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“And not that it matters, but I was not drunk that day of the press conference and photo shoot. The night in the bar, yes, but not the day of the press conference.”
She put her dainty hands on her dainty hips, reminding Lenny of one of the pretty dolls his grandmother liked to collect. “That’s not how the tabloids saw things.”
“Yeah, well, the tabloids lie.” He shifted, let out a grunt. “I don’t need you here, Ms. Harper.”
She stared at him with so much clinical intensity, he actually got nervous. “You know something, Lenny, you’re an amazing specimen of manhood. So completely male, the testosterone is bouncing off you like laser rays.”
“Glad you noticed,” he said with a lift of his chin. And a testosterone-filled angry glare.
Score one for Lenny. She touched a hand to her burnished hair, while an equally burnished blush moved down her throat. “All of that aside, you’ve made a mess of things. You need a life coach.”
He said something crude then shook his head. “No, I don’t believe I do. I am perfectly fine and I wish my superagent could get that through his thick California skull.”
“He’s concerned about—”
“He’s concerned about the money,” Lenny said, coming down the steps to take her briefcase and tote. He handily tossed them up beside her carry-on, oblivious to the crinkle and crash of her files and personal items. “He doesn’t want the Lenny Paxton gravy train to end. And I’m pretty sure it’s my money he’s offering you to come here for this exclusive therapy session.”
“I wouldn’t exactly look at it that way,” she said through a cringe of distaste. “He just hates to see you wasting away.”
He lifted his hands then winked at her to hide the bulletlike accuracy of her words. “Do I look like I’m wasting away?”
Looking appalled and attractive, she shook her head. “You look okay. Maybe a little out of shape and you do have dark circles under your eyes. But we can fix that with diet and exercise and meditation, and in just a few weeks.”
“A few weeks?” Lenny stomped a foot against the wooden steps, causing caked mud to fall away from his boots. He couldn’t handle this kind of talk for that long. “You’re not serious?”
“I’m very serious. I came to stay for the duration, since part of my assignment is to go through this place and get it in tip-top shape. Usually it takes about a month, but I’m prepared to stay longer if necessary.” Then she leaned forward like a mighty little warrior. “You see, it’s not so much about the clutter in the house, but more about the clutter in your head.”
He put his hands on his hips then nailed her with what sports reporters called the Paxton Scowl. “Meditation? You’re really serious?”
She smiled prettily. “Very.”
He scowled nastily. “Really?”
“Really.”
“We’ll just see about that. I’d hate to resort to shooting a woman.”
Her frown wasn’t so surefire. “You won’t shoot me and you can’t send me away. I’m tired and I’m hungry. I drove all day, so I’d have my own car. But I got a flat out on the highway, and Henry came by. I endured Henry’s smelly, oil-guzzling old truck and even older Hank Williams eight-tracks. At least let me stay the night, then we can discuss this like two civilized adults.”
She sounded so pitiful, Lenny had to challenge her, just because he was in a really bad mood. “Depends on what happens during the night, don’t you think?”
Touchdown. She turned as red as Henry’s old truck. “I’m here in a professional capacity only, Mr. Paxton.”
Lenny figured he could change all that, but refrained from suggesting anything specific for now. “Of course you are, Ms. Harper. Don’t worry. You’re not really my type anyway.”
His cell phone rang. “Henry?” Lenny gave Jane a cool look. “Yes, Henry, she really is a life coach. No, I didn’t shoot her, and no, I’m not keeping her.” He hung up. “Henry sends his regards and said to tell you he’s already changed the flat tire. He’ll bring the car around sooner or later.”
“That was nice of him,” Jane replied. “I didn’t have a spare.”
“Yeah, Henry’s real nice. And you should always carry a spare.”
He went back up the steps and stared at her tote and briefcase. Because some of her pens and paper clips had fallen out, he bent to pick them up and shove them back inside her bag, his hand clutching her tube of “Cinnamon Sweet” lipstick a little too long. When he stood, he tried to hide the pain shooting throughout his body. No need to let her see how he’d been battered and bruised in the name of football. And no need for her to see into his battered and bruised soul, either.
