Natural Born Charmer (14 page)

The waitress appeared with silverware and a glass of iced tea. “Your regular’s coming right up.”

The woman ignored her to concentrate on Blue. “When I asked what you were doing here, I was talking about in this town.”

“We’re visiting,” Blue replied.

“Where are you from?”

“Well, I’m basically a citizen of the world. Riley’s from Nashville.” She tilted her head. “We’ve introduced ourselves, but you have us at a disadvantage.”

“Everyone knows who I am,” the woman replied querulously.

“We don’t.” Although Blue had a strong suspicion.

“I’m Nita Garrison, of course. I own this town.”

“That’s great. I’ve been wanting to ask somebody about that.”

The waitress popped up with a plate holding a scoop of cottage cheese and a quartered canned pear resting on shredded iceberg lettuce. “Here you go, Miz Garrison.” Her syrupy voice belied the dislike in her eyes. “Anything else I can get for you?”

“A twenty-year-old body,” the old woman snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.” The waitress hurried off.

Mrs. Garrison inspected her fork, then poked at the canned pear as if she were looking for a worm hiding under it.

“Exactly how does anybody own a town?” Blue asked.

“I inherited it from my husband. You’re very odd-looking.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Do you dance?”

“Whenever I get the chance.”

“I used to be an excellent dancer. I taught at the Arthur Murray Studio in Manhattan during the fifties. I met Mr. Murray once. He had a television show, but
you
wouldn’t remember.” Her haughty manner suggested it was Blue’s stupidity at fault rather than her age.

“No, ma’am,” Blue replied. “So…when you inherited this town from your husband, would that be the whole town?”

“All the parts of it that count.” She plunged her fork into the cottage cheese. “You’re staying with that stupid football player, aren’t you? The one who bought the Callaway farm.”

“He’s not stupid!” Riley exclaimed. “He’s the best quarterback in the United States.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Mrs. Garrison snapped. “You’re very rude.”

Riley wilted, and Nita Garrison’s high-handedness no longer amused Blue. “Riley has very nice manners. And she’s right. Dean has his faults, but stupidity isn’t one of them.”

Riley’s stunned expression indicated she wasn’t used to anyone sticking up for her, which Blue found sad. She noticed the other customers were openly eavesdropping.

Instead of backing down, Nita Garrison puffed up like an angry cat. “You’re another one of those people who lets kids behave however they want, aren’t you? Lets them say whatever they want. Well, you aren’t doing her any favors. Just look at her. She’s fat, but you let her sit there wolfing down French fries.”

Riley’s face turned bright red. Mortified, she dipped her head and stared at the tabletop. Blue had heard more than enough. “Riley is perfect, Mrs. Garrison,” she said quietly. “And her manners are a lot better than yours. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d find another table. We’d like to finish our lunch alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I own this place.”

Even though they hadn’t finished eating, Blue had no choice but to get up. “All right then. Come on, Riley.”

Unfortunately, Riley was trapped in the booth and Mrs. Garrison wasn’t moving. She sneered, revealing lipstick-smeared teeth. “You’re as disrespectful as she is.”

Now Blue was burning. She jabbed her finger toward the floor. “Out, Riley. Right now.”

Riley got the message and managed to squeeze from under the
table with her backpack. Nita Garrison’s eyes narrowed to irate dashes. “Nobody walks away from me. You’ll be sorry.”

“Wow, I’m scared. I don’t care how old you are, Mrs. Garrison, or how rich. You’re just plain mean.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“No, I really won’t.” She threw down April’s twenty, which about killed her, since their lunch had only come to twelve-fifty, wrapped her arm around Riley’s shoulders, and led her through the now silent restaurant and out onto the sidewalk.

“Do you think we could go back to the farm now?” Riley whispered when they’d moved far enough past the door.

Blue had hoped to make some more job inquiries, but that would have to wait. She hugged Riley. “Sure we can. Don’t let that old woman bother you. She feeds off being mean. You could see it in her eyes.”

“I guess.”

Blue continued trying to soothe her as they got in the Saab and pulled out onto the main street. Riley made all the right responses, but Blue knew the hurtful words had struck home.

