Dear Cupid (36 page)

Bobby snorted but eased the boat alongside the dock. Grabbing a mooring line, Rory jumped out and secured the boat before she took off at a jog. The pier gave way to sandy beach, then a rutted path that led up toward the house. As she approached from behind, the man continued to swing the hammer, each stroke moving the shoulders beneath a white dress shirt.

“Spineless wimps!” he cursed. “Get me to do their dirty work, will they?” Bam! The hammer came down on the stake, driving it into the sandy soil. “Cowards!” Bam, bam! “Make me look like a traitor. What do they care?” Bam, bam, bam!

“Excuse me,” she said from behind him.

With a start, the man whirled around, dropping the hammer on his foot as the wind sent the sign flying against his back. He yelped, ducking his head and clutching his shin.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She rushed to push the sign off him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Splendid! 
Argh!
” he shouted as he toppled backward to land on his backside at her feet.

Rory struggled not to laugh as she stared down at the man. Behind wire-rimmed glasses, he had a boyishly handsome face. His blond hair was cut short on the sides, but long enough on top to fall across his forehead. He straightened his glasses as he stared at her long bare legs, then his gaze traveled upward past her blue shorts and white shirt to her face and the unruly hair that whipped about her on the wind. “Aurora? Aurora St. Claire? Is that you?”

“Do I know you?” she asked as she gathered her hair in one hand to get it out of her eyes. He did seem slightly familiar. Although no one but her teachers back in school and her Aunt Viv called her Aurora.

For a moment, he just gaped up at her, then he swallowed hard as if to clear his throat. “I’m Chance,” he said as he scrambled to his feet, dusting dirt from his trousers. “I went to school with your brother.”

“Chance?” She thought for a moment, then remembered. “Oh, yes! Short for ‘Chancellor,’ as in ‘Oliver Chancellor,’ right?” She blinked in amazement when he straightened, for he topped her own height of nearly six feet by several inches. “Wow, you grew.”

“Yeah, into my big clumsy feet,” he grumbled.

Not only had he grown taller, he’d filled out—well, a little bit. From what she remembered, he’d been a gangly kid none of the girls would even have noticed except that his family was one of the wealthiest in Galveston.

She was surprised he remembered her, though, since prominent families like the Chancellors didn’t exactly run in the same circles as the disreputable and outrageous descendants of Marguerite Bouchard, many of whom had inherited Marguerite’s passion for the stage.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I saw you putting up the sign—Oh! The sign!” She turned and lifted it so she could read it. “Foreclosure! Is this for real?” She scanned the sign for details, but the words jumbled together in her excitement.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He took the sign from her and thrust it back into the soft ground that refused to hold it upright.

“The bank is foreclosing on a loan to John LeRoche?” she asked in disbelief.

“Do you think I’d drive all the way out here to put up a sign if we weren’t?” Bam! Bam!

“But when? How? Why?”

“The same reason we foreclose on anyone who doesn’t pay their loan back.”

“Oh, my god,” she whispered, trying to take it all in. The house that should have belonged to her family was actually for sale. “How much will it go for?”

“Depends on how much the bank is offered.” He shrugged.

“I want to buy it.”

“What?” He glanced at her. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m serious. In fact”—she took a breath to calm her racing heart—“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“Aurora.” He frowned. “I don’t mean to be nosy but, well, what I mean is ... can you qualify for a home loan of this size?”

“Qualify?” She blinked at him. “I don’t know. But I have good credit.” Actually, she had no credit, but she figured no credit was better than bad credit.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid, for a mortgage loan this big, you’re going to need more than good credit. You’ll need proof of income, collateral, or a co-signer. Trust me on this, I grew up in banking.”

“That’s right!” She snapped her fingers. “Your father 
owns
 the bank.”

“My father 
used
 to own the bank. Now it belongs to an East Coast banking chain, like every other bank in this country.”

“Rory!” Captain Bob’s voice floated up from the pier, barely audible over the wind. “Hurry it up, will ya!”

“Hang on!” she shouted, then turned back to Chance. “What about a business loan? Could I qualify for one of those?”

“It depends. Do you have a business?”

“Well, no.” She squirmed. “Not yet.”

“How about a business plan?”

“Of course I have a plan.” She looked through the chain-link fence as images from a lifetime of daydreams superimposed themselves over the neglected structure. She saw the mansion fully restored, the storm shutters thrown open so the windows gleamed in the sunlight, people lounging in chairs on the veranda, colorful flowers spilling from the flower beds. Oh, yes, she had a plan. A plan so near to her heart, she’d never dared to speak of it aloud. “I plan to succeed,” she said at last. “That’s what I plan to do.”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid planning to ‘succeed’ isn’t a business plan. It’s a goal—and a good one—but if you want someone to loan you money, you need an in-depth, written plan with demographics, cost analysis, projected growth and income.”

Panic welled at the thought of putting her dream down on paper for other people to scrutinize, but she let the sight of the house give her courage. “If I get one of those, a business plan, your father’s bank will loan me the money?”

“I didn’t say that.” He gave her an odd smile, partly amused, partly intrigued.

