Aussie Rules (4 page)

“Honey, fine would be a nice glass of Chardonnay. Fine is a pretty blue sky. That man is so far off the charts from fine you can't even
see
fine.”

Mel tossed up her hands. “And we're having this conversation why?”

“Right.” Dimi sat back down, waved her away, crystals tinkling together. “Listen, go kick his Aussie ass out of here, this place is ours.”

Mel found a way to smile. “I thought you dreamed of walking away from this place.”

“I'll walk away because I want to, not because some bastard takes over.”

That was Dimi. Stubborn to a beautiful fault.

“Unfortunately, he's not going anywhere. At least not until he talks to Sally.”

“But that's not going to happen. We can't—”

“We have to.”

They stared at each other for a long, uncomfortable beat.

“You really think you can con a con?” Dimi finally whispered.

“We have to,” Mel repeated.

Dimi leaned close. “You and I both know, he's the son of the very best, he's—”

“Yeah.” Mel hopped off the desk and tossed back her shoulders and the stray strands of hair from her face. “I know what he is. Now let's find out what he isn't.”

“Mel.”

“Wish me luck.”

“Luck. You're going to need it.” Dimi jumped up and hugged her hard, then pulled back, hands on Mel's face. “We're bad. We're tough. We own our world.”

Mel found a smile. It was their old motto, from when they'd been young, scared, and on their own. They were still on their own, but not so young.

And maybe only a little scared.

“Do whatever you have to,” Dimi said quietly. “Just get him out of here.”

Yeah.

Whatever she had to…

At the thought of what that might entail, goose bumps rose on Mel's skin, and not necessarily the bad kind.

M
el headed across the lobby, mind occupied by her singular mission:
Get rid of Bo Black
.

She passed by the café. Charlene stood behind the counter, scrubbing down the scarred tile, singing along to Metallica. “Mel!” she cried, gesturing her close, looking around them before whispering conspiratorially, “So?”

“So…what?”

“Who's the cutie? A business meeting? New client? Old friend?” She drawled out this last word in her Southern voice, making the word ten syllables.

“Uh…yeah. Sort of.”

“Sort of which?”

“Oh, hey…” Desperate subject change. “Did Ernest get the oven going yet?”

“No, not yet.” Char bit her lip and looked at the oven, effectively sidetracked. The café was hers and Al's livelihood, at least until he sold more paintings, and since their kids had left last year, the café was also her baby. Char would have rather put her energy into another real-live baby, but Al had talked her out of that insanity. “Ernest just left to go get a part. So, about the guy—”

“Yeah, I've got a call—” She began to walk. Fast.

“I need my gossip fix!” Char called after her. “You know I do!”

Mel loved Char, but telling the woman anything was the equivalent of broadcasting it to the entire world. Following the path Bo had taken, Mel entered the long hallway off the lobby.

The first office was hers. She just
knew
he was in there, waiting for round two. For a moment she stood outside the door, drawing in a deep, calming breath, which didn't tame the butterflies suddenly leaping like crazy in her stomach.

So long. It'd been so long since she'd had to face any of this.

Or him.

Lifting her chin high—a habit she'd adopted to make her feel taller—she pushed open her office door.

And, yep, there he was, sprawled in her chair, boots up on her desk, hands folded behind his head as he sat there, contemplating the universe.

Her
universe.

He'd asked for Sally, which made no sense. Did he really not know Sally had never come back here? Did she really have that unexpected advantage?

“G'day,” he said when she walked in, a charming smile on his lips, his eyes half-lowered, his fawn-colored hair fashionably shaggy. “Ready to talk, are you?”

She took one look at the long, lean, hard length of him and shut the door behind her. No need for everyone to hear the unavoidable argument heading her way. “Get out of my chair.”

A smile quirked about his lips. She was amusing him. “Ah, now that's not very sweet.”

She put her hands on her hips, daring him to take a good look. “Do I look sweet to you?”

His eyes heated suggestively as he ran them over her. She was covered from head to toe, for God's sake, but he made her feel…naked.

“Well, actually—”

“Never mind!” she said crossly. “Just get out of my office.”

“Your
office?” He looked around, the leather of her chair crinkling with his weight. “That's funny. I remember this as Sally's office.”

Crap
. “I'm using it in her absence.”

“So where is she, on vacation? Swindling or conning her latest victim out of his money?”

She couldn't tell him Sally wasn't around. With that deed, he might feel like taking over right here and now.

If it was legit
.

She thought of Dimi, of Char and Al, Ritchie and Kellan, Danny, their mechanic…all like family to her. She couldn't lose the reins now and let anything happen to the life they'd all built here.

Then what he said slowly sank in. “Sally never swindled or conned a soul in her life. Apparently, she left that to your father.”

Had his eyes been sleepy and sexy only a moment ago? They went cold as ice as he slowly uncoiled and rose to his full height, coming around the desk toward her, six feet plus of pure rough-and-tumble attitude. “Leave my father out of this,” he said very quietly.

She dug in her heels and refused to back up. Which put them in each other's breathing space. He was at least a head taller than she, smelled warm and sexy, and seemed to be built entirely of perfectly toned muscle.

And yet it wasn't any of that that stopped her, but the fierce, protective look in his eyes. This wasn't the rangy, trouble-filled, wickedly smiling Bo who'd been caught with his hands up a woman's skirt, but a man with passion and a deep capacity for emotion.
Leave his father out of this?
How was that possible? It had been Eddie Black who set in motion a chain of events they were still dealing with all these years later.

“Then let's leave Sally out of it.”

He was already shaking his head. “No can do, darlin'.”

“That deed is fake.”

“Sally will tell you the truth.”

Oh, God. Sally wasn't going to show up to tell her anything. Which meant he was going to hang out here forever. “How about I call you when she arrives?”

“How about I'm not budging until I talk to her?” He took one more step, putting them toe to toe. “And while we're at it, who's running the show without her?”

“Me.” She had to tip her head up to look into his eyes, damn him. She raised her gaze past his broad shoulders, past his throat, past his jaw, which hadn't seen a razor today and maybe not yesterday, either, to those mesmerizing green eyes that promised he was up to no good. “
I'm
running the show. Why?”

“Because you're doing a shitty job of it. Your café should be filled with locals but the oven isn't running. Your fuel pump's a mess, you're lucky you haven't been shut down by the EPA. You have bill collectors calling—”

“
What?
How did you—”

He put a finger over her lips, then had the balls to smile. “Let's establish some ground rules here,” he said. “One, I'm staying until I talk to Sally. Two, I don't expect your lovely office, but I do have a business to run so I'll need a place to hole up and work while I'm here, with a computer, phone, and radio equipment, of course.” His eyes went steely. “And three…Don't underestimate me. Something's going on, Mel, and I will figure out what.”

She grabbed his wrist and tried to toss his hand aside, but the man, solid as a rock, couldn't be budged, and she had to settle for a withering stare. “You're not staying long enough to need an office.”

“Why, is Sally showing up today?” He cocked a brow at her silence. “Tomorrow? No? Then get used to seeing this face, Mel.”

Something popped inside her head. She was fairly certain it was her brain matter coming to a boil. “I don't want you freaking everyone out.”

“I don't plan to do any such thing. I just want to talk to Sally.”

“I don't see the need for you to park yourself
here,
” she said. “Take your fancy plane somewhere and I'll call you.” She spun on her heels, opening the door, but a big hand reached over her head and shut it, then held it closed.

This left her crowded up against the wood, with his body not quite brushing the back of hers, though she felt surrounded by him all the same. He was as hard as he looked, all tough muscle and bone, not an ounce of softness to him.
Damn, genius, now what?
She didn't know, but it was hard to think in this close proximity. She stared down at his boots, one on either side of hers.

“No can do on the leaving thing,” he murmured, his voice like a caress up her spine, making her shiver. “Nothing personal, Mel, but I don't trust you.”

“You're in my space.” She said this from between her teeth, caught in some inexplicable place between fury and pure, unadulterated lust.