They’d nearly reached the city limit sign when she heard the siren. She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a police squad car bearing down. She wasn’t speeding, and she hadn’t run any red lights, so it took her a moment to figure out the cop was after her.

An hour later, she was in jail.

April and Dean both came into town to
get her. April handed over Blue’s driver’s license and claimed the Saab. Dean bailed Blue out of jail and yelled at her. “I leave you alone for a couple of hours, and what do you do? You get yourself arrested! I feel like I’m living in an
I Love Lucy
rerun.”

“I was framed!” Blue’s shoulder banged against the door of the Vanquish as he took a curve too fast. She was so angry she wanted to hit something, starting with him for not being as indignant as she was. “Since when have you heard of anybody being thrown in jail for driving without a license? Especially somebody who has a perfectly valid license.”

“Which you didn’t have on you at the time.”

“But which I could have produced if they’d given me half a chance.”

The police hadn’t questioned Blue’s statement that Riley was a family friend visiting the farm, and while Blue had been seething in her cell, Riley was sipping a Coke and watching Jerry Springer on the waiting room television. Still, it had been one more scary experience
for the eleven-year-old, and April had driven her back to the farm as soon as the police turned over the Saab’s keys.

“This whole thing was totally bogus.” Blue glared across the passenger seat at Dean, whose blue-gray eyes had turned the exact color of an ocean storm.

He wheeled around another curve. “You had no license, and you were driving an out-of-state car registered to someone else. How does that constitute being framed?”

“I swear to God, all those fashion magazines have destroyed your brain. Think about it. Ten minutes after I went head to head with Nita Garrison, the police pulled me over with a lame excuse about random seat belt checks. How do you explain that?”

He switched from anger to condescension. “So what you’re saying is that you got into a fight with an old lady, who then forced the police to arrest you?”

“You haven’t met her,” she countered. “Nita Garrison is mean to the bone, and she has the town in her pocket.”

“You’re a walking catastrophe. Ever since I picked you up on—”

“Stop making such a big deal out of it. You’re a professional football player. You have to have spent some time in jail yourself.”

He bristled. “I have
never
been in jail.”

“Dude. The NFL won’t let you on the field if you haven’t been arrested at least twice for assault and battery—double points if you beat up a wife or girlfriend.”

“You’re not even mildly amusing.”

Probably not, but she’d made herself feel better.

“Start at the beginning,” he said, “and tell me exactly what happened with the old lady.”

Blue described their encounter in detail. When she finished, he was silent for a few moments before he spoke. “Nita Garrison was way out of line, but don’t you think you could have been a little more tactful?”

Blue bristled all over again. “No. Riley doesn’t have a lot of people standing up for her. Or any, for that matter. It was time to fix that.”

She waited for him to tell her she’d been right, but instead, he turned into the freaking town historian. “I talked to the painters about Garrison being up for sale and got the whole story.” A few hours earlier, she’d been anxious to hear this, but not when he still hadn’t said she was right.

He shot past a Dodge Neon that had unwisely decided to pull out in front of him. “A carpetbagger named Hiram Garrison bought a couple of thousand acres around here after the Civil War to build a mill. His son enlarged it—that abandoned brick building we passed on the highway—and established the town, all without selling an acre. If people wanted to build houses or businesses, they had to lease the land from him, even the churches. Eventually, he passed everything to his son Marshall. Your Mrs. Garrison’s husband.”

“Poor guy.”

“He met her a couple of decades ago on a trip to New York. He was fifty at the time, and she was apparently hot.”

“Let me tell you those days are gone.” His civics lecture had started to make her wary. She had the feeling he was buying time. But for what?

“Marshall apparently shared his ancestors’ aversions to selling even a quarter acre. And since they had no children, she inherited it all when he died—the land the town’s built on and most of the businesses.”

“That’s way too much power for one mean-spirited woman.” She separated her ponytail to tighten the rubber band. “Did you find out how much she’s asking for it?”

“Twenty million.”

“That rules me out.” She gazed at him sideways. “Does it rule you out?”

