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.