She's No Angel (3 page)

Brett seriously doubted she actually meant it.

* * *

A
N
HOUR
LATER
the bottom of his pants brushed stiffly against his calves, rigid with dried sugar and chocolate. The inside of his shoes would never be the same. Hell, even his toes were sticky.

Brett grimaced as he opened the front door to the inn. Getting out of these clothes was all he could think about.

Mrs. McKinnon stuck her head out of the office. “Oh, you’re home.” Calculating eyes beneath droopy lids swept him from head to toe, missing nothing.

“What happened to you?” she asked, finally abandoning her hidey-hole. Fisted hands landed on her hips and she glared up at him. Brett guessed she was in her late sixties, and as far as he could tell, she ran the place entirely by herself.

He’d never known his grandparents, one set died before he was born and the other hadn’t cared that he existed. Mrs. McKinnon didn’t quite fit the picture of a grandmother that he’d always had in his head. She was disapproving.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.” She pointed at his feet. “Those shoes are ruined.” She clucked her tongue and transferred the glare from his offending footwear. “You’ll be lucky if the pants aren’t, too. Take ’em off.”

Brett blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Take ’em off.” She snapped her fingers and rolled her finger in the air so he’d hurry up. “I’ll have them cleaned and pressed for you in the morning.”

It was already well past nine. “They’re dry clean only.”

“You don’t think I can manage to take care of a single pair of pants?”

“No,” he protested, not entirely sure why the thought of insulting her bothered him. He didn’t know this woman from Adam. Besides, “I’m not taking my pants off in the middle of your foyer, Mrs. McKinnon.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, why ever not? I promise you don’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen.” Her mouth twisted and her already wrinkled face creased even more. “’Sides, I don’t want you tromping through my nice clean place trailing Lord knows what behind ya.”

“The chocolate’s dry.”

“Chocolate?” she asked, her eyes sharpening. “How’d you get chocolate all over your pants?”

Brett gave up. He’d intended to keep the incident to himself, realizing that exposing Lexi to gossip wasn’t the best way to win points with her—or the mayor. But protecting her from embarrassment wasn’t worth arguing with Mrs. McKinnon.

“Lexi Harper dumped a bowl of some chocolate thing on my feet.”

The wheezing cackle startled Brett. Taking a huge step forward, he started to whack Mrs. McKinnon on the back, afraid she was choking to death, until he realized she was laughing.

Swiping at the corner of her eye she said, “Priceless. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Who will?” Brett asked, not understanding.

Mrs. McKinnon shook her head. “Everyone.” She rolled her hand again. “Give ’em over.” And waited expectantly.

Brett stood in the middle of the foyer surrounded by furniture that looked as though it might have been in Mrs. McKinnon’s family for a couple of generations—small couch, antique lamps, Oriental rug and long sideboard.

He didn’t want to take his pants off here. It felt...wrong. So wrong. But she was blocking the only way up to his room and looked as if she planned to stay there all night. He could have picked her up and moved her. Or pushed past her. But she was small and wrinkled, and he just couldn’t make himself do it.

Without any other option, Brett kicked off his shoes and reached for his fly. He hopped on one foot to pull off his pants. The memory of Lexi doing the same thing tonight as she’d pulled on her heels surprised him.

With a grimace, he wiped the image from his brain. Folding his pants, he handed them to Mrs. McKinnon and moved to pass her. Her hard voice stopped him. “Socks, too.”

With a sigh of defeat, he slipped them off as quickly as possible and dropped them onto the top of the pile in her hands.

“Leave the shoes by the door and I’ll see if they can be saved.”

“You don’t have to—”

She cut him off. “I take care of my guests, Mr. Newcomb, even if they are here to put me out of business.”

“I’m not here to do that, Mrs. McKinnon.”

Her sharp eyes raked him from head to toe, missing nothing. Brett fought the urge to cover himself with his hands. The boxer briefs he’d pulled on this morning definitely didn’t cover enough. But then, he hadn’t intended to be standing in his underwear in front of anyone when he’d gotten dressed today.

Finally, she said, “If you say so,” and moved out of his way.

