To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  Wyatt turned and was struck again by Piper Darrow’s flesh. The shy photographer was fucking gorgeous. He repeated his quick inspection of her curves before moving to her face. No hardship there. High cheekbones and full lips. Pale, flawless skin. He squinted, searching for the expected fallout from her broken nose and winced at the slight swelling marring the bridge. However, she’d done a masterful job of concealing any bruising beneath her cat-shaped eyes. Light in color, they were either blue or green. He couldn’t tell from this distance, but he’d damn well be finding out.

  Either by accident of fate or serendipity, she’d been instrumental yesterday in turning a sure defeat into a spectacular come-from-behind victory. As soon as the post-game interviews were done, he’d set about learning her identity and tracking her down. He’d intended only to thank her by picking up her hospital tab, but she’d hung up before he could explain his reason for calling.

  His fault for teasing her the way he had, and a lucky break as it turned out. The Marauders had apparently stepped in to take care of her medical expenses, leaving Wyatt to find some other way to make up for her broken nose. Now that he’d gotten a look at her… Anticipation thrummed in his veins as his mind supplied a few enticing possibilities.

  According to his source in the front office, Piper would be heading home to England within a day or two of tonight’s event. Unacceptable. He’d need a lot more time than that if he was going to thank her properly. With the season underway, non-business travel was temporarily out of the question until the team’s bye in a couple of weeks. He wasn’t free to follow her to her home turf, and preferred to seduce her on his, anyway. Which meant he’d have to convince her to extend her visit. After all, there were many forces in the world, and the one that had delivered the hot photographer into his was a force he didn’t plan to ignore.

  “Introduce me. I need to talk to her.”

  Tuck laughed and drew his attention. “I know that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The look that says you’ve discovered your newest lucky charm.”

  Damned right, he had. Wyatt shrugged. “You’ve got to admit, the game took a miraculous turn immediately after she got hit.”

  Tuck’s smile was smug. “Nothing miraculous there, buddy. Just the sweet combination of Grover’s dirty hit, my superior speed, and your mediocre passing abilities.”

  “Blow me.”

  Tuck laughed, then shook his head. “Asking V out every week was one thing. What are you going to do? Convince Piper to let you break her nose every week for the rest of the season?”

  Wyatt curled his lips in a toothy leer. “What? You don’t think she’d agree?”

  “Not a chance, asshole.”

  “You’re probably right.” Wyatt chuckled. “I’ll just have to charm her into showing up on the sideline as my personal guest.”

  “For the next five months? That might be a problem. She’s heading back to England in a couple of days.”

  Wyatt let his gaze linger on her face. “Not if I can help it.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Tuck heaved a happy sigh. “I hate to see you crash and burn, my friend.”

  “Why would I...” Disappointment washed through Wyatt as he spun his head back around. “Shit. She’s married.” He’d never been saddled with a bunch of self-inflicted restrictions when it came to women, but he did have a couple hard and fast rules. At the top of his list was no poaching.

  “She’s as single as they come.”

  Wyatt studied Tuck’s provocative smile and winced. “Please tell me she’s not another of your relatives.” Wyatt wouldn’t be surprised. The Tucker clan seemed to have an overactive babe gene. Since another of his unbreakable rules was to steer clear of his friends’ female relatives, the Tucker women were off-limits.

  Tuck shook his head and grinned. “No relation. CC and Piper met when they were kids. They’re friends.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” The level of relief gushing through Wyatt surprised him.

  “Piper doesn’t like athletes. And I mean, she really doesn’t like them.” A dimple popped in Tuck’s cheek. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  Wyatt frowned. Well, shit. He’d attributed her coolness during their short phone conversation to shyness or a natural reserve but, apparently, something more personal was in play. A definite problem, but not an insurmountable one.

  “Never mind. I’ll introduce myself.” He headed for the other side of the room.

  Tuck hurried after him, laughing like an ass. “I’ve got a C-note that says she’ll...”

  Wyatt held up a hand. “I’m not betting with you on this one.”

  “Oh, ho. He’s serious.”

