Can't Buy Your Love (2 page)

“Aunt Ella…”

“It’s settled.” She offered Vanity an expectant look, and Vanity suppressed another groan.

“I can do it myself. I rented a car because mine is having trouble, and I put it in the shop. I might not be familiar with the area, but I know how to get to Concord Mills Mall at least.”

“Yes, but I have a big list,” her aunt insisted. “You’ll need the muscle. Now, who wants dessert? I have more cookies, and I made chocolate cake!” She popped up and scurried into the kitchen, giving Vanity the impression the whole knee thing was an excuse. Still, she couldn’t say no and not look like a first-class jerk.

She turned to Owen. “You don’t have to shop with me. Aunt Ella gets notions in her head that are hard to combat. We can just say we did and leave it at that.”

He sat his plate aside and stretched, drawing her attention to the vast expanse of his chest and the rest of his gorgeous body. “No way. You’re going to be stuck with me for as long as it takes to get everything on both our lists.”

Vanity grunted. “Did the two of you plan this before I got here?”

He offered an innocent expression, and Vanity swore he looked like Jamie.
Trouble, pure and simple trouble.

Chapter Two

Vanity flipped the music box over to check the price. She nodded. “I think this will be good for Aunt Ella.”

Owen moved up behind her, and she bit her lip. He stood too close, and his scent drove her insane. The days they shopped with Jamie were easier than the ones when they left his son with Aunt Ella. Owen seemed to use the time alone as an excuse to get closer to her, and damn it, her resistance began to crumble. Even while she didn’t prefer his insistence on being as casual as possible, meaning he loved his well-worn jeans and various T-shirts with themes she didn’t understand, his irresistible charm made it hard to say no to him.

He reached around her and touched the music box’s gold-edged lid. “This? I admit it’s pretty, but is it what she wants?”

Vanity raised her brows. “Why wouldn’t she?”

“For one, she has a music box.”

“Damn. Wait, how do you know that?” She frowned up at him.

He shrugged. “I listen to her. She talked about it yesterday, remember? She said she uses it for the jewelry she treasures most.”

Vanity grinned and selected one of the music boxes still in its packaging. “All the more reason to get it, so her special pieces are in a nice case.”

She waited for him to contradict her or try to get her to change her mind, but he turned and continued along the aisle. Vanity followed, not getting him. What man listened as much as he claimed to? Or was so nice. She sometimes felt he was too goody and that her personality matched that of Scrooge like her aunt said. “Maybe the ghosts will visit me next.”

“Did you say something?” He stopped at another display.

“No.”

“What about this?” He gestured to the floor-standing jewelry cabinet, and Vanity ran a hand over the polished wood and the metal lock that would allow the box to be secured. She checked the price tag and whistled.

“Nice. I’ll get this.”

“Why?”

Vanity scowled at him. “Is this some kind of test? I like it better. That’s all.”

“It’s not about the price tag.”

“Please, nobody’s looking at the price.” She frowned and waved a hand like she didn’t care. “I just look. I want to be sure of the quality, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Vanity knew she was lying, or partly so. Price did matter to her. She refused to buy cheap stuff now that she could afford it. In fact, she had a mission in life to always go with the more expensive items when her purse could handle it. She didn’t need someone like him criticizing her for her decisions. Men like him, the ones that wrote in their online dating profile that they were “not into material things anymore” really meant they were broke and couldn’t afford a high-maintenance woman. Well, Vanity didn’t need a man to take care of her. She did that herself.

“Have dinner with me.”

She blinked, at first having trouble separating his question from her mental tirade. “We spent all day together.”

When she turned to walk away, he caught her hand and held it as he moved alongside her. Goose bumps broke out on Vanity’s arms. She didn’t like her attraction to him. Her lovers always had some major flaw, something that would keep her heart from getting involved, and they never lasted long, as a double defense.

“It’s not enough.” He stepped aside so she could move ahead of him in the line to pay for their selected items. Maybe his issues were better hidden. So far he appeared to be a nice guy. “I want to get to know you.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

He grinned. “You keep saying that, but I disagree.”