But she noticed anyway. Her tone hinted of understanding and sympathy. “I can’t leave. You look as if you need someone to talk to and I’m tired and I need a solid meal. Please?”
Lenny wanted to be mean and tell her to take a hike, but he couldn’t do that to a stranded woman, even if he really didn’t want to deal with another woman. “Fine, then. Make yourself at home, but just for tonight.”
He pointed toward the screen door. “There’s a big room upstairs on the right.” He paused, looked out toward the mountains again, thinking he’d regret putting her in that particular room, but at least it was clean. “I guess you can stay in there, but you’d better not rearrange anything, understand? The kitchen is straight down the hallway to the left.” Leaning close, he added, “And don’t expect room service.”
LENNY MARCHED past Jane, the smell of sweat and spice surrounding him in a heated mist that hit her nostrils with all the force of something both forbidden and enticing. Since when had her sensory awareness escalated to the point of bringing on an adrenaline rush? Just nerves and being tired, she told herself as she watched his retreating back.
“You have a dog in there, right?”
He turned, a wolfish grin causing his words to come out in a snarl. “Yeah. I hope you like animals, because the dog stays—but you won’t be here long enough to get to know my dog, or me.”
Memo to self, Jane thought, watching the frown increase on his face. This man is hostile and unyielding. Marcus hadn’t told her Lenny didn’t want her here. Marcus hadn’t told her a lot of things. Such as, this man was obviously hurting in more than just a physical way.
“Thank you for letting me stay,” Jane called after him, a nervous twitch forming over her left eyebrow. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do,” he shot back, his tone dismissive and condescending. “Just leave your bags there. I’ll bring them up later.”
Then he picked up his gun and disappeared around the side of the house.
Jane turned toward the cool darkness of the hallway beyond the screen door, dragging her bags since she was certainly capable, for goodness’ sake. There she was met by the biggest, ugliest dog she’d ever seen. A dog that immediately started drooling on her loafers.
CHAPTER TWO
“UH, OH.” Jane did not like animals. Animals were smelly and slobbery and usually an all-around pain in the neck (just like football players, come to think of it). Her eyes already burning, she said, “Get off me, you big lug.”
Taking her verbal plea as an invitation, the dog pawed his way up her dress, whimpering for attention. Jane grabbed his dirty paws, desperate to get him away from her personal space. “I said, get off me.” She backed against the screen door, causing it to squeak and creak. Grabbing onto the doorjamb, she tried to save the last of her dignity before Lenny found her standing here, cowering.
But it was too late. The groaning door gave way while the dog kept advancing toward her. Jane backed up, her hand slipping from the doorjamb while the screen door banged open.
She fell back against Lenny Paxton’s hard chest, felt the solid wall of his body and immediately felt a charged current of energy radiating from him. Before she could pull away, the dog came running and crashed into her—front side. While Lenny held her—back side.
“Boy!”
At Lenny’s harsh command, the dog dropped, whimpered a retort then gave Jane a big-eyed look as if to say, “Aren’t I lovable enough for you?”
Jane looked around at the man fogging up her usually sensible brain right along with her really sensible glasses. Lenny lifted her away, his movements shaking the old floorboards of the porch, his famous frown locked inches from her nose.
Looking just about as flustered as she felt, he said, “I told you I have a dog.”
“Is that what this is?” she managed to ask through a shaky laugh, her eyes on the huge monstrosity sitting at her feet. “More like an ox.”
Judging from the smirk on his face, Lenny was enjoying her discomfort. But Jane also saw something else in his diamond-edged eyes. Fear and apprehension. He’d done this on purpose. Let her walk right into this big animal. His scare tactics weren’t going to drive her away, just because he was afraid to have her here. She’d take an allergy pill and get along with this big brute. And the dog, too.
To prove she was in this for the long haul, Jane wiped her sweaty hands on her dress then leaned over and tentatively patted the dog on its splotchy gold-and-white head. “Nice doggy. What a nice fellow.”
Lenny gave her a once-over, surprise settling on his face like a flag falling after a football play. “Boy—his name is Boy. And he’s harmless but overly friendly. It’s part of his charm.” He smiled as if to say it was also part of his charm. Then he lifted her bags to settle them in a spot by the stairs.
