Full House

by Janet Evanovich

  "What about Nick? Is he into making money?"

  Deedee shook her head. "Nick never gave much thought to money, but when you're filthy rich you don't have to think about it. All he cares about is his newspaper and those smelly horses. He gets up every morning at five-thirty to take care of them, even though he employs people for the job. Have you ever seen a horse up close?" Deedee shuddered.

  Billie inadvertently looked down at her foot. The swelling had gone down during the night, and it wasn't as sore, but it would take a while before the discoloration went away. "Yes, unfortunately, I have seen a horse up close."

  Deedee followed Billie's eyes to the foot. "Eeyeuuw," she said, wincing. "What happened to your foot?"

  "You know Zeke? The big brown horse with the attitude? He stepped on it."

  "Oh, honey, that's worth a lawsuit. And Nick is so rich he wouldn't miss the money."

  Billie tried to hide her amusement as she sipped her coffee. Deedee was obviously annoyed at Nick. "I don't think I could get very much. Nothing's broken."

  "Gee, that's too bad."

  Billie decided the woman had a strange way of looking at things. She wiggled her toes. "I hope it's better by next weekend. I paid for three polo lessons in advance."

  "You're taking polo lessons? Are you one of those horse-crazy people?" She looked distressed. "Oh, geez, I hope you're not taking lessons just to get closer to Nick. There are a least three women in every class of his who want to marry him. Let me tell you, it's not worth it. I know Nick's handsome and charming and wealthy, but the man steps in poo, for God's sake. Horse droppings, you know? Who'd want to live with a man whose shoes always smell?"

  Billie smiled. She was beginning to like Deedee. "Actually, I took a class for the exercise." That was only partially true, of course, but she wasn't ready to tell Deedee how much she wanted to impress her children.

  "Exercise? Eeyeuuw, I hate exercise. It's easier if you don't eat."

  "I can't afford to starve myself. I need energy."

  "For what?"

  "Well, I teach sixth grade all day, and then I come home and cook and clean and take care of my own two kids, and then after supper I iron or do lesson plans, and then I watch a little TV and go to bed."

  Deedee's eyes opened wide. "You do all that? In one day?"

  "Yes, but you see, I never get any real exercise. Pretty soon the cellulite will take over and my only alternative will be liposuction."

  "Gross."

  "Mmmm. Well, I'm going to whip myself into shape this summer. I've started jogging, too." Billie refilled their cups.

  Deedee wrinkled her nose. "I tried that once, but I got sweaty. I hate to sweat."

  Billie took a peek at Deedee over her coffee mug. "I don't mind sweating. I bought weights, too. And then I signed up for the polo lessons. I figured all that bouncing around would be great for my backside."

  "Too bad you have to do it on a horse."

  "I kind of like horses. At least I did before I met Zeke. I still have a lot to learn. Like how to mount and dismount."

  "You want to learn how to mount? You've come to the right place, honey."

  Billie was almost certain they weren't talking about the same thing. She watched Deedee sip her coffee. The woman had a great body. "You don't exercise at all?"

  "I don't have to. Like I said, I don't eat. That's another thing about Nick. He eats all the time and never gets fat. After a while, you find yourself hoping he'll choke on his damn doughnut." Deedee sighed. "I haven't had a doughnut in five years. I figure I won't eat until I'm sixty-five, and then I'm going to let myself go. I'm going to eat boxes of candy, and fast food, and a ton of Twinkies."

  "Sounds like a good plan to me."

  Deedee swiveled in her seat and looked at her luggage in the hall. "I guess I should unpack. I don't suppose you have a housekeeper?"

  Amazingly, the woman was serious. Billie shook her head. "I can't seem to keep good help these days." She limped to the foyer. Her foot was beginning to ache from being on it all morning. "I'll show you to the guest room. It's upstairs. Sorry I can't help you carry anything."

  Deedee picked out a medium-sized suitcase. "I'll just take this one for now."

  Once upstairs, Deedee stopped at the doorway to her bedroom. "Eeyeuuw, colonial. My bedroom is always French provincial. Don't you have any guest rooms that are French provincial?"

