Can't Buy Your Love (3 page)

She peered across at him and couldn’t help noticing the shape of his lips. They looked like they tasted good, and the way he carried himself gave her the impression he knew how to kiss well. That might be her attraction making her hopeful.

“Southern men know how to appreciate a woman,” he said. “However, I am special.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

He leaned toward her. Vanity caught her breath.

“Would you like to test me out?”

Hell to the yes.
“I-I’m not sure.”

“Then when you are…” He raised her fingers and kissed the tips, then stepped out of the car to go around and open the door. Vanity sat there dazed. He wasn’t going to kiss her. He really wasn’t.

She got out and stood before him, and he led the way her door. Vanity started to dig for the key Aunt Ella had given her, but Owen turned the knob. As usual it wasn’t locked, and Vanity swore.
That woman.

“Lock up,” he told her as he started away.

“I will.” At least he had sense. “Good night.”

“Good night, beautiful Vanity.” Owen hopped into his car and drove off down the street rather than enter his house. She wondered where he was heading this time of night when all the stores must be closed. With her heart still fluttering, she turned and headed inside. Going out with Owen could not happen again.

Chapter Three

“Eggs, milk, sugar…”

“Aunt Ella, you have a five-pound bag at home. You don’t need any more.” Vanity took the package her aunt had just dropped into the cart and put it back. Today Aunt Ella wore a loose-fitting dress that extended to one inch above the floor. The colorful flowered pattern could be seen from the Hubble, and when Vanity had asked the woman why she wore two different belts, she had been told, “because I couldn’t decide, so why limit myself.” Vanity recognized an argument loss when she saw one developing and let the conversation drop.

“Oh well, you know my mind,” her aunt chirped and continued along the aisle. Vanity followed at her leisure, checking the messages on her phone. For some reason, she couldn’t stop hoping to get a text from Owen. She told herself it didn’t matter since she decided never to go out with him again, but that reasoning didn’t work.

“Ms. Williams, I thought that was you,” an unfamiliar voice called out. Vanity glanced over her shoulder and realized the woman speaking wasn’t talking to her but to her aunt.

To Vanity’s surprise, her aunt seemed less than pleased to see the younger woman. Aunt Ella liked everyone and chitchatted like they were all best friends for years, even if she’d just met the person. “Melinda, how are you?”

“I’m good.” The woman sashayed over. She must be a size zero, Vanity guessed, and her teased hair probably wouldn’t move in a hurricane. The tattoo on her forearm with a heart and Owen written in the center brought her identity home. Vanity took a closer look—wide gray eyes and short cute nose, couldn’t be more than one hundred ten pounds if that, and wearing a minidress with boots in early winter. “I’m down here taking care of some business, and I thought I’d stop by Owen’s.”

“Well, you know Jamie’s out your way since your parents live down the street from his parents.”

Vanity shifted from one foot to the other, grinding her teeth.

Melina slapped Aunt Ella’s arm. “I know that, of course. Just wanted to see my baby’s daddy. You know we’re on again off again so often.”

And my time to go.
Vanity started to walk off, but she couldn’t help hearing her aunt’s response.

“That can’t be, Melinda, because I heard you’re dating the man that towed your car last month, and Owen is dating my niece.”

“Aunt Ella!”

“Your niece?” Melinda’s shriek had her beat by a few decibels. “Who?
Her
?”

Vanity eyeballed the woman. “You don’t have to worry about it. Owen and I don’t have anything going on. He’s my aunt’s neighbor, and I’m visiting from out of town.”

“Like I was worried?” Melinda flipped hair from her shoulder. “I’ve known Owen since we were both in elementary. He’s not interested in…your type.”

Vanity took a step closer to the woman. “What type are you referring to?” Before Melinda could answer, Vanity’s cell phone rang. She peered at the screen. Speak of the devil, and there he appeared. Just for spite, she stabbed the connect button. “Hello?”

“Having a bad day?” His cheerful tone grated.

“Just busy. We’re at the grocery store right now. Aunt Ella feels three million cookies aren’t enough to last until New Year’s.”

“Hm, your words are pleasant enough, but I feel a distinct chill.”

His
tone sent chills of another type racing over her body and made her want to pretend this whole issue was a misunderstanding, but with Melinda glaring at her, ignoring the evidence would be a mistake.

