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Instantly alert, Abby stopped pacing. “Is something wrong, Jamie?”
“No.” She shrugged.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Abby asked. “Does it have anything to do with the guy your parents bought you at the auction?”
A smile curved up the corners of Jamie’s mouth. “Yeah. A little. I’m dealing with it. No big deal.”
Abby had learned that if her friend didn’t want to talk about something, nothing could drag it out of her. So they might as well go back to the problem at hand. “Okay. Let’s come up with some really creative grounds for suing Riley Dixon.” Abby was glad when her words produced a laugh.
“So you refuse to let him reimburse you and just camp out with Kimmie in your new backyard and take her to the park for a walk?”
“No can do,” Abby said. “Not authentic enough for The Bluebonnets. It’s gotta be real. At least one night living off the land. With dirt and no flushing toilets. Microwave bad, fire good,” she said in her best caveman voice.
Jamie laughed. “That seems pretty extreme.”
“Don’t tell Kimmie that. She’s got her heart set on getting all her badges. You know her. When she gets something in her head, she’s going to do it. And come hell or high water, she’ll get it perfect. I keep telling myself that determination is a good quality in an adult.”
“There’s got to be another way.”
“I don’t want to find another way. I had it all figured out and paid for.” She held her hands out, palms up. A helpless gesture, and she hated feeling helpless—maybe even more than she hated relying on a man. “What am I going to do?”
“Talk to him again.” Jamie shrugged as if it were that easy.
“Are you saying you won’t sue him?”
“No. I’m saying people are too sue-happy these days when a simple conversation could save time, aggravation and money. He’s ex-military. Surely he’s a rational, logical man.”
Abby sighed. “Listen to yourself. Any self-respecting legal eagle would take this case and run with it for all the billable hours they could get. You, my friend, are going to starve.”
“I can afford to take off a few pounds.”
“You are so lying. And you’re too thin. You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”
“No. Except I know you don’t really want to sue Riley Dixon. You just needed to let off steam.”
“Busted,” Abby said.
“And I suspect the name-calling did wonders for your anger abatement level.”
“You think slacker, welsher, jerk and flake helped?”
“I do, indeed.”
Abby sighed. “You’d be right. But don’t let on to Kimmie. I always tell her to use people’s given names and I’m fairly certain none of the above are on Fred’s birth certificate. Or Dixon’s, either, for that matter.”
“She’ll never hear it from me. But in that spirit, I’d be happy to role-play with you for your next conversation with Riley Dixon.”
The thought of seeing him again sent quivers through Abby and she remembered the mayor’s comment on auction night about thrills and chills. His words were turning out to be annoyingly prophetic. She wondered if she might be better off if she waved the white flag and retreated.
Riley Dixon watched the elevator doors close, then turned to his sister. “We got the contract.”
Nora smiled. “To put security systems in all the district’s high schools?”
“Yup. Starting with Charity City High.”
“Congratulations.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re excited?” Nora asked, toying with the pen on her desk.
“Of course.”
“Then why do you look like someone let your favorite pistol rust in the rain?”
“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess it’s because we shouldn’t need metal detectors and surveillance systems in high schools.”
“It doesn’t mean that all kids have gone over to the dark side,” she pointed out.
“I know.”
“You can’t take responsibility for what’s wrong with the world today.”
“I know that, too. But it seems wrong to profit from it.”
She lifted her shoulders. “The Board of Education budgeted for the security measures. And frankly, if they’ve decided it’s necessary, I’ll sleep better at night knowing they’ve hired the best company for the job. So will a lot of high school parents. Mostly the kids are good, normal kids. You’ve been hired to make sure they’re safe from the occasional bad apple. The school district feels it’s money well spent. Why don’t you?”
“Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”
“You’re welcome. In exchange, I’d like to know why you practically threw Abby Walsh out of your office.” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and met his gaze.
Riley knew his sister well, meaning she wasn’t going to back off. “She was here to make arrangements for the survival weekend I donated to the Charity City auction.”
“Wow. That clears up any confusion,” she said sarcastically. “And here I thought she’d done something really bad. Like having the audacity to look a lot like Barb Kelly.”
Riley winced. Abby Walsh was petite and feminine and beautiful. Her skin looked soft and her shiny brown hair even softer. It was like a curtain of silk teasing her shoulders. And Nora was right. Abby looked an awful lot like the pregnant woman he’d married to give her baby a name. The same woman who walked out two years later when the biological father finally showed up to claim his rights. Better late than never had made him feel like hell.
“Her daughter needs some kind of scouting badges,” he explained.
“And you jumped to the conclusion that she was cut from Barb Kelly cloth and dumping the kid on you.”
“Yeah.” Just like old times, he thought. “I’m glad you understand.” It’s what he loved about Nora.
“But I don’t understand. Didn’t you clarify the situation?”
He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “She claimed she’d never turn the kid over to a complete stranger and said she’d be going on the `outing’ too.” He huffed out a breath. “Outing. As if it’s a society picnic with hoity-toity baskets and buckets of champagne.”
“It couldn’t be possible that you thought she was phat.”
