Not That Kind of Girl (2 page)

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. She had officially reached her limit of civility. “What the hell are you talking about? My door’s already flung wide open!” She was pissed now. This lady hardly knew the first thing about her, her life, her history. “It just so happens that I love my friends and my dog and my job and I get along passably well with my neighbors, even the obsessive-compulsive ones. My mother and I are still on speaking terms, for God’s sake, which is more than I can say for a lot of twenty-nine-year-old women! You make me sound like some kind of cold
bitch
or something, which couldn’t be further from the truth!”

Mrs. Needleman shook her head sadly. “I never meant to imply that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“A man will be at your door very soon now, Roxanne.” Mrs. Needleman’s eyes became intensely focused as she spoke. “And this man will be different. He’ll be strong enough to knock down the wall you’ve built around your heart, and brave enough to love everything he finds behind it.”

Bea rolled her eyes at Roxanne as if to apologize. Then she pulled gently on Mrs. Needleman’s arm. “Come on now, Gloria. You want to see when they open your gifts, don’t you?”

As Roxanne watched Bea help Mrs. Needleman toward the kitchen door, her head got fuzzy. That lady was a whack job, plain and simple. It was like she was on some kind of mission to test the limits of Roxie’s sanity. In fact, Gloria Needleman could qualify as a stalker, a senior citizen stalker! And her prophecy about some man breaking down the door to Roxie’s heart? That door she’d agreed to leave open a crack?

Right.

Roxie began a casual jog toward the barn, thinking that any man foolish enough to show up on her doorstep would get a foot up the crack of his ass.

In just seconds, Roxanne found herself at the barn, her lungs burning and her breath coming hard. Apparently, her casual jog had become a full-out sprint and she hadn’t even noticed.

*   *   *

“Sorry I’m late,” Eli said. He took off his Stetson and held it to his heart as he approached the two guests of honor. The mothers-to-be were perched like fertility-goddess bookends on the oversized leather sofa.

“Come in, Eli!” said Rick’s wife, Josie, her round face lit up with excitement and happiness. “We’re glad you could make it.”

Immediately, the dogs were sniffing his legs. Through his peripheral vision he saw four of them. Three he knew were Rick and Josie’s dogs—Tara, the little terrier mix, Chen, their big hulking mutt, and Genghis, the knuckle-headed Labradoodle. With a quick glance he saw that the fourth was their friend Bea’s Finnish spitz, Martina. Now
that
was a secure dog. Once the pack was sufficiently calm, Eli knelt down to give them a proper friendly greeting.

Suddenly, a fifth dog appeared, having serpentined her way through the obstacle course of folding chairs and two-legged roadblocks. It was Ginger and Lucio’s little bichon frise. Today she was wearing a flirty pink bow on top of her head. Eli had to laugh. He made sure she got her share of ear rubs, head pats, and belly scratches.

“There he is, the Pied Piper of the puppies!” Lucio Montevez said in his thick Spanish accent. “Come in! Come in!” Ginger’s husband waved broadly, holding up his wineglass.

Eli rose from his crouch and moved farther into the room, certain the dogs would allow him to pass. He made his way to Ginger and Josie, kissing each on the cheek as he set down one gift bag per pile of loot.

“Where might I find Rick?” Eli inquired.

“He and Teeny are carrying some of the presents out to Ginger and Lucio’s car,” Josie said, smiling sheepishly. “It was getting a little crowded in here.”

Eli chuckled, looking around the packed room. He saw many familiar faces from the corporate headquarters of Celestial Pet, where he worked as a canine behavioral consultant, but the rest were strangers to him. He smiled politely to everyone as he took a seat. Lucio handed him a beer.

“Gracias,” he told him.

Not surprisingly, Roxanne Bloom was nowhere to be seen. Eli figured she must have run out the back door.

He’d taken a single sip from his beer when he felt a heavy weight on his right foot. He didn’t bother to look down, and immediately made a sharp
shh
sound. The weight moved off his foot and settled on the floor next to him. Only then did he reach down and pet the outrageous spiral curls that could only belong to Genghis, his very first San Francisco client.

Eli smiled down at the dog. “How’s it hangin’, my man?” he asked, rubbing the Labradoodle behind his ears.

