Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter) (7 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Raye

BOOK: Gettin' Lucky (Love and Laughter)
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“Uh, Mel,” Lucky stammered, shooting Tyler a panicked look. “I mean, er, Dale. Dale...Stinson. Yes, Dale Stinson.”
“Dale Stinson?” Helen asked. “You say he’s in oil?”
“Among other things.”
“Well, I can’t say as I’ve ever heard of him. Merle—” she turned to her husband “—do you know any Stinsons?”
“Tell him no,” Merle grumbled into the phone before throwing Helen a distracted glance. “What, dear?”
“Stinsons. Do you know any Stinsons?” He shook his head and Helen went on, “The name certainly strikes a familiar chord. Tyler, are you acquainted with this Mr. Stinson?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard of him. Mr. Stinson is very busy overseas. Scotland is practically his first home.”
Helen stared expectantly at Lucky. “What part of Scotland?”
“Glasgow,” Tyler fired off before Lucky could open her mouth. “That reminds me, isn’t there a display of Scottish armament at the Museum of Fine Arts? Speaking of museums, I’m sure Bennie would love to hear about the new addition to the children’s museum.”
“Oh, yes. The new wing will be splendid. And with me as chairwoman for the fund-raising gala, it’s sure to be
the
event of the season...” Her voice droned on as Lucky turned her attention to the silverware surrounding the bowl of soup in front of her.
Tyler reached for the appropriate utensil and felt Lucky’s anxious gaze on him. She followed his every move as he silently coached her through the soup and salad. To her credit, she carried off everything as if she’d been born to it. Tyler actually started to relax. By the time they reached the chicken entrée, he was even enjoying himself. There were worse things than being stared at by an attractive woman. Then the evening took a sharp turn toward Disaster City.
Bernadette, a fidgety audience for her grandmother who talked nonstop about the upcoming fund-raiser, shifted in her chair. Her expression went from attentive to uncomfortable, to desperate. She stared at Lucky. Their gazes met for all of three seconds, then Lucky’s fork clattered to the table.
“Those Scottish,” Lucky declared in a loud voice that made even Merle pause, cellular phone in hand. “Talk about ingenious. You know, I never knew that mooning was a historical part of battle.”
Tyler’s jaws locked around a bite of chicken.
“Then there it was on the big screen, Mel Gibson flashing his assets for the entire English army. I realized then why the Scottish really wear those kilts. Definitely a distraction if there’s five hundred guys waiting to slice you into mincemeat.”
Helen looked horrified.
Tyler swallowed and bolted out of his chair. “If you’ll excuse us. I think Miss Myers is having one of her spells.”
“Spells?” Lucky asked.
“Hot spells. Where you get dizzy, disoriented,
stupid
.” He muttered the last word for her ears only.
“Oh, yes, yes. One of my spells.” She fanned her face dramatically and let him usher her out of her chair.
“You look like you’re the one having the spell,” Lucky said in a hushed whisper. “You’re all red.”
“That’s because my butt is in the hot seat,” he hissed, steering her toward the door. “And you just put me there.”
“Oh no,” she replied as he whisked her out into the hallway. “I would never do that to you or your butt,” she said, her voice filled with conviction.
“Especially
your butt.”
6
“L
EAVE MY BUTT out of this.” Tyler whirled on her.
“You were the one who brought it up. And since you did, I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s quite impressive.”
“What are you? A butt connoisseur?”
“Some women like muscular arms, some like hands, some like chests, I like butts. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, except you don’t have to go pointing it out to my mother-in-law, who, by the way, is supposed to think you’re a high-society nanny.”
“So nannies can’t like butts?”
“You’re insane.” His frustrated whisper echoed off the paneled walls. “I say, ‘Don’t talk. Don’t invite questions.’ Do you listen? Of course not. Hell, you not only talk, you go ninety to nothing about men showing off their butts and their—”
“Keep your voice down or they’ll hear you.” Lucky motioned to the partially open door leading to the dining room. The heel of his boot shot out, the door slammed shut and Lucky jumped.
“You deliberately drew attention to yourself when I had her distracted,” he hissed, “talking about her fund-raiser.”
“You had her looking at Bennie with every other word.”
“So?”
“Soooo,” she exaggerated the word. “Being a lady isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Take me for instance. I’m all decked out in this blouse and skirt, stockings, slip—the whole package, and I look very ladylike, but as for comfort...” She slid her feet free of the killer heels. “These shoes are straight out of an episode of Torture Devices of the Strange and Deranged.”
“What do your shoes have to do with the hot topic of butts?”
“Nothing. They’re just an example of what we women endure to make you men happy. Which brings me to my point. You wanted Bennie in a dress. She agreed, but there were conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“That I would sort of help her out if she needed to scratch. You see, all that lace is very uncomfortable. I know because there was this time in the fifth grade when I got picked to be the fairy princess in the Christmas pageant. Not that I wanted to be the fairy princess. I wanted to be the troll that lived under the bridge. He got to wear a beard and boots and carry this leather scabbard, not that it was real, but it looