Bad Girls Don't

by Linz, Cathie

  Nathan wasn’t sure what he knew “damn well” anymore. Not when he was around Skye. And he hated that. Hated being at a disadvantage. Hated being anything but rock solid.

  He could feel small fissures forming in the shell he’d carefully constructed these past years. Not acceptable.

  “Do you need me to be kick-ass before you’ll answer my question?” Nathan demanded.

  “Which question was that?” Skye countered. “What, exactly, is Milton accusing me of?”

  “Why don’t you just tell me your side of the story?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

  She gave him a look.

  Nathan sighed. “Why are you so determined to make things difficult?”

  “Me? It’s you who is making life difficult. I’ll bet you never meditate, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I can tell.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “You shouldn’t be. You’ll live longer if you meditate. It’s a great stress reliever.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to live longer.”

  “Ah.”>

  Now her expression turned speculative, as if he were a puzzle she was intent on figuring out. Well, good luck with that. Because there was no way in hell he was going to let her get to know him well enough to do that. He couldn’t figure himself out, so there was no way a flaky belly dancer who could kiss like an angel—a Victoria’s Secret angel—could decipher him.

  She was smart enough not to ask him why he didn’t want to live longer. Not that he would have told her.

  She was wearing black shorts that showed off her great legs and a cropped tie-dyed T-shirt that showed off her midriff and naval ring.

  “You need a drink,” she suddenly announced, then yanked him inside.

  He felt as if he’d stepped inside a circus trailer. Color was splashed everywhere—the walls, the rugs, the mounds of pillows scattered all over. Reds, oranges, yellows.

  Not that the place was cluttered. On the contrary. Not much furniture, but what was there was memorable.

  He recognized the round red couch and worn orange recliner as rejects from the Sisters of the Poor Charity Thrift Shop. And he was pretty sure that his buddy Cole had sold that ugly brass floor lamp at his last garage sale for a buck.

  “Here.” She handed him a mug filled with liquid.

  He sniffed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

  “Arsenic tea.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s organic green tea.”

  “I don’t drink tea.”

  “You only drink that thick, dark sludge at the police station that you call coffee, huh?”

  “Black, no sugar, no milk.”

  “Right. Because you’re a guy from Nebraska. A hunky side of beef from the cornfields.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Hunky?”

  “Who wears tighty-whities. Am I right?”

  Nathan mentally counted to ten. He could practically feel the steam pouring out of his ears. Normally, he was a very controlled guy, but she had an uncanny way of getting to him.

  “Come on. You can tell me,” she coaxed.

  “No.” His jaw was clenched so tightly he could barely speak. “I can’t.”

  “You’re not blushing, are you?”

  He narrowed his eyes and put his war face on. “Enough of this. Is it your claim that Owen gave you the winning lottery ticket?”

  “It’s not a claim, it’s the truth.”

  “Fine.” He slapped the notebook shut. “If you don’t want to cooperate with this investigation, I’ll note that in my report.”

  “You do that.” She took a sip of the tea she’d poured for him. “What report is that? The one on me? It must be getting pretty thick by now.”

  “And that pleases you, doesn’t it?”

  She shrugged and took another sip.

  The tea left her lips damp and made him want to kiss her again. Her gaze caught his. The air between them radiated sex.

  “Back off, mean man!” a voice barked.

  It took Nathan a second to realize that the person with the pipes of a Paris Island Marine Corps drill instructor was none other than Skye’s half-pint daughter. She bared her teeth at him. The kid, not Skye.

  “It’s okay.” Skye smoothed her daughter’s hair back, inadvertently tilting the little girl’s tiara even more. “I thought you were sleeping.”

  What kind of mom had their kid sleeping in a tiara and a tutu with tights?

  “I heard voices.”

  “Want some tea?” Skye offered her mug to the little girl, who drank while eyeing him suspiciously. She handed the tea back to her mother before ordering, “Make him go away.”

  “I was just leaving,” Nathan muttered. He never muttered. Until he’d met Skye.

  “My name is Toni and I don’t want you bullying my mommy,” Toni told him, hands on her tiny hips. “You do that again and she’ll turn you into a toad. She’s got a spinning wheel just like Sleeping Beauty. Sleeping Beauty wasn’t just a princess. She had a business empire. Tell him, Mommy.”

  “I don’t think he wants to hear a fairy-tale.”

  “Is he a troll?”

  “No.” Skye shook her head. “He’s an authority figure.”

  “We don’t like those, right?”

  Skye nodded. “We question their authority, yes.”

  Nathan couldn’t let that one pass. “That’s a nice lesson to teach a kid.”

  “Toni and I learn from each other.”

  “So, how does that work? You learn tantrums from her and she learns bad behavior from you?”

  “Don’t insult my kid.” Skye’s face reflected her anger.

  Toni jumped up and down in excitement, the tiara flying right off her head. “Get him, Mommy. Get him! Turn him into a toad!”

  “He’s already a toad,” Skye said.

  Toni paused to stare at him. “No, he’s not. Toads look like mean frogs. He still looks like a mean man. I bite,” Toni warned Nathan.

