, sir,” he and Bishop said in unison.

  “You two mind snapping out of it and joining the rest of us or is there something more interesting in space?”

  The sergeant didn’t wait for an answer. “Coleman, fill the commander in again on what we know about these burglaries.”

  Hunter cleared his throat. “Sir, our suspect is bold. He or she walks right up to the residence in broad daylight and uses a crowbar on the front door. The homes so far have all had recessed entries so no one would be able to see anything unless they were looking straight on at the house. He’s also fast,” Hunter said. “And he always hits the master bedroom.”

  A few detectives nodded. Like Hunter, they knew most people stashed valuables in their bedrooms, making it the first place a thief looked.

  “Sometimes he’ll go for home offices and studies,” Hunter continued. “Our suspect takes cash and expensive jewelry only, leaving behind the larger, big-ticket items. We estimate he’s in and out in fifteen minutes, maybe less, leaving behind no fingerprints or clues.”

  “Witnesses?” the commander asked.

  Hunter shook his head. “He sticks to new subdivisions in which the houses are in various stages of construction. Most of the victims don’t even have neighbors yet,” he said. “Also, because of the construction, there are all kinds of people in and out of the neighborhood all day long.”

  The commander nodded. “You guys stay on it. Meanwhile,
I’m going to pull you some extra manpower from North Precinct,” he said. “The mayor’s office is fielding a lot of calls from nervous residents. So we need to find this guy and close these open cases.”

  The meeting ended about an hour after their shift, and Hunter and Pete made their way to the parking lot. “You got time for a beer?” Hunter asked.

  Pete shook his head. “Headed to the ball field. Pete Jr.’s game is this evening.” He looked at his wristwatch. “Started about the time the commander was getting his second wind.”

  Pete let out a huge yawn. “You’re coming, right?”

  Hunter remembered promising the kid he’d be there. “I’ll meet you at the park.”

  First, he was going by the Spencer School, where he planned to ask Ali straight out about her sudden coolness toward him during their lesson. Hunter put his car in gear and turned out of the precinct lot. He would get to the bottom of it, all right, he thought.

  He braked at a stop sign, and the reality of the situation hit him. What right did he have to barge into her office and demand to know where he stood with her?

  Ali was being paid to coach him on etiquette, which left them acquaintances at best. Even though deep down it was beginning to feel like so much more.

  He made a left turn in the opposite direction of Ali’s school and headed for the ball field.

  Talking to Ali should be the last thing on his mind. He should be more concerned with Erica and the status of his real relationship. Although more and more it seemed as though he and Erica didn’t have much of a relationship anymore.

  Hunter found a parking space near the ball field. He stayed in his car a few moments before pulling out his cell phone and calling Erica.

  He got her voice mail, again.

  He snapped his phone shut without leaving a message. He’d track her down later. Meanwhile, except for his last class, he intended to keep as far away from Ali Spencer as possible.

  “Pete owes me five bucks.”

  Ali watched as Sandy flipped the single handle of her new faucet on and off. Her face beamed like that of a kid tearing through a stack of birthday presents. “He insisted there was no way I’d crawl under the sink to install this baby.” She ran a hand over the smooth brushed nickel. “Just wait until he sees it.”

  Finding Sandy’s enthusiasm contagious, Ali couldn’t help laughing. “You did a great job.”

  “Me?” Sandy said. “There was no way I would have figured it out without your help. Pete’s been so busy working those burglary cases, who knows when he would have had time to install it? So, thank you, Ali.”

  They both jumped at the rumbling noise coming from the other end of the house. Sandy abandoned her new faucet and planted both hands on her hips. “Boys! Do I need to come in there?” she shouted in the direction of the melee.

  “Noooo,” a chorus of little boy voices singsonged in reply.

  Sandy turned back to Ali. “Now, where were we?”

  “I was explaining that helping with the faucet was the least I could do after showing up for dinner uninvited the other night.” Ali placed her basin wrench back into the pink and green toolbox her father had given her a few Christmases ago.

  “You know that wasn’t a problem. You’re welcome anytime,” Sandy said. “You got time for a cup of coffee?”

  Ali hesitated a moment before accepting the offer. Sandy was the closest thing she’d had to a friend in a while. Her young students’ mothers had made friendly overtures toward her over the last few months, but Ali had always refused their polite invitations.

  However, mall-walking with Sandy the other day had shown Ali just how much she missed having girlfriends.

  Ali took a seat at the kitchen table while Sandy rummaged around in a cabinet. She glanced at the stainless steel refrigerator, covered in children’s artwork and fingerprints, and found herself hit with an unexpected wave of longing.

  Every time she’d brought up the topic of kids with her then-husband, Brian, he would put her off or change the subject. The next day or so afterward, he’d come home with some big surprise: a two-seater sports car or a tropical vacation; things designed for couples and not families.

  Then he’d lost his job as a local television weatherman and their lives began a downward spiral.

