No Breaking My Heart (8 page)

Today he'd practiced patience, taking photographs and talking easily with all those gathered. He'd made each person feel special. A man that popular scared her. She'd dated jocks in college. They always sought attention. And bored easily. Landon played pro ball. He would always be in demand, and never satisfied with just one woman. That she believed.

“How'd my portrait turn out?” He came to stand behind her. “Did I look mean enough for you?” His breath blew warm at her ear.

His photo was spectacular, Eden realized, as she lifted it by her fingertips from the printer. The best portrait she'd ever taken. Contoured in black-and-white, and shadowed in gray, his features were all sharp angles and intense concentration. She held it up for his inspection. “Nice going, Landon. You made the cutout come alive.”

He studied the print. “Alive, huh?”

Heat crept into her cheeks. He was exceptional. She should have expected no less. She went on to admit, “Most customers photograph flat as cardboard. Yours has life. Depth and substance.”

“As compared to my usual fluff?”

“I never called you fluffy.”

“I saw it in your eyes when I entered your shop. I know when someone's scrutinizing me.”

Had she been so obvious? “Do people analyze you often?” she had to ask.

“Women mostly. They want to know what makes me tick. What catches my attention.”

She huffed. “I'm not coming on to you.”

“I realize that, babe. You raised your shield the moment I walked into your store. It was avoidance at first sight.”

She grimaced. Her defenses had gone up. Her aversion to the man was based on their previous meeting. Which she doubted he remembered. Her cousin Shaye had introduced them at a boardwalk event at the end of spring training last year. Shaye presided over Barefoot William Enterprises and had her finger on the pulse of all activities.

A spring flower show offered fresh cut blooms and potted plants, and had drawn enormous interest. The boardwalk had been packed. Landon had had little to say. He'd fidgeted, and kept looking over her shoulder, as if seeking better company. A prettier woman. She'd saved herself embarrassment by walking away before he could ditch her. She hadn't looked back. Not even a glance. She'd thought him an ass.

For whatever reason, he was staring at her now, looking deep into her eyes. She felt as if he'd touched her. He made her squirm. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively.

He rolled his tongue inside his cheek, asked her, “Do you ever pose for portraits?”

“I did when the shop first opened.” The memory made her smile. “I also photographed my entire extended family behind different cutouts. They were window dressing.”

“Great advertisement.” He seemed impressed. He then scratched his chin, momentarily thoughtful. “I'd like to see you as Marilyn Monroe.” His comment came out of the blue.

Marilyn Monroe?
Was he crazy? Her throat went dry. The classic 1955 portrait featured the starlet in her iconic white halter dress. Her skirt billowed from the subway grating, exposing her shapely legs. The cutout was hot, sexy, and vibrant. So unlike her.

While Landon had a face that would never take a bad picture, she seldom took a good one. She'd blink at the last moment. Scrunch her nose. Pinch her lips. She preferred being behind the camera. Focusing on others.

She cleared her throat, said, “I'm the photographer, not the poser.”

“I'll pay double the cost for your portrait,” he persisted.

Fifty dollars? For her to portray Marilyn Monroe. She breathed deeply. She'd had a decent tourist season. The snowbirds packed the beach and boardwalk, but summer months could be slow. Every dollar counted. She gave in.

Landon slipped his wallet from a side pocket of his cargo shorts. A wallet fat with cash. He paid for his photo, then waved Ulysses S. Grant before her eyes. “For the Monroe portrait.”

Fine. She rang up the sale and secured the money in the register. Procrastinated still. “No one's used my camera but me.”

“First time for everything, sweetheart.”

“My Nikon is old and can be testy at times.”

“I can be testy, too.” He held out his hand, wiggled his fingers. “Hand it over. Let's do this.”

This
made her uneasy. Her stomach squeezed.

She picked up her camera, gave him directions. Afterward, he gently lifted the Monroe frame onto the platform. He gestured for Eden to get behind it. She did so. Albeit reluctantly. Her face fit easily into the cutout, but her frizzy hair escaped. One wild strand fell over her left eye; another tickled her upper lip. She tried to blow them aside.

