That Touch of Pink (8 page)

She tipped her head a little as she studied him. “Tell me again why we need to know this. Why can't we just use matches?”

“What if you lose them or they get wet?”

“Let them dry?”

He shook his head. “They're no good.”

“You'll be with us and you know how to start a fire with sticks,” she argued.

“What would you do if something happened and I was incapacitated?”

“Does that mean you might get hurt?” Kimmie asked, looking worried.

“Sweetie,” Abby said, pulling her daughter against her side, “Riley is just playing ‘what if.'” She shot a glare in his direction. “Nothing's going to happen to him.”

“So you can see into the future?” he asked.

“Of course not. But what are the odds? It's one night.”

“Obviously The Bluebonnets believe the outdoor experience is important. Fire is necessary for warmth and cooking. It's a valuable skill to have.”

Abby slipped her fingertips into the pockets of her short denim skirt. Her sleeveless pink T-shirt tucked into the waistband showed off her slender figure to perfection. Sneakers and socks completed the outfit courtesy of their daily walking routine. The fire lesson had only occurred to him the night before.

“I agree that it's important for kids to experience a lot of things,” Abby said carefully. “And after this, Kim can decide if camping is a hobby she wants to pursue. But I'd be willing to bet that after she gets her outdoor badge, we won't be spending much time on the prairie.”

He'd thought about that himself. “Still, you're talking about The Bluebonnets here. The outdoor badge is earned for surviving off the land. Fire is a part of that, and should be badge-worthy.”

He was making a case that this was an essential lesson and he wasn't sure why. Did he need to justify spending time with Abby and Kimmie? They made him laugh and feel like part of a family. He'd forgotten how that felt. But could they have skipped this lesson on fire? Or was he complicating the need for this skill because a day without Abby was like a day without color and light?

“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You're telling me… Fire good.”

Her caveman voice left a lot to be desired, but it
made him laugh. “That's exactly what I'm saying. As well as, fire dangerous.”

“Mommy, can I go play on the swings?”

Abby's gaze swung to the playground area, which was a few feet away. “Okay. Be careful.”

“I will.” She jumped into the large circle filled with sand and swings as well as a contraption for kids to climb on.

“I can see she was completely riveted by the presentation,” he said wryly.

“Short attention span. Don't take it personally.”

None of this was personal, but the challenge was remembering that. It was all about duty, honor and the Charity City auction, he reminded himself. Then he watched Abby watch her child play. He noticed the tender, loving expression on her face, the way her dimples deepened and her mouth curved up in a small smile. Her full lips were the stuff of male fantasy, so full and soft-looking.

And suddenly it all felt very personal.

So he reminded himself again that he was only a volunteer here because the foundation that dispersed auction proceeds had given him start-up capital for his business. Which reminded him of something else.

He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the end of the picnic table, crossing one ankle over the other. “The Charity City Chamber of Commerce is having a dinner meeting on Saturday night.”

“That's nice,” she said, distracted as she waved at Kimmie.

“It's a welcome for Dixon Security, along with an invitation to become a member of the chamber.”

“Good for you.” She nodded and smiled when Kimmie shouted to look at her.

“Yeah. It's important for a businessman to be involved with organizations like that. The networking is critical for growing the business.”

“I can imagine.”

“So would you like to go?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

“The dinner. Saturday. Would you go with me?”

“I'm a teacher—specifically, a librarian. I don't know anything about business.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Business aptitude isn't a prerequisite for eating. Actually, the constitution of an elephant would be more helpful than business sense. To digest the rubber chicken and cold potatoes,” he explained, feeling pretty lame.

He was sorry he'd opened his mouth, but it was too late now.

She frowned. “I don't understand.”

“It was English, not Swahili,” he said, annoyance at himself kicking up even more. “I asked if you'd accompany me to a town function. There's not much to understand.”

“But that's not part of the responsibility I bought.”

“Understood.” He met her gaze. “So what about the COC dinner?”

She absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did we or did we not agree that our relationship is task-based. We've come together to make sure Kimmie gets her outdoor experience?”

“We did.” He couldn't be sorrier that he'd started this. “Look, Abby, a simple yes or no will suffice.”

“Okay. No.”

He felt as if she'd slugged him in the gut. “Okay. Well…” If he had a foxhole handy, he'd dive in head-first and wait for the concussion from the explosion.

