A Date With the Other Side (18 page)

“Okay. I can drive you there, then we can go pick up those condoms.” His eyebrows rose up and down and she was sorely tempted.

“Not tonight… I wasn’t thinking… I can’t.” She didn’t want to lie, so she didn’t offer any more than that.

He looked like he knew exactly what she was doing, given the serious way he studied her. But he just asked, “What about tomorrow? I’m going to a picnic at a coworker’s, can you come with me?”

“I have a family picnic I have to go to at my moms and her boyfriend of the month.”

There was a long awkward pause during which Shelby brushed at the seat of her shorts self-consciously as they walked.

“How about tomorrow night, then? We can just get a movie, hang out together.”

She should say no. But she couldn’t. She wanted to be with him and that was the whole darn problem. So she just said, “Sure. Sounds good.”

Then because he was silent and the awkwardness was her own fault, she tried to lighten the mood as they turned onto Gran’s street and strolled toward the Yellow House. “See, I told you things happen when we’re together.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Boston took her hand and dragged her to a stop before Gran’s front porch. “Oh, I never doubted it for a minute. There’s all kinds of things happening between us.”

Before she could think to even think, he took her mouth in a soft but passionate kiss that left her lips trembling and her heart quaking. It was over before she could catch her breath, and he was tapping her rump and urging her toward the house.

“Go in the house, Shelby Tucker, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Since she couldn’t think of a damned thing to say, her mind a jumbled mass of confusion, she just nodded and did as he suggested.

When the front door closed behind her and she leaned against it, breathing in the lemony pine of Gran’s wood cleaner, she closed her eyes and folded her hands across her breasts. “Damn. I think that ant-size attraction I felt for him has grown to about as big as an elephant behind.”

“You say something, Shelby?” Gran called from the kitchen.

“Just thinking.” That she was totally and completely screwed.

Jessie sat in the kitchen wondering if she were suffering from the onset of Alzheimer’s. What the hell had she been thinking to rent one of her houses to a woman who was very likely her granddaughter’s stiffest competition?

Boston knew it wasn’t Shelby knocking on his door at the crack of dawn. Shelby would never bother to knock. She’d stroll her sexy little self into his house using that key he’d had visions of wresting from her on several occasions.

But when he woke up on the Fourth of July to pounding downstairs, he was thinking how nice it would have been if Shelby had used that key, slipped into his room and into his bed… complete with a box of Trojans and some slutty black underwear.

He’d tried to hold on to the fantasy, but the pounding persisted. Stumbling out of bed, Boston pulled on the wrinkled jeans from the night before and headed down the stairs. He didn’t bother with a shirt, and thought of how much money he was saving in dry-cleaning bills. Half his time in Cuttersville had been spent without a shirt on, thanks to Shelby and the lack of air-conditioning.

Boston tripped over the fringe on the deep blue rug in the foyer, but recovered before he clipped the wall. The bell pealed again.

“What?” he said in annoyance, yanking open the door, fully expecting to see Brady Stritmeyer blowing smoke in his face.

It wasn’t Brady.

It was a tall, lean blonde, wearing a denim skirt that was about the width of a stick of gum, along with spiky sandals and a pink skintight shirt that said so juicy across her breasts. Enormous sunglasses tinted pink were shoved up on her thick blond hair and she smiled brightly.

“Amanda?” Boston said in astonishment. Even a dead cow licking his hand wasn’t quite as unbelievable as seeing his boss’s daughter standing on his front porch in Cuttersville, Ohio.

“Hi, Boston. Long time no see.” Amanda Delmar leaned forward and kissed his cheek with a light airy movement, then slipped her skinny body around him and into his house.

“What a… surprise.” Boston turned around, his mind not quite wrapping around the concept of Amanda, a spoiled, albeit intelligent, socialite popping into Podunk. “Is Brett with you?” He peeked out to the driveway, almost expecting to see his boss.

Amanda laughed, spinning on her toothpick heels. “Of course not! And my father’s just going to freak when he finds out I’m here.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Amanda went into the parlor, touching tables and peering at the lace curtains. “This place is sort of cool in a stodgy esoteric kind of way. If you’re into the antique-y thing.”