“You're good,” Land told her. “Looks natural.”

Silence stretched between them as he hunkered down on one knee and focused the camera. “Low is my best angle.”

“The portrait is cardboard—you can't look up her dress.”

“She's already flashing her panties. I like.” His voice was deep, sexy.

Eden blushed. There was no accounting for her red cheeks. Thank goodness the film was black-and-white.

“All set?” he asked.

She gave a short nod. She was as ready as she'd ever be.

“Channel Marilyn.”

She rolled her eyes. “You're joking, right?”

“No more than you were when you told me to imagine hitting a home run.”

Great. Just great.

“Give me hot in the city,” he appealed. “Warm air rises. Almost steamy. Spread your legs over the subway grille. Feel that unexpected blast of air. Your skirt undulates, climbs your thighs. You're both innocence and seduction.”

Eden got into the mood faster than she'd ever thought possible. She licked her lips and linked her present with Marilyn's past. She heard Landon snapping pictures as if from a great distance. The moment captured her. But then so did the man. She concentrated on the thickness of his hair, the width of his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed when he slowly pushed to his feet, shooting her from a different angle.

His movement distracted her. Time scattered. She was no longer flirty and effervescent, but rather quite ordinary. A woman with frizzy hair and freckles. “Enough,” she said, removing her face from the cutout and stepping back. Way back.

She returned Marilyn to her place against the wall between a Chicago gangster and a Colonial soldier. Landon crossed to the computer. Waited patiently for her. “Print the photos,” he requested.

Photoshop did its job. She soon spread six portraits on a small worktable for evaluation. Landon stood by her side. His arm brushed hers. His thigh bumped her hip. Goose bumps rose. She briskly rubbed her forearms. They still tingled.

He shuffled through the photographs; took his sweet time making a decision. He finally held one up to the light. “You really brought it, Eden. You look hot. The steam from the subway turned you on.”

It was true—she did look aroused. She died a slow death, yet couldn't deny her expression. She'd gone beyond Monroe's playfulness and sexy smile. Her own eyelids were heavy. Her gaze sultry. Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue visible. Moist.

She snatched the portrait from him, turned it facedown on the table. Anyone looking at the photo might not immediately recognize her. Those who knew her were aware she hated having her picture taken. Even in family photographs she stood in the back. Hiding. Showing only the top of her head or half her face. Posing for Land had been a whim. A stupid mistake. One she now regretted. “You're reading more into the photo than is there.”

“Film doesn't lie.” He flipped the picture back over. “I want this one. To go.”

“Why?” She saw no point in the exchange.

“Why not?” Wasn't much of a reason.

Fine. Just fine. He was the customer. She'd been bought and paid for. She framed the portrait. Then clutched it to her chest. She'd revealed a side of herself she hadn't known existed. Her inner sexy. She hated to make it public.

Landon gave her no choice. “Give it up, babe.” He moved on her then, reaching for the picture. She twitched, and he touched her without meaning to. His knuckles grazed the top of her left breast and two fingers tipped her nipple. She released the portrait so fast, it started to fall. Landon had amazing reflexes. He caught it at her waist. His thumb hooked on the bottom button on her white shirt. Right above her navel.

She jerked back, and jarred her hip on the corner of the worktable. She would bruise. A given with her fair skin. She tried to collect herself before he noticed his effect on her.

Too late.

His light brown eyes gleamed and his nostrils flared ever so sensually. One corner of his mouth hitched. No man should look so sexy. Or so amused at her expense.

She needed him to leave. Nodding toward the door, she moved him along. “Have a good day.” She slipped both his and her portraits into a large, padded manila envelope. Passed it to him.

He took her hint. He snagged his baseball cap off her table, put it on backwards, then tucked the mailer beneath his arm. He moved toward the exit. “See you, Marilyn.”

“'Bye, O'Rourke.”

He was gone. Eden stood alone in her shop. The room felt strange. Almost lonely. The company of her cardboard cutouts was no longer enough.

She caught sight of him through the front window as he returned to the boardwalk. He was once again surrounded by sunshine and his fans. Women shamelessly threw themselves at him.

