Sue Ellen shook her head. “He’s somebody important in this town. He’s respected. And I’m going to be respected soon too. When I get my realtor’s license and can bake cupcakes.”
“Why do you care so much what he thinks?”
“Because he’s the man in my life.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize the two of you were serious.”
“Well, we are. Why does that surprise you? You don’t think a man like him should be interested in a woman like me?”
“I think any man would be the luckiest guy on the planet to be with a woman like you.”
“Aw thanks.” She gave him a friendly jab with her elbow. “You’re a good buddy.”
“Yeah, that’s me. A good buddy.”
Sue Ellen wondered why he sounded a little bitter about that, but then was distracted by the sound of the oven timer going off. She couldn’t worry about Donny right now. She had cupcakes to perfect.
Leena couldn’t stand the stress. The Sunday morning newspaper had come out listing Cole as one of the state’s sexiest bachelors. It was early afternoon already. Surely he knew by now. Someone must have told him. The paper had been out for hours. So why hadn’t he come pounding on her door, demanding retribution? Why hadn’t he called her on it?
Unless he was too busy fending off calls from other women, now that he was famous. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had a guy dump her once he made it. The road to success left plenty of bruised bodies along the curb. Hers had been one of many.
Not that he could really dump her in a romantic man-woman kind of way, because she was merely an employee of his. An employee that he’d kissed.
He’d certainly been playing it cool all week. Strictly business. She suspected he was still ticked over her dissing comment about Rock Creek.
There was just no pleasing the man. He’d told her he wasn’t the type to settle down—this after a few kisses. It’s not as if they were a couple or anything.
Flirting came as naturally to Cole as breathing. She’d seen it often enough in the office.
Leena wished he could have seen her when she’d been at the top of her game in Chicago. Her confidence levels then had been off the charts. How quickly that had all changed.
She already knew the psychobabble, that confidence comes from within and shouldn’t be affected by outward events.
But the truth was that even then the confidence had been an act designed to propel her success—and to cover up the darker secrets locked deep within her: the little girl who’d hid in the corner when her father had gotten drunk, terrified that this time he’d do something terrible to them all.
It was a cliché. It was stupid.
Get over it.
She’d ordered herself to do that time and time again. But it only drove the scared little girl deeper inside of her, instead of removing her.
Since her return to Rock Creek, Leena had started having nightmares about those traumatic days of her childhood. Being back in the trailer park certainly wasn’t boosting her confidence level any.
She was sure of one thing, though. Cole would not be pleased when he found out she’d nominated him as sexiest bachelor.
Which meant she’d have to make the first move. She’d drop by his place with some excuse and see for herself what was going on.
On her way out, however, Leena was sidetracked by the sight of Bart Chumley sitting out on the covered deck of his double-wide trailer. He’d been avoiding her since the photo shoot, and now was her chance to stop and confront him.
“You’re a hard man to reach, Mr. Chumley,” Leena said as she approached his deck.
“I thought I told you to call me Bart.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Bart. I have been calling you for over a week now and you haven’t answered any of the numerous voice-mail messages I’ve left for you.”
Bart just shrugged. “I never did figure out how to retrieve those things. Doesn’t pay to leave me a voice message.”
“Now you tell me.”
“If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was knock on my door.”
“Yes, well, you may have heard that I’m not happy about the photo of me that appeared in the ad.”
“Really?” Bart was clearly surprised. “I have to tell you it’s been a huge success. Sales have doubled this week, and the number of calls has tripled. What’s not to like about that?”
Where to begin? “I looked like an idiot.”
“Who said that?”
“I say that.”
“Well, you’re wrong. Like I said, business is great thanks to you. Humor is a very successful marketing tool. I should know. I was a professional circus clown. Traveled with the greatest show on earth—Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey. I’m retired now, but I had a good run. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the mobile home community here. Sue Ellen has been making some improvements, but I’d like to do even more. And you can take that suspicious look off your face. I’m not planning on turning the place into a three-ring circus.”
“Then what are you planning?”
“I grew up here in Rock Creek. I could have retired anywhere, but I chose to retire here.”
“Why?”
“I take it from your expression that you’re not a fan of your hometown?”
“You’ve got that right. I’m only here for the extremely short term, then I’m heading back to Chicago.”
“And the big time. You think you’re too good for this town, don’t you?”
“You have to admit that Rock Creek isn’t exactly a boomtown. Not like Serenity Falls, which was named one of America’s best small towns.”
“My point exactly. Serenity Falls is right next door. What do they have that we don’t?”
“A nice town. A park with a gazebo. Sidewalks without cracks.”
“They don’t have the Tivoli Theater. Have you been inside yet? It’s been restored to its former glory. I don’t see why the rest of the town can’t do the same thing.”
“I do. It’s a little something called money.”
“True. I heard that Skye won the lottery and put her winnings into restoring the theater. Counting on the lottery is not a good business plan, however. Even an old clown like me knows that. But there are things we can do.”
“Well, I wish you luck with that.” Leena began moving away. The photo shoot was water under the bridge. No turning back on that now. She just had to stay in Rock Creek long enough to restore her funds, then she was so outta here.
“You’re involved with the things we can do.”
“No, I’m not. Like I said, I’m only here short term.”
“But you have big ideas.”
She gave him a suspicious look.
Big
ideas. Was he using code to refer to her thighs?
“You have a very expressive face, do you know that?” he said.
“It helps in my modeling career.”
“Helped in my career too,” Bart noted fondly.
“There’s something incredibly powerful about the ability to make people laugh. It’s addictive, really.”
“Making people laugh was never part of my career plan.” Leena just wanted to make sure Bart was aware of that fact, in case he got any more bright ideas for an ad campaign involving her.