“Not if I sell my baseball card collection.”

She hadn’t really expected him to divulge his net worth. Still, he didn’t need to be so sarcastic about it.

A dairy farm flashed past as he took advantage of the straighten
ing road. “East Tennessee is a growing area. Popular with retirees. She had an offer for fifteen million from a group of Memphis businessmen but turned it down. People suspect she doesn’t really want to sell.” The car nearly fishtailed as he took the turn onto Callaway Road. “Without any national franchises, Garrison is pretty much a time capsule—quaint, but frayed at the edges. The local business leaders want to capitalize on that quaintness, spruce everything up so it’s a tourist destination, but Nita refuses to cooperate.”

As he raced past the lane that led to the farm, she straightened. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“Someplace private.” The road turned into a dirt track. His jaw tensed. “Where we can talk.”

Her heartbeat kicked up. “We already talked. I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Too late.” The bumpy track abruptly ended at a rusted barbed wire fence bordering an overgrown pasture. He flicked off the ignition and caught her in those ocean storm eyes. “Topic number one on our agenda. April’s impending death…”

She gulped. “Tragic.”

He waited. His charm had disappeared, leaving behind the no-nonsense man who made his living being quicker, smarter, and tougher than everyone else. She should have seen this coming and been better prepared. “Sorry,” she said.

“Oh, we both know you can do better than that.”

She tried to open the door to get some air and discovered it was locked. The old sense of helplessness sent a rush of adrenaline through her, but just as her fighting instincts kicked in, the lock clicked open. She got out, and so did he. She walked away from him toward the rusty fence. “I know I shouldn’t have meddled,” she said carefully. “It was none of my business. But she looked so sad, and I’m a total head case when it comes to maternal relationships.”

He came up behind her, caught her by the shoulders, and turned
her around. His grim features locked into final countdown. “Don’t
ever
lie to me. If it happens again, you’re out of here. Understand?”

“That’s not fair. I like lying to you. It makes my life easier.”

“I mean what I say. You crossed the line.”

She gave up. “I know. I apologize. Really.” She felt a weird urge to poke at the forbidding corners of his mouth until she’d rearranged them into the charming grin she was accustomed to. “I don’t blame you for being mad. You have every right.” She couldn’t resist asking. “When did you figure it out?”

He released her shoulders but stayed where he was, looming over her. “About half an hour after I left the house last night.”

“Does April know you know?”

“Yes.”

Blue wished April had chosen to share that information with her.

“At least there’s one good thing about my mother…” He studied her intently. “I don’t have to worry about April emptying out my bank accounts.”

A crow shrieked in the distance. She took a step back from him. “How do you know about that?”

“Two can play the meddling game. Stay out of my private business, Blue, and maybe I’ll stay out of yours.”

He must have gotten into her voice mail when she’d given him her phone. She could hardly protest, no matter how much she hated him knowing about Virginia. He finally moved away from her to survey the pasture. A covey of birds shrieked as they flew up from the long grass. “So what are you going to do about Riley?” she said.

He whirled around. “I don’t believe you! Didn’t we just talk about your meddling?”

“Riley’s not your private business. I’m the one who found her, remember?”

“I’m not doing anything,” he declared. “April got hold of one of Mad Jack’s serfs a couple of hours ago. Someone’s coming to pick Riley up.”

“Just like so much garbage.” She began walking back to the car.

“That’s the way he works,” he said from behind her. “His responsibility stops with writing checks and hiring people to do his dirty work.”

She turned. He hadn’t moved away from the fence. “Are you going to…talk to her?” she asked.

“And say what? That
I’m
going to take care of her?” He delivered a sharp kick to the rotting post. “I can’t do that.”

“I think it would help if you’d at least promise to stay in touch with her.”

“She wants a lot more from me than that.” He came toward her. “Don’t give me any more trouble, okay? I’ve already bailed you out of jail
and
paid your traffic fine.”

Just like that, he was on the attack again. She had to squint against the sun to return his gaze. “I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”

“We’re bartering, remember?”

“Remind me how that works?”