He cast a final look at her shop, and their gazes locked through the glass. Her pulse gave an unexpected jump. She immediately turned away.

She valued peace, calm, and consistency in her life.

Landon was a man to be viewed from a distance.

Up close, he would devastate her, one heartbeat at a time.

Five

H
alo Todd's heart beat erratically whenever he was near Alyn Jayne. He was attracted to her. There were things about her that he really liked. Also things he didn't. She was pretty, smart, and kind, yet she held him at arms' length. Distance sucked.

Time with Alyn mattered. It was difficult to single her out with her brother and mother in his Hummer. Whenever there was an opportunity for a moment alone, she made an excuse and evaded him. She was damn good at slipping away. He was tired of watching her sweet ass retreat. He refused to make a major move on her until she showed some interest. So far, nothing. He kept watching, waiting. Anticipating. Patience was not his virtue.

Six-thirty p.m., and they'd reached their destination. They'd arrived in Barefoot William without incident. The supper hour was upon them. Danny was already eyeballing restaurants and tossing out suggestions as to where they might eat. His stomach was set on a hamburger and French fries. Halo smiled to himself. The boy was a bottomless pit. Similar to Halo at that age.

Danny was perpetual motion. Energy personified. The kid went here, there, and everywhere whenever they'd stop to visit a landmark. Alyn continually reminded her brother to slow down. The boy listened half the time. He went full-out during the day. Then climbed into bed and slept like the dead. First light, and he was wide awake, dressed, and ready to go again.

Halo was not an early riser in off-season. More times than not, he partied into the morning hours. Then slept until noon. Or later. While he hadn't visited a bar during their travels, he'd stayed up and watched late-night TV. He'd had no cock-a-doodle-do in him. Double-espressos got one eye open.

Twilight now flickered on the beachside town, the night sneaking up fast as Halo parked his Hummer at the curb in front of Barefoot Inn, a local bed-and-breakfast. One block off the beach, the inn was ideal for vacationers. Along with the winners of the spring training contest.

Danny was first out of the vehicle. The eight-year-old had ridden shotgun much of the way. He'd pointed to every highway sign that advertised a side trip. His curiosity and exuberance were contagious. They'd taken detours, one after the other. So many, in fact, Halo had lost count. Alyn had given him an apologetic look more than once. He'd told her not to worry. He was flexible. Danny wanted to explore, to see and to do everything. The boy had a great time. That's all that mattered. Halo liked the kid.

Danny was now jumping about on the sidewalk. Halo exited, too, then opened the back door for Martha. He offered his hand, and she took it, climbing out slowly. “Creaky,” she said of her knees. “I'll go inside and check on our reservation.” She left them, limping slightly up the front walk.

Alyn stayed behind and dealt with Quigley. The pug had ridden strapped in a child's car carrier attached to the backseat for safety's sake. She released him now. Quigley was wiggly. She held and cuddled him against her chest, talking softly. The dog tilted his head, stilled, as if listening. Licked her chin.

They had stopped often at rest areas so Quigs could stretch his front legs. Danny wasn't known to sit still long either. They'd left Richmond early Tuesday morning. It was Saturday already. A drive that should've taken two days had become five. Halo took it in stride.

All in all, the trip had gone well. He and Danny had bonded at the Shadowhawk saloon. The Wild West movie set had come alive as they sipped root beer and ate beef jerky. Sleeping in the treehouse was Alyn's favorite. He could've made it a whole lot more pleasurable had they shared a room. There'd been no chance of that. The Jaynes took one suite, and he landed in the other. He'd been horny as hell and spent a restless night, tossing and turning, and taking two cold showers. Hand soap was not the answer.

He rolled his shoulders, worked out the kinks. Then headed to the back of the Hummer. Popping the cargo door, he removed the pug's wheelchair from amid the luggage. Alyn came to him, and they both bent down to seat Quigs.

“Danny,” she called to her brother. “Grab Quigley's leash and take him for a short walk. Stay close on the sidewalk.”

