Can't Help Falling In Love (9 page)

“Tony, you can close the door now. I’m all in.” She slowly blinked wide eyes up at
him.

His head snapped up and he nodded before closing the door and making his way slowly
around to the driver’s side.

After he’d started the truck and maneuvered out into Memphis traffic, Randa said,
“I’ve never ridden in a truck before.”

Tony didn’t answer, just nodded his head once.

“Doesn’t that surprise you?” Randa had no idea how to read him. Whatever small breakthrough
they’d had at the pool had evaporated already. She didn’t want to settle for grimly
polite Tony. She wanted to pretend that she was the kind of girl who went on dates,
not photo opportunities or business meetings or family merger negotiations. And she
hadn’t been able to get the image of Tony’s naked chest out of her mind all afternoon.

She had an uneasy feeling that she might never forget his chest or being that close
to it.

“You probably don’t go out with many girls who’ve never ridden in truck, do you?”
She ran her hand over the dashboard and was completely unsurprised when there was
not a single speck of dust. The truck could have been driven off the lot that morning.
There were no wrappers, no papers, no empty cans. She didn’t spend much time at home,
but her expensive red convertible could always use a little TLC. Gum wrappers were
the main offender. If she drove too fast and chain chewed cinnamon gum, she could
defy both parents while wind blew her troubles away. Tony’s truck smelled like warm
leather and just a hint of aftershave.

That smell was an aphrodisiac. Obviously. Randa wanted to run her hand down his forearm.
He had one elbow on the console between the seats and he periodically clenched his
hand into a fist and then shook it out. More than that, she was tempted to squeeze
his thigh. Afraid she might actually do it with nothing to distract her, Randa watched
the scenery whiz by, searching for an irresistible conversation starter.

But Tony saved her. Saved them both actually. She was on the verge of hitting him
with trivia about the national interstate system when he said, “No pickups, huh? That
doesn’t really surprise me much.” He glanced at her. “I mean, you’re probably way
more comfortable in limos, aren’t you?”

Randa had no idea how to answer that. Had he seen her get out of the limo? Obviously,
that wasn’t the best-case scenario, but there was no rule that said Elvis fans couldn’t
ride in limos. Was there?

Finally she laughed. “Well, I’m not sure comfortable is the right word but familiar
might be.”

Tony nodded. “I got the impression you were used to lots of money. Daddy rich?”

“And Mama’s good-lookin’.” When he didn’t acknowledge her quip, Randa watched his
face for a minute. His questions… did he know more about her than she thought?
She crossed her legs slowly to see if his eyes followed. When they did, she relaxed
a bit. The best lies stuck close to the truth. She knew that well enough. “Yes. Daddy
has money. In fact, it’s his world and we’re all just living in it.”

Tony passed a slow-moving minivan and said, “So, where is Daddy? And what’s the family
business?”

Randa had prepared for this. She might not have much experience in working undercover,
but she knew a backstory would come in handy. She was going to be from New York, and
her father was going to be a venture capitalist. She spent enough time in New York
to answer any test, and lots of people had heard of venture capitalists but very few
people knew what they did. But when she turned to answer him, the lie on the tip of
her tongue, Tony was watching her. And she couldn’t do it.

“Chicago. And Daddy’s in the business of using his money to make more money.” And
that was the prefect, unvarnished truth. He might use hotels to do it, but her father
was all about making more money. “He and my four older brothers are all good at spotting
opportunities. And weaknesses.” And ruthlessly exploiting them when necessary. That
was the Whitmore way. Apparently she’d missed out on that genetic marker somehow.

Tony whistled. “Four older brothers? That must have been hard.”

Randa laughed. “You have no idea. Being the youngest and the only girl was like being
born with some kind of invisible handicap. But only in my house. Once I made it out
of there, it was like people listened to my opinion and respected my brain. I learned
to spend as little time as possible at home. Otherwise, my IQ takes a nosedive.”

And that was probably more truth than he was looking for. Just what every man wants
to hear on the first date—the problems of an overbearing father.