Eli heard the kitchen door slam and turned his head, everything inside him jumping to attention at the thought that
she
might be returning. Instead he saw Bea Latimer and the increasingly frail little old lady who’d married Josie and Rick, and later, he’d heard, officiated at the marriage of Lucio and Ginger. He watched Bea help Mrs. Needleman to a comfortable recliner and make her way to an empty folding chair next to him. Martina trotted at her side.

“Hey, Eli,” Bea said, plopping down. Her voice was friendly enough but a little reserved. “How’ve you been?”

“Very well, thank you,” he said. “You?”

“Good. Excellent, really. Since the paper went belly-up I’ve been working on my canine agility trainer certification. I have my exam in six weeks.”

Eli smiled at the tall, older woman. “That’s great, Bea. Congratulations. You have a gift, you know.”

Bea glanced down at Martina lying at her feet, then gave him a self-conscious smile. “Thanks.”

“Martina is a happy and stable dog,” he added.

Bea’s smile widened. “I really appreciate that,” she said, pausing to look at him thoughtfully. “It means a lot coming from you.”

Their conversation ended as a wave of delighted gasps and sighs spread through the room. Eli saw that Ginger and Josie had just unwrapped identical wood-inlay boxes, marveling at their beauty as they ran their fingers over the intricate carving. A handsome white-haired man kissed each of them, then wiped tears from his eyes as he returned to a love seat.

“That’s Lucio’s father. He lives in southern Spain,” Bea told him, leaning in close. “The lady next to him—the one with the boobs-not-found-in-nature? See her?”

Eli coughed.

“That’s Ginger’s mother.”

“Ah. Thanks for keeping me abreast of the situation.”

Bea let go with a hearty laugh. Then she sighed, her face slowly becoming more serious. “Hey, look, Eli. I like you. A lot. You seem like a real decent guy. But … uh …”

He knew where this awkward exchange was headed, and he appreciated Bea’s courage. “I’m listening,” he said.

“I’m not sure I should be telling you this.”

Eli nodded.

“Roxie is … uh …”

He decided to make it easier for her. “So where did she run off to?”

Bea studied him, her eyes filled with concern. “The barn.”

“Because of me?”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

Eli stared at the beer bottle in his hand. “It’s that bad, huh?”

“ ’Fraid so.”

He nodded. It wasn’t a simple matter, this thing with the stunning, raven-haired Roxanne Bloom. He’d met her only half a dozen times, usually at social situations like this one, but the energy between them was like nothing he’d ever experienced with a woman. It was dazzling in its intensity. It screamed for his attention. And it was thoroughly, maddeningly unwelcome.

Roxanne had called last fall to ask him to lunch. He’d had to say no. He’d had no choice, though she didn’t even give him a chance to explain. And since then, their dynamic had been real simple: she avoided him and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was ridiculous, he knew, and it had to be sorted out—now. Letting this kind of unfinished emotional business fester went against everything he believed in. He would not let it go on another day.

“Roxie is a little on the complicated side,” Bea said under her breath.

He smiled. “So it seems.”

“I love her to death, though.”

Eli sipped his beer.

“She’s a pussycat, really. A pussycat in a porcupine suit.”

Eli chuckled.

Bea stared at him, looking slightly dazed. “Go after her,” she whispered, then swiveled her head around to make sure no one was listening. “She’d
kill
me if she knew I was doing this, but I think you should go after her. Hurry. Before it’s too late.”

For a long moment, the two stared at each other.

“All right,” Eli said. “Don’t mind if I do.” He grabbed his hat from under the chair and patted Bea on the knee as he stood up. “You know where to find me,” he said, giving her a wink.

Eli headed for the kitchen door, knowing he had a four-legged fan club at his heels. He kept his eyes looking forward, his shoulders level, and didn’t glance down at the pack. As expected, the dogs made way for him to pass through the door, alone.

*   *   *

“Babies, babies, babies, babies, babies …”

Roxanne felt free to mutter to herself out here at the paddock, because her only witness was a pretty Appaloosa mare who loitered about ten feet away, languidly chomping on alfalfa, her big brown eyes looking sympathetic to her concerns.