  Wyatt snorted. Fuck yeah, he was. He didn’t screw around when it came to winning games or hot redheads. He sent his friend a sidelong sneer. “How do you think CC will react when I tell her you tried to place a bet on her friend?”

  Tuck’s step briefly faltered before he caught up once more. He grumbled beneath his breath, “Low blow.”

  Wyatt smiled smugly and set a course for his gorgeous lucky charm. Reaching her proved impossible, however. Slowed by the press of bodies attending tonight’s fundraiser, he spent the next three hours tracking her movements as he greeted the guests and dignitaries in attendance and glad-handed the deep-pocketed patrons. Much to his frustration, each time he managed to close in on her, she headed in the opposite direction. In fact, the one time he managed to make eye contact with her, she skittered into the crowd like a rabbit dodging the wolf.

  When the evening finally came to a close, she was nowhere to be found. It was the damnedest thing but, apparently, Tuck was right. Wyatt’s lucky charm had done her best to avoid him and, tonight at least, she’d succeeded.

  Frustration jabbed him in the gut as he slipped out of the gallery through the loading bay at the back of the building. Behind the large window of the security office, the guard bumped his chin in greeting and cued the large rolling door. Wyatt waved and keyed the remote on his Aston Martin DB11. A deep-throated rumble echoed through the cavernous bay.

  With a determined grin, he slid into the driver’s seat, revved the engine, then merged into traffic on the busy avenue. His redheaded rabbit might have given him the slip tonight, but no self-respecting wolf would give up without a fight.

  Chapter 3

  “You’re not playing down your injury so we won’t worry, right?”

  “I’m fine, Moira,” Piper reassured as she had the last six times her friend and Delaney Manor’s co-manager had called to check on her. Switching the phone to her left hand, she dabbed a drop of concealer on her fingertip and leaned toward the bathroom mirror. Just as the doctor had predicted, the only remaining evidence of her broken nose was a bit of tenderness and some minor swelling. The pale purple smudges beneath her eyes had thankfully faded enough that a fine layer of makeup easily hid the discoloration. “Seriously, I’m perfectly fine. You’re worrying over a bit of nothing.”

  “Oh, pish posh. You’d say it was nothing even if your nose had fallen off your face.”

  Piper grinned and dropped the tube of makeup into her bag. In bra, panties, and thigh-high stockings, she padded back into the bedroom of the Tuckers’ guest suite. “My nose is still attached, so stop fussing and tell me how things are there. Did Mr. Tidwell come by to fix the sticky door lock on the Rosewood suite before the Warrens arrived? And what of the delivery from Wellesley Farm? As I recall, Tilly was running low on jam for her breakfast scones.”

  Piper tossed the bag into her open suitcase and swept up her skirt. “Oh, and before I forget, one of Alice Remington’s bridesmaids has yet to confirm her room for next week’s bachelorette weekend. I meant to call and check in with her before I left, but it slipped my mind. Would you do me a huge favor and contact her today? Her number is in the reservations book.”

&n
bsp; Moira’s laughter sounded in Piper’s ear. “Relax, Mother Goose. You are supposed to be enjoying yourself there in the States, not fretting over what’s happening here at the manor. Tilly and I can muddle through for a few days without you, you know.”

  Piper’s sigh was guilty. “I know that. It’s just...”

  “It’s just that you insist on taking everything onto your shoulders, even when the practice isn’t necessary.”

  “That’s not true.” Piper stepped into her dark gray linen skirt.

  “Oh, really? Then what were you doing on a ladder on Saturday, painting the carriage house shutters when you should have been well on your way to the airport?”

  Piper jerked straight. “How did you...” She narrowed her eyes.

  Angus, you old tattletale.

  After sliding the skirt over her hips, she zipped and hooked the closure at her waist. Okay, so she’d cut her arrival at the airport nail-bitingly close, but that couldn’t be helped. Angus, her mother’s favorite cousin and the estate’s long-time groundskeeper and handyman, was getting on in age and refused to accept there were some chores he should no longer be doing on his own.