Brett could feel her eyes on his ass the whole way down the hall and up the stairs. Or maybe that was just his twitchy imagination.

It had been a long damn day. Traveling from Philly, meeting with the mayor, dinner at the Harpers’. All he wanted to do was drop into bed and let go of everything for the next few hours.

But he’d barely gotten inside his room before his cell rang. Glancing at the display, he bit back a curse.

“Mr. Bowen.”

“How was dinner? Tell me you got what we wanted and you’re heading home.”

Kicking the door closed behind him, Brett pressed the phone to his ear with one hand while he rummaged in the suitcase he hadn’t bothered unpacking yet.

After all the other humiliations of the night, it shouldn’t have bothered him to talk to his boss on the phone in his Skivvies, but it did. Peeling them off with one hand, he replaced them with a pair of sweatpants he’d brought to sleep in. Normally he didn’t bother, but sleeping on strange sheets gave him the heebie-jeebies.

Not that he was going to tell that to Mrs. McKinnon. Not unless he wanted his pants returned with scorch marks and a hole in the rear. Which, all things considered, was still a possibility.

“No, we did not get what we want.”

“What? You had the perfect opportunity to win the mayor over, Newcomb.”

“This isn’t something that can be done in one night, Mr. Bowen, and you know it. It’s going to take repeated conversations and assurances. Compromise.”

Something hard crashed on the other end of the line. “Dammit! I need this project to go through, Newcomb. The sooner the better.”

“I’m moving as quickly as I can.”

The grunt that greeted him sounded full of skepticism. “What next?”

Brett squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at the headache just starting to invade his temples. He really hadn’t thought past tonight. Brett was big on taking one step at a time. You couldn’t build the walls before the foundation was down.

“Obviously I need another meeting with the mayor.” Although after tonight he wasn’t sure the man would agree to see him.

He’d left the Harpers’ with the distinct impression that the mayor was smugly laughing at him. They were perfectly polite to his face, nice even, and still he’d walked down the driveway to his rental car wondering where they’d buried the knife and why he couldn’t feel the blood seeping out yet.

He’d grown up in a fairly dangerous neighborhood. Guns, drugs, gangs. And these people scared him. Probably because in Philly he knew where the danger lurked. With Sweetheart...he wasn’t entirely sure.

Mr. Bowen must have heard the hesitation in his voice. “You don’t think that’s going to do any good.”

“Not really.”

A growl rolled through the phone. “Use the daughter.”

“What?”

“Use the daughter. I’ve seen pictures, she’s pretty enough. Do what you’re good at, Newcomb. Charm her. Get in her panties. Hell, I don’t care. Whatever it takes to soften her up. I know those Southern girls. They have their daddies wrapped around their little fingers. If the mayor won’t listen to reason then attack him from another front.”

Brett sucked in a hard breath.

Lexi Harper was a passionate little spitfire. Her bouncy blond curls, wide mouth and the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose were clever camouflage, designed to draw you in close enough so that she could cut you with her sharp tongue.

One moment she looked like she belonged in the middle of a gaggle of children, and then she became a siren—all voluptuous curves, acerbic wit and blazing eyes. On the outside she looked all soft and cozy, but she’d had no problem putting him in his place. Even now, thinking about the disdainful expression on her face as she’d called his work shoddy, anger bubbled in his veins.

He had the inexplicable urge to prove her wrong.

“I’ve gathered some information on her—and anyone else I thought might be useful. I’m sending it to you tonight by messenger. You should have it tomorrow.”

Brett hesitated. And as always, Mr. Bowen seemed to sense the weakness before he’d even acknowledged it to himself.

“Don’t forget that nice little bonus, Newcomb. This is a multimillion dollar project and I stand to make a tidy sum when it finally goes through. If you can get the town to flip I’m not above sharing a cut of those profits with you. Fifty thousand is chump change to me, but it should impress that high-priced girlfriend of yours.”

Brett didn’t bother telling Mr. Bowen that he and Michelle had broken up months ago. It worked better for him if his boss thought he intended to blow the money on some lavish vacation or diamond ring. If he realized Brett planned to take the money and run...

He needed that bonus. He needed this project to succeed.

