That Touch of Pink (4 page)

“No tickling,” she warned.

“Then talk.”

“Right back at you, Riley. Face Abby Walsh. And talk.” She sighed at his look. “The thing is, you don't
have a choice. This is you. Although you try to hide all your good qualities behind a surly exterior, I happen to know you're loyal, honest and you always pay your debts and do your duty. You gave your word to the Charity City Foundation when you volunteered the weekend for auction. And you're an honorable man. You can't do anything
but
talk to her.”

He hated that she was right. “Okay. You win.”

“Good.” She pointed at him. “But remember. That doesn't mean the talk needs to be personal. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn't under any circumstances get involved with her.”

“You're preaching to the choir, sis. I don't do personal. I'll smooth things over.” Things like the curve of her cheek and the slender column of her neck. The insubordinate thoughts made him grind his teeth and proved that Abby Walsh was trouble with a capital T. “By the time I'm finished oozing charm, she'll be glad to let me compensate her for the money she spent.”

And he'd be off one very large, very uncomfortable hook.

A
half hour after deciding to be sweet and lovable in his quest to change Abby Walsh's mind, Riley stood on her doorstep. He'd have been there sooner, but it took him a few minutes to find out where she lived.

Her place was in The Villas, one of Charity City's newest areas built by Richmond Homes. It was a charming neighborhood, meaning he was in the right place to take his charm out for a spin and see what it could do. And she'd accused him of
lacking
charm and courtesy. She was in for the charmfest of her life, he thought, pushing the doorbell.

“Who's there?” It was a child's voice behind the door.

“Riley Dixon,” he answered.

“The man Mommy bought at the auction?”

“Yes.” His reputation preceded him.

The door opened and a pint-size girl stood in front of him wearing pink satin pajamas, matching slippers
with feathers on the toes and a pink robe with cartoon princesses on it. Her hair was long enough to disappear behind her shoulders, but what he could see of it was wet. Taking a mental leap, he guessed she'd just had her evening bath and was dressed for bed.

“Kimmie?” he said, remembering how Abby had corrected him when he'd called her “the kid.”

“Yes.”

He noticed the sleeves and hem of her robe were trimmed with white lace and tried to picture her camping in rugged terrain. Paying back the Charity City foundation should have been easy. Take a guy camping and teach him a few survival skills. End of obligation. But his luck wasn't that good. The woman who'd bought him would consider a broken nail a life-altering event. And her child no doubt took after her.

“I'd like to talk to your mom. Is she here?”

There was a ten-year-old car in the driveway, but that didn't mean the mom in question was on the premises.

“Mommy's in the attic. It's upstairs, and the ladder is pulled down.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I'm watchin' TV before I hafta go to bed and I don't have a lot of time.”

“It's okay. I can find her.”

After Kimmie went back to her show, he looked around. Abby's place was small, but very nice. And very pink. It was like living in a Pepto-Bismol bottle. Everything he'd seen so far confirmed his decision to return her money. Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs and found the attic access just as Kimmie had said. As he got closer to the ceiling opening, there was the distinct scraping sound of boxes being moved followed by a lot of grunting and panting.

Riley poked his head through the opening and noticed the attic was crudely finished, with a wooden floor and unpainted wallboard. Obviously she used it for storage, but judging by the boxes stacked against the walls and so high over her head she couldn't reach them, he figured she hadn't put them there. She'd said she didn't have a husband. But that didn't rule out boyfriends.

In sweatpants and a white T-shirt, a barefoot Abby stood with her back to him. Without the flowing skirt, he could see for himself that she was as curvy as he'd guessed. Before he could shut down the thought, he realized he was glad she wasn't wearing jeans that would compress her softness into stiff denim. Quickly he clamped the lid on that image even as his palms tingled at the idea of touching her.

She reached up for a box and maneuvered it forward, then staggered under the weight. He moved quickly to take it from her and when she saw him, she jumped back with a screech of surprise.

She pressed her hand to her heaving chest. “What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”

“It's my business. I'm in security.”

“Funny how that doesn't make me feel secure.”

Ignoring her verbal projectile, he said, “Kimmie let me in.”