  She snatched her pale peach blouse from the mattress. “When I was putting my bag in the boot of the car, I spotted Angus working on the ground level shutters. I didn’t want him tackling the second floor, okay? Besides, the painting only took me a few minutes.” Thirty, actually. Which was why she’d nearly missed her plane. Tucking the phone between ear and shoulder, she worked the buttons on her fitted blouse, then smoothed the hem at her waist. “For heaven’s sake, he’s seventy-eight and suffers from vertigo. He has no business climbing a fifteen-foot ladder.”

  Moira’s voice was full of easy humor. “Agreed, but if you’d bothered to ask before climbing the rungs yourself, you’d have known I’d made arrangements with one of the boys from town to help him with the ladder work.”

  Piper’s shoulders drooped as some of the indignant starch leaked from them. “Well, bother.”

  A sigh drifted through the phone. “You know we love you and appreciate all you’ve done for us, especially since becoming a hotelier was the last thing you wanted.”

  “Oh, hush. Delaney Manor belongs to all of us and, really, turning the house into a B&B was our only viable option considering the circumstances.” Piper dropped to the edge of the mattress and slipped her foot into her high heel. Bending at the waist, she dug around under the bed in search of the other.

  “Not according to Abigail. To hear her tell it, the sale of Delaney Manor is inevitable.”

  Piper straightened and glared at the far wall. “My cousin is a greedy, elitist vulture, furious I’ve made her wait so long for her mother’s half million pounds.”

  Piper swallowed. And I have just three months to earn the last one hundred fifty of it. If I can’t, scraping together enough money to feed us all at the end of the month will be the least of my worries.

  Moira snorted. “With a dash of luck and a lot of hard work, the B&B will be in the black one day very soon.” The determination in her voice intensified. “Once it is, we’ll pay her off and never have to deal with the snotty cow again. In the meantime, it’s clear to anyone who knows you, there are things you’d rather be doing with your life than playing the proper baroness for our guests.”

  Piper flopped to her back to stare at the ceiling. How true that was. Although she’d coveted neither the title nor the responsibilities that came with it, her fate had been sealed centuries ago. In fulfillment of the original writ, granted to her grandmother eight times over, Piper became Lady Darrow, Baroness of Delaney, upon her mother’s death, less than an hour after Piper’s birth.

  Flopping an arm over her eyes, she bit back a sigh. She’d gladly continue to play the role of proper baroness if it meant she could hold on to the manor, but smiling and posing for pictures with the strangers invading her home every week wouldn’t be enough. Already reeling from her father’s sudden death in a tragic car accident nearly three years past, she’d been shocked to learn the alarming truth of the estate’s finances and horrified by the discovery of a long-forgotten stipulation in his will.

  Although the title and lands had come to Piper through her mother, it had apparently been her father’s modest fortune that had kept the manor afloat these last thirty years. Piper cringed at the funds wasted, especially on her behalf. How much had Da spent, raising her with extravagance to fill the hole left behind by her mother’s death? Private schools, summers on the beach in Italy, riding lessons, not to mention flying her here and there with her friends while on breaks from university, or simply on a whim.

  He’d spoiled her horribly. Selfishly, she’d let him and, now that he was gone, there was a price to pay. After covering the inheritance taxes, the estate had been in no position to satisfy the five-hundred-thousand pounds Da had long ago set aside for his only sister, Abigail’s deceased mother, Claire. The forgotten stipulation might as well have been for five hundred million, and the three-year deadline to pay it, three days.

  Not that Piper was destitute. She wasn’t. The value of the five-hundred-acre estate on the eastern coast of northern England made her a very wealthy woman—on paper.

  Land rich, she was cash poor, but selling off the estate to make good on the debt was out of the question. Four hundred years of tradition wasn’t something Piper took lightly, and there was more than just herself to consider. With Da’s passing, Piper was the last of her line, but Angus was true family, and Moira, and her mother, Tilly, were more family than staff. The estate was their home as much as Piper’s. She had a responsibility to keep the familiar roof over all their heads.