  “Dang it, we’re out of coffee,” Sandy said. “How about some sweet tea?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Sandy pulled a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and poured them both a tall glass. “An etiquette teacher who’s good with tools makes you quite the Renaissance woman,” she said. “Hunter mentioned your aunt owns the school, but how did you learn to be so handy?”

  “My dad’s a plumber. He took me wherever he went, and I picked it up along the way.”

  “Well, you’re really good at it. Hunter said you were a patient teacher, but I saw it for myself today.”

  Ali thanked her, but was more interested in the fact that Hunter had been talking about her with his friends. She so wanted to ask Sandy what else he’d said about her, but she realized how juvenile it would sound.

  I like Hunter. Does Hunter like me? What did he say about me?

  She hadn’t been that silly even back in high school. Besides, hadn’t she already decided to put him out of her head? They had one more session together. Then she’d deliver his girlfriend the Prince Charming she’d paid for, and the two of them could live happily ever after.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it?” Sandy asked, pulling Ali out of her thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, considered what?”

  “Teaching do-it-yourself, or even better, do-it-herself, classes?”

  “Not really,” Ali said. She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Right now, the school is struggling, and I’ve got my hands full trying to keep it afloat.”

  When she’d first come to Nashville, she’d only wanted to keep the place going because it was important to her aunt. However, spending countless hours in the building her ancestors had put their hearts and sweat into had made the school, that bore their name, important to her too.

  “How can I help?” Sandy asked.

  Ali shrugged and took a sip of tea. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve tried almost everything I can think of—”

  “Mom,” a voice interrupted.

  Ali looked up to see Sandy’s sons standing at the kitchen entryway, one dressed in a baseball uniform.

  “Coach says he wants us there early.”

  Sandy looked at her wristwatch. “Your game. I almost forgot.”

  Her son rolled his eyes. “How could you forget the game?”

  Ali rose from her chair. “I’d better get going. Thanks for the tea.”

  “Hey, are you free in the morning?” Sandy asked. “The boys all have school. We can meet for coffee and brainstorm some ideas.”

  “I’d like that,” Ali said. It would be nice to talk more about it with someone before broaching the possibility of having to close the school to her aunt.

  “In the meantime, why don’t you come with us?” Sandy asked.

  “No, I—”

  “Oh, come on,” Sandy coaxed. “You can keep me company.” Picking up on her hesitance, she added, “The park is a few blocks away. The walk will do us good.”

  Late afternoon sunshine and the scent of fresh-cut grass buoyed Ali’s mood as she walked the five blocks to the neighborhood ball field. She took in the pops of color of the spring tulips and daffodils in the well-tended yards.

  Neighbors waved in greeting as they walked past older but well-maintained homes.

  Initially, Ali felt uncomfortable waving back, but after a few times her unease dissipated. Having lived in a condo for years and now an apartment, she’d forgotten how welcoming a real community felt.

  The boys kept about a half block ahead of them, but waited on their mother’s permission to cross the street.

  “Hold your little brother’s hand,” Sandy called out to the older two.

&n
bsp; An hour later, Ali was seated next to Sandy in the bleachers. Another mother with boys the same age as Sandy’s had taken the younger boys off to play in the playground across the road from the ball field.

  Sandy glanced at her wristwatch. “I wonder what’s keeping Pete.” She bit her bottom lip as she looked at the pint-sized ballplayers. “Pete Jr. will be up to bat again. I know he doesn’t want to miss him.”

  “Is that him?” Ali pointed to a hulking figure headed toward the stands.

  A huge grin spread across Sandy’s face as she spotted her husband. She stood up and waved her arms. “Pete, over here.”

  Pete greeted Ali before squeezing his big body on the other side of his wife. “How’s my boy doing?”

  “Our boy has struck out twice, but he’s up at the top of the next inning,” Sandy said.

  Pete’s cell phone chirped, and he typed in a text message. “Hunter’s here,” he said. “I was just letting him know where we’re sitting.”

  Ali’s ears perked up at hearing Hunter’s name, and she tried to ignore the jolt of anticipation. Still, her heart turned a tiny backflip as she watched him climb the bleachers.

  She knew the moment he’d spotted her, because he’d stopped and his dark eyes widened. He recovered quickly, his face an impassive mask, as he stood at the end of their row. He eyed the tight seating and looked to the rows behind them.

  “We can make room,” Sandy said. She and Pete moved closer together, and she gestured to Ali to shift toward her.

  Ali heard him sigh as he sat down next to her. They’d just seen each other last evening, so how come she felt awkward simply sitting by him? And he appeared to be just as uneasy.

  Their thighs touched. Ali’s skin tingled through her capri pants, and the still air around them sizzled with electricity. She stole a sideways glance to see if he’d felt it too and found him studying her intently.

  Their gazes locked, and she watched his eyes drop down to her lips.

  “Come on, Pete Jr.,” Sandy cheered.

  Ali abruptly turned away from Hunter, breaking the pull of his magnetic gaze. How many times did she have to remind herself to stop lusting after him? Every day she gave herself the same scolding, which seemed to go in one ear and fly out of the other.