“Hard to imagine. That sucks too.” Tony put the blinker on and exited the freeway.

Randa felt a bubble similar to the one she’d felt when he’d called her too skinny.
It did suck to be treated like the dumb one because she was the youngest and a female.
It was nice to hear a man agree. Not as nice as being called too skinny when she really
wasn’t, but nice just the same.

Then he ruined it. “But you don’t still live at home, right?” His tone of voice said
that only an idiot would still be at home at her age. And he was right. Randa looked
out the window to try to come up with an almost honest, not-quite pathetic answer
for him.

This part of Memphis was clean, shiny, suburban. Randa immediately liked it. She could
be happy here. In the winter.

“Right?” Tony rolled to a stop at a red light and looked at her, his eyebrows raised
in question.

Randa cleared her throat. “Well, I travel a lot, so it’s sort of like…” She felt
the heat of a blush flash across her face and wanted to curse. She didn’t blush. She
hadn’t thought she was still capable of doing so. “Yes, I do. When I’m in Chicago,
I live with Mom and Dad. There are weekly family dinners.” She shrugged a shoulder.
“And it’s as miserable as you think.”

“Why do it?” Tony didn’t look at her. That was a good thing.

She opened and closed her mouth twice before she could string anything together. She
stared hard out the window and said, “Money. Isn’t it always about money?”

“Maybe, but some people—” Tony broke off and then said, “I mean,
most
people move out and live on the money they make as soon as they can.”

For a second Randa couldn’t breathe. He was right, but hitting her with the truth
like that, like a punch right to the stomach, was uncommon. Snide remarks about how
lucky she was to have Daddy footing her bill? Those were a dime a dozen. The implication
that she was somehow less than other people, was a cold splash.

While she tried to catch her breath, she wished she had lied better. And that she’d
never knuckled under to her father’s demand that she stay in Chicago. Ten years ago,
fresh out of business school, she could have gotten a job, moved in with roommates,
and struggled just like everyone else did.

Of course, most of her friends did it all with the safety net of a supportive mother
or father. The really lucky ones had both.

While she was lucky enough to have the net, it came with so many rules and requirements,
she lived life stepping carefully, afraid she’d hit the weak spot that would cause
the whole thing to unravel. In college, she’d gotten a taste of what that looked like.
Too much fun had led to too little studying and entirely too much media attention.
The solution had been frighteningly easy—no car, no money, no cards, and no help when
she called. She’d been scared to death but crawling home had been pretty easy then.
The memory did not make her brave.

Her mother had been a model before she married. Then she became the model wife. Her
duties were both decorative and ceremonial and she took them seriously. She ran a
pristine house, served as hostess for powerful men and important business functions,
and raised beautiful, accomplished children. And she did it all in a perfumed cloud
with a lovely smile.

Randa had learned early on that she should be like her mother. She should be charming
and yet cunning enough to pull strings as needed. Intelligence was nice, but beauty
was critical.

So instead of trying out for band or for school plays, Randa had done pageants. Without
the slightest encouragement, she’d graduated from both high school and college with
the highest honors, not because she needed scholarships or help with good colleges,
but because it was important to her.

She wished she’d been smart enough to demand an employment contract from her father.
On her graduation day, he’d clapped a hand on one shoulder and told her they’d have
a desk ready in the accounting department of the W Group. Each of her brothers had
been given a flagship hotel to run and learn the ropes. She’d worked in payroll. And
she’d never had to cut herself a check. She worked for nothing or everything, depending
on how she looked at it. No matter what ridiculous expense she charged, her father
or his assistant paid the bill. She escalated her spending every now and then, her
version of an increase to her nonexistent salary. But giving herself pay increases
was getting harder and harder.

Her latest raise, a Brazilian blowout, had been her first and last. The price tag
was impressive but not nearly as impressive as her stylist’s gas mask. She was willing
to suffer for perfection, but she had to draw the line somewhere.