  “So do I,” he growled right back at her.

  Great. Now he was in a pissing contest with a little kid. Real mature. Real professional.

  He had to get out of there. Before making an even bigger idiot of himself than he’d already done.

  As Nathan slammed the door on his way out, he heard the sexy mother and her undisciplined kid giggling. At him. The supposed authority figure. Too bad the only thing he seemed to be an authority on lately was losing control. That had to stop.

  “Did you arrest her?” Milton was waiting at the sheriff ’s station early the next morning, pouncing on him the instant Nathan entered the front door.

  “No.” Nathan hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and he wasn’t in the best of moods by a long shot. He should have used the employees’ back entrance, but he hadn’t been thinking straight.

  “You didn’t arrest her?” Milton was furious. “Why not?”

  “Because she didn’t commit a crime.”

  “She stole that lottery ticket!”

  “Not according to Owen. It was his ticket. He could do what he wanted with it. And he wanted to give it to her. In fact, he alleges that she bought the ticket in the first place as a gift for him.”

  Milton trailed Nathan into his office, ignoring protests by Celeste. “And you believed that?”

  “Why would your uncle lie?”

  “To protect her.”

  Nathan sank into his office chair and waved the fluttering Celeste away, his look intended to reassure her that he could handle this himself. “Please close the door on your way out, Celeste.”

  She slammed it.

  Great. Now he’d have to soothe her ruffled feathers. Later. One drama at a time. “What’s your interest in all this, Milton?”

  “I’m just trying to protect my uncle, that’s all.”

  The door opened and Owen joined them, waved in by a militant-looking Celeste. She didn’t approve of guests entering
his office without her first announcing them, so she said, “Owen Dunback to see you, Sheriff.”

  “Thanks, Celeste, I can handle this. If you’d just close the door again, please?”

  She didn’t slam it quite so hard this time.

  Owen faced his nephew. “What are you doing, Milton?”

  “As I just told the sheriff, I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “By telling people I’m getting senile? Or by besmirching Skye’s reputation?”

  “Her reputation was bad before I said anything,” Milton said stiffly. “Before she even came here.”

  Owen glared at his nephew. “Just give it up, Milton. I’m warning you, I don’t want you spreading these vicious rumors about Skye. Or about me, for that matter. I’m no more senile than you are. In fact, I’d wager I’ve got my act together more than you do. I’m not the one who still sleeps with a night-light.”

  Milton’s expression instantly turned defensive. “My parents scarred me for life when they took me to see Poltergeist.”

  “Get over it,” Owen retorted. “And get over the idea that any of my money is coming your way. Or your wife Robin’s way. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Since my parents’ deaths, we’re your only next of kin.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Now stop wasting the sheriff ’s valuable time with this nonsense.”

  Milton’s face turned beet red before he pivoted, yanked open the door, and marched out, reminding Nathan of a pissed-off rooster.

  “I’d like a word with you,” Owen said to Nathan.

  Nathan nodded toward the still-open office door.

  Owen closed it and then sat down. “Did you speak to Skye about this situation?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She wasn’t real cooperative.”

  “Why should she be? You were as good as accusing her of lying and stealing. Despite the fact that I’d already given you all the relevant information, you insisted on going to see her. I told you it wasn’t a good idea. Young people.” Owen shook his head. “They just don’t listen.”

  “Did Skye come complaining to you after my visit?”

  Owen stared at him in astonishment. “Are you kidding? You don’t think Skye is capable of fighting her own battles?”

  “Her kid bites.”

  “I know. Did she get you?”

  “No.” Nathan shifted some papers on his desk. “Where’s the little girl’s dad?”

  “I don’t know. Skye never talks about him. Why did you want to know?”

  “Because she seems to be raising her kid without much discipline.”

  “I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” Owen warned him. “Skye is very touchy about the subject of her daughter.”

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “I really don’t know why you two got off on such bad footing. Might have had something to do with your handcuffing her and hauling her off to jail.”

  “I didn’t haul her and she wasn’t in jail. She was here in my office.”

  “Skye has a thing against authority figures.”

  “Yeah, I got that, too.”

  “I’m sorry that my irritating nephew created a problem. I can assure you that there is nothing the least bit shady about my giving Skye that ticket.”

  “Not many people would hand over a million dollars to someone.”

  Owen shrugged. “I have more money than I need. She doesn’t. But she has a dream.”

  “To buy the Tivoli Theater.”

  “She told you?” Owen was clearly surprised.

  “Yeah, she mentioned it.”

  “Skye isn’t one to share her dreams.”

  “She’s not exactly the shy sort.”

  “True, but still . . . When did she tell you about the theater?”

  “I bumped into her on the street the other night,” Nathan admitted. “It must have been shortly after you gave her the ticket. She seemed pretty excited. She was dancing down the sidewalk.”

  Owen smiled. “Sister Mary says Skye creates a joyful noise wherever she goes.”

  “Must be caused by those bells on her belly-dancing costume,” Nathan noted.

  “Was she wearing that when you bumped into her?”

  “No.”

