Crazy Love (12 page)

He kissed her long and deep, a kiss that ignited her latent passion in a second. For someone who’d spent her life thinking sex was highly overrated, she had an innate sensuality she’d never dreamed existed.

After her initial shock at how wanton she could be, she’d lost her inhibitions, happy to be a late starter than stuck in the gates her whole life.

She moaned as he nibbled his way from her mouth down her neck, playfully slapping his hand away as he cupped her bottom.

“Someone might see us.”

“Let them,” he growled in her ear, nipping the lobe in the process. “I’m feeling awfully tired all of a sudden. Maybe it’s time we took a nap?”

“You’re incorrigible,” she giggled, amazed the carefree, light-hearted sound came from her, “and I love you for it. Let’s head inside, I’ll make a phone call to Flo and join you in the bedroom shortly.”

“Lady, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He gave her a pat on the bottom as they walked inside. “Don’t spend too long talking to that old bat. I’ll be waiting.”

He winked as he shut the bedroom door.

Sighing with contentment as only a truly satisfied woman can, she rummaged in her bag for her cell. The call she had to make was too important to risk Connie, the local exchange operator and Essie’s loose-lipped sister, overhearing. The subject was delicate enough without having it spread all over town before sunset.

She punched a button for pre-dialed numbers, remembering the way Sierra had stood up to her son and his priceless expression of disbelief. As she’d suspected, the sassy redhead could handle Marc-and how. If she wasn’t mistaken he’d liked Sierra’s sharp retorts despite pretending otherwise.

Oh yes, this was going to work out brilliantly, as long as her other partner in crime lived up to her end of the bargain.

Flo picked up, her raspy “Hello?” making Liv glad she’d given up cigarettes along with her crappy marriage.

“Flo, it’s Liv.”

“Well?”

Another reason she liked the forthright Aussie. She didn’t mince words.

“Operation Love Match is all systems go. Expect a visitor shortly.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting.”

For the first time since she’d plotted this with Flo she experienced a flicker of doubt.

“You think we’re doing the right thing, interfering like this?”

Flo guffawed, prompting Liv to hold the phone several inches away from her ear until the harsh sound subsided to a dull roar.

“We’re not interfering. You didn’t force young Marc to stick around, did you?”

“No.”

She couldn’t quite believe it had been so easy. She hadn’t had to pull any of the excuses she’d concocted to make him stay. Sierra had done the dirty work for her and she would’ve given anything to be privy to that gem of a conversation.

“Well then, how can we be interfering? He needs a place to stay, I’ve got one.”

“Which just happens to be next door to the woman we’re trying to match him with.”

Flo tsked-tsked. “That’s not interfering, that’s fate.”

Liv sighed and hoped she was doing the right thing. Marc didn’t take kindly to anyone running his life and if he suspected she was none-too-gently shoving him in Sierra’s direction he’d vanish quicker than one of his floozies if he lost his fortune.

“Don’t be too obvious, okay?”

“Me? Obvious? Liv, Liv, Liv…Trust me. Can I help it if I run out of sugar and young Marc has to call on a friendly neighbor? Can I help it if I suddenly need some advice in the wardrobe department and have Sierra drop in on a regular basis? And surely it’s not interference if Marc lends me a hand in the garden around the same time Sierra does her weekly weeding for me?”

Olivia chuckled, not reassured by Flo’s attempts at subtlety but looking forward to watching the sparks fly between her son and Sierra.

“I’m convinced. Keep me posted.”

“You got it. This is Flo 007 signing off.”

“We’re a pair of interfering old busybodies, you know that, right?”

“Hey, who you calling old?”

Flo disconnected but not before Olivia heard her distinctive doorbell peal out its “I Still Call Australia Home” tune.

Liv snapped her cell shut and shook her head.
Operation Love Match indeed
.

Marc winced as a corny old Peter Allen song sounded from the doorbell under his fingertip, wondering for the hundredth time since he’d set foot in this godforsaken place if he’d lost his mind.

Burn out. Executive stress. Type A syndrome.