Her voice left no doubt that she wasn’t one of them. But Boston had no comment, still feeling slightly poleaxed.

“So, are you visiting?” Cuttersville? That was about as likely as someone swinging by a nuclear power plant just for kicks.

“Yes.” Amanda smiled again at him, a calculating practiced smile that made him want to edge back out the door. “I came to visit you. If I’d have known you were staying in this big old house by yourself, I would have just stayed here and saved myself some cash.”

“Where are you staying?” he asked, heart suddenly pounding. Something was wrong here. Someone was not making sense. There was no logical reason for Amanda, who spent her days shopping and her nights partying, to travel four hundred miles to see him.

They were barely acquaintances, only seeing each other occasionally when she visited her father at the office, or at corporate parties where Amanda was usually draped appealingly over the bar.

“I’m staying in a little gray house that looks like the seven dwarves might pop out at any minute. The ceilings are so low I have to duck to go through the doors.” She waved her hand, adjusting her Hermes bag on her shoulder. “I can’t imagine why I rented it for two months.”

“Two months?” He sounded like a castrated parrot, but damn, he couldn’t help himself. Amanda Delmar was like glass—beautiful to look at, but capable of slicing you to ribbons.

She wouldn’t be so dangerous if she wasn’t smart, but she was. Smart, bored, and rich, a bad combination all around.

And her boredom had brought her here to Cuttersville, for him, apparently.

He was so fired.

All his revenue generating, increased plant efficiency, and years of dedicated loyal round-the-clock service to Samson Plastics would mean nothing if Brett thought he was bouncing his only daughter.

“Yes, two months, isn’t that just absurd? But four grand seemed so reasonable for rent and I am
so
bored in Chicago, I’ve been doing nothing but lying at the pool and counting my mai tai umbrellas. I decided it’s time to see America.”

“Starting with Cuttersville, Ohio?” he asked wryly, already trying to think of a way to get her back to Chicago. Maybe he could tell Amanda about the vengeful ghosts, get Mrs. Stritmeyer to refund her money, and have her on a plane by dinner.

“Sure.” Amanda shrugged. “I was thinking the relaxed setting would give us time to get to know each other, away from Dad and all the pressures of Samson.”

“I do work here, you know.” He was just going to ignore that comment about getting to know each other. Maybe if he played dumb, she would get bored with him, just like she did with everything.

Brett had told him Amanda ran through men just like she had colleges, a new one every quarter. Her father had made the comment blithely after discovering that Amanda had maxed out her credit card buying gifts for a boyfriend, and she was
destitute
, as she’d put it.

She wasn’t looking destitute these days if the five-thousand-dollar bag on her shoulder was any indication. Shelby could probably live for five months off the money invested in that pink bag. Amanda had probably taken an entire three minutes to buy it.

“I know you work here, you dolt. Why do you think you’re here? Daddy sent you away to save you from me.” She looked incredibly amused by the idea.

Boston wasn’t amused at all. He was astonished, followed quickly by red-hot searing anger. He had been sent there, to the land of dead cows, cornfields, and back fat, to
protect
him from Amanda Delmar’s expensive clutches? It was infuriating, offensive, unprofessional…

“Well, don’t look so pissed, Boston. It means Dad likes you. He wants to keep you financially solvent and focused on your job.” She ran one glossy fingernail over her pouty lip. “I have a reputation for distracting men from their careers and forcing them into bankruptcy.”

Boston knew the only way to play this with Amanda was to be as nonchalant as she was. He could not let her know that he was even a tiny bit concerned. Which he was. Exactly how long did Brett plan to cloister him here like a Victorian virgin?

But he could handle Amanda. Probably. “So is it true?”

She laughed. “It’s exaggerated. It’s true, I probably do distract men when they’re dating me. I tend to dive into new relationships whole hog.” Amanda smirked. “Listen to that, I’m picking up the local lingo already.”

There was something appealing about Amanda, and it wasn’t just her looks. She was so cavalier, so confident, that Boston could see men getting sucked into her vibrant vortex. He wasn’t one of them, though. His tastes ran more to natural, no-game-playing tour guides.

“And the bankruptcy charges?” He smiled at Amanda, gesturing for her to sit down on the sofa.