She rubbed a finger beneath her nose. “I guess I need to give her a refresher course in stranger danger.”

“I'm not a danger. Besides, she asked who was at the door.”

“Because she's not tall enough to see through the peephole.”

“Are you?” He gauged her height. “Tall enough to see out of it, I mean.”

“I think it was installed by the Jolly Green Giant. But that's beside the point and doesn't explain what you're doing here.”

“I wanted to talk to you, Ms. Walsh. To apologize for my behavior earlier.”

“Oh?” She fixed him with a skeptical look as she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

Her stance did interesting things to her chest and he had to regroup to remember why he was there. Charm. Yeah. That was it. “I may have been a little abrupt—”

“May have been? Abrupt? Buster, you could give lessons.”

“Okay. I deserve that. And I'm here to say I'm sorry.” He watched her face, waiting for a sign that his charm was working. A second later, her mouth softened and a small smile set off her dimples. He wondered how many men she'd brought to their knees with them.

“I accept your apology, Mr. Dixon.”

“Riley,” he said.

“And I'm Abby. As opposed to Ms. Walsh.”

“Okay. Look, I wanted to talk to you about the survival weekend.”

“Actually if you hadn't stopped by tonight, I was going to drop in at your office tomorrow to discuss it.”

“Great minds,” he said, referring to thinking alike.

“Yeah.” She rested her hands on her hips. “You first. What did you want to say?”

“First, may I say what a lovely daughter you have.”

Her face brightened at the words. “Thank you. I think she's pretty special.”

“And very pretty, too. The pink satin princess thing works for her.”

“Yeah. She likes to take her bath early and watch television before bed. The pajamas and robe are her favorites and—”

“Not warm enough for camping.”

The expression of benevolence disappeared, replaced by skepticism. “I wouldn't let her wear them camping.”

“It's not just the sleepwear. Camping is an all-or-nothing sort of thing. You admitted it's not your cup of tea,” he pointed out, recalling her remark about pools and sissy drinks.

The sweats were good, but he'd give a lot to see her in a bikini by that pool, and maybe wet… Damn, he was going to have to get his thoughts under control or he was dead in the water. Nora was right. There was a striking physical resemblance between Abby and his ex-wife. But, now that the shock had worn off, he could see the differences. Abby's eyes were brown, a warm rich shade of cocoa, and there was a sweetness about her Barb had never possessed. But there were similarities, too, like they both needed him. Different reasons, but Abby still wanted something from him. He needed to get out of this ASAP.

“The outdoors isn't my cup of tea,” she confirmed. “But Kimmie wants her hiking and camping badges. I figured a survival weekend would kill two birds with one stone—maximize my auction purchase. It's only one night. I can suck it up.”

“You think so? Without hot showers, or cold, for that matter, since there won't be running water. Dirt is a major component. The ground is hard and damn cold.
TV is out of the question. No electricity,” he explained. “It's dark and Mother Nature didn't think to install street lights. Not a whole lot to do but sit around and watch the leaves fall. No froufrou food or microwaves.”

“Because there's no electricity?” she asked sweetly, too sweetly.

“Even if there was, a microwave would be too bulky and heavy to backpack in. Only necessities get lugged over rugged terrain.” He planted his feet wide apart and rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at her. “It's primitive and uncomfortable. So you see—”

“No.” She started to walk by him.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. What does that mean?”

“You should know. It's what you told me a little while ago. What part of ‘no' don't
you
understand?”

“I know what it means. Are you saying you got the message that camping isn't for you and you'll let me reimburse you—with interest—for what you paid at the auction?”

“And let you off the hook?”

“A man can hope.”

“Not a chance.” She took a step toward him, close enough that their bodies were nearly touching and the subtle, sexy fragrance of her perfume filled his head and fogged his brain. “I understand that you weren't expecting Kimmie and I when you donated the weekend campout. But we're what you got. And now you're stuck with us. If you're going to fulfill your obligation to the foundation, you need to suck it up and get over whatever prejudice you've got against—”

“It's okay, Mommy.”

