Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) (4 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Raye

BOOK: Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter)
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“In Mitchell Pike’s truck,” Lucky added. “And she headed straight for Houston where she probably ditched the truck. Then I taxied her to the airport for a clean getaway. To top it off, she stiffed me for an eighty-dollar cab fare. I’m an idiot,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “I can’t believe I fell for the story like a big sap. A heart attack, of all things.”
“She had a heart attack?”
“No, her father did, or she said he did. She was racing to catch a plane so she could rush to his side and nurse him back to health like some Florence Nightingale. Why, the lying, conniving, sleazy little—”
“Daddy! Phone!”
Lucky’s gaze darted to the open doorway behind him.
Daddy
. This mega babe was a dad?
“Daaadeee!” The shrill voice stretched each syllable.
“I’ll be right there.” A frown creased his features. “I would really like to ask you a few more questions, Miss...I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Lucky. Lucky Myers.”
“Lucky?”
“It’s a nickname. Lucretia...Lucky.”
Another shrill “Daddy!” from inside and he said, “Please. Come in a few minutes while I take this call, then we’ll talk.”
He led her inside the house, into a large room. “You can wait here in the library.”
Old movie posters were plastered on the dark-paneled walls. There was
Giant, East of Eden, Rebel Without a Cause, The Maltese Falcon, Casablanca, Key Largo
and at least a dozen others. They covered every spare inch not lined with book shelves. An antique movie projector sat on top of the book shelf nearest her.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Does that work?”
“Supposedly.”
“You don’t know?”
“I’ve only been back a few months, and watching old movies hasn’t been on the top of my list.”
“Where were you before?”
“Houston.”
“Home?”
“No” he said a little too sharply and she glanced up to see a strange light in his ocean eyes. “This is home.”
She smiled. “It feels like a home. Warm, cozy, though it’s bigger than the entire first floor of my apartment building.”
“And where is that?”
“Houston, too. But it’s not much of a home. Not yet, anyway. But then six months isn’t really enough time to get settled. I’m originally from Chicago, born and bred.” She blinked at the sudden burning in her eyes and sought a distraction. Her gaze went to a glass cabinet sitting in one corner. Inside sat a cowboy hat and a pair of boots.
“A shrine to the great James Dean,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “Rumor has it he wore those in the movie
Giant.”
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “My dad swears it.” When her gaze went to the movie projector and the rows of old movie reels, he added, “Those are the real thing, too.”
“This is great.” She trailed her hand over the projector.
“You like old movies?”
“Old, new. I like them all.”
“A woman after my dad’s heart.”
A woman after your heart, she thought, then quickly discarded the notion. A lifetime and she hadn’t managed to win anyone’s heart. What could she possibly accomplish in the thirty or so minutes before she’d be on her way back to Houston? She was the invisible, flat-chested woman and he was
Playgirl’
s stud of the month. They were on opposite sides of the universe. There was no connection. Nothing.
He smiled, her heart shifted and she averted her gaze lest she salivate right then and there.
“So what about you?” she asked. “You like old movies?”
He shook his head. “I’m not much of a movie buff. In fact, I’ve been after Dad to do away with some of this stuff, but he’s so stubborn.”
“But it’s great—”
“Daddy! Grandmother’s on the phone!”
“Five minutes,” he promised Lucky as he headed out of the room. The way her hormones were chanting, she knew they’d be the five longest minutes of her life.
3
“I
T’S ABOUT TIME, Daddy.” Bernadette Willemina Grant stood in Tyler’s study, one hand planted on her hip, the telephone receiver clutched in her other. His twelve-year-old daughter wore a nearly threadbare T-shirt, faded jeans and large black rubber boots that crept halfway up her thighs. Helen would have his hide for sure.
He sat down at his desk and tried not to smile. “What happened to the dress Mabel put out for you this morning?”
“Daddy,” she groaned, giving him a what-horse-just-walloped-you-in-the-head? look. “Jed’s waiting for me. I’m helping him clean out Liz’s stall.”
“So you’re all done with your schoolwork and piano lessons?”
“Of course not, Daddy.”
“Well, shouldn’t you be finishing it instead of cleaning out stalls? And honey, you really ought to put on a dress.”
She rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to concentrate, with Liz wallowing around in a stinky stall? And a dress—” she made a face “—I can’t help Jed if I’m wearing a dress. Come on, Daddy. Mabel says it’s okay if you say it’s okay. I told her you would because you’ve always been a huge supporter of animal rights—”
“Go, but finish your lessons right after dinner, is that clear? And put on something nice when you’re done in the barn.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She gave him a quick kiss and bolted from the room. Her three-sizes-too-large boots slapped against the hardwood floor and Tyler couldn’t help smiling.
“I was just getting ready to hang up,” the woman’s voice snapped the minute he said hello.