She stopped and put her hands on her hips. “The way Aunt Ella gossips, she probably already told you my life story, so you know all there is to know.”

He stepped nearer, his gaze unfocused as if he considered what he had learned of her. “In other words, you’re afraid of having dinner with me because you’re attracted to me, and that might lead you down a path you don’t want to take.”

“Get over yourself.” Vanity flounced away, her heart hammering. How the hell did he nail it like that? Wait, she’d answered her own question. Aunt Ella didn’t mind sharing her own business and figured no one else’s was off-limits either. Funny how she had never mentioned Owen. Then again, whenever they spoke on the phone Vanity pretended to be absorbed in work with limited time to talk.

They left the store and walked to Owen’s car. The vehicle, a Volvo, was decent but didn’t scream money. The model, not more than a year old, didn’t say he was one up from broke either.

While Owen packed their purchases in the trunk, she watched him in the rearview mirror. His expression remained open, even happy. How did a person take life with such a casual attitude, as he seemed to do? Maybe underneath was the real man, a manipulator and a liar. He wanted to get to know her better, but from her experience men—and even women—desired it most when they had selfish motives.
Okay, I’m jaded. I’m not pretending to be someone else. Am I?

Her cell phone buzzed, and she dug it from her purse’s side pocket. Her mouth went dry, chest constricting. She clenched her teeth together and hit the button to silence the phone.

“Old boyfriend?” Owen queried, behind the steering wheel now.

She looked up at him. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you went all tense and angry.”

“Oh…um, yeah.”

He didn’t need to know it was the yearly call from her mother. Not even on Christmas, but a week or so early as if she missed the day on purpose. Vanity had never answered, yet the emotions that gripped her when the call came through always threw her off center. She hated that Aunt Ella had given her cell number to her mother in the first place, and she always intended to get her number changed and forbid Aunt Ella from giving it out. She hadn’t done it yet.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

Owen chuckled. “Must it sound like you’re giving in to a sentencing? I promise not to pass judgment. We will have a nice dinner at whatever restaurant you like and talk about anything you like. How’s that?”

“Fine.”

When she arrived at her aunt’s place, Vanity made an excuse to spend the rest of the day going through her bag for an appropriate outfit. She told herself it didn’t matter. This was just Owen, and she wasn’t looking for something to develop between the two of them. When the holiday ended, she would return home and never see him again.

“Vanity, darling,” her aunt called from down the hall.

Vanity sighed and cracked her door open. “Yes?”

“My cards are going to be ready in the morning. Can you get Owen to run you to the printer and pick them up? I have a special one for your parents I want to get into the mail. I was late this year because I couldn’t decide on a new design.”

Vanity pulled in a breath and blew it out. “Aunt Ella, I don’t need him to run me down there. Just give me the address, and I’ll use GPS.”

“Maybe I should get you to hand carry it to your parents when you go home. The postal service is sketchy nowadays.”

Vanity rolled her eyes and almost laughed. “Nice try.”

She shut her door. Her aunt had been trying to reconcile her with her parents for years. As far as she was concerned, the rift could hold. They hadn’t changed, and maybe she hadn’t either.  Things were fine as they were. Besides, her mother called Aunt Ella more often, but only to borrow money. Vanity didn’t want to know if the older woman gave her mother any.

By seven, Vanity was dressed and ready, and Owen rang the doorbell. When Vanity went to answer, she caught her breath. The man owned something other than ratty jeans. He wore dark slacks that hugged his narrow hips in just the right way. His jacket hung open to reveal a pullover sweater. The deep red and white hinted at a holiday theme while remaining subtle enough not to be gaudy, and he smelled good enough to eat. She bit her lip not to exclaim over the reaction to seeing him.

“You look nice,” she commented.

He grinned. “And you look beautiful. I’m surprised I didn’t have to wait. Isn’t that what women usually do? Keep a man waiting?”

“Sure, if I was trying to impress you.” She lied. Her ass had just put the finishing touches on her makeup, and that had taken much longer than usual. He didn’t need to know she had been preparing for hours.
Still, this is just a friendly dinner, Vanity. You’re not shopping for a lover, and you definitely don’t do boyfriends. Got it.

A chill in the air, Vanity shivered, and thanked Owen, when he held her door open. Heat from his vents warmed her. He handed her a travel mug when he slipped into the car.

“What’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. I called ahead, and the restaurant will have a thirty to forty minute wait. Something warm and sweet might help.”

“Oh.” She took a sip, and the marshmallow and chocolaty goodness slid down easy. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

He took her hand and squeezed it gently before letting go. “I wanted to.”

Throughout the time it took to call them for their table, Owen chatted about inconsequential subjects. Vanity’s attention never wavered from the man in front of her, and when he placed a hand at her lower back to lead her to their table, she started. His clear blue eyes captured her when he looked down.

“Okay?” he murmured.

“Um, yeah.”

At first she didn’t know what the heck he said about their meal. She had to force her heart to calm long enough to decide on chicken Caesar salad with the dressing on the side.”

“Okay, now that I know you eat like a bird,” he commented, “tell me more about you.”

Vanity faltered on the bite of salad she had just put into her mouth. She munched, lowering her gaze and holding a hand to her lips. When she was done, she shook her head. “I don’t eat like a bird. Trust me. I can put it away. Just the month or so before holidays, I make better choices.”

He grinned. “Ah, so you can stuff yourself for Christmas.”

She smirked at him. “Something like that. You noticed Aunt Ella’s mastery in the kitchen, right? Anyway, I’m not talking about me. I don’t know anything about you. Where’s Jamie, for example.”

“With my parents. They will be traveling to San Diego to visit my sister and her family this year, so they want to spend as much time with him as possible.”

Vanity couldn’t help being awed. “How many sisters and brothers do you have?”

“Two sisters. That’s all. The other one lives here, in Dunn, near my parents.”

“You’re from Dunn?”

“I am. A genuine country boy.”

A
sexy
country boy.

“So your parents were very involved with your upbringing.” She stirred her food with her fork, but didn’t pick up anymore to eat. Not meaning to, she had directed the conversation to the one topic she considered off-limits.

“Yours weren’t.” He kept his tone low and unthreatening, but that didn’t stop Vanity’s stomach from knotting. Having turned twenty-eight earlier in the year, she should be over this mess. In many ways, she was. She had made a nice career for herself. She got there because she had worked her way through college, refusing help from Aunt Ella. Her own will and determination had brought her success. Not that she looked at it as if it was her against the world. She would not allow herself to depend on others.

Owen seemed to sense her reluctance to talk about her past, so he continued on without pressing. That attitude drew her closer to him than she wanted to be.

“Every year, my father took us out to a plot of land owned by a friend of his. We cut down a tree and dragged it home to decorate. I continue the tradition with Jamie. Not so much cutting one down, but getting a real one.”

Vanity’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? That crazy-looking thing at Aunt Ella’s house is what we always had. I have to come by and see yours.” She snapped her teeth together and squeaked. “I didn’t mean to…”

He burst out laughing. “Can’t take it back now. You have to come to my house.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively as if he intended to molest her as soon as she stepped through the door. Vanity couldn’t help laughing back at him, and it surprised her because around this time of the year, she almost never did so.

She put her fork down and took a sip of wine. “Well, maybe I’ll swing by. Before I leave.”

Conversation continued to the flow, and before long, they were back in Owen’s car headed away from the restaurant. Outside her aunt’s house, Owen stopped the car and killed the engine.

“You know you live right next door. You could have pulled into your own driveway.”

He shrugged. “I see a lady to her door.”

Vanity was about to get out but hesitated. “I admit I’m not used to the Southern charm. I’d heard of it, but are all men down here like you?”

He captured her fingers, and heat flared from her tips and all the way up her arm. The pounding in her chest deafened her, so she hoped he didn’t hear it. Where was the familiar calm, the ability to be unfazed by whatever a man said? All that had ever been necessary was to decide if he warranted sleeping with. Most of the men she met made their aim clear right away, and then the two of them went from there, or didn’t. Owen said nothing beyond wanting to know her better, but would he kiss her on the first date?