Then Abby started laughing. “How does it feel, big guy?”

It feels pretty damn bad, he wanted to say. Rejection is lousy. But instead, he said, “How does what feel?”

“When you're told no. The shoe is on the other foot. How do you like it?”

“So this was an object lesson based on my behavior from our first meeting? Behavior for which, correct me if I'm wrong, I've already apologized?” The knot in his gut loosened.

“Pretty much. It's what I do with Kimmie. Sort of a how-would-you-feel-if-someone-did-that-to-you thing.”

“I see. So, now that you've had your object lesson, what do you say to a really bad dinner and boring speeches on Saturday night?”

“I say—okay.”

“Good,” he said, hoping he didn't sound as glad as he felt.

“But only to quiet the rampant rumors that you're gay.”

He stared at her and must have looked horrified, because she started laughing again. He knew she was teasing, but a rumor like that couldn't be more wrong. If he'd kissed her the other day, his sexuality wouldn't be in question. He'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted Abby. His gut-level disappointment at her teasing turndown proved it.

But now he'd opened his big mouth and she'd agreed to go. So he needed to go to Plan B—no extracurricu
lar survival training. Get Kimmie her badge and walk away. Like a good soldier. No more playing with fire.

He just hoped he could get through dinner Saturday night without getting burned.

A
bby had a glass of wine in one hand and her tiny black satin evening clutch in the other. In the banquet room of The Homestead, the Charity City restaurant where the Chamber of Commerce held its monthly meeting, she stood quietly off to the side. The place was rustic yet charming, with a ceiling two stories high comprised of rough-hewn beams and walls covered in elegant, flowered wallpaper.

Her comfort zone was near the huge fireplace where a cheerful fire crackled. The warmth felt good since a cold front had come through that day, lowering the daytime temperature. Round tables covered in white linen were arranged in the center of the room and set for the upcoming dinner. And vases with fresh flowers were scattered everywhere, filling the air with a fragrant scent.

Roy and Louise Gibson, owners of the restaurant and parents of her good friend, were bustling around the
room making sure no one needed anything. It might be a business dinner, but they were determined to make it personal. And speaking of that, Riley had been involved in conversation with a group of men on the other side of the room practically since they'd arrived. She couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or relieved.

When the Gibsons stopped beside her, she was thankful she didn't have to choose. Louise was small and round, with short thick, brown hair shot with red highlights. Roy was two or three inches taller than his wife, and also round. He was balding, and what hair he had was silver. Their gift of making business personal had rubbed off on their daughter, and Jamie's folks were two of her favorite people in the world.

After exchanging hugs, Louise said, “I haven't seen you since the night of the auction. What have you been up to?”

Abby remembered that night. Her glance strayed to Riley's broad back and a ripple of excitement shivered through her, reminding her of the thrills and chills the mayor had promised on Riley's behalf. She hadn't spent an entire weekend with him, but she'd certainly had her share of chills. But that reminded her. She was curious about why Roy and Louise had persevered against all comers at the auction to walk away with an ex-cop.

“I've been busy with school and Kimmie,” she answered vaguely. “Now that you mention it, I've been meaning to ask if Jamie is happy with the cop you bought at the auction.”

“I don't care if she is.” The twinkle in Roy's blue eyes disappeared. “Her mother and I were worried. Weird things have been happening here at the restaurant and to Jamie.”

“Define weird,” Abby said, concern sliding through her.

“The restaurant was broken into.”

“Was anything taken?” Abby asked, startled. She hadn't heard about it.

“A photo of Jamie from my desk,” Roy answered.

“That's all?”

Louise nodded. “And we've had hang-ups. You know, where you pick up the phone and know someone's there, but they don't say anything.”

A chill that had nothing to do with Riley slid down Abby's spine. “The last time I saw her, Jamie looked like there was something bothering her, but she wouldn't talk about it.”

“That's our girl,” Louise said, the ghost of a smile curving her mouth. Then it was gone. “She's too darn stubborn and independent for her own good. But we think she needs protection. She won't ask for help and doesn't want to bother us or cause us worry.”

“So we took matters into our own hands,” Roy explained. “Now she has a bodyguard.”

“Wow,” Abby said. Although she already knew, she asked, “How did that go over?”

“Like a fly in your consommé,” Roy confirmed. “But that's too darn bad. She's our little girl. Whether she likes it or not, she's stuck with Sam Brimstone. If he can't get to the bottom of what's going on, we'll figure something else out. One way or another, we're going to make sure nothing happens to her.”