“Sorry you had to wait, but I was in a meeting—”
“That illustrates my point exactly, Tyler. Bernadette needs more attention. Do you know what she wants for a pet? Forget a nice French poodle or a cockapoo. She wants a lizard. Now, I don’t have anything against reptiles. I have nearly ten alligator handbags. But my granddaughter wanting to nurture a live reptile causes me a bit of concern. When Nan was twelve, she was looking forward to her coming out. She’d roll over in her grave if she knew what you were allowing her daughter—”
“
Our
daughter, Helen. Nan and I made Bernadette together, and she isn’t a Bell-Whitman. She’s a Grant.”
“My Nan’s blood still runs through Bernadette’s veins. Now, Tyler, you really should consider sending her back to Houston. Smithston’s already agreed to let her start midsemester. They’ve got one of the best academic programs around and they offer dance lessons, etiquette, fashion coordination—everything Bernadette needs at her age.”
“What makes you so sure she isn’t already learning everything she needs to right here?”
Helen laughed. “Come now, Tyler. One top-notch governess in no way compares to an entire staff of highly qualified personnel, and Ulysses isn’t exactly the social seat.”
“There are plenty of social activities here. The Hickory Festival is in two weeks. Competitors come from all over Texas for the pecan pie competition. Then there’s the beauty pageant.”
Helen ignored him and plunged ahead, sugary sympathy disguising the ever-present steel in her voice. “You know Merle and I understand you’re not in Ulysses by choice. We know you had no way of foreseeing your father’s illness. But there’s no reason to force Bernadette to stay there and share in the misery. I’m sure once you take a look at Smithston’s fall schedule, you’ll see what Bernadette’s missing and change your mind. I’ll bring a copy this afternoon.”
“
This
afternoon? You mean tomorrow afternoon.”
“Change of plans, dear. Merle’s business meeting in San Antonio has been moved to tomorrow morning at nine.” Before the news could sink in, she rushed on, “Merle and I are flying in. We’ll be there in a little over two hours. In fact, he’s waving me off the phone right now. Bye, dear. I can’t wait to meet that new Dalton governess you hired.”
Two hours. He had all of two hours to find a governess. Otherwise, he’d have a hell of a fight on his hands. Not that Helen could do more than cause a stink, but what a stink, and Bennie would be caught right in the middle.
He couldn’t allow that. No, he wanted Bennie happy. That meant keeping Helen happy and finding a governess. Fast.
He glanced down at his stolen wallet, each bill accounted for, tucked safely away along with his credit cards. His Visa and American Express Gold Card were missing, but he knew Lucky hadn’t swiped them. The nanny had obviously pocketed those for frequent use, which was fine by him. He’d already reported the cards missing, and should she try to use them, she would find herself behind bars.
Tyler closed the wallet and trailed his thumb along the smooth leather edge as Lucky’s image pushed into his thoughts.
She had the most incredible eyes, so warm and brown, framed by long, thick dark lashes. Though it wasn’t her eyes he really remembered. It was the way she’d looked at him with those eyes. He could still feel her gaze on his bare back, sliding down, making his skin tingle...
Too bad he couldn’t hire her. But it would never work. Those wide-eyed looks, all that innocence she oozed, were all part of a well-practiced act. Otherwise he wouldn’t find himself so attracted to her, would he? And the last thing he needed was a seductress under his roof.
Then again, Ulysses was thirty minutes away. It would take him an hour to drive to town and back, which left only an hour to find some unknown somebody. The odds weren’t in his favor. Ulysses had all of six hundred and eighty-two citizens, all fine upstanding people as nice as could be, but he was fairly certain none of them would be more qualified than Lucky, seductress or not.
Besides, she was intelligent. He’d seen that in her eyes amid all the hunger and innocence, and it was only for one evening. Come morning, Helen and Merle would be on their way to their business meeting.
Yes, he needed Lucky. In more ways than one, he thought.
That’s why it would never work. This was business, purely business, and Tyler shouldn’t be having these kinds of urges over a business acquaintance—a tomboyish, bigmouthed acquaintance. Besides, Helen wanted a fancy governess from a fancy agency, and she could smell an ordinary, working-class Joe quicker than a bloodhound could scent out a rabbit—
His daughter’s high-pitched squeal cut into his thoughts, brought him up out of the chair and over to the window. He stared across the yard to the huge red and white barn where Bennie stood out front wielding a water hose.
“I can nail you with one shot, mister!” She smiled and turned the spray on Jed, a wiry old man who’d been at the ranch as long as Tyler could remember. Jed returned fire and Bennie squealed, water soaking her from head to booted foot until she looked like a wet puppy, all scrawny and vulnerable, and happy. Yes, she looked happy, and Tyler felt as if someone had landed a boot up against his backside.
A few seconds later, he headed out back to tell Bennie about Helen’s change of plans. Then he’d make Miss Lucky Myers the offer of a lifetime.
For Bennie, he reminded himself again.
 
AFTER DEVOURING the titles on all the old movie reels, Lucky moved on to the numerous bookshelves.
Breeding Cattle. How to Make a Winner
. So Mr. Big Bucks was in the cattle-prostitution business. Obviously it paid better than most escort services if this spread was any indication—
“Bennie!” The shout brought Lucky over to a huge bay window overlooking the back of the house in time to see Tyler Grant face off with a young girl, no more than twelve or thirteen. The Terminator with a water hose.