Unbelievably, he put his mouth to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. “Yeah. But it's such a nice space.” His breath whispered over her flesh, and just like that, rendered her stupid.

And furious. “Get out of here, Bo.”

“Why don't you tell me just why it is you panicked when you saw the deed in my father's name?”

She closed her eyes against his voice, which turned out to be a big mistake because with her eyes closed, their position felt even more intimate. “No reason really. Just surprise.”

His exhale fanned her temple, and she heard the humorless smile in his voice. “Can't bullshit a bullshitter, darlin'.”

She realized she was squinting her eyes.
You squint your eyes when you lie
. She opened them wide. “I'm not.”

“So you're asking me to believe Sally left you completely out of the loop on this one.”

“No.” Mel put her forehead to the door, a very weak part of her wanting to press her bottom back snug to his crotch, which was crazy.
Crazy
. “Yes.”

“Which is it?”

“No.” She had to tell him this much, he was going to find out anyway. And if she gave this freely, maybe he'd trust her enough to tell her what it was he needed with Sally. “Yes, I knew the deed wasn't in the safe. No, I didn't know why. I had just hoped it'd been misplaced, that's all. And…”

“And…”

She let out a breath. “People might think the deed is still here. In Sally's name.”

“People?”

“Employees.”

He went very still in surprise. “So no one knows what Sally did all those years ago? For ten years you thought you were working for her? Do you know how unbelievable that is?”

Yes. Yes, she did. “If your deed is real.”

“Oh, it's real.” He spun her around, then held her still, looking at her for a long moment. “But what I want to know is, how a smart woman like you didn't see through the crap.”

Wasn't that just the question. Maybe because she'd been too busy keeping them afloat. Everyone here had counted on her. Still did. They were her family. And then there was the fact that she'd believed she'd been doing Sally a favor, Sally who'd given her everything. “The deed should have been here. We had no indication otherwise. And if your deed is legit, what took you ten years to show up?”

“You know my father died.”

“Yes.” The day Sally went after him, as a matter of fact. Bo would have been just eighteen. And alone. And, she thought, remembering how close he'd been with his father, undoubtedly devastated. “I was very sorry to hear it.”

His gaze met hers. “Despite what you thought of him?”

“I wanted him gone, not dead. What about your mother?”

“I'd been with Eddie since I was young.” There were memories in his gaze, unhappy ones, and her heart squeezed because she of all people understood unhappy memories.

He'd been alone. Eighteen and alone. She didn't want to think about that, or how it softened her, not when she stood so close she could breathe him in, feel the strength of him in his every line. “What did you do?”

“I went into the military, and then to college. It wasn't until I finally went home that I realized what had happened.”

“Which was?”

“That my father's 1944 Beechcraft was gone, and so was his savings.”

Leaving him with nothing. She didn't want to think about that, either. “And you assume Sally took both?”

“Not took. Conned.”

“Sally said your father conned her.”

“I'm going to be able to prove my story,” he said. “Can you?”

No. No, she couldn't. “You have the quit deed. Possibly forged.”

“Not forged,” he said tightly. “And in any case, it's not worth anything close to the Beechcraft and the half a mil savings.” He looked around derisively. “From what I see, this place is worth a fraction of what I lost.”

“So what do you plan to do?” she asked, feeling a bit wary.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Now you. Where's Sally, Mel?”

She shook her head, reaching behind her for the handle. But he followed her out into the hall, and naturally, Ernest chose that moment to come back through with his damn cart, slowing at the midway point, watching them curiously.

At a long look from Mel, he sighed and kept moving, cart clanking.
God
. She had to get Bo out of here before he started waving that deed around. In spite of his saying otherwise, she didn't trust him not to claim to own everything and everyone, inciting a general panic.

But the minute Ernest vanished around the corner, Al appeared, and by the look on his face, Mel knew Charlene had sent him to eavesdrop.

Damn it. North Beach Airport gossip could rival any small town in the country for fast-traveling news. Clearly, an APB had been put out.
Get news on the stranger
. With a frustrated sigh, she put her hands on Bo's chest to shove him back into her office.