At least her bags were advancing, even if she wasn’t.
Jane followed, stepping around groaning bookcases and ancient sideboards stacked with dishes and dolls, hoping to open a dialogue. “Boy? Your dog’s name is Boy?”
Lenny shrugged, stalked to the refrigerator in the long, multi-windowed kitchen. This room had a lot of country charm, all frilly and old-fashioned and overdone with roosters of various sizes. And more dishes, along with cabinets filled with pots and pans, and more dolls on some of the counters. The only saving grace—the big windows were thrown open to allow the crisp fall breeze to play through the lacy white curtains.
Lenny Paxton looked as out of place in here as a gladiator in a queen’s sitting room. Which only added to his mystique. Why had he come to this particular place in this particular time of his life? And how could someone so intimidating and burly live with all this dainty stuff?
Jane jotted copious notes in her writing pad. When Lenny turned around, she hid the pad then pushed at her glasses. “Boy?” she repeated, trying to work up some meaningful discussion. Since he seemed to love the dog, she decided to start with that. Except that every time she said “Boy” the dog looked at her with hopeful expectation. The man did not.
“Yes, his name is Boy.” He patted the dog’s head. “It was the only thing he’d answer to when my granddaddy found him up on the highway. It kinda stuck.” He looked out over the big backyard. “Granddaddy died about a year after he found Boy.”
Jane registered that information and the reverent way he’d told her, since she hadn’t been able to find out much about his early years. Famous she could research; private, what-makes-you-tick stuff was harder to investigate. “I’m sorry. Were you close to your grandfather?”
He turned with another attempt at a smirk, his hostility bouncing off the walls like the beats of a big brass drum. “You are not going to get any fodder out of me, so don’t even try. I don’t have any issues. I’m perfectly content. Or at least I was until you got here.”
“Sorry. I was trying to be polite.”
Lenny gave her a long, curious stare, then nodded toward the dog still hassling at her feet. “At least Boy seems to trust you. But then, he’s dumber than dirt.”
“What exactly is he?” Jane asked as she brushed off her dress. She could feel the hives working their aggravating way up her neck. Thankfully, she had a good supply of hand sanitizer and allergy pills in her bag.
“Part hound, part collie, I think.”
“Are you sure there isn’t some wolf and wild boar mixed in there somewhere?”
That actually made the man smile. He had a nice, devastating smile.
Clearing her throat, Jane watched as he took a vintage Fiestaware pitcher out of the refrigerator then poured some water into a plastic Razorback cup. Pushing at the various dishes, he found a dainty crystal glass and filled it with water then shoved it at her. “Drink this.”
Jane took the water, watching as he picked up the plastic cup then lifted it in a salute. When he downed the whole thing, desire flooded through her system with a thousand-watt brilliance. Desire for the water, not the man, she assured herself. And just to prove that point, she also downed part of her glassful.
He turned, stared at her as if she were in the way then shrugged again. “I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? We need to sit down and talk about how to get you back to wherever it is that shrinks go to roost.”
He was playing hard to get, siccing his dog on her, making insults. Typical hostile male behavior. Meaning this would not be a good time to tell him she was also on assignment with Sidelined magazine. “Just pass the water jug again, would you? I’m hot and tired, and the least you can do is allow me the courtesy of your time. I might be able to help you if you give me a chance.”
He stood back, his intimidating crystal eyes shot full of misgivings. “Is this one of those shrink games? A trick to make me change my mind?”
“No, absolutely not,” she said, advancing a step. Boy followed her, stopping whenever she stopped. She didn’t like playing the helpless female, but Jane had to try a different tactic with this one. “I was counting on this assignment. I like the money, of course, and I need some time away from my other patients.” Almost to herself, she added, “They’re really getting on my nerves.”
He arched his thick eyebrows, his nostrils flaring as if he’d just sniffed something in the air. “I thought it was your job to keep people from going crazy.”
“It is. I mean, I do. Actually, I just help people to gain self-esteem and get rid of some excess baggage in both their personal and emotional lives. I’ve written books, based on some of my experiences, with my clients’ permission, of course.” She glanced around at the ceramic roosters filling the kitchen, her fingers itching to straighten things about as bad as the hives on her neck were itching to be scratched.