Instead, he surveyed her critically. “Have you considered letting a professional work on your hair as opposed to a kindergartner with a set of plastic scissors?”

“Too busy.”

“Stop being such a hard-ass.” His hand curved around her shoulder, and he hit her with a smoky-eyed look that made her knees go weak. She knew he’d given that same look to a thousand women, but the long day had made her defenses sluggish. Their eyes locked, his as dark as the sea. She understood his danger. He had an innate sense of entitlement and an arsenal of lethal sexuality. But she still didn’t move. Not an inch.

His head dipped, their mouths meshed, and the sounds of birds and breeze faded away. Her lips parted on their own. He touched her with his tongue. Silky threads of pleasure unwound inside her. The kiss deepened, and dazzling colors began swirling in her head. She’d turned herself over to him just like all the others. She’d been swept away.

The knowledge chilled her. Having a nighttime fantasy about a gypsy prince was one thing, but acting on it was something else entirely. She pushed away, blinked her eyes, and came up swinging.
“That
was a disaster. Jeeze, I’m sorry. If I’d known the truth, I’d never have kidded you about the gay thing.”

The corner of his mouth cocked, and his lazy eyes trickled over her as intimately as a lover’s hand. “Keep fighting, Bluebell. You’ll only make the victory sweeter.”

She wanted to dump a bucket of cold water over her head. Instead, she gave him a dismissive wave and headed for the dirt track that led to the house. “I’m walking back. I need to be alone so I can have a long, hard talk with myself about being so insensitive.”

“Good idea. I need to be alone so I can picture you naked.”

She flushed and picked up her pace. Fortunately, the farm was less than a mile away. Behind her, the Vanquish roared to life. She heard him back up and turn around. Before long, the car drew up next to her, and the driver’s window slid down. “Hey, Bluebell…I forgot something.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

He slipped on his sunglasses and smiled. “I forgot to thank you for defending Riley against the old lady.”

And then he was gone.

Riley barely touched the dinner Blue fixed that evening. “It’ll probably be Frankie who comes to get me,” she said, pushing aside a fig Blue had added to the chicken and dumplings. “He’s my dad’s favorite bodyguard.”

April reached across the table and pressed her hand over Riley’s. “I’m sorry I had to tell them you were here.”

Riley ducked her head. One more disappointment in her young life. Earlier, Blue had tried to distract her with an invitation to bake brownies, but that had gone sour when Dean had come in and
brusquely refused Riley’s eager plea to look at her scrapbook. He thought he was doing the right thing, but Riley was his flesh and blood, and Blue wished he’d spare a small corner of his life for her. She knew what he’d say if she pressed him. He’d say Riley wanted more than a small corner, and he’d be right.

It was just as well he’d driven off. Now she had space to get her equilibrium back and straighten out her priorities. Her life was complicated enough right now without putting herself at more of a disadvantage by becoming another of Dean Robillard’s easy conquests.

Riley reached for the plate of brownies Blue had ended up baking alone, then stopped herself. “That woman was right,” she said softly. “I am fat.”

April set down her fork with a clink. “People need to concentrate on what’s right about themselves. If you only think about what’s wrong, or about all the mistakes you’ve made, you get paralyzed. Are you going to fill up your head with garbage—everything you don’t like about yourself—or are you going to be proud of who you are?”

April’s intensity made Riley’s lip tremble. “I’m only eleven,” she said in a tiny voice.

April made a business of wadding her napkin. “That’s right. I’m sorry. I guess I was thinking about someone else.” She gave Blue an overly bright smile. “Riley and I’ll clean up while you relax.”

They ended up working together. April tried to distract Riley with talk of clothes and movie stars. One of Riley’s offhand remarks revealed that Marli had deliberately bought Riley’s clothes too small, hoping to shame her into losing weight. Soon after, April excused herself to go to the cottage. She tried to convince Riley to come with her until her father’s assistant arrived, but Riley was still hoping Dean would return.

Blue set Riley up at the kitchen table with a set of watercolors. Riley studied the blank paper. “Would you draw some dogs for me so I can paint them?”

“Wouldn’t you rather draw them yourself?”