“The daughter, Newcomb. Use her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Bowen had a valid point. There was no doubt Lexi had her father’s ear. Several times during dinner they’d joked together.

“Look, I don’t care how you do it, but convince the mayor to see things our way. Sooner rather than later. You have a week, and for every day after that I’m deducting from that bonus.”

Brett’s jaw flexed dangerously. He shouldn’t be surprised that his boss was changing the rules in the middle of the game. But he needed that money.

“I’ll do what I can.”

3

“O
H
,
MY
FLIPPIN
’
Lord, do you know who’s in town?” Hope burst through the back door into Lexi’s work kitchen. If it wasn’t a normal occurrence she might have jumped. But since the
Sweetheart Sentinel’
s back door was right across the alley, Hope’s drive-bys were a regular thing.

Her future sister-in-law was a journalist for the local paper. Well, more than that, really, since her family had owned the
Sentinel
for almost a hundred years. They’d been friends since childhood, so Lexi had been thrilled when Hope finally realized she was in love with Gage.

While keeping an eagle eye on the batch of caramel bubbling away on the range, Lexi reached beneath the counter, pulled out a container of brownies and passed them to Hope.

Her friend sighed with relief and made herself at home, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and plopping down into one of the chairs at the tiny table in the corner. She popped the top on the brownies and the tempting scent of chocolate filled the air. Lexi pulled the smell deep into her lungs and held it for several seconds, relishing the only taste she was going to get, before letting it go.

To lessen the temptation, she turned her back and began spreading the caramel in the waxed-paper-lined pan so it could cool and harden before she cut it into squares.

“Do you know who’s in town?” Hope asked again, mumbling around a mouthful.

Lexi shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” How would she know until Hope told her? This might not be the town’s busy season, but there were always tourists. Some of them famous. Just last month a young Hollywood starlet had shown up for a wedding dress fitting with Willow.

It was all hush-hush, because she didn’t want the paparazzi to get the design early. She’d worn big glasses and floppy hats. Everyone in town had known who she was. But they’d had plenty of practice thwarting nosy journalists when her brother, Gage, a wounded POW rescued in a high-profile military operation, had come home several months ago. The starlet’s secrets were safe with Sweetheart.

As were anyone else’s, for that matter. There were definite drawbacks to living in a small town, but they knew how to circle the wagons and defend their own when necessary. The mentality was similar to siblings—your big brother could pick on you all he wanted, but the minute someone else tried, blood would be involved.

And anything that affected the town’s image, reputation or businesses affected them all.

“Erica talked to Mrs. McKinnon this morning and apparently that prick who’s been trying to get the town council to rezone the stretch of land across the lake sent someone for tonight’s meeting.”

Heat shot through Lexi. Embarrassment, that was all it was. She’d dumped chocolate mousse on his shoes. And told him his work sucked. She’d left her parents’ house with self-righteous indignation riding hard, which had lasted right up until her head hit the pillow and she tried to go to sleep.

Then guilt set in. God, she’d dumped chocolate mousse on his shoes and told him his work sucked.

Hope apparently didn’t notice her private little meltdown. She snorted. “He came back to the inn last night with his pants in a terrible state. Mrs. McKinnon made him take them off in the middle of the foyer.”

“She didn’t,” Lexi breathed.

Hope’s grin widened. “Oh, she did. And was all too quick to pass along every intimate detail she got an eyeful of.”

Lexi choked. She wheezed, unsure whether to be mortified on Brett’s behalf or amused by the comeuppance Mrs. McKinnon had dished out. Mortification and guilt won. It was her dessert that had put him in the position in the first place.

“Uh...I’m the one who ruined his pants.”

“What?” Hope shot forward in her chair. As a reporter, she was used to being the first with any scoop and discovering juicy details after the fact bugged the hell out of her. “How? And why the heck didn’t you call me?”

“Dad invited him home for dinner last night. Mama called me for a dessert.” Turning to the sink so she could hide her face, Lexi shrugged and mumbled, “I tripped and dumped the dessert on his feet.”

“You did what?” Hope breathed.