Abby whirled away from him at the sound of her daughter's voice. The little girl was sitting cross-legged, with her feminine little robe tucked around her, just inside the attic opening. Riley didn't have a clue how long she'd been there. Not good for a man who'd at one time prided himself on being able to hear a leaf drop when his life depended on it. And for reasons he didn't want to think about, he was feeling as if his life depended on making this stubborn woman understand why he couldn't do what he'd promised.

Abby went to her child and squatted next to her. “What's okay, sweetie?”

“If he doesn't want to take us on the campout, it's all right.”

“I know how much you want your survival badges, Kimmie.”

“I did, but—” The little girl shrugged.

“You know if you don't get both of these badges in the next six weeks, you can't go on to the next level in The Bluebonnets.”

“I know.”

“And Caitlyn will be going on ahead of you into a more advanced group with a different leader. Remember she's getting her last badge at the next meeting?”

The little girl nodded. “But it's okay. Grandma told me that disappointment is part of life. And growing up means learning to live with it.”

“I let you down. Sweetie, I'm so sorry—” Abby's voice broke.

“It's not you, Mommy. If my daddy had come back like he promised, he'd have taken me camping. But he stayed in California. I'm six now. I'm big enough to understand.”

“I wish I was,” Abby mumbled. “Why did you come up here? Did you need something?”

“You need to tuck me in. It's time for bed.” Her voice broke on the last word and her chin started quivering just before she disappeared through the opening.

Riley felt like pond scum. Slimier than pond scum. Both of them were close to tears. Damn it to hell. If he agreed, he would have to hang with Abby overnight. That was a bad idea, outdoors or anywhere else. And if it was just her, he could have stuck to his guns and pulled out of the op. In the Rangers, he'd worked and trained and prided himself on being the toughest of the tough. But nothing had hardened him enough to say no to a six-year-old who'd already gotten a bum deal.

Charm was no match for a little girl's tears.

“Okay.”

“What?” Abby turned her big brown eyes on him.

If he hadn't already caved, he'd be in danger now. “I'll take you and Kimmie camping.”

She blinked, then the corners of her mouth curved into a brilliant smile that turned her killer dimples loose on him. She threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

She felt way too good, soft in all the right places and he was relieved when she pulled away.

“What do we need to bring?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I'll bring the equipment. You and Kim be ready at six a.m. on Saturday morning.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“That's Navy. Yes, sir, will suffice.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir,” she said, brown eyes shining.

That look backed him up a step. It was the same one she'd had just before throwing her arms around him. He wanted her to do it again; at the same time, he knew it was a very bad idea. Because if she ever hugged him again, he knew he'd really get into it. He'd pull her as close as he could get her and press his mouth to hers.

Bad didn't begin to describe this situation. He just hoped he didn't regret this decision.

 

Abby glanced at Riley's impassive face and wished she knew what he was thinking. Scratch that. It would probably be better if she didn't know. She watched a sleepy Kimmie play with the soggy cocoa cereal in her bowl. They were already behind schedule because Riley had spent ten minutes disapproving of their attire. Capris were bad—legs need to be covered in heavy-duty material to prevent scratches and bug bites. They'd changed into jeans. Their shoes were an accident waiting to happen—sandals gave no support or protection. They'd changed again.

She watched him watch Kimmie. “If I'd known there was a dress code, I would have followed it.”

His gaze swung to hers. “Noted.”

“Okay, Kim, I think you're finished,” she said, sliding the bowl off the table and carrying it to the sink. As quickly as possible, she dumped the remaining light brown milk and cereal, ran the disposal, then put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “We've already disrupted Mr. Dixon's schedule.”

“It makes good sense to set up camp in the daylight,” he said.

His delivery was so smooth, Abby almost missed the subtle sarcasm. “Then we'd better get a move on.”

Kim rested her cheek in her palm. “I'm sleepy, Mommy.”

“I know, sweetie. But you can sleep in Mr. Dixon's car on the drive.” She looked at Riley. “That's okay, isn't it?”

“Sure.”

The little girl hopped off her chair and grabbed the box of cereal that was almost as big as she was. “I'll take these for a snack later.”

Riley took a step away from the doorway where he'd been standing for the last ten minutes. “That's a negative on the cereal.”

She blinked up at him. “Does that mean no?”

“It does.”

“But why?”

“Because it's empty calories.”