  Billie was thankful for the patience she'd gained from teaching. "No. I'm not really a French provincial person."

  Deedee dropped her suitcase on the bed. "Nick isn't, either. Once I redecorated his whole house. It was between my second and third marriages. No, wait, it was between my third and fourth." She waved her perfect ruby-red fingernails. "Anyway, I was staying with Nick for a while and he had to go off on a business trip, so I hired a decorator, and we worked overtime to have it finished before Nick got home." She sat down and tested the bed. "You should have seen the look on Nick's face. Megasurprise."

  "Did he like it?" Billie already knew the answer.

  "The man went berserk. Honestly, such a fuss over a few sticks of furniture. He has no taste." She opened the suitcase and looked petulant. "I thought I had my makeup in this one."

  Billie cast a cursory glance at the bag. "Looks like lingerie."

  "Damn." Deedee stomped off down the stairs, and began opening luggage. Finally she stood, hands on hips, and tossed her red hair over her shoulder. "It's not here. Nick must have left it with my shoes. He probably did it on purpose, knowing him."

  "But you're wearing makeup."

  Deedee shook her head. "This is my morning makeup. I have to change into afternoon makeup, and then when five o'clock rolls around I put on my evening makeup. There's a difference, you see."

  "I would never have guessed, but I'm not exactly on the cutting edge when it comes to fashion and cosmetics." Billie's own makeup consisted of foundation, blush, and mascara.

  "I'm an ex-beauty queen, honey. I had to learn these things at an early age."

  "A beauty queen. No kidding."

  "Won my first pageant when I was four years old. Went on to win—" She paused and her pretty brow furrowed in thought. "Oh, I have to stop doing that," she said, immediately raising her brows so the wrinkles disappeared. She smoothed her forehead with her fingers as though to wipe away all traces. "Anyway, I don't actually remember how many I've won, but you should see all my trophies." She hitched her chin proudly. "I know how to work an audience, bu-lieve-you-me."

  Billie nodded. "I'm impressed."

  "Which is why I need my makeup. I can't afford to let myself go." She sighed heavily. "I know Nick did this on purpose. First, he literally dragged me out of bed at dawn and ordered me to pack my clothes with the help of some field hand with the disposition of a troll. That didn't stop him from leering at me every chance he got, mind you. Then, if that weren't bad enough, Nick threw me and my designer luggage in the pickup he uses to haul hay and horse feed and only-God-knows-what. Are you believing this? I was literally traumatized by the whole thing." She paused and shuddered. "I would never have agreed to any of it had my little sports car not been in the shop. No telling when I'll get it back. That's the price you pay for driving foreign cars.

  "I'll bet Nick's having a good laugh over it right now," she went on without stopping for air. "He knows damn well I can't do without my shoes. Why, I wouldn't think of walking out of this house without the right shoes. I need to borrow your telephone, honey. Nick either brings my stuff or I'm going to pitch a fit the likes of which this town has never seen."

  Billie immediately reached for the portable wall phone and handed it to her. "Here," she said. There was something in Deedee's voice that told her the woman meant business, and Billie was in no mood for fit-pitching.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, Nick arrived with five cartons of shoes and three more pieces of luggage. "How's it going?" he asked Billie, making a special effort to keep his tone light.

  She cocked an eyebrow.
"I'd like to see you in the kitchen."

  "I really should be getting back to the stable. I had to fire a guy, and he didn't take it well."

  "In the kitchen, Kaharchek." It was the voice she used to order her students to the principal's office when she caught them playing doctor in the utility closet. No one walked away from that voice. Not even Nick Kaharchek.

  He followed her into the kitchen and stood with his back supported by the refrigerator, his hands stuffed into the pockets of well-washed jeans, his feet crossed at the ankles in fake nonchalance. Billie looked at his moccasins and noticed they were clean. Deedee should be excited about that. "You wanted to see me?" he said.

  She hobbled to the coffeepot, poured herself another cup of coffee, and took a sip before answering. Another technique she'd learned as a sixth-grade teacher. Authoritative stalling. Never give your victim the upper hand. Always make him wait for that dreaded first sentence. Yessir, everyone knew Mrs. Pearce could make a twelve-year-old squirm, if the situation required it.