“Don’t count on doing that with me,” he retorted, his tone quiet and deadly, even with lace curtains lifting behind him in the afternoon breeze.
“Uh…well…it’s not just that,” she said, wondering if she’d ever gain his trust. “Sometimes, it’s good to get out of the office now and then.” Rummaging through her purse, she found her allergy pills, took one with the water then sat the glass on the one clear spot amid the sports magazines and obvious unopened bills on the table.
Lenny cranked up a portable CD player sitting on the counter. Steve Miller’s “Abracadabra” filled the air. “Running from something, doc?”
Jane realized her mistake. Lenny Paxton thought she was too wacky to advise anyone. And maybe he was right. She was a klutz at times. And she did have her own issues. Especially regarding jocks. She was so not a jock-type woman.
Reminding herself to stay professional, she pushed at her chignon. “Could I sit down, please?”
He found a clear chair—all chrome and red aged vinyl—then with a flourish, lifted his hands toward her and said in a sarcastic tone, “By all means, sit, take a load off.”
Jane urged her tired bones toward the cushioned chair. Didn’t this house have air-conditioning? In spite of the cool breeze coming from the window, she felt flushed.
“Thank you,” she said, taking in the old, linoleum-topped breakfast table. Then she sank against the table, causing its chrome legs to scrape across the wooden floor. “I didn’t want to be a part of all the Razorback hoopla back in Little Rock. My family tends to take game day very seriously.”
He grinned the way a warrior with a spear would grin as he went in for the kill. “You don’t like football?”
Jane stood up straight, trying to focus, trying to reach the volume dial on the CD player. “Not at all.”
Lenny pushed her hand away. “But you came here anyway, to fix me? Or is that it? You hate football, so it’s your goal to fix all football players?”
She cleared her tight throat. “It’s a paying assignment, regardless of the unpleasant subject matter.” Then Boy decided to make another play for her. Gasping, Jane backed up against the chair. And got dizzy again.
Lenny caught her by her elbows, then frowned an inch away from her face. “What ails you, anyway?”
“I…missed lunch.”
“Sit down,” he said, shoving her onto the chair. “You obviously aren’t used to this late-summer heat.” His mock-concerned look didn’t give her hope that the man did have a heart.
“I grew up in Arkansas,” she pointed out, a triumphant tone in her voice to undermine her wobbly legs. “I know all about heat and humidity. It’s rather nice out today and the leaves are just starting to turn.” She smiled, squirmed, looked away. “All in all, rather enjoyable. In fact, I’d forgotten how lovely the fall leaves are.”
“Too bad you won’t get to stick around. Fall in the Ozarks is really pretty. That is, when you’re out in the peace and quiet of the country.”
“All the more reason to be here, instead of cooped up in my office back in the city.”
He made a sad face. “If only you could stay.”
“Let’s forget all about that for now. Did you grow up in Arkansas?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he slapped her question back at her. “Did you grow up in Little Rock, or just find a place to roost there and hang out your shingle?”
“Yes, I grew up in Little Rock,” Jane replied, trying to be honest in hopes that he’d do the same. “My dad was in the air force so we traveled a lot, but when he retired we settled back in Arkansas. My parents are both college professors now. We moved to Fayetteville when I was in high school. They taught at the University of Arkansas there for years.”
And she’d been an awkward, geeky teenager who’d babysat instead of going to homecoming and prom. “So my family—I have a sister and a brother, both younger than me—are all Trojan and Razorback fans. My parents moved back to Little Rock a few years ago, and during football season, everyone congregates for football parties. Everyone but me, unless I’m forced to do so.”
“Wow, you really do hate football. Isn’t it sacrilege to miss a Razorback game?”
Jane felt the need to defend her position. “I work a lot. I keep a private practice, and my self-help books and magazine articles are doing quite well. I lecture at major companies, help train employees, get people motivated to live their best lives. I can do the same for you.”
He ignored that suggestion. “Why didn’t you move—say to New York or Los Angeles? You know, some place where all the really crazy people live?”
“I love Arkansas,” she said, not even daring to voice her real reasons for staying close to home.
