The Cinderella Deal (6 page)

“Checks at the end of the month.” Howard looked up and beamed, and Daisy turned to see who had come in.

It was Linc, looking prosperous in his expensive suit. Linc, looking sort of big and dangerous, like a hit man.

Only protective, which was nice. A big, dangerous, protective hit man.

Howard’s voice oiled out from behind the register. “Can I help you, sir?”

The heck with mature. She’d never been any good at mature anyway. “You’re in trouble, Howard,” she told him, hooking her thumb over her shoulder at Linc. “This is my brother from New Jersey.”

Linc and Howard looked at her, stunned.

Daisy nodded solemnly at Howard. “He doesn’t like me much, but he believes fair is fair, and he’s against people who cheat innocent, hardworking women. I told him you wouldn’t pay me even though you’d sold my stuff. I’m sorry, Howard, but a woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do.”

“Daisy.” Linc’s voice was cold with warning.

“Don’t break his fingers, Linc,” Daisy pleaded, not taking her eyes off Howard. “He’s not a bad guy. He’ll give me the money.”

“Who are you trying to kid?” Howard sneered at her again.

“Wait a minute.”

Daisy shot a glance at Linc. He’d turned his icy stare to Howard.
Oh, good
.

“There’s no need to insult her,” Linc told him. “If you owe her the money, pay her, but whatever you do, treat her like a lady.”

Daisy felt warm all over. She’d never had a brother before. It was great.

Howard transferred his sneer to Linc. “Hey, she knows how this works.”

“If you owe her the money—” Linc began again.

“I don’t know who you really are, buddy,” Howard interrupted, “but…”

Buddy? Daisy watched Line’s face darken.
Thank you, Howard, for being a consistent jerk
, she thought. An equal opportunity jerk. A jerk for all seasons.

“Give her the money, Howard,” Linc said.

Daisy stole another glance at Linc. He looked mad. Big and mad. And it was all for her. Oh, good. Oh, really good.

“What?” Howard stepped back.

“I said, give her the money.” Linc put both hands on the counter and loomed over him. “Pretend it’s the end of the month and give her what you owe her.”

Daisy looked at Howard, expecting him to sneer again, but he didn’t. He was looking at Linc with healthy respect. And Linc wasn’t looking much like a college professor, not with that jaw. He was looking like a thug with a very short fuse. She heard the register chime, and Howard shoved a handful of bills at her.

She counted it. “This is only seventy. You owe me a hundred and twenty, Howard.”

“You’re wasting our time, Howard,” Linc said.

Howard shoved some more bills at Daisy.

Daisy counted some more. “This is too much.” She put some of the bills back on the counter. “Now we’re even.”

“Great,” Howard said, never taking his eyes off Linc.

“Well, I think so,” Daisy said.

Out in the car, Daisy looked at Linc proudly. “My brother from Jersey.”

Linc closed his eyes and wondered if there was insanity in his family. First “Yes, I have a fiancee” and now “Yes, I’m her brother from New Jersey.” At least this time he hadn’t actually said anything. This one wasn’t his fault. He turned and glared at Daisy. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Daisy bounced a little on the seat as she looked at the bills fanned out in her hand. “That was terrific.”

He pulled out into traffic and then looked at her, bouncing with happiness, and he was torn between killing her and jumping her, which only increased his annoyance. “Not
ever
again.”

She beamed over at him. “You were great.”

He glared at her harder. “I mean it.
Not ever again
.”

“All right.” Daisy clutched her money and smiled at him, content. “Not ever again. My brother from Jersey is now dead.”

He moved into the fast lane and picked up speed. What the hell did she think she was doing in there? What the hell did
he
think he was doing in there? Linc shook his head. The woman was a menace. Still, she didn’t deserve the way that jerk had treated her. Whatever else Daisy Flattery did, he was sure she didn’t ask for anything she didn’t deserve. And Howard had been kicking her around just because he could. Linc hated bullies, having run across quite a few of them in his youth, people who thought because you were poor it was all right to push you around. It wasn’t, and telling Howard that it wasn’t had felt great. Making Howard’s sneer disappear like dirty snow in the rain hadn’t been the intelligent, mature, responsible thing to do, but it had been satisfying. And fun—

No, it hadn’t. He stopped for a red light and glared at Daisy again. “Don’t
ever
do that again.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “All
right
.”

Linc made a sound between a groan and a snarl and stepped on the gas as the light turned green.

“You know,” she said a few minutes later as he pulled into the driveway at their house, “I don’t think you appreciate me.”

“You’re an acquired taste.” He got out and held the car door open for her. “And unfortunately, we’re not going to be together long enough for me to acquire that taste.”

“That’s not unfortunate.” Daisy took his hand as he levered her out of the low-slung car seat. “Just because .you acquired a taste for me doesn’t mean I’d let you indulge it. You’ve just saved yourself a lot of frustration.”