  Nick didn't squirm quite so easily. He continued to watch her with a steady gaze that was tempered by a slight curve at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't sure if she was working herself into a frenzy, or calming herself down to be civilized; but damned if she wasn't cute, with her discolored foot and flattering running shorts. She had the most perfect legs he'd ever seen. Slightly tanned, smooth-skinned, shapely. He could only imagine those legs wrapped around his waist.

  "You're not using your crutch," he said, hoping to chase away his lewd thoughts.

  "It's bothersome. I don't need it."

  "But the doctor said—"

  "That's not why I wanted to talk to you." He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on her legs. Her scare tactics weren't working, Billie realized. Sixth-grade boys were usually quaking by now, but Nick was looking at her as if she were lunch. "Hello!" she called out, trying to get his attention.

  He dragged his eyes back to her face. "Mmmm?"

  "This was really rotten of you. That woman—" She pointed toward the stairs which led to the bedroom where Deedee was presently napping. "She's going to drive me right over the edge before dinnertime."

  "Who, Deedee?" He feigned a look of surprise.

  "Don't give me that innocent look. You just didn't want to live with her, so you foisted her off on me."

  Nick sighed. She spoke the truth. He was relieved to have Deedee out of his house—she tended to get on his nerves at times—but he would never have dumped her on Billie if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. Max made it necessary. And he had other things on his mind as well.

  "Admit it."

  Without waiting for an invitation, he poured himself a cup of coffee, and Billie ground her teeth, peeved because he was making her wait, using one of her manipulative devices to his own advantage.

  "I really do feel bad about it," he said, trying to sound remorseful, "but you have to understand, I just can't serve any more time with her. I was stuck with her for three months between husbands two and three ... or was it three and four?"

  "Well, I don't want a stranger in my house so you'll just have to take her back."

  "Oh, no." Nick sipped his coffee. "Possession is nine-tenths of the law. You have her. You're going to have to keep her. I'm willing to pay."

  "There's not enough money in the world." Billie leaned forward with determination and stuck her face an inch from his. She could see the stubble on his jaw. "Listen up, Kaharchek. This is my vacation, and I don't intend to spend it listening to someone squealing 'Eeyeuuw' all the time, cramming all that luggage in my foyer, and complaining because my furniture isn't French provincial."

  "I can arrange to have a new bedroom suite delivered in an hour."

  "That's not the way things are done around here. I make do with what I have."

  "She's not a bad person, you know. She's just difficult to live with. She's very ... um, unique."

  "I want her out."

  Nick, usually quick on his feet, had trouble concentrating with her so close. He could smell her shampoo, the soap she'd used when bathing, and the light talcum powder she'd sprinkled on herself after toweling dry.

  Once again he tried to clear his mind. "Look, I'll make a deal, I'll give you free riding lessons if you'll keep her. By the time your kids return you'll be playing polo like a professional. I can even have you jumping fences." It was a lie, of course. He couldn't imagine Billie Pearce climbing a fence without hurting herself.

  Billie pondered his offer. Free riding and polo lessons? Jumping fences? She could almost see the looks of awe on her children's faces. "How many free riding lessons?"

  Nick thought for a moment. "Three." Three lessons would give him the time he needed to woo her into his bed. Lord, but he could be a jerk at times.

  "Do I have 'stupid' written across my forehead, Kaharchek? I can't possibly accomplish all that with three lessons. Forget it." Once again she pointed toward Deedee's sleeping quarters. "Take her back."

  She was tough. "All right, then. You can have as many lessons as you want."

  As many lessons as she wanted? At no cost? And Deedee was paying rent to boot. Now he was speaking her language. Surely she could put up with some prissy, empty-headed ex-beauty queen for two weeks.

  "Name the horse."

  "You won't have to ride Zeke."

  "I want a gentle horse, and a promise from you that you won't laugh if I throw my mallet halfway across the field. No wisecracks, not from you or your friend, Miss Flock."

  Nick set his coffee cup on the counter and looked at her. "You're pushing it. Besides, I have no control over Sheridan."