All perfectly valid reasons to explain why he was on Flo’s doorstep about to take her up on her offer for lodgings, and not just for the weekend.

He never did things by halves and if he had to go through exec stress he’d go all the way and stick around for a week. A whole frigging week. He’d never been away from his desk that long unless it involved a business trip. It had to be exec stress for it’s the only reason he could think of to explain his lunatic behavior.

Protecting his mom from potential fortune hunters was one thing, spending a week in a dead-end town to do so another. He should’ve cut his losses when she refused to see sense.

Instead, the minute Sierra had issued a crazy challenge he’d jumped. It was as though she knew exactly what drove him, what made him tick, for he’d never backed down from a challenge before and he’d be damned if he started now.

The sexy redhead was way too clever for her own good and if he had to stick around this one-horse town he’d make sure she knew it too. If there had been sparks flying between them yesterday it was nothing on what could happen if he fanned the flames. He could stand the heat but could she?

She had a smart mouth yet he had a sneaking suspicion once he turned up the heat she’d definitely be running from the kitchen. Probably screaming and kicking if he had her pegged correctly.

The dilapidated door creaked open.

“Hey, kid.” Flo grinned at him and patted her wiry grey curls in an endearing coquettish gesture. “What can I do for you? Need someone to take that rust bucket of yours for a spin?”

He smiled, knowing his instincts had been right regarding the woman in front of him. Though Flo looked like she’d been through the school of hard knocks and graduated with honors, she had a sense of humor that warmed his heart. He rarely laughed these days, rarely had a reason to, so Flo had to be good for his soul.

“I was hoping to park my rust bucket next to yours for a while.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Make that your slippers and you’ve got a deal.”

He chuckled, wondering how many men had run scared from that offer. “Are you propositioning me?”

“You betcha, mate.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively while eyeing him up and down. “On second thoughts, you’re a bit old for me. When I rob the cradle, I’ll do a darn good job of it so you’re safe for now.”

He wiped his brow in an exaggerated gesture of relief, enjoying their banter more by the minute.

“I’d never be able to keep up with you.”

She patted his arm and smiled. “You’re dead right. Now, what’s the real reason you’re standing here with your lips flapping in the wind?”

“Your offer of a room still stand?”

“Sure does. Want to take a look?”

He nodded, knowing he had the opportunity to back out now before this farce went any further. He could be back in LA in an hour, happily ensconced behind his desk at A-Corp exactly where he belonged. Everything would be right with the world and he could put this bizarre little visit out of his mind.

But he couldn’t run. He owed his mom. She’d done the best she could for him.

He wasn’t stupid. If he hadn’t been around she wouldn’t have stayed married to George. He’d heard her say so when he’d hid at the top of the stairs during one of his father’s tirades. George had flung his weight around, his mom had flung the fact if it wasn’t for her precious son she’d have left his sorry ass years ago.

Shouldering guilt was damn difficult and he’d do anything to pay his mom back for the years of self-sacrifice, starting with stopping her from making monstrous mistake number two in the matrimony stakes.

“Follow me.” Flo snagged a set of keys from a hook next to the front door before closing it. “The apartment is over the garage. It isn’t the Taj Mahal but it’s comfortable. How long you planning on staying?”

“About a week.”

He climbed the rickety stairs behind her, concentrating on his feet rather than the sight of Flo’s butt squeezed into tangerine terry toweling.

“Liv must be doing cartwheels,” she said, jiggling a key in the rusty lock. “You’re a good boy to spend some time with her.”

With one last jiggle, a hefty thump from a man-sized hand above the lock and an expletive that would’ve done a sailor proud, the door creaked open.

“Welcome to Casa de Patterson. It’s all yours for as long as you need it.”

He resisted the urge to shut his eyes, took a deep breath and entered the room.

“It’s not much but you should be comfortable here.”

Flo hovered at his elbow while he glanced around, more than a little surprised.

Flo had been stretching the truth when she’d said apartment but this place was ten times better than what he’d expected and a hundred times more appealing than the hearts and flowers crap at the motel he’d gladly vacated.