Somehow the Whitmore rules of business didn’t extend to her own employment. For her
minor rebellions, she listened to her father chortle about her expensive taste to
her mother and to her brothers. For major infractions, like ending engagements, she
was sent away.

Even so, Memphis was so much better than the first place she’d been exiled. After
serving faithfully in the dusty halls of accounting for a year, her father had promised
her a great opportunity. Instead of the hotel she wanted, she got a fiancé whose family
had a five-hotel chain in California. She’d been younger then so it had taken actually
finding her fiancé in bed with his personal trainer to convince her to break the engagement.
And that was the first time her father sent her away. Fargo had been hell on her skin.

Her aesthetician had scolded her through three treatments after that trip, but she’d
done so well with the small renovation that her father had given her a bigger one.
And she’d made it out of accounting for a life on the road.

Uncomfortably aware of the silence stretching between them, Randa finally cleared
her throat. “So, uh… want to tell me all about your perfect family? That might
make me feel better.”

Tony rubbed his forehead as he turned into a strip mall. After he parked, he killed
the engine. “Yeah, well… I was a foster kid. No family. No money to make up for
it.”

Randa squeezed her eyes shut. “God, now I feel like a total idiot. Worse. A spoiled
idiot. I’m sorry, Tony.” She really was. She moaned about her own problems so much
that she couldn’t even imagine how hard other people had it. Maybe she was paid in
spa treatments. And her family made her feel so… wrong, out of step, but she’d
never had to make her own way. Not for long anyway.

He smiled and shook his head. “Listen, forget it. My dad died and my mom just…
couldn’t handle life. She went to jail. It’s not a big deal now. I was lucky to get
good families and I’m doing really well.” He leaned forward. “Got my own space. Drive
my own pickup truck. Pay my own bills. Work at a job I’m good at and enjoy.”

Of course he was doing well. He was self-made, a man who did hard things, made sacrifices,
served others, and considered himself lucky to have the chance to do so. He should
be doing well. He deserved to.

Randa felt a surge of embarrassment, but it receded a bit in the face of stupid jealousy.
He was satisfied. She could hear it in his voice. And she didn’t know what that felt
like. She’d spent her whole life competing, trying, worrying, and hungry for food,
thanks to her mother’s careful beauty queen diet, or attention or… something
from her parents. But he was right. He was doing really well. And she was whining
about living at home. It was a nice reminder of just how different they really were.
That should help convince her to keep her hands to herself. But if he got any more
attractive, she’d be in deep trouble.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d fail this assignment and not even have the memory of
a naked Tony to show for it.

She hadn’t gotten where she was, wherever that might be, by giving up. She’d learned
some hard lessons in the Whitmore school of business. And she knew what she wanted.
She just had to get her head back in the game. And it was her decision whether she
was going to settle for just the hotel. This wasn’t a date—not really. This was just
the next move.

She glanced up and down the strip mall. “Ooh, look, a discount store.” She smiled
up at him. “I’m going to load up on books and then, if you can wait for just a minute,
see if they have flip-flops.”

Tony nodded and opened his door. When she made to do the same, he said, “Wait.”

Then he crossed in front of the truck, one hand shoving his key ring in the pocket
of his jeans, before opening her door and offering her his hand.

“Thanks.” Randa did her best to ignore the stupid flutter in her stomach. This kind
of treatment was also pretty rare among the movers and shakers of the business world,
the men who’d learned to read e-mails and walk at the same time. They had drivers
to open doors anyway. “Nice manners.”

Tony smiled. “I did learn how to treat a woman somewhere along the way.”

There was no question in her mind what he said was the truth. He was a man who’d make
a woman feel special, safe. She tried to ignore the longing the whole idea brought
on.

Randa slid out of the truck and smoothed down her skirt before she stepped in front
of him. Determined to get everything back on track, she put the prowl in her step
and looked back over her shoulder at him. Tony’s eyes were locked on her legs. When
she pulled open the door to the used bookstore, she had a happy smile on her face.