  "Take it or leave it."

  Nick pondered it. He hated being outwitted. He never would have become as successful as he had if he weren't a good businessman, a good negotiator. But Billie Pearce had him by the short hairs, and she knew it. How he would keep Sheridan away was another matter since she boarded her horse at his stable. But he would promise anything; he was just that desperate.

  "Okay, deal." Nick offered his hand, and they shook. Giving in had been his first mistake, touching Billie his second. The gentle stirring beneath his belt reminded him of what it had felt like having her fall on top of him. He tightened his grip on her hand, noted the flash of surprise in her eyes, and decided what the hell. If she slapped his face it would be well worth it.

  He pulled her hand to his mouth. "Deal," he repeated, kissing the soft center of her palm while fantasizing running his tongue between each finger with tantalizing slowness. There was more to Billie Pearce than chocolate-chip cookies, and despite their obvious differences, he wanted to explore her, taste her on his tongue and savor her.

  Billie stood there, stupefied and transfixed, as Nick moved his lips up her forearm, kissing the sensitive inside. What did the man think he was doing! Had he lost his mind? Was he as crazy as the woman in her bedroom? Not that she was any better because she was allowing it!

  Billie licked her bottom lip, preparing to give him the verbal beating of a lifetime when he raised his head and brushed his lips across hers.

  All thinking ceased.

  Nick knew he was a goner the minute he touched Billie's mouth. What on earth had possessed him to do such a thing? Nevertheless, he couldn't seem to stop himself. He pulled her closer, slipping one arm around her waist so he could feel her body against his. One thing was certain, he liked making deals with Billie Pearce, even if she'd gotten the upper hand this time. She felt good in his arms, her skin smooth and cool in her air-conditioned house. His mind ran amok at images of her hot and rumpled in his bed.

  Billie finally regained her wits and jerked away. "This isn't part of the deal, Kaharchek. I'm sure most women would be flattered, but I don't do business this way."

  He simply smiled, which unnerved her. If she'd been a violent woman she would have slapped the smirk right off his face.

  "Perhaps we can work out a few more deals. I like negotiating with you." Actually, he enjoyed her lively banter.
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  She tossed him a suspicious look. "What kind of deal?"

  Nick grinned and pressed his lips against her ear. "I could teach you other things," he whispered.

  Billie felt the beginnings of a gigantic shiver at the base of her backbone, and tried to suppress it as best she could. She grabbed a wooden spoon from a jar on the counter and whacked him with it. He gave her that bone-melting grin. She took another swipe at him, but he jumped away. "Careful now," he teased. "You don't want to risk another injury."

  She gave him her most menacing look as he gazed back at her calmly, still smiling, as though he knew something she didn't. Like how his kiss had affected her. Oh, but the man was smug. He knew what he did to women, and he played them like a tune. He winked at her, and she was tempted to grab her cookie jar and throw it at him.

  "You're just lucky I'm at a disadvantage!" she shouted to his retreating back. "You're just lucky I can't catch you. You're lucky I can't send you to the principal's office!" He chuckled and called out a goodbye before closing the front door behind him.

  Billie stared dumbstruck at her palm and the inside of her arm. He'd kissed her! Nick Kaharchek had just kissed her as though he had every right. And he had done a fine job of it if the quivering in her stomach was any indication. She touched her lips. It had been all she could do to keep from crumpling into a heap at his feet. No one had ever kissed her and left her weak-kneed before. No wonder his students went goo-goo-eyed over him. Even Miss Flock, who seemed as cool as a cucumber, had given him the come-on. And no one had ever offered her such an outrageous suggestion in her ear ... not even her ex-husband who, toward the end, had come up with some pretty bizarre ideas.

  "Eeyeuuw," Deedee called from the living room. "There's a dog in here."

  Billie jumped, startled. She hadn't heard Deedee come down the stairs. "That's Buffy. She's a cocker spaniel, and she's very friendly."

  "I've never lived with a dog before. Nick has dogs, but they stay outside or in the kitchen, and I try to stay out of those places."

  "You don't go outside or into the kitchen?" The woman was becoming weirder by the moment.