Danny did so. No questions asked. Halo watched as the boy adjusted his pace to the dog's shorter steps. Quigs stopped mid-block, and his ears twitched. More visibly than normal. The twitch turned into a spinal quiver, head to tail. His back left leg kicked out, shook, then went limp once again.

“Alyn! Look!” Danny shouted for her attention, his tone urgent.

“I-I saw, sweetie,” she called back, a catch in her throat. Halo had seen it, too. He stared as the pug recovered, unfazed. Quiggie barked, ready to move on. They continued to the corner. He side-eyed Alyn. “What just happened? Is your dog okay?” He was concerned.

A lone tear trailed down her cheek. Her voice was soft when she said, “He sparked.”

“Sparked? He had feeling in his spine?”

She nodded. “For a split second his nerve endings connected.”

“Like a shock?”

“Kind of. It just never lasts long.”

Halo stayed positive. “One second is better than no second.”

“I agree.”

He turned toward her then, framing her face with his hands. He brushed away her tear with his thumb. “How often does it happen?”

“Six times now since the surgery,” she said. “Each jolt gets a little stronger. A sign of improvement.”

Halo couldn't predict the future, but he could give comfort. He gathered her close, tucked her against his chest. She didn't resist. “Better days ahead. I'm sure of it.”

“You are, huh?” Hope rose with her question.

“For a disabled dog he's strong and gets around well in his cart. I believe he'll walk again,” he affirmed. “It's just a matter of time.”

She looked up at him then. Her voice was as small as her smile when she said, “Thank you for believing in his recovery.”

“I'm on your side.”

“People on my side come, go, and never stay too long.”

“I'll stick by you.” He'd keep his word.

“I can always use a friend.”

Friend now. Lover later. There'd be no rushing this woman. He held her gently. Dropped a light kiss on her forehead. She was vulnerable, and he didn't want to take advantage of her. He struggled with himself when she went soft against him. Way too soft. His chest welcomed her breasts. He cradled her against his groin. Their thighs rubbed. His dick stirred. Poked her.

“
Really?
” she asked, pulling back.

What could he say? It happened, and would probably happen again. He was as uncomfortable as she looked. “I was offering comfort.”

“With your penis?”

“No regulator switch.”

She rolled her eyes. Her sigh was long-suffering.

“You're not an understanding fiancée.”

“As compared to your other fiancées?”

“I've never been engaged.”

“How long do your relationships usually last?”

“Long enough.”

“That's what I figured.”

“You judging me, Alyn?”

“Not in the least. I'm the first to admit I don't read people well.”

“How do you see me?” He instantly wanted to take back his question. He hated sounding needy. Men admired his athletic ability. Women loved his body. What did it matter what Alyn thought? Still, he awaited her answer.

She took far longer than he liked in responding, finally saying, “You have a kind heart.” She was sincere. “You've been amazing with Danny. He's a happy camper. I will always be grateful.”

“How grateful?” He pushed his luck.

“Not as grateful as you'd want me to be.”

He grinned then. Alyn had put him in his place. He could live with that. He glanced down the sidewalk, noticed Danny and Quigley approaching. He needed to unpack the Hummer. He did so, pulling suitcase after suitcase from the cargo area.

Alyn stood off to his side, looking worried. “We packed a lot, didn't we?”

“You have enough luggage for a full summer at the beach.”

“We're only here ten days.” She tentatively touched his arm. “You took on a lot with us. We're more than you bargained for.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I saw your expression each time Danny wanted to detour off the interstate,” she said. “When he asked you to backtrack fifty miles.”

“You misinterpreted my look,” he said to ease her mind. “The sights were worth seeing.” He'd seen more of Roadside America than he'd ever thought to in this lifetime. It was over and done, and no longer mattered.

“Still,” she continued, “you gave up a great deal. I saw your jaw work when we drove through Atlanta. Your expression was pained. You groaned deep in your throat. Were you to meet a woman?”

He shrugged. “Plans change.”

“Was she someone special?” Lady was persistent.

Special for sex. “We'll connect another time.”

“Hopefully soon. We won't be bothering you long.”

“You're not in my way,” he assured her. “Honest. Danny's my contest winner. He has two chaperones.” In actuality, he liked having the Jaynes around. They were far more pleasant than his pilot had been when he'd broken their date.