  “Then her costume didn’t cause the joyful noise. It’s her. Skye is something special. I wish you could see that.”

  Nathan could see that. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

  “I’ve gathered you all here today to share some good news.” Skye looked out at the expectant faces of her friends—Sue Ellen, Lulu, Sister Mary, Nancy, and Algee. They were all gathered in her living room. “You may have heard some rumors—”

  “I didn’t believe them,” Sue Ellen stated vehemently.

  “They’re true,” Skye said.

  “You seduced Owen?” Sue Ellen’s lipstick-laden lips curled in an eeeyuw expression.

  “No, that part isn’t true,” Skye said quickly. “The part about the million-dollar winning lottery ticket is true.”

  “And you had us come here because you’re going to share your winnings with us?” Lulu looked hopeful.

  “No. I’m going to buy the Tivoli Theater and reopen it,” Skye announced.

  The room was totally silent.

  “Back up a minute,” Nancy said. “How did you get a million-dollar lottery ticket? I didn’t know you gambled.”

  “I don’t,” Skye admitted. “But you know how Owen loves the lottery. So I got him a couple of instant-winner cards. As a thank-you for him paying off my traffic tickets.”

  Nancy frowned. Clearly, this was news to her. “He paid off your tickets?”

  “Yes. But I’m going to pay him back from my winnings,” Skye quickly assured her.

  “So, when you found it was an instant winner, you took the lottery ticket back?”

  “He gave it back to me,” Skye explained.

  “Yeah.” Nancy nodded. “That’s what Owen said earlier today.”

  “You mean, you already knew I’d won?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Then why didn’t any of you say anything before this?”

  Sister Mary shrugged. “You said you had something important to tell us. We all figured we’d let you say whatever that was.”

  Sue Ellen stood and placed her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything before this.”

  “It only happened two nights ago.”

  “What if I’d been hit by a bus, huh? What then?” Sue Ellen paused a moment to milk the most drama. “I’d have died not knowing you’d won a million dollars.”

  Algee spoke for the first time. “Did you say you were buying the Tivoli Theater?”

  Skye nodded. “That’s right. I sealed the deal this morning with the realtor. Well, once I get the lottery money, the deal will be sealed.”

  “Sealed the deal?” Sue Ellen placed the back of her hand on Skye’s forehead. “Are you running a fever? This doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  Skye laughed. “I’m fine.”

  “What are you going to do about the rumors that Milton is spreading around town?” Lulu asked. “Want me to TP the front of his tax accounting office with a few rolls of Charmin?”

  “I could have a word with him,” Algee offered, flexing his impressive biceps. “Put the fear of God into him.”

  “That’s something I’m good at as well,” Sister Mary said. “Maybe it would be better if I spoke to him.”

  “He’s a born-again evangelical Baptist,” Nancy said. “He’s not going to listen to a nun. I know some guys. They used to run a chop shop. Not that I get auto parts from them, but . . . I could ask them to have a word with Milton.”

  Sister Mary gave her younger sibling a disapproving look. “Mobsters are not the answer.”

  Nancy looked defensive. “Yeah, that’s what you told me when I hooked up with Anthony in Vegas.”

  “And I was right.”

  “I don’t
care what Milton says,” Skye stated.

  “Is that another bad-girl trait?” Nancy asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still going to give your belly-dancing lessons?” Nancy said.

  Skye was surprised by the question. “Of course. I’m going to honor all my obligations.”

  “That doesn’t sound very bad-girl to me,” Lulu said.

  “Frankly, I need the money,” Skye replied. “I won’t get the lottery payout for a few weeks yet.”

  “Oh.” Lulu nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Besides, the football team is counting on you, especially Brad the kicker. Their season begins soon.”

  “The other day you said you didn’t care about any of that.”

  Lulu shrugged. “I was just stating a fact. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Winning a million dollars is a big deal,” Sue Ellen said.

  “So is buying a theater,” Sister Mary said.

  “Thanks for not telling me I’m out of my mind.”

  “Would it make any difference to tell you that?” Sister Mary asked.

  “No,” Skye admitted.

  Sister Mary smiled, one of those saintly nun smiles she was so good at. “Then what’s the point?”

  Skye felt a twinge of guilt. Okay, more than a twinge. “If I were a better person, I’d have donated the money to the Sisters of the Poor.”

  Sister Mary patted her arm reassuringly. “Owen has been more than generous toward our charitable endeavors.”

  “I told him he should have donated the money to you instead of giving it to me.” The words were out before Skye could stop them.

  Lulu shook her head at Skye. “That really doesn’t sound very bad-girl at all. Keep talking like that, and your reputation will be totally ruined.”

  “Milton is doing his best to ruin my reputation already. He sent the sheriff over here last night to interrogate me.”

  “The sheriff? Did he bring handcuffs?” Sue Ellen had an eager light in her blue eyes. “Or a whip?”

  Skye cracked up. “No, he did not.”

  “Not that I’d know anything about either of those two things,” Sue Ellen hastily assured Sister Mary. “Or where to order them on the Internet.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Sister Mary leaned over and opened it. “Ah, Nate. Come on in. We were just talking about you.”