A queen-size bed stood in one corner of the room, a couch in the other, with a kitchenette to his right and a door he assumed led to the bathroom on his left. Apart from a faint musty odor the place looked clean and welcoming, the white and mint green color scheme extending from the walls to the duvet on the bed, with plump cushions scattered on the couch for good measure.

“This’ll be fine, Flo. Thanks, I appreciate it. What do I owe you?”

“Owe me?”

“For rent.”

She shooed him towards the couch and all but pushed him to sit. “We’ll worry about that later. For now, you take a load off and I’ll rustle up some dinner for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He leaped up, fumbling for his car keys.

His mom, who seemed to genuinely like the flamboyant woman, had made a joke about Flo’s home cooking, implying even Ripley wouldn’t touch the stuff. And though his mom couldn’t have known he’d be staying here at Flo’s, he was thankful for the heads-up.

“I’ve got a hankering for some of that Mexican your diner dishes up. I think I’ll eat there tonight.”

Flo sniffed and spun on her heel. “Fine, your loss. The kitchen is stocked with cans and coffee necessities, the bathroom is through there. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to come knocking.”

She paused, sent him a broad wink. “Especially at night.”

He grinned and followed her out the door. “Thanks. I’ll be the model tenant.”

He didn’t understand her muttered, “Not too model, I hope,” as he slid behind the wheel of his Jag and reached for his cell on the front seat.

Now his accommodation was sorted he could start organizing the rest of his stuff. Dialing home, William picked up on the third ring as always.

“The Fairley Residence, William speaking.”

“It’s me.”

“Master Marc. What can I do for you?”

Though he’d hired William Jamieson as his right hand man around the house a few years ago, the sixty year old treated him like a boarding schoolboy most of the time, bullying him, running his life to the nth degree on a daily basis. Marc often wondered how he ever functioned without him.

“I’m spending a week visiting my mom so I need you to pack some clothes, the files on my desk and my laptop and have them ready for me to pick up tomorrow. I’ll drop by and get them on my way through to the office before heading back here.”

“You’re in Love, Sir?”

He heard the shock in William’s well-modulated tone, not surprising considering his butler-cum-housekeeper had born the brunt of his ranting when he’d received the email from his mom informing him of her whereabouts and what she was up to.

“That’s right.”

He couldn’t get over how ludicrous that sounded. How could anyone call a town Love let alone want to live here?

“Very good, Master Marc. I’ll have everything ready for you.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

He rang off, William taking the news of his impending layover in Love a hell of a lot better than Rob would.

Wrapping up the Tech file and grabbing the number one spot in the state had been his entire focus for as long as he could remember. Not that his absence would change how they did business. He could work from home if needed with his PC, fax and phone. However, Rob had a habit of getting angsty the closer it came to securing major acquisitions and would rely on him more and more in the final stages.

Tough, this couldn’t be helped. For once in his life he was putting family first and the business could run itself.

Besides, the Tech file wasn’t signed, sealed and delivered yet, not since he’d discovered Sierra’s company on his hit list. He’d never been torn like this. Business or pleasure? Damned if he knew.

“Another hot date tonight?”

Sierra’s head snapped up, unfortunate considering the three Margaritas she’d guzzled while contemplating her infuriating crush on this very guy.

“What are you doing here?”

She glared at Marc, wishing he didn’t have to look so damn good all the time. Her heart never thudded and her pulse never raced, supposed reactions for any heroine worth her weight in those romance novels Belle read, yet here she was, in dire danger of suffering both reactions.

She could’ve sworn when she left the farm this afternoon it would’ve been the last she’d see of City Boy. Despite agreeing to her bet she would’ve laid money he’d head back to LA anyway. Yet here he was sauntering into the Love Shack as if he owned the place and giving her grief to boot.

He leaned over, the cocky smile that drove her crazy firmly in place.

“Is that any way to greet your new neighbor?”

“Huh?”

That Tequila packed a stronger punch than anticipated. She could’ve sworn Marc said he was her new neighbor. Impossible, as the Parnells were firmly entrenched and Flo had no intention of moving.

Flo…the garage…hell no
…