Susan had had a few choice words for him. She'd grown shrill. He promised to make it up to her. There were several opportunities ahead. She was scheduled to fly into Tampa and Miami within the next month. The Rogues played both teams early in the season. They'd make up for lost time. He looked forward to seeing her. But not as much as he once had; not after meeting Alyn. That gave him pause. Caused him mild concern. He'd never met a woman who didn't like him for one reason or another. His looks, his popularity, his money, his rocking it in bed. Alyn wanted nothing from him. That was disconcerting.

“Hey, sis, we're back,” Danny said on his return. “Quigley and I are hungry.”

“We'll figure out supper shortly,” she assured him. “Stay,” she told her dog. The pug waited for her on the sidewalk. Crossing to the cargo deck, she retrieved a round fish bowl. A tiny goldfish swam around a plastic castle. She handed the bowl to her brother. “Be careful with Merlin. No sloshing.”

“Should I return for Cadbury?” he asked about his rabbit.

“That would be helpful.”

“Right back.” Danny held the bowl in the curve of his good arm and took off, striding faster than he should up the narrow stone walkway. There was sloshing. Fortunately, Merlin stayed in the bowl.

Alyn momentarily turned her back on Halo. She reached inside the cargo area, stretching for the bunny's cage. He watched. It was a big carrier. Cadbury had plenty of room to move around. Cads was asleep when she eased the cage toward her. He woke up, gave a low hop of surprise. The travel cooler was within reach and, flipping the lid, she located a Ziploc with carrot sticks and lettuce leaves. She passed one of each through the narrow metal bars. The bunny's nose twitched.

She backed up, and tripped over an untied lace on her vintage leather ankle boots. Halo liked the old-fashioned style. Plenty sexy in a Victorian way. She bent to re-tie. Hands on his hips, Halo appreciated the slope of her shoulders, slender beneath a gauzy floral print blouse. Skinny jeans encased the curve of her hips and roundness of her bottom. Very nice.

Danny returned in a flash. “Mommy's getting settled in our room. She put Merlin on the coffee table. He can watch everything that's going on.”

Halo wasn't certain how aware the fish was of his surroundings, but Alyn seemed to know Merlin well. “He'll like being the center of attention.”

Danny grinned. “I thought so, too.” He lifted the rabbit cage without any trouble. “Thanks for feeding him.”

“Go slow, sweetie,” Alyn reminded him.

Danny walked slowly, for Danny. Minimally jostling the rabbit as he headed back inside.

“He's going to want supper soon,” said Alyn. She looked questioningly at Halo. “I imagine you have plans. Can you recommend a restaurant within walking distance?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“I figured once we unloaded the luggage, you'd burn rubber in your escape.”

“I have people to see and places to be later this evening,” he admitted. “Let's get the boy fed, then I'm gone.”

“You're sure?”

He tipped up her chin with one finger. An honest, intimate moment. “Let's get one thing straight now,” he said. “I'll say this only once. I'm never where I don't want to be. Understood, babe?”

She released a breath. Nodded. “Got it.”

Quigley took that moment to bark. A short, warning bark that alerted them to a new arrival. Landon Kane. The third baseman leaned against the hood of the Hummer, shadowed in the twilight. His arms were crossed over his chest, his thumbs hooked beneath his armpits. He looked on with interest and amusement. His expression smug.

Halo's senses were usually sharp. Yet he hadn't heard Land arrive. He'd been too into Alyn. How much of their conversation had his teammate heard? “We just rolled into town,” he told his friend.

“Better late than never.” Landon pushed off the vehicle, approached Halo. They exchanged a man hug and fist bumps. His gaze moved to Alyn and held on her. “Sweet delay, dude.” His comment was meant as a compliment.

Alyn blushed. “It's not what you think,” she told Landon.

“I'm thinking—”

“You'd be wrong,” Halo stopped him. He felt protective of Alyn. He didn't need his best friend making assumptions. He caught Landon's eye, narrowed his own gaze.
Let it go
, he silently communicated.