“Good.” Abby sipped her wine. “I'm concerned about her, too. I thought she looked too thin. Not good advertising for you two restaurant owners, I can tell you.”

“Don't we know it,” Louise agreed. “I feel better knowing Sam is watching over her. But what about you, young lady? What's with the hunk you bought at the auction?”

“Which hunk would that be, honey?” Roy asked, the sparkle back in his eyes. “She bought two. Remember?”

Apparently it was too much to hope no one remembered, Abby thought, cringing. “Only one was for me,” she explained.

“Who's the other for?” Louise asked, a cagey look in her dark eyes.

“I'm sworn to secrecy.”

“We already know you bought Des O'Donnell for Molly Preston. Don't look so surprised. We were there, remember?” Louise patted her arm. “Not to worry. We'll never tell. Des is certainly a good-looking young man.”

Abby followed the other woman's gaze to the center of the crowded room where Riley was talking to Des O'Donnell, who'd recently assumed control of the family construction company after his father's death. “I have no idea why Molly wants to keep him under wraps.”

“I'm disappointed in you, Abby. You're divorced, not dead,” Louise said. “Use your imagination, dear.”

“Mrs. Gibson!” Abby stared at her, surprised.

The older woman looked unrepentant. “What? I'm old, not blind. The one you bought isn't bad, either. What are you doing with him?”

“I don't have him under wraps.” Not for lack of imagination, she thought. “He's helping Kimmie get her hiking and survival badges for the scouting group she belongs to,” Abby explained.

“So you bought him for Kimmie?” Roy asked.

“That's right.”

“Then how come you're his date tonight?” Louise raised one eyebrow.

Date? Why did there have to be a label? Why couldn't they just be two friends attending a dinner together? Her gaze swung back to Riley, standing slightly taller than the other men in the group. He wore a navy, double-breasted suit and red tie. His dark hair was neatly combed and he had a beer in his hand while he listened to something Jack Wentworth was saying.

Her heart stuttered, a sensation that was becoming all too familiar at the sight of Riley Dixon. But tonight it was even more so. He cleaned up good, really good, darn her luck. His familiar, rugged look—the only way she'd seen him until now—was enough to give females the world over heart palpitations. But this classy side of him was disconcerting, to say the least.

As the three men stood there, a flash went off, and Jack took the brunt of it. He grimaced and automatically raised his hand to block out the light. Although, of course, it was too late.

“That Mackenzie Andrews,” Louise tsked. “She's been doing that to Black Jack Wentworth all night. If you ask me, she's using her position as society reporter for the
Charity City Chatter
to take shots at Jack. No pun intended. I think she's got something against him. He'll be lucky if he can see straight when she's finished with him.”

“There's some history between those two,” Roy agreed. “You know anything about it, Abby?”

“Hmm?” She'd been too focused on Riley to pay close attention to the conversation around her. “Not really.”

“You gonna stare at him all night?” Louise asked.

“Who?” Abby blinked at the older woman. “Oh. Riley. You wanted to know why I'm here with him tonight,” she reminded them, amazed that she remembered the question. “I'm here because he asked.”

As if his ears were burning, Riley glanced in her direction and smiled. It threw Abby off-kilter, as if Mackenzie Andrews had just set off a flash in
her
face. Or maybe the wine had given her a lovely buzz, but she wouldn't bet on it. When Riley said something to the other men and walked in her direction, she braced herself.

“Hi,” he said, stopping beside her.

“Hi. Do you know Roy and Louise Gibson? They own this restaurant,” she said, indicating the older couple and the room around them.

“Riley Dixon.” He shook hands with them. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Roy said. “Welcome to the Charity City Chamber of Commerce. I understand you're real busy with that security business of yours.”

“Yes, sir. Right now, I'm working on a system for all the high schools in the district.”

“I heard. Walt Emerson is president of the school board. He comes in to eat a lot. Says they were impressed with the plan and procedures you presented.”

“That's good to hear.” Riley smiled at the other man.

“You know, son, some time soon I'd like to talk to you about updating the security system here in the restaurant.”

“Be happy to discuss it with you, sir.”

“It'll have to wait,” Louise said, pointing. “Ella's trying to get our attention.” She took her husband's hand.
“She's our hostess. And ten to one, there's a problem we need to deal with.”

