Heiress for Hire (17 page)

Anger sizzled and popped and snapped inside her, making her skin hot and her mouth dry. She pushed her hair back and watched Baby, who had flopped on the floor, resting her chin on her paws.

"Well, Baby, that went well. Dad and I should talk more often."

Baby yipped, looking like she knew Amanda was full of B.S.

Which she was. And she had just given up possession of her Chicago apartment.

She really was stuck in Cuttersville.

A wail went up from the bedroom upstairs.

"I know what you mean, honey. I know what you mean."

Danny stopped back at the house to see if the lawyer had returned his call. He had left a voicemail that morning to see if the lawyer had made any progress in tracking down who exactly had custody of Piper and filing the necessary paperwork for Danny to request full custody.

He wanted things locked up, nice and tight, with all the legalities taken care of. He didn't imagine anyone would contest his request for custody, but he'd feel better when everything was said and done and no one could ever take Piper away from him.

There were no messages in the kitchen tacked to the bulletin board above the table. Nor was the answering machine light blinking. But Danny wanted to make sure Amanda hadn't taken a message for him.

Having Amanda around the house was going much smoother than he had imagined. She was definitely high maintenance, and he was always incredibly aware of her presence in the house, but she and Piper got along real well. She played along with the whole imaginary friend bit and didn't patronize or smother Piper.

It had only been three days, but he was cautiously optimistic.

And truthfully, he enjoyed Amanda's company. She was witty and sharp, sometimes achingly vulnerable when he least expected it. She just had something about her that made him smile. It felt comfortable to eat lunch with Amanda and Piper every day, and if the occasional lust-filled thought snuck in when he wasn't looking, he just booted it back out.

Danny headed toward the living room to find Amanda and confirm the lawyer hadn't called. He drew up short in the doorway and swallowed hard.

Amanda was on the floor playing Barbie dolls with Piper. Which was sweet and good and all of that, but Amanda hadn't adjusted her wardrobe for baby-sitting. She was wearing an incredibly short white skirt.

Lying on her stomach, propped on her elbows, she was all long legs and excessive blond hair. Her backside was barely covered, and he could see the little curve of her ass, tight and tempting as hell.

He was in trouble.

Not even the sight of his daughter and Amanda's poodle could change the very obvious fact that he was attracted to her. He instantly had a woody to rival his corn silo in size.

He didn't dare call attention to himself now. She'd turn and be eye level with his tented jeans.

Concentrating on relaxing his body from the shoulders on down, Danny tried not to look at any part of Amanda. Especially her ass, which was so firm and curvy, and wiggling a little as she used her arms to maneuver the doll around, and… and damn, he was staring at it again.

Forcing his eyes to his daughter, he saw that she had her half-hair Barbie dressed in a wedding gown. Shelby had dropped by the day before with a Ziploc bag full of Barbie clothes her thirteen-year-old cousin didn't want anymore. Piper's doll walked on her tiptoes back and forth in front of Amanda's. The poodles, both real and the plastic miniature toy, slept tucked up next to the couch, ignoring the fashion show.

"Definitely this one," Amanda said in a voice slightly higher than her own. "It's a Monique Lhuillier and perfect for an unconventional woman like you."

Maybe she wasn't referring to the Mohawk hairdo, but either way Danny was amused. He leaned on the doorframe and watched.

Piper used a falsetto voice that sounded like a manic squirrel. "Do you think Ken will like it?"

"Who cares? A wedding is all about the bride. If Ken can't appreciate what makes you happy, maybe he's not the man for you."

Danny wondered what made Amanda happy. At first, he would have said money, but he didn't think that was what defined Amanda, even if she was floundering a little without her trust fund. She was a lonely woman, a bit lost and insecure, and yet, she was so smart, so scrappy, so incredibly sweet when she wanted to be.

"Skipper's been trying to steal him away from me," Piper said in her Barbie voice-over.

"A good man can't be stolen."

The hard edge that crept into Amanda's voice had Danny wondering if she had personal experience with having a boyfriend betray her for another woman. It also made him wonder what man would be crazy enough to cheat on a woman as sexy as Amanda.

"Now we have to pick out flowers and a caterer and find a tux for Ken," Amanda said. "What kind of wedding ceremony did you want?"

Piper bit her lip and pondered. "A big one. In a church."

Sounded good to Danny.

Amanda nodded her Barbie's head. "Perfect. A traditional wedding. Vegas is so last year."

Piper sat up, dropping her doll on the carpet. "I'll be right back. I have to go to the restroom." She saw Danny as she stood up and said "Hi" before heading down the hall.

Amanda rolled onto her side and glanced over at him. "Hey. How are you?"

"Fine. Just came in to see if anyone called for me. I'm expecting the lawyer."

"No one called that I'm aware of. But we've been busy planning a wedding. Maybe I didn't hear the phone ring." She propped her head up, blond strands spilling over her shoulder and her tight tank top riding up.

Amanda was tall, long, and lean, and there was a lot of skin showing right now. It didn't take much imagination to picture what she'd look like totally naked, lying on the floor like that, a small smile on her face, ready for him, mischievous.