Linc looked down at her, fed up. “Trust me. If I acquired a taste, you’d let me indulge. I’m irresistible.” He met her eyes, ready for battle, and she smiled at him, that bone-melting smile. Combined with the surge of adrenaline he’d gotten from rescuing her from Howard and the surge of lust he got every time he looked down her dress, her smile wiped all thought temporarily from his mind and breathing was suddenly difficult.

“Don’t do that,” Linc said.

“Don’t underestimate me,” Daisy said.

“That would be a mistake,” Linc agreed, and got in the car without looking at her again.

On the plane the next day, Linc was relieved to see that Daisy was a different woman. She sat quietly in her white dress with her ankles crossed and her chin down, and she didn’t say a word. During the takeoff, she’d held his hand, and he’d though that it was a nice touch until he noticed her hands were like ice and her knuckles were white. She was cutting off the circulation to his fingers.

“Are you scared?”

Her voice was only one notch above a whisper. “I hate flying.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“One thousand dollars.”

“Flying is statistically safer than driving, so you can relax.” Linc pried her fingers loose. “Concentrate on the money. Your rent is paid, by the way. I sent it directly to Guthrie so he wouldn’t evict you while we were gone.”

Daisy clenched her hands in her lap. “I know you paid it. He called.”

Linc winced. “I should have thought of that. I suppose he thinks I’m keeping you. Did he threaten to evict you for immoral behavior?”

Daisy shook her head a little. “No. I’m not sure, but I

think he offered to take over for you if things didn’t work out between us.“

“What?”

“I think he propositioned me. I’m not sure. He hems and haws a lot.”

“The creep.” Linc took her hand again and thought about what louses men could be to defenseless women like Daisy. “Would you like me to break his fingers?”

Daisy rolled her eyes at him. “Linc, he knows you’re not my brother from New Jersey.”

“I’ll break his fingers anyway, the old goat.” Linc was outraged. Poor Daisy. She was such a nice kid.

He stopped. The story was working. Daisy wasn’t a nice kid; she was a hippie from hell. But she had even him thinking she was a sweet little thing. He looked down at her. She did look sort of gormless, sitting there with one hand curled in her lap, the other crushing his again whenever they hit an air pocket.

“Did he upset you?”

“Guthrie?” Daisy shook her head and loosened her grip. “Oh, no. I just don’t like flying.” After a couple of minutes during which no air pockets attacked the plane, she peered up at him. “How about you? Are you nervous about the speech?”

“No.” Linc thought about the speech and the party afterward and shifted in his seat.

“Well, then, what are you nervous about?”

“What?”

He looked down at her, annoyed, but she met his eyes calmly, and he realized he wasn’t breathing again. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, and Daisy said, “I hate it when you do that. If you don’t want to talk to me, don’t, but don’t flare your nostrils at me like William F. Buckley—”

“What? I’m not flaring my nostrils—”

“—because that’s just rude.”

“—I’m breathing.”

Daisy didn’t look convinced, so he went on. “When I get tense, I hold my breath. It’s a bad habit, so I concentrate on breathing deliberately through my nose to make sure I don’t pass out.”

Daisy blinked at him. “You’re kidding. You forget to breathe?”

Linc turned away to look out the window. “It’s a very common reaction to stress.”

“I didn’t think you even had stress,” Daisy said. “It doesn’t seem in character.”

“It isn’t,” Linc said shortly. “That’s why I breathe. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.” Daisy cocked her head at him. “If you’re not worried about the speech, why are you stressed?”

“Look,” Linc began, planning to tell her to mind her own business, but then he realized she was right. He was wound so tight, he was going to be breathing through his hair at any minute. “I think it’s the lying,” he said finally. “I’m not a liar. I’ve never lied before. And now I not only lied, I dragged you into this whole mess and you’re lying too. It’s not right.”

“It’s not a lie,” Daisy said. “It’s a story.”

Linc looked at her, exasperated. “That’s semantics. They’re the same thing.”

“No, they’re not.” Daisy scowled at him, and Linc remembered too late that she told stories for a living; he’d just called her a professional liar.

“I didn’t mean to insult you—”

“Lies are untrue,” Daisy said with all the sureness of Moses laying down the law. “Stories are unreal, but they’re true. They’re always true.”

Linc shook his head. “I still don’t see the difference. I’m sorry, but—”

“Listen.” Daisy leaned forward and gripped his arm to hold his attention. “If you tell a lie, you’re deliberately telling an untruth. If you’d told them you’d published six books, or that you’d taught at Yale, or that you’d won the Pulitzer, that would have been a lie. You’d never tell a lie. You’re too honest.”

“Daisy, I told them I was engaged to you. That was a lie.”

“No.” Daisy shook her head emphatically. “You didn’t tell them anything about me. You told them you wanted to get married and settle down in Prescott and raise kids.”

“Well, that’s a lie,” Linc said, but he could see where she was going. “I told them what they wanted to hear.”

“Yes, but it was what you wanted to hear too.” Daisy settled back in her seat. “Sometimes stories are just previews of coming truths. I bet you really do want that deep down inside your repressed academic soul. I bet your subconscious just wormed its way to the truth and laid it all out when you were too stressed and preoccupied with breathing to keep an eye on it.”