She did, tucking those long thin legs under her, the little skirt covering only the essentials. “Is it my fault it men want to buy me things?”

Boston laughed, seeing straight through Amanda Delmar. Underneath the flirtation and the designer clothes and the self-deprecation, she was lonely. He should know. He’d felt exactly the same way until he’d come to Cuttersville. Until he’d met Shelby.

He decided that whether it jeopardized his career or not, he needed to play it straight with Amanda. Boston dropped into an armchair that he usually avoided because it was rickety and narrow. He shifted and looked at Amanda.

She was waiting expectantly, features carefully amused, but just a touch of wariness in her eyes. Boston thought most people wouldn’t notice it, but he did. “I appreciate your stopping by to see me, Amanda. And I’ll be happy to show you the charms of Cuttersville, such as they are. But just to be up front with you, I’m dating someone here.”

There was no reaction. Amanda was good at covering her emotions. She tilted her head a little, the sunglasses starting a slow slide out of her heavy hair. “Really? I never would have imagined that. Well, enjoy your little down-home dalliance.”

She reached up to adjust the sunglasses, her tight top stretching way up on her thin frame, exposing ribs and the concave flesh between. Amanda was a gorgeous woman, and maybe once upon a time he would have seen that bare flesh and been aroused. Now he could only compare her glossy perfection to Shelby’s natural beauty, and Amanda fell far short.

“She’s special.”

Now Amanda did blink. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “That’s unbelievable, God, Boston Macnamara falling for a girl in the sticks. But I wish you all the best and all that other pleasant bullshit.”

He thought she meant it, as much as Amanda could. Her attraction to him had never been about him, but another way to jab at her father. It was a feeling he understood, had entertained himself, though he’d never acted on it. Of course, he didn’t know where his father was.

“Thanks.” Boston tapped his thumbs on his knees. It wasn’t any of his business. But he had to ask. “What gives between you and Brett? Why the animosity?”

He expected her to laugh and pretend she didn’t know what he meant. Or to tell him to go to hell and take her father with him. But she just shrugged. “He wants me to be you, that’s the problem. I was supposed to be a boy. Instead he got a girl, complete with breasts and a brain and a penchant for eye shadow. He never knew what to do with all of that.”

She didn’t want him to say anything, and he didn’t know how to respond anyway. He couldn’t fix Amanda’s relationship with her father any more than he could fix his with his own. “So are you planning on telling him you’re here? Or is this a secret?”

“It wouldn’t be any fun if it was a secret. But I guess I won’t be here as long as I originally planned since you’re busy. I’ll leave in a day or two. Right now I couldn’t handle that cab ride back to the airport.” She rolled her eyes. “God, these people here are crazy, Boston. The cabbie wanted to
talk
to me, can you imagine? For an hour and a half!”

He laughed. “Why don’t you stay a week? I’ll show you around and by then you’ll be bored, but Brett will have had time to get wind of the fact that you’re here. And your landlady is a shark, by the way, but since I’m seeing her granddaughter, maybe I can get you a refund on the rent.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said breezily. “Only I need a rental car then.”

“No problem. We’ll hook you up.” He stood up. “Now, how about we head down the street for the parade, and I’ll show you all that picturesque Cuttersville has to offer.”

“Oh, goody.” Amanda sounded less than enthused. “A parade.”

“Do you want to change?” He eyed her shoes dubiously. “It’s a casual kind of thing.”

Amanda looked at him like he was insane. “I am casual. T-shirt, denim skirt. What do you want? Pajamas?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s the shoes, Amanda.”

She stuck her foot straight out and inspected her stilettos. “These are Jimmy Choo shoes, appropriate for all occasions.”

He just shook his head. “Trust me.” If his hair gel warranted discussion, he couldn’t imagine what Amanda’s five-hundred-dollar shoes would do to the good people of Cuttersville.

“Okay.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a pair of pink flip-flops. She exchanged the heels for the rubber sandals and asked, “Better?”

“Better.” At five-ten, blond, and dressed like a supermodel, Amanda was still bound to attract attention, but at least in flip-flops he wouldn’t have to pull her out when her heel got stuck in the dirt.

“Aren’t you going to put a shirt on?” she asked, gesturing to his chest. “Or is that casual for men?”