Heiress for Hire (23 page)

"Are you serious?" Amanda snickered.

Willie moved to her other knee. "It was a sight… the whole crowd gasping. And not six months later Owen finds the slut with an eighteen-year-old bag boy from the grocery."

"They got divorced?"

"Yep. He kicked that trash out to the curb where she belonged." Good riddance, the whole family had thought. "He's dating a nice girl now."

"That's an absolutely horrible story," Amanda said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But really freaking funny." She started to laugh. "I shouldn't laugh, it's terrible."

Willie chuckled. "I always thought it was funny myself. That's why I told you the story in the first place."

The blonde was okay, Willie had to admit. When she didn't have anything to do with her son.

"You know, Amanda, I don't have anything against you." She started dabbing her knees with the washcloth. "You've been good to my granddaughter. But my son seems to have developed a crush on you, and I'm hoping that you'll discourage his interest."

There, that sounded damn polite.

"Why?" Amanda asked through gritted teeth.

Willie eased up with the washcloth, wondering if she was being too rough. She stood up and went for the shoulder wound. "Why? Because you're not the kind of woman Danny needs in his life. He's looking for a farmer's wife, someone not afraid to work hard and be around for the long haul."

The bleeding had stopped, so Willie made quick work of Amanda's shoulder. She'd use butterfly tape to keep the wound closed, and they could skip the stitches. It wasn't that deep or long.

"Danny hasn't met a lot of women like you—any, for that matter. He's attracted to you, and that's understandable. But he's got a child now, and he really can't be fooling around with a rich girl."

"Are you finished?"

"Hmm?" Willie pulled the backing off the bandage. "Not quite, I have to tape this dressing down and then you'll be all set."

"No, I mean are you done warning me not to get involved with your very-much-grown son?"

That was a belligerent tone. Willie shifted her eyes to Amanda's. The blonde was holding her head high, haughty, looking cool and unimpressed. It was a good trick, that confidence and self-important presence. It reminded Willie that in her own way, Amanda was formidable. She was used to walking into a room and commanding attention.

"Yes, I believe my point is clear."

"Then let me give you my opinion on the matter. If I were interested in pursuing the attraction between Danny and I—which I'm not—it would be none of your damn business. He is an adult who can date whoever he wants, and he does not need his mother telling him who to marry any more than I need my father telling me to find a real job. It is possible that we'll both make mistakes, but those mistakes are ours to make, and perhaps you should focus on your own sex life more than your son's. Your husband looks a little neglected."

Willie stared at Amanda Delmar for a long minute before she burst out laughing. "You know, I really do kind of like you. You've got guts for a skinny girl."

She taped the bandage down over the shoulder wound. "Too bad you're rich. That's one flaw I'm not sure I can get past."

Amanda gave her a rueful grin. "I've been disinherited, remember?"

Willie had thought about it and come to her own conclusions. "Your father is just trying to get you to bend to his will. He has no intention of cutting you off for good."

"Maybe." Amanda pushed off on the counter and stood up, giving her knees a tentative bend. "But I wouldn't bet the farm on it."

And Willie had to laugh.

Danny Tucker didn't think he could handle any more worrying. He'd done enough of it in the last two weeks to set him up for life, and Piper wasn't even half grown yet.

Between always watching his daughter, always wondering if he was doing the right thing, worrying over every last word that came out of his mouth, he was just about worn out.

There had been no resolution on the custody issue, since the lawyer said no one seemed to actually have legal guardianship of her. Her stepfather did by default, but anyone could contest that. Danny needed a DNA test, and he needed it before he filed his claim and riled up any relatives who might change their mind and want Piper.

Then there was his fear that Piper wouldn't adjust to the farm, to going off to school, that she still didn't completely trust him.

Now on top of all of that, he found himself worrying about Amanda.

She'd proven she was tough this afternoon, but underneath the outer layer she rivaled him for softness. And he was worried about her, about what she was going to do if her father never forgave her.

He was worried that she had her pressure point, and once she reached it, she was going to hare off and return back to her old life.

Before he'd had a chance… a chance to do something. Tell her something. Touch her and… something.

Or something.

His brain hurt from trying to make sense of out things.

"I've got it." Amanda juggled her dog's leash, her purse that couldn't hang over her injured shoulder, and her house keys all in one hand.

"You don't have it. Stop being stubborn." Danny took the keys away from her, passed the dog leash to Piper, and gave Amanda an exasperated look.

He was feeling strung-out and dangerous, a feeling so foreign he wasn't sure what to make of it. But all the worrying, and the wondering, all the thousands of little details that needed to be tended to had him a bit edgier than normal.

Then when you added into the equation that he wanted Amanda six ways to Sunday, and she had said no, quite firmly, in the chicken coop, he definitely wasn't at his best. Now she was walking around trying to act like her legs weren't torn to hell and back and had to sting, and as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"I'm not stubborn. I'm independent." Then she frowned. "Well, not financially. Until now anyway. I guess I am now. But I'm definitely emotionally independent."