Roxie propped a foot on the lowest rail of the fence and draped her elbows over the highest. “How am I supposed to be a cogodmother?” she asked the horse. “I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m not even sure I like them! Fine, they’re important to the continuation of the species and all that, but there are days I’m not sure the human species deserves a pass, you know what I’m saying?”

The horse snorted and twitched its ears as if to agree.

“I mean, why keep adding extra people to the mix when the ones already here can’t treat each other decently?”

The horse ambled over to the fence, where she nosed Roxie under the crook of her arm. Roxie stroked the mare’s neck. “How did this happen? That’s all I’m asking. A year ago we were all perfectly miserable—manless and about to lose our jobs at the paper. But at least we were a unified front in our misery, you know? We even took a vow to be alone together, just us and our dogs!”

The horse blew air from its nostrils and pawed at the dirt.

“And then, Josie goes out and finds Rick Rousseau, a hunk with a heart bigger than his bank account. And Ginger somehow conjures up Lucio Montevez, a Mediterranean sex god who basically worships her. And suddenly everybody’s in a family way and happier than pigs in you-know-what and I’m still …” Roxie stopped herself, sighing deeply. The horse moved closer, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“Oh, never mind,” Roxie told her. She let her forehead rest on the broad and smooth plane between the horse’s gentle eyes. “I think I’ve already missed my chance to be a mother. I guess that’s what this is all about. I’m probably a little jealous of my friends.”

The horse whinnied in protest.
“Fine,”
Roxanne said with annoyance. “I realize Bea isn’t married and pregnant but, come on, like that’s ever going to happen? My point is, she’s following her dream. Becoming an agility trainer is making her as happy as Ginger and Josie, just in her own way.”

Roxie lifted her head and stared off across the miles of rolling vineyard. “What I’m saying is, everyone in our little group has moved on—except me. I’m still right where I started.”

“Animals are good listeners,” a voice said from behind her.

Roxie froze. She knew that voice. It was an irritatingly masculine voice. Annoyingly sexy. She hated the way it flowed, like a slow and deep river sure of its destination. And she really hated the fact that the owner of that voice might have heard even a syllable of her very private musings.

She blew out air, not turning around. So
that man
had suddenly decided she was worth a little of his time? Ha! And he thought it was acceptable to follow her out here without her permission? What a complete
tool
this guy was!

“You and I need to talk,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “I promise I’ll be a good listener, too.”

She kept her back to him. He didn’t deserve her full attention.

But he moved closer and …
dammit
! There it was again, that weird vibration she’d felt the very first time she’d met him, right here at the ranch, the day of Josie and Rick’s wedding. She would never forget the instant she noticed him. He was leaning against the stone wall between the garden and the lawn, one knee bent, the heel of one cowboy boot propped against the wall and the toe of the other tapping in the dirt. He’d pushed that stupid black hat back on his blond curls and bit down on the inside of his mouth, as if he were trying to keep from laughing. He’d focused his intense green eyes right on her.

Oh, damn, he’d been gorgeous. Big and muscular in his suit. Sun-browned skin. Sensual lips. Graceful hands.

Roxanne didn’t want to think about what happened next, but she couldn’t stop herself from remembering. The truth was, Eli Gallagher’s intense gaze had sliced through her flesh, raced through her blood, and landed with a hot thud right between her legs.

The moment had made such an impression because, embarrassingly enough, that had been the only thing that had landed with a hot thud between her legs in a very long while. And that encounter with Eli had taken place more than
nine months ago
! And there’d certainly been no thudding since. She absolutely refused to do the bigger-picture math.

“I owe you an apology, Roxanne.”

“Nope. You don’t.” She kept her eyes on the vineyards.

“An explanation, then.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She waited. She strained to hear him let go with an exasperated sigh, or a groan of frustration, or a bitter laugh—anything that would indicate she’d gotten the better of him.

“You are one tough cookie, Ms. Bloom,” is what he said.

For just a second, she shut her eyes. She summoned her strength. She knew exactly what she’d see when she turned around—an extremely handsome man, somewhere in his early thirties, with loose blond curls, dusky green eyes accented by smile lines, a set of full lips, an elegant chin, and a tall and fit body tucked inside a pair of worn jeans.

A man that spectacular could have any woman he wanted. And, as he’d made painfully clear a while back, he didn’t want
her
.