Lexi screwed her eyes closed, remembering the exact moment the trifle bowl had slipped from her hands. It replayed as if in slow motion. She kept wondering if there was a way she could have saved the bowl—and chocolate. “Nothing.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Hope crossed the kitchen, forgotten brownie dangling from her fingers, and pressed her hip against the counter. “What did you dump on his feet?”

“Chocolate trifle.”

“You didn’t.”

Lexi looked at her friend. “I did.”

Hope’s eyes rounded with horror, but her lips quivered like they were the only things holding back the biggest belly laugh. “On purpose or by accident?”

“Accident.”

Hope shook her head.

“But if I’d still had it later, I probably would have done it on purpose.”

“That good, huh?”

Lexi grimaced. Giving up on the distraction, she sank into the chair Hope had vacated. The scent of chocolate got stronger.

“He came here and I sold him a cake. I had no idea who he was. He said he didn’t know I was the mayor’s daughter, but I’m not sure I believe him.”

Hope plopped down beside her. “Why?”

Lexi sent her a pointed glance. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men who walk into my store. The last one used me for information. The likelihood is this one’s doing the same thing.”

Several months ago a reporter for the
Atlanta Courier
had targeted her. Brandon had lied, telling her he was a nurse from Charleston, all the while flirting and seducing, subtly pumping her for information about Gage and his experiences in Afghanistan. He’d wanted the scoop on a story Gage had refused to give to anyone—including Hope, the woman he’d loved for years. Luckily, Lexi didn’t know any details, but that didn’t stop the guilt and self-recrimination.

She should have known Brandon had ulterior motives. Why else would a beautiful and charming guy have been interested in her?

Hope’s sharp blue eyes met hers. A single eyebrow rose in a silent question.

“What?”

“Comparing him to Brandon implies that he tried to seduce you. I smell more to this story than you’ve told me. Spill it.”

Fudge. Lexi wrinkled her nose. She should have known Hope would pick up on the one thing she’d meant to keep to herself.

She calculated her chances of getting Hope off the trail and decided they were nil. With a sigh of resignation, she said, “We flirted. Before I knew who he was. But it didn’t mean anything and I have no intention of doing it again. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone.”

“True.”

Lexi eyed the open container of brownies. She really wanted one, but realized the urge had nothing to do with her sweet tooth. Although the nervous pit in her belly would probably feel so much better with a little chocolate.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Hope reached into the container and held one out to her. “Be bad for once, Lexi.”

“No.”

Hope rolled her eyes.

“That brownie is a slippery slope. If I break the rules now I’ll break ’em again in an hour. And tomorrow. And next week. And before you know it I’ll be Piglet Harper all over again.”

Hope frowned, but tightened the lid on the brownies anyway. Lexi appreciated her friend’s support, even if Hope didn’t completely understand. Lexi had worked hard to shed the pounds and the mental weight of being disappointed in her own body. She wasn’t about to backslide now because she couldn’t say no to a brownie she didn’t really need and only wanted because she was embarrassed and upset and on edge.

“So, since you’ve seen him...”

Lexi ignored the pointed emphasis her friend put on the word
seen.

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Despite what she’d said about his designs, Brett Newcomb was anything but stupid. She couldn’t imagine that he would come all the way to Sweetheart without a plan. And a pretty good one.

She remembered the way he’d watched her with those ice-blue eyes, and a shiver snaked down her spine.

“I’ve seen that expression on your face before.” Hope watched her with appraising eyes. “You’re attracted to him.”

“I’m not,” Lexi protested, a little too quickly.

Hope’s pointed stare weighed on her. It was all her friend needed to call her a liar. It made her want to squirm. And she finally caved.

“All right. So he’s...gorgeous. Sexy in a cool, reserved way. If you go for that kind of thing.”

“And you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, you do.”

Lexi reached into the fridge and snatched out a bottle of water, snapping off the lid with one quick twist. “Okay, maybe, if he wasn’t the enemy.”

“Hardly the enemy. He’s just doing his job.”

Hope was making excuses for him? She hadn’t even met him yet. “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours,” was her friend’s immediate answer. “Ours. Everyone’s. But maybe I’m a little more objective.”