“Go,” Abby said. “Don't worry about us.”

“Nice to meet you, Riley,” Roy said as his wife dragged him off.

“Same here, sir,” he said, then met Abby's gaze. “Sorry I abandoned you.”

“You didn't. It's called networking. And you were doing a fine job of it.”

“That I was.”

She drank the last of the wine in her glass. “How's it going?”

“Really good.”

Just then, a flash went off in front of them, blinding Abby. When her vision cleared, she recognized Mackenzie Andrews.

“Sorry about the flash.” The pretty brunette nodded with satisfaction. “But in underlit rooms like this, it's the only way to get a decent shot.”

“Then you must have a whole bunch of decent shots of Jack Wentworth,” Riley said.

The woman's gaze strayed to the tall, exceptionally good-looking son of the mayor. Her lip curled distastefully. “I certainly do.”

“Mac, what have you got against Jack?” Abby asked.

“Long story. And I'm working.” She shrugged and moved away to snap more pictures and take notes for her article.

“Hi, you two.” Des O'Donnell appeared on the other side of her.

Abby hadn't actually met him. She recognized him from his photograph posted on the auction Web site.
She'd come across it when she'd been looking to buy a guy for her nature guide. Des's dark blond hair, blue eyes and cocky smile were even better in person. He was a pretty attractive man, and she figured Molly had noticed. Although they'd only become close friends in the last couple of years, Abby knew Molly pretty well. She didn't think her friend wanted Des for “under wraps,” horizontal hula activities. But she had no clue what Molly planned to do with him. She only knew his company had been awarded the contract for the new wing of the pre-school where Molly worked.

“Hi, Des. Abby Walsh,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Abby.” He shook her hand and nodded to Riley. “I thought I'd never get away from that guy who's looking to build a room addition for a dollar and a half.”

“How do you two know each other?” Abby asked, looking from one to the other. How often did a girl find herself sandwiched between two such good-looking guys? She barely resisted the urge to fan herself and sigh like a Southern belle.

Des grinned. “High school football. Riley was the team captain. I was the unfortunate underclassman he used for a tackling dummy.”

“A gifted one as I recall,” Riley said, grinning too.

“Yeah.” Des glanced apologetically at her. “Sorry to talk more business, but I need Riley's help with some security concerns. O'Donnell Construction has equipment and supplies that are vulnerable to theft and vandalism during ongoing construction.”

“Happy to help,” Riley said.

“Sorry, Abby,” Des said again.

“No, problem.” She shrugged. “After all, this isn't social. It's business.”

As a waiter walked by, Riley absently took her empty glass. He set it on the tray, then took another and handed it to her while listening to Des.

She was struck again by his intense good looks. But he was so much more than just another pretty face, she realized. Tonight she'd seen him mingle with the town's top businessmen and handle himself in a smart, professional manner. It suddenly hit her that she'd been unfair to put him in the same league as her ex-husband. The only things the two had in common were the buffness factor, a fondness for outdoor activities and exceptional good looks that tempted her and tested her mettle.

Now, talking to Des, she remembered what the mayor had said the night of the auction. Riley was a hometown boy. He'd left for the army, but he'd come back. And started a successful business. Unlike her ex, he wasn't a quitter.

He was nothing like Fred The Flake, and the realization knocked the props out from under her. She'd been hiding behind all her reasons for disliking him, and now she realized he wasn't what she'd thought at all. The information didn't make her a happy camper.

Hours later, when he pulled up in front of her house to drop her off, she was even less happy. Louise Gibson had called it a “date.” At the end of an evening, usually one kissed one's date good-night. And sometimes one invited one's date in for a nightcap and other stuff. Kimmie was spending the night at her grandparents' house and Abby couldn't resurrect any of her former reasons for keeping Riley at arm's length. She didn't think she
could survive another is-he-going-to-kiss-me moment. With nowhere left to hide, her only option was retreat and run.

As the car came to a stop, she opened the door. “Thanks, Riley.”

“Wait,” he said, turning off the ignition. “Let me walk you to the door.”

She slid out of the vehicle onto the sidewalk and turned to look at him. “Don't bother. It's late and—”

“It's nine-thirty,” he said wryly.

“Really? Wow. It feels late.” She was grateful for the dark that kept him from seeing the flush creeping up her neck. “Thanks for a lovely evening.”