She aimed her weapon, but Tyler was too quick. The spray barely soaked the back of his shirt before he moved, hefting her over his shoulder in a head-on tackle. She shrieked, squirming in a fit of laughter as he attacked her with tickling fingers.
Lucky smiled, despite the pang of longing that shot through her for a naked stranger who looked really great in a wet shirt—
“Hold it right there, snake woman!”
The book she’d been holding sailed to the floor. Lucky whirled, to find herself staring down the barrel of a very lethal-looking shotgun.
“Now hold on a minute.” Her gaze flew to the old man brandishing the gun. Snow-white hair covered his head, the same color as the beard that hid half his face.
Colonel Sanders. She was being attacked by Colonel Sanders.
For a shocking moment, her gaze riveted on the bandages covering both his eyes.
Make that a
blind
Colonel Sanders.
Panic bolted through her and she forced a calming breath. If he couldn’t see, he couldn’t aim, and that meant she had a chance. “Just calm down, mister. You—you’ve got the wrong person.”
“Shut your lyin’ mouth! You might’ve put one over on my boy, but I knew you was rotten from the get go, missy.”
The tip of the barrel wavered, and Lucky inched sideways several feet. Her thigh came up hard against the glass case holding the James Dean boots and hat. Wood creaked and the man swung around. The barrel streaked through the space between them and crashed into the shelf holding the old movie projector.
Wood splintered, the projector hit the floor, metal pieces clanged and rolled, and the man let loose a string of violent curses.
“Dadblame it, sonofa—”
“Dad! Put that gun down!” Tyler strode through the doorway, his hair a tangled, dripping mess. He had a white towel draped around his neck, his shirt and trousers soaked and streaked with mud.
She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. It smelled more like fertilizer or horse doo—
“Good Lord,” breathed the short pudgy woman with gray hair and wide gray eyes who rushed in after Tyler.
Tyler’s eyes flashed anger and outrage as he reached the old man. His hands went to the wayward shotgun and the gnarled fingers gripping the handle.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to give this yellow-bellied thief what she deserves.” The old man resisted, playing tug-of-war with his larger, obviously stronger son. “She thought she could put one over on us, boy. But I ain’t letting her get away with it.”
“Give up the gun right now,” Tyler ordered, the words soft, yet steely. “I mean it.”
“Aw, go on and take the blasted thing.” The old man released the weapon and let Tyler steer him to a chair. “Tried to warn you, boy. You cain’t trust no woman who calls a fourteen-point buck
precious
. It just ain’t natural.”
“Give me the keys to the gun cabinet, Dad.”
“Didn’t get it from no gun cabinet.” The old man crossed his arms, his mouth set in a pout that resembled a stubborn child’s. “That there’s my own personal protection. Keep it under my bed for just such emergencies.”
“You could’ve caused one hell of an emergency if you’d pulled the trigger.” When the old man held his stance, Tyler added, “Give them to me.” The man looked ready to refuse, but after a long, tense moment, he dropped the keys into Tyler’s outstretched hand. Something dangerously close to regret flashed in Tyler’s eyes before he smiled. “Keep him out of trouble, Mabel,” he told the pudgy woman.
“Come on, Ulysses. I just made up a batch of stew.”
“Now that’s the best thing I heard all day.” Ulysses grasped the woman’s hand and pulled to his feet, a smile creasing his face. “You wouldn’t happen to have some fresh-baked biscuits to go with it?”
“And fresh buttermilk to drink.”
“Hot damn, Mabel! My eyes might be shot, but my taste buds are in their prime.” The old man’s excitement fled as he cast a frown over his shoulder. “Don’t turn your back on her. And keep her away from my Jimmy Dean hat and boots.” Then he shook his head. “Precious. Of all the blasted things...”
“Don’t mind him.” Mabel ushered the man out the door. “He’s cranky because one of the cable channels is running a twenty-four-hour Clark Gable marathon and he’s gonna miss it.”
“Oh, well, that explains it then,” Lucky said, still dazed from the past few minutes.
“Aw, who cares about those old shows,” the man grumbled.
“You do, you stubborn old coot,” Mabel said. “Now come on.”
“Are you all right?” Tyler’s hand went to her arm, his thorough gaze combing her from head to toe.
“I—I think so.” She shook her head. “Who was that?”
“That was Tyler Ulysses Grant the first, founder of this ranch and one pigheaded old man. He had double eye surgery a few months ago to correct a retina impairment. When the police car rolled up earlier, everybody here thought Hank had nabbed the thief. My father’s a little hot-tempered and I guess he thought he’d get a jump on the justice system. He only meant to scare you.”
“Mission accomplished,” she mumbled, pulling in a deep breath. “But I think my heart is beating again.” Not beating. Pounding. A frenzied rhythm that had started the moment Tyler’s long lean fingers had touched her to check for injuries.
Fingers that were still touching her.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, expecting him to let go. He didn’t for a long, drawn-out second. Something simmered in his eyes. That unreadable something she’d seen earlier.

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