  So far, the fledgling B&B had managed to hold off their creditors and the rush of land developers circling the coastal property like wingtip-wearing birds of prey, but there wasn’t a lot left over at the end of each month. What little was, Piper added to the small portfolio she’d built on the tiny trust her mother had left her. Unfortunately, the three-hundred-thousand-pound nest egg fell far short of covering Abigail’s payoff, and time was running out.

  Not wanting to worry them, Piper had kept the deadline included in Da’s stipulation from Moira, Tilly, and Angus. With the end of the three-year grace period looming ever closer, Abigail had become increasingly demanding and pushy. The someday Moira predicted couldn’t come soon enough.

  The sigh Piper had been fighting broke free. “The title comes with...”

  “Responsibilities,” Moira spoke the word with her. “Yes, yes. So your father said many a time, but this isn’t the seventeenth century, luv. In today’s world, your title is little more than a romantic throwback to another time.”

  Piper frowned and sat up. “My title is the curiosity that has helped us fill the manor’s guest suites for the past two and a half years.”

  “Maybe that was true at the beginning, but it’s the manor and its grounds, and my superior skill at keeping our guests happy, that have grown our reputation.”

  “Is that so?” Piper slipped her foot into her second heel, stood, and turned to smooth the bedding.

  Moira’s laughter drifted through the phone. “Mum’s scones might have something to do with it, too, but my point is we’re doing perfectly fine, despite the baroness not being in residence. The pantry is stuffed with jam and Mr. and Mrs. Warren are snoring peacefully behind the decidedly unsticky lock of the Rosewood suite door. And I spoke to Alice Remington yesterday. It seems her tardy bridesmaid has been sacked from the bridal party for shagging the chief bridesmaid’s boyfriend.”

  Piper snapped straight. “Oh my.”

  Moira snickered. “I know. Can you imagine? Anyway, Alice has already replaced the girl and paid for the new attendant’s room. There’s nothing for you to worry about here. Enjoy your last day in Manhattan. I can’t believe you’ve spent the last two nights in Kevin Tucker’s house. I am positively green with envy. I
s he as tidy as he looks in those magazine ads?”

  Piper coughed on a laugh. “He’s married to CC.”

  “So?”

  “So, she’s my friend.”

  Moira snorted. “Right, and her husband is utterly peng.”

  Piper shook her head and laughed, but had to agree. Kevin Tucker was definitely hot.

  The image of another big, blond hottie flashed in her mind, and she fought a shiver. As she’d discovered last night at the fundraiser, Tuck’s good looks held a hint of bad boy, but the perfection of Wyatt Hunter’s handsome face was far more dangerous to a woman’s heart rate. She could just imagine Moira’s reaction should she ever get a close look at the Marauders’ uber-hot quarterback.

  “Speaking of Tuck and CC, they’re going to wonder what’s keeping me. Give Tilly and Angus my love. I won’t be arriving at the manor until late, so I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They said their good-byes, and Piper tucked her phone in the pocket of her skirt, then headed downstairs to join her hosts. She wore an apologetic smile as she stepped from the hallway into the kitchen.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” The breath backed up in her throat as she halted abruptly.

  ****

  Wyatt turned his head as Piper Darrow rounded the corner. Her gaze collided with his, and she skidded to a stop. So did his breathing. He’d told himself he’d imagined the weird blow to the chest when he’d spotted her across the gallery last night, but there it was again. Bam! A sucker punch to the ribs right below his heart.

  He dragged a stealthy breath through his teeth as he devoured the sight of her up close and personal. Green. Her cat-shaped eyes were a vivid emerald, rimmed by a thick fringe of auburn lashes the same shade as the shiny russet curls tumbling over her shoulders.

  As if she’d been hit by the same fist of attraction, she stared at him in wide-eyed silence. Heat unfurled in his gut as a sudden blush flared on her sharp cheekbones. Instinct insisted he move, take the three steps necessary to reach her. Cup her face in his hands and explore that first taste of her mouth in what he knew intuitively would be a sweet feasting.