“Melinda, we are very busy,” Aunt Ella said. “We will see you later, okay? Merry Christmas and Happy New Year if we don’t see you before then.”

“Melinda?” Understanding seemed to dawn on Owen. “What did she say, Vanity?”

“I’m sure that’s not my business, Owen.” After she was satisfied with Melinda’s shocked expression hearing his name, Vanity directed Aunt Ella’s cart in the opposite direction without a backward glance. She disconnected the call and put her phone on silence before stuffing it into her purse.

Aunt Ella linked her arm with Vanity’s as they walked. “Now, darling, you can’t listen to her. She’s just a jealous thing, always trying to get Owen back, when it was she who cheated on him. He’s such a good man too. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Aunt Ella, please don’t gossip about Owen. I’m not interested. I came down here to visit with you, and that’s all.”

“But you shouldn’t listen to Melinda. You can’t spend your life not trusting people, Vanity. It’s not healthy, and how can you have children of your own someday if you don’t let a man into your heart?”

Vanity sighed. “I get what you’re saying, and maybe it’s not fair to judge Owen based off that woman. Anyone could see she’s catty.”

“Right.”

“Still, it doesn’t matter. Like I said. I’m not here for him. End of story. Now, let’s finish shopping. There’s a program I want to watch, and I forgot to DVR it.”

“Vanity.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Ella. I won’t see him again. I don’t need to believe he’s a good man or otherwise. He’s your neighbor, not mine.” With that, Vanity went to locate the spice aisle.

* * * *

Vanity had been up half the night unable to sleep, and had only dropped off after five. Ignoring the fact that her hair was all over her head and she still wore her nightgown, she left her room looking for coffee.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Vanity squeaked in alarm at the deep voice and looked up to find Owen blocking her path. She punched his arm. “Idiot, you scared me.”

He grinned. “Sorry. Coffee?”

He held up a steaming cup of joe. Only after she gratefully accepted it and took a sip did she remember her state of undress. “Oh, hell!” She spun on her heel ready to jet back to her room, but he grabbed her arm.

“Easy. You’ll burn yourself.” Owen nabbed the cup. “I’ll hold onto this until you come back.”

“Why are you even here?” she grumbled but didn’t stop to listen. She let him take the cup and escaped to slam the bedroom door behind her. Heart hammering, she surveyed herself in the mirror. Just great, her hair looked worse than she thought, and one of the strings on her nightgown had torn off at some point. She’d meant to buy a new one. “I’m not seeing him again, so what he thinks about me doesn’t matter.”

Vanity showered and selected tight jeans and sweater to pair with her high-heel boots. She wrangled her hair into order and stepped from her bedroom. Aunt Ella padded from the kitchen holding the cup of coffee Owen had given Vanity earlier. “Oh, morning, darling. Where are you off to?”

“Nowhere. Just puttering around the house.”

Aunt Ella’s eyes widened. “Like that? Shoot, I refuse to take off my nightgown today. Gas kept me up all night.”

Vanity wrinkled her nose. “TMI, Aunt Ella.”

She passed by her aunt and walked into an empty kitchen. Owen had disappeared. Rather than give in to temptation and ask her aunt about him, Vanity went about making a fresh cup of coffee.
Frickin’ lying men.

“What’s that about lying?”

She jumped and dropped the jar she held onto the floor. Coffee granules scattered everywhere. Vanity swore. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, damn it!”

Owen bent to clean up the mess. “I’m sorry. Let me help get this up. I ran home to grab a few things. Looks like Ella swiped your coffee. I’ll have you some more made in a minute.”

“Don’t bother.” She dropped into a chair and watched him sweeping the floor and tossing the cracked jar into the trash. His arm muscles flexed each time he swept the broom over the floor. Vanity’s lust for the man annoyed the hell out of her. “What things did you forget?”

Owen indicated the grocery bag on the counter. She spotted a container of eggs among other things. “Ella invited me to brunch. I agreed on the condition that I make it.”

“Goodness, will the matchmaking never end?”

He put the broom and dustpan back where he found them in the hall closet. “Did you say something?”

Vanity glared at him. “What kind of work do you do?”

“Sales.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sales?”

He chuckled. “Why does it sound like you don’t approve? I work for a company that develops renewable energy products.”