Temptation was growing by the second, and he had to stay strong. He could not get involved with Amanda, not when she was leaving in four weeks, and it would do nothing but confuse Piper. Not when it would be a distraction he didn't need-, when he needed all his brains and emotion focused on his daughter.

But it was like going three weeks without food and having a banana split set down in front of you in your own kitchen. It was really hard not to grab the spoon and just eat.

"There wasn't a message, so I guess he hasn't called yet. Having fun playing Barbie?"

"Yep." She smiled, rubbing her ankle across her leg. "Barbie has changed a lot since I was a kid, getting better accessories and clothes. And she now has two little sisters, Stacy and Kelly, who are so much younger than her I suspect Barbie's parents got divorced and her father started a second family."

"I'm not that familiar with her family tree. I played with GI Joe. And a lot of times I just played in the fields." His childhood had been one of both utter wild outdoor freedom and farming responsibilities from the time he could lift a bucket.

"GI Joe is sexy. We should get one of those for Piper instead of a Ken. He's too manicured, too narcissistic. That smarmy smile he wears says it all—he's out for number one."

"But Ken is cultured. GI Joe is rough around the edges." He would have thought Amanda would go for the expensive clothes, thousand-dollar watch, fancy car kind of guy. Like Boston Macnamara.

Her mouth had slowly sunk open, and her tongue trailed across her bottom lip. "Sometimes a woman wants a real man, one who could protect her from danger with his bare hands. One who could just pick her up off her heels and carry her to his bed."

Danny liked to think he was a real man. He certainly wasn't the aggressive, successful, wine connoisseur type.

This was either flirtation or she'd given a hell of a lot of thought to the social and sexual dynamics of inanimate eighteen-inch dolls.

Piper ran back into the room, saving him from a reply.

"Have fun with your wedding planning. I'll be making hay in the north field." He backed up and tried to beat a fast retreat.

"I'll let you know if the lawyer calls."

Oh, right, the whole reason he'd come in the house. "Thank you."

"I'll stand in the yard and wave a scarf or something so you can see me as you go by on your tractor. You know, communication would be a lot easier if you'd just get a cell phone like every other person in America."

He was perfectly content without one, like every person in America had been before the things were invented in the first place. He gave her a grin. "But then I wouldn't get to see you standing in the yard waving a scarf like a weird car commercial. Bye, ladies."

Danny waved at them on his way out as Amanda gave a healthy snort. What she thought was weird was that Danny didn't seem to need or want all the electronic devices and conveniences Amanda could have sworn she couldn't live without six weeks earlier.

He was content to live on his farm, sweat all day long, then return to a small house with no air conditioning.

It even went beyond content. Danny Tucker was happy, in a way that Amanda had never been.

She had everything in the world money could buy, but she hadn't figured out how to make herself happy. She hadn't figured out how to make someone care about her, love her, in the way that Danny already cared about Piper.

Of course, Piper was easy to love. She was quiet, respectful, eager to please, compassionate, and sincere in her appreciation. She had seen too much, heard even more, known pain that an eight-year-old shouldn't.

Yet her old soul marched side by side with youthful innocence, and Amanda was getting attached to her.

If she did one useful thing in her life, bringing security to Piper's world would be it.

"What happened to your doll's hair? Did you or Anita give her a haircut?" Amanda didn't think it was odd that Piper had an imaginary friend. Something told her she had had one at one time too. A little girl who got messy and dirty and urged Amanda to roll in the grass regardless of her Easter dress that had an Italian label, young lady.

Piper shook her head. Then she chewed her lip, tears suddenly forming in her eyes. "My cousin did it. She's ten and really mean."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Amanda whispered, her heart clenching at the sight of Piper, usually so stoic and proud, giving up the first tears she'd seen from her since she had arrived in Cuttersville. "Cousins can be like that. I have a cousin, Sterling—which is an awful name—who used to throw my favorite doll down the stairs."

And Sterling was now married to the ugliest man in creation, twenty years her senior, because she'd blown her inheritance by twenty-five and Richard was filthy rich. But he was also lecherous and criticized Sterling's butt firmness at dinner parties, so Amanda couldn't be angry with her anymore. Her life was a horror film.

"Jasmine said she just made her look like me."

Amanda frowned. "What do you mean?"

Piper looked away, hesitated. Then she locked eyes with Amanda. "Can I tell you a secret?" she said in a ragged whisper.

"Of course. I won't tell anyone, ever. Pinky swear." She held her pinky finger up, heart racing, hand trembling. God, she hoped she had the ability to deal with whatever Piper was going to tell her. She did not want to hurt this child anymore than she already had been.

Swallowing hard, Piper pointed to her head. "I don't have any hair. It started falling out two years ago, and now there's just a little bit left."

So that explained the constant presence of the baseball hat. And the sometimes naked need for approval on Piper's face. She strove to be casual, not betray Piper's trust with gushing pity that wouldn't help make her feel better. "Why did it fall out?"