“You’ve got eyes. Did you think she was overweight?”
He thought she had the curviest little body he’d seen in a long time, although it was hard to tell in that full-skirted thing she’d been wearing. But her arms were toned and the silky shirt she wore under it molded to her breasts in a way that tempted a man and made him hot all over.
“I didn’t say F-A-T. I said P-H-A-T—pretty hot and tempting.”
“No,” he lied. “I didn’t think that.”
“Okay. Then I have to conclude you’re scared.”
He stood, to crank up the intimidation factor, and glared down at her. “This is me we’re talking about. When I was in the army, I parachuted into hostile territory with nothing but a knife, a sidearm and a radio. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“And this is me,” Nora said, unfazed by the intimidation ploy. “I was there to pick up the pieces when Barb Kelly walked out with the child you fell in love with—”
“Don’t go there,” he warned.
“Why not? You just did.”
“No, not where you think. I just faced reality a long time ago. I’m a place-holder.”
“Not that again.” She sighed. “Poor you. You were adopted, and Mom and Dad love me best because I have their DNA. Trust me, it’s not that special.”
“You’re wrong. You’re pretty special.”
“So are you. For the record—and this is the last time I’m inflating your fragile male ego—the folks love you. Dad’s shirt buttons are in serious jeopardy of popping every time he boasts to his buddies about his son the Army Ranger.”
“Enough,” he said. “I’m not a kid any more.”
“You’re acting like one.”
“Am not.” He grinned as she sighed. “Do me a favor and just bury it.”
“You can duck into your foxhole if you want,” she said. “But I think you noticed the resemblance to Barb, too, and it scared the stuffing out of you.”
“You’d be wrong.”
“Then why did you refuse to keep your word and do the survival weekend?”
“I’m busy. Just got the new contract.”
“You didn’t have it in the bag when she was here. Definitely scared.”
“Busy.”
“Scared.”
“Busy.” Now it was his turn to sigh.
Squabbling just like when they were kids. And their parents had always seemed to take her side. Because she was their biological child and he’d been adopted when they’d thought conceiving their own baby was impossible. But there was something about Nora. He simply couldn’t hold it against her that she was a product of the folks’ love and DNA. He’d felt protective of her from the moment she had come home from the hospital. He had a bond with her. More than that—he loved her.
“Is there any way I can convince you you’re wrong?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to share, or do I have to use more aggressive interrogation techniques?”
“No tickling,” she warned.
“Then talk.”
“Right back at you, Riley. Face Abby Walsh. And talk.” She sighed at his look. “The thing is, you don’t have a choice. This is you. Although you try to hide all your good qualities behind a surly exterior, I happen to know you’re loyal, honest and you always pay your debts and do your duty. You gave your word to the Charity City Foundation when you volunteered the weekend for auction. And you’re an honorable man. You can’t do anything but talk to her.”
He hated that she was right. “Okay. You win.”
“Good.” She pointed at him. “But remember. That doesn’t mean the talk needs to be personal. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t under any circumstances get involved with her.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, sis. I don’t do personal. I’ll smooth things over.” Things like the curve of her cheek and the slender column of her neck. The insubordinate thoughts made him grind his teeth and proved that Abby Walsh was trouble with a capital T. “By the time I’m finished oozing charm, she’ll be glad to let me compensate her for the money she spent.”
And he’d be off one very large, very uncomfortable hook.
Chapter Two
A half hour after deciding to be sweet and lovable in his quest to change Abby Walsh’s mind, Riley stood on her doorstep. He’d have been there sooner, but it took him a few minutes to find out where she lived.
Her place was in The Villas, one of Charity City’s newest areas built by Richmond Homes. It was a charming neighborhood, meaning he was in the right place to take his charm out for a spin and see what it could do. And she’d accused him of lacking charm and courtesy. She was in for the charmfest of her life, he thought, pushing the doorbell.
“Who’s there?” It was a child’s voice behind the door.
“Riley Dixon,” he answered.
“The man Mommy bought at the auction?”
“Yes.” His reputation preceded him.
The door opened and a pint-size girl stood in front of him wearing pink satin pajamas, matching slippers with feathers on the toes and a pink robe with cartoon princesses on it. Her hair was long enough to disappear behind her shoulders, but what he could see of it was wet. Taking a mental leap, he guessed she’d just had her evening bath and was dressed for bed.
“Kimmie?” he said, remembering how Abby had corrected him when he’d called her “the kid.”
“Yes.”
He noticed the sleeves and hem of her robe were trimmed with white lace and tried to picture her camping in rugged terrain. Paying back the Charity City foundation should have been easy. Take a guy camping and teach him a few survival skills. End of obligation. But his luck wasn’t that good. The woman who’d bought him would consider a broken nail a life-altering event. And her child no doubt took after her.
“I’d like to talk to your mom. Is she here?”
There was a ten-year-old car in the driveway, but that didn’t mean the mom in question was on the premises.
“Mommy’s in the attic. It’s upstairs, and the ladder is pulled down.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m watchin’ TV before I hafta go to bed and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“It’s okay. I can find her.”