“Oh.”

“And you?”

What she really wanted to ask him was if Melinda lied. Her instincts told her the woman didn’t want to let him go and therefore pretended they still had something going. At the same time, their relationship had nothing to do with her. If she stuck to her guns, Owen’s love life would make no difference. The one problem—his attractiveness.

“I am creative director of my small software company. I mean I don’t own it. I’m just the help, but it pays very well, and with experience I’m gaining there, I can move up and go just about anywhere.”

In the act of unpacking the bag, he froze staring at her. “Your eyes sparkle when you speak about your job, such big beautiful brown eyes.”

Vanity blushed. “Don’t.”

“Why? It’s true. Do you love it?”

She blinked. “Love what?”

“Your job.”

“I…” Somewhere in the house Aunt Ella turned on music, and Bing Crosby began singing “White Christmas.” The woman never played anything like Mariah Carey’s “O Holy Night,” somewhat old but not as old as Bing. “I like it because it pays my bills and gives me plenty of extra to do whatever I want. Plus I have nice savings.”

“Security is important.” He dropped his voice low, and Vanity clenched her hands in front of her.

“Everybody needs security. So what?” She stood and stomped past him to go out the side door. Owen didn’t follow, so she walked around to the front of the house and leaned on the wall, arms folded across her chest. An SUV rolled along the street, and the passenger waved. Vanity raised a hand with halfhearted effort.

“Hi, Happy Holidays,” another neighbor called as she hopped into her vehicle.

“Same to you,” Vanity shouted back. The people here sure were friendly.

She stiffened when the screen door next to her squeaked. “Will you sulk out here or help me cook?”

“I thought you were treating us.” She bit back a smile.

He reached for her hand and tugged her inside the house. “No, you’re ladle girl.”

“Ah, what?”

When they reached the kitchen, he placed a wooden spoon in her hand. “You’ll be stirring the pancake batter and pouring it onto the griddle.”

Vanity took the time to wash her hands and then accepted the task. “Fine. But tell me one thing. Are you gay?”

Owen choked on his laughter. “No, trust me I am not, and if you knew the things you were doing to me wearing those tight jeans with that round ass, you would be convinced of the fact.”

“Owen! You didn’t just say that.”

“I did.” He moved up behind her and kissed her neck. Vanity told herself to move away, but she stayed put. A little flirting didn’t hurt anything, and well he did lift her mood. Maybe she could have a
bit
of fun with him before she left. He splayed his hands over her hips and raised her up to her tiptoes as if she weighed nothing. Vanity grabbed his wrists and wiggled to get free. She fought a losing battle. The man’s strength wasn’t to be matched by the likes of her.

“You’re going to burn the bacon,” she warned.

He chuckled and lifted her a little higher. She felt his cock, stiff and hard against her ass.
Okay, he is
so
not gay.

“Owen.”

“I’ll let you go when you agree to see a movie with me tonight.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“So you agree?”

She growled at him. “Fine.”

Brunch turned out to be delicious. Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, and blueberry pancakes stuffed Vanity’s stomach. After they washed dishes together and Aunt Ella wandered off muttering something Vanity was sure she didn’t want to hear the details of, Owen offered her a hand.

“Come on. We can walk to work off some of the food.”

She hesitated. “It’s chilly.”

“You must be used to colder weather farther north. Besides, if it gets to be too much, I will hold you in my arms.”

“Uh-huh, so you can cop a feel again.” She laughed and ran to get her jacket. When Owen took her hand as they started out the door, she let him. They strolled in silence for a long while, and Vanity took in the neighborhood. Aunt Ella lived in an area nice enough to leave her door unlocked, even though Vanity didn’t think that was a good idea. Vanity’s apartment complex was situated in a great area as well, crime being the lowest in her county of all those in Maryland. Police cars and ambulances flew through her parents’ neighborhood on a regular basis. One didn’t have to leave a door unlocked to fear theft on that side of town.

“What are you thinking about?”

Vanity glanced up from watching her feet when Owen spoke. At first an automatic denial of anything important came to her lips, but she changed her mind. Owen’s patience and kindness, his undaunted determination to cheer her up during a time of year when she tended toward depression made her grateful to him. Discussing deeper topics than the weather made her blurt, “My parents made me hate Christmas.”