“That’s a shame, but I can understand your position. Doesn’t change the fact that you could help Rock Creek out.”
“I don’t see how.” Or why she should even want to.
“What aggravates you so much about this town?”
“The fact that we’re always the ugly stepsister in the fairy tale. That’s true of the trailer park too.”
“Mobile home community.”
“Whatever. The people with houses in town look down on the people here at Regency, and we in turn look down at the people over in the Broken Creek Trailer Park. There’s a pecking order in modeling too. Super-models look down on runway models, who look down on catalog models. And they all look down on plus-size models like me. There’s a pecking order in life and Rock Creek is near the bottom.”
“What would it take to move us up the ranks?”
“A lot of money. And before you ask, I don’t have any or I wouldn’t be here.”
“I figured that much out for myself. This town has good bones. It just needs a makeover.”
“Then contact one of those makeover shows.”
“That’s an idea. But in the meantime, what cosmetic improvements can we do around here?”
“Ban the cement-geese lawn art.”
“Not a fan?”
“No. The gardens are nice and a good idea. Maybe have a contest to see who has the nicest garden here at Regency. People are competitive. That might get them moving. And if you’re going with a Regency England theme then an English cottage garden would be a good idea. Maybe a community garden down by the creek. In town, you could suggest that the businesses on Barwell Street put out whiskey tubs of flowers on the sidewalks in front of their storefronts. And pull the weeds from the cracked sidewalks. And paint the peeling lampposts. Get the football team to help out as a community service project.”
“All wonderful ideas. I knew you’d have plenty.”
“My sister knows the football coach. She could probably ask him. You should talk to her about that.”
“
You
should talk to her.”
“Not my job.”
“So you’re not speaking to your own sister?”
“I am speaking to her, just not about this. The renovation of Rock Creek is your baby.”
“It takes a community to restore a town.”
“It would take a miracle to restore this town.”
“Yet you had a series of wonderful ideas,” Bart said. “You must have given it some thought, whether you realize it or not.”
No way. Leena refused to believe that. She had enough on her agenda without taking on the huge project of improving Rock Creek. And the first item on her agenda was checking up on Cole.
Saying her good-byes to Bart, she headed off in her Sebring.
Leena stared at the slightly ramshackle Victorian house behind the animal clinic. A sign on the front door ordered GO AROUND TO THE BACK, so she did. And knocked on the door. “Hello?”
She heard the sound of power tools inside but no reply. Another knock and the door swung open to reveal Cole, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, leaning over a door on a pair of sawhorses in the middle of the kitchen. He had his back to her, tool belt around his waist, hanging down his lean hips and drawing her attention to his butt.
Her mouth went dry as she found herself unable to look away from his body. Up and down her eyes kept traveling, devouring him as if he were a Krispy Kreme doughnut. No, too sweet. As if he were the finest dark chocolate. Hard chocolate. She licked her lips.
He wasn’t just standing there motionless. No, he was moving—thrusting forward and retreating back before thrusting again.
He was hot. Very hot. And he was making her hot. Very hot.
Cole turned his head to look at her before turning off his sander and removing his safety glasses. “I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.”
It took her a moment or two to refocus her brain cells from his body to his words. “Excuse me?”
“Is that your idea of an apology?”
“An apology? For what?”
“You know what for.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Sexiest bachelor in Pennsylvania. Ring any bells for you?”
“Really? You were selected?”
“You didn’t think I would be?”
“All I did was send in the paperwork.”
“I knew it!” he said. “I knew you were behind this.”
“What’s the problem? Don’t you like having your picture in the paper?”
“I’m not a model. You make a career of having your picture taken. I make a career out of saving animals’ lives.”
“Yet another way of your saying you’re so much better than me.”
“You’re the one who thinks she’s better than anyone else. The one who would never settle for Rock Creek or anyone who lives here.”
“And you’re the one who kissed me and then warned me off, telling me you’re not a settling-down kind of guy. You know, instead of giving me a hard time, you really should be thanking me,” she said.
“You think so?”
“Yes, I do think so.”
“Far be it from me to disappoint you.” Cole set down his power sander and started undoing his tool belt.
“What are you doing?” Her voice sounded raspy.
“I was sanding the kitchen door. I did the others outside, but this one is too big to fit through the back doorway.”
“No, I meant your tool belt.” She shifted nervously, keeping the exit within easy access yet unable to look away from his hands or the rest of his anatomy. “Why are you taking it off?” And what else did he plan on removing? A glimpse of tanned skin between his T-shirt and his jeans made her go all jelly-kneed.
“So that I can thank you.”
“You, uh, you could have thanked me with it on.”
“No, I couldn’t.” He moved closer, bracing his hands on the butcher-block kitchen counter on either side of her, effectively pining her in place.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She sounded all Marilyn Monroe breathless, like one of those ads for 1-900 phone-sex lines.
“Getting ready to thank you.” He lowered his head to nibble the circumference of her mouth. “Are you ready to be thanked?”
She nervously licked her lips. Big mistake. The tip of her tongue touched his lips and she was a goner. He French-kissed her. Latin-licked her. Yummy.
She slid her hands through his hair, noticing for the first time that he was just the right height for her. They fit together so well. Felt so good she had to shift against him—denim against denim.
He slid his hands beneath her top and undid her bra. The man clearly knew his away around lingerie. Before she could ponder on that fact, he’d cupped her bare breast in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb against her nipple.
She could feel the hardness of his arousal through the placket of his jeans. A moment later she found herself perched atop the counter, her thighs opened wide, her denim skirt scooched way up, allowing him to move even closer against her.