“Hope, the man came here to put an eyesore on the outskirts of town.”

Hope shrugged. “We both know that’s not going to happen. At least not the way things are right now. So maybe he’s here for another reason.”

Sure, to make her life a tangled mess.

“All I’m saying is you should give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Lexi choked on her water and stared at her friend. Had Hope really just said that? Out of everyone, she understood just why Lexi would hesitate to trust anyone, least of all a complete stranger.

Hope had been there when she’d discovered Brandon’s deception. “You know what happened the last time I trusted a man who showed up ‘randomly’ on my doorstep. I’m not inclined to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Especially a man we know for a fact is here to make trouble.”

Hope blinked and shook her head. “What happened with Brandon was not your fault, Lexi.”

“Of course it was my fault. I let my lust blind me to what he was really after.”

“He was a deceitful user and a talented liar. He’d have told you whatever you wanted to hear.”

“Exactly. I should have known it was too good to be true. Guys like Brandon and Brett don’t go for girls like me.”

Hope’s eyebrows buckled and deep frown lines bracketed her mouth. “Intelligent, kind, beautiful and successful women, you mean?”

Lexi sighed. Hope didn’t understand. She hadn’t lived in the shadows her entire life, crowded out by her powerful father, her perfectly charming mother or her larger-than-life brother. Next to them, Lexi was just...normal. She was good. Not bad, but not stellar.

She was the kind of girl who had to borrow little black dresses and shocking red pumps. Her entire wardrobe consisted of jeans, plain shirts, running shoes and hair bands so her ponytail didn’t get chocolate dipped along with the pretzel sticks.

She woke up at five and fell into bed exhausted at nine. And in between she was more likely to have flour and powdered sugar on her face than lipstick and mascara.

And she was okay with that. Lexi had come to terms with who she was a long time ago.

“It doesn’t matter. I insulted him and ruined his shoes. And even if I hadn’t, I’m not interested. This time there’s no chance for confusion. He’s only here to get what he wants. Luckily, I have nothing to do with that.”

* * *

B
RETT
STARED
AT
the folder in front of him. A large manila envelope had arrived by messenger this morning. He hadn’t had time to worry about it, too preoccupied with preparing for his meeting with the town council, which had been a complete waste of his time.

The room had practically been empty. Only the council and a handful of people had turned out for the agenda. But it didn’t matter. Brett had pulled out all the stops, sophisticated presentation complete with fancy graphics, a full scale model and twenty minutes of detailed research for increased town revenue.

One of the council members snored. Halfway through Brett’s presentation someone in the audience fell off their chair. The noise got more attention than he did.

Brett was frustrated and not a little pissed.

What had happened to that Southern hospitality they were supposedly famous for? Apparently it was showcased by the spread of finger sandwiches, coffee and cookies. He wondered if they’d come from Lexi, but he hadn’t seen her.

And maybe that’s what disappointed him the most. After her impassioned outburst at dinner he’d expected her to be in the front row arguing with him. He’d looked forward to the exchange.

Instead, he had to content himself with reading her dossier. He hadn’t bothered to grab the others. None of them really interested him. Mr. Bowen obviously had an idea about how this assignment was supposed to go. But he wasn’t here. And Brett had his own agenda.

However, the more he spun the idea of using Lexi, the more he thought it might actually work. Partly because she was so completely against the project. If he could convince her of the benefits, her father would have to listen. And if he convinced the mayor, the rest of the council would follow.

He flipped through the pages. Looking at the detailed information Mr. Bowen had provided gave Brett the creeps. He’d included her high school transcript, pictures from her childhood, even how she preferred her coffee. Brett had no idea how the man had gotten the information and probably didn’t want to know.

His boss was an asshole, but a powerful one.

She’d been an adorable child, even if her eyes had often been clouded by shyness. She rarely looked at the camera straight on. But her cheeks were rounded with health, and when she didn’t know the camera was there the life and light in her expression made his chest ache.

Toward the back, a single photograph caught his attention. Lexi was bundled up in a thick winter coat. It skimmed the middle of her thighs. A hood lined with fur surrounded her face. Behind her, snow-capped mountains jutted into the sky.