That sounded horrible. He didn't think she meant it that way, but it sounded so lonely—like she cared about no one and in return there wasn't a soul who cared about her.

"Do you want me to call your father and let him know what happened?" Danny felt responsible for her accident, and he thought he should let her father know she was alright.

Amanda stepped through the door he pushed open. "There is absolutely no reason to tell my dad I was attacked by a hawk. He'd either suggest I deserved a good clawing, or he would say, 'That's nice, sweetie,' which means he's not listening to a word I say."

Piper had wandered into Amanda's parlor, which was filled with knick-knacks the owners of the house had accumulated over the years and left in place. His daughter was down on her knees staring thoughtfully at a porcelain figurine. Danny couldn't tell what the figure was from where he was standing, but Piper sucked in her breath and tilted her head.

There were another six figures on that table alone. He figured she'd be good for a solid fifteen minutes.

He needed to talk to Amanda.

"Amanda."

But she had different ideas.

"I'm going upstairs to change. This dress is trashed. And I'm starving."

Danny clung to hope. "How about I order a pizza? We can eat dinner with you, then we'll get out of your hair. A pizza's the least I can do."

She paused with her foot on the first step. But she just said "Sure" without looking back, in that casual voice she had. The one that he had decided was her fake voice, the one she used when she wanted people to think she was an empty, shopaholic, party girl, with a sharp tongue and credit cards to burn.

That wasn't her.

And she proved it by turning and calling, "Piper, why don't you come up with me? I could use some help."

"Okay." Piper abandoned the figurines and ran toward the stairs. Baby barked and ran alongside her, the leash still trailing.

"Do you mind waiting?" Amanda asked him, her chin over her injured shoulder as she looked back at him, her green eyes mysterious and closed.

"I don't mind." He was Mr. Dependable, after all.

Waiting.

Amanda wondered if hawks carried rabies.

Maybe that could explain why she had suddenly wanted Danny Tucker to sweep her off her feet and up the stairs.

Which was ludicrous. Nobody had ever carried her anywhere, not even before she'd grown giraffe-long legs. Their longtime housekeeper used to nudge her with her knees and hands, like Amanda was a sheep that needed herding, but that wasn't the same thing.

No, she had actually wanted him to carry her in his arms, settle her on the bed, and touch her banged up knees with the tenderness he showed his daughter.

God, that sounded kind of sick. Like she'd developed a daddy complex or something. Next she'd be foaming at the mouth and dating her father's friends.

"Why are these pennies laying in the hall?" Piper asked.

Because her friendly household spirit didn't want to see her penniless. Amanda had started to feel kind of touched each time she came into the hall and found another pile of twenty, thirty, sometimes a hundred pennies.

"I keep meaning to pick those up," she said vaguely, not want-ing to go into the nuances of humans who refuse to stay dead with Piper.

"It's from her, isn't it?"

"Her who?" Amanda started rifling through the dresser in her bedroom. She didn't have enough drawer space in this house, and her father hadn't even shipped her fall and winter clothes to her. If he actually respected her request and shipped her things, she was going to burst out of these closets. She had a dozen coats alone.

"The ghost. I can hear her, she's crying. But she wants you to be happy."

Right. Piper could communicate with ghosts. While a good party trick, Amanda thought it was a little unnerving. "Well, I want me to be happy too. And I do appreciate the pennies."

"She knows." Piper sat on the bed and gave it a good bounce. "Can I meet her?"

"The Crying Lady? Are you sure you want to?" Amanda hadn't heard her crying since the night she'd had the argument with her father. She wasn't sure she wanted to renew their friendship—or the nightly moaning.

"Yes." Piper nodded.

Struggling not to sigh, Amanda pushed her dress to the floor and stepped out of it. The strapless bra was annoying, but she wasn't going to shed it in front of Piper. Instead, she just pulled on a tight T-shirt over it, taking care with her shoulder, and a pair of terrycloth shorts. A peek in the mirror showed the country was killing her. Chopped-off hair, a tan that was fading, and all her makeup disappeared. Without money to maintain her nails, she had finally succumbed to the horror of having them soaked off by the nail tech at Cut Above, Hair by Harriet's competition. She now had stubby little discolored natural fingernails.

Good thing she'd brought her self-tanner lotion, though. She could use it tonight to stave off fading. Running a brush through her hair, she went for the bronzer, brushing some over her cheeks and nose, with a flourish.

"Need some?" She turned and waved the poufy brush at Piper.

Piper shook her head. "It smells bad."

Amanda laughed as she switched shoes, from heels to rubber flip-flops, taking in her bruised and scraped knees ruefully. That was sexy. Not.