“Rory!” Bobby shouted from the boat. “Move your tail! We have a schedule to keep here.”

“I’m coming!” She gave Chance a pleading look. “I gotta go. I’ll come see you tomorrow. At the bank.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a good businesslike handshake. “We’ll talk more then.” Her voice floated behind her as she jogged down the path. “Oh, I can’t wait to get home and tell Adrian and Allison. They’re just gonna flip!”

“But—” Chance held out a hand as she dashed to the pier on long tanned legs, the wind plastering the white shirt to her tall, curvy body. He felt as if a whirlwind had just knocked him over as he watched her climb into the boat beside the muscle-bound driver. With a cheerful smile, she waved at him while the boat pulled away from the dock.

Chance returned the wave numbly as he willed his pulse to slow. Aurora St. Claire. Heaven help him and all mortal men, but didn’t the woman have a clue what that body, that face, and all that flame-bright hair could do to a man!

He shook his head hoping to clear it. It didn’t work. There was no shaking off the effect of Aurora. Once she bowled a guy over, he was down for life. Chance should know. He’d been in lust with the girl since he was a boy. Only, he wasn’t a boy any longer. And God have mercy, she definitely wasn’t a mere girl.

The ringing of the phone clipped to his belt brought him slowly out of his haze. “Yes, Chance speaking.”

“Oliver, where are you?” His father’s deep voice pricked a hole in Chance’s euphoria. “I expected you back at the bank an hour ago.”

“I know, I’m sorry, sir.” He glanced uneasily at the sign, wondering if his father had seen the paperwork on the foreclosure yet. Since his father sounded more curious than angry, he guessed not. “Brian had an ... um ... errand he wanted me to do.”

“Since when does the vice president of operations run errands for the loan department?” his father asked.

Since the bank was taken over by a bunch
of out-of-town wimps who don’t have the guts to get between you and the new owners back East
, Chance thought bitterly. Although he couldn’t blame Brian Jeffries, the senior vice president of loans, for asking him to put up the For Sale sign. If anyone else did it, Chance’s father would fire the person on the spot for embarrassing the LeRoche family in so public a manner.

“Never mind,” his father sighed. “I was about to leave for the day and wanted to remind you about Paige’s welcome-home dinner tonight.”

“No need to remind me. I’m looking forward to it.” Chance smiled, thinking of Paige Baxter, the girl he intended to marry. Now that she had graduated from college and returned to the island, they could finally start dating in a more official manner. When summer was over, he’d ask her to marry him, they’d have a respectable engagement of six months or so, and marry next spring. He imagined his mother and Mrs. Baxter were already planning the wedding.

“We’ll expect you at the house by six-thirty, then?” his father said.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.” Hanging up, Chance felt his smile fade as the tension of the day settled back over his shoulders. He glanced at the cove and saw the tour boat had disappeared. Odd how the wind seemed calmer now. While Aurora had been there, the air had been charged with electricity as if lightning were about to strike.

He picked up his hammer and returned to pounding the sign into the ground. In the back of his mind he wondered if Aurora was serious about coming to see him at the bank. A smile tugged at his lips. Now wouldn’t that be a sight—Aurora St. Claire sweeping through the bank in a swirl of energy and light? He could almost see the portraits of the bank’s founders crashing to the marble floor of the lobby in her wake.

~ ~ ~

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Continue on for an excerpt from
Almost Perfect
,
book one in the Perfect trilogy.

Excerpt of book one of the
Perfect
trilogy

“How to Have a Perfect Life.”
Maddy shook her head in wonder as she read the title of the slick hardcover book she held in both hands.
“Ten Steps to Outrageous Happiness
, by Jane Redding.”

“I still can’t believe Jane, our Jane, is now published. On top of everything else,” Christine said, staring at her own copy.

“I can.” Amy smiled with pride as they moved away from the autographing table where a line of Jane Redding fans waited for their chance to meet the TV-anchor-turned-motivational-speaker.

“Actually, I can too,” Christine admitted as the three of them headed toward the coffee shop in the corner of the bookstore. “Jane was always so disciplined and hardworking back in college. She’s the only person I know who studied harder than I did. And considering I was premed, that’s saying something.”

“You were both driven, which is the only thing you had in common,” Maddy said as she and her friends passed a decorative handrail that created the feel of a sidewalk cafe. She breathed in the rich aroma of coffee. Light jazz mingled with the buzz of conversation and hiss of the cappuccino machine. “In fact, given how different the four of us were, I’m amazed at how well we got along as suitemates.”

“Opposites do attract,” Christine said as they joined the order line.

“That’s certainly true for you and me.” Maddy smiled at her friend of fourteen years. Most people saw Christine Ashton as an intimidating combination of Ice Princess and Rocket Scientist, with her elegant height, sleek blond hair, and cool gray eyes, but Maddy knew the wicked sense of humor that lay beneath.

“I think the key for us,” Christine went on, “was having you and me in one half of the dorm suite and Amy and Jane in the other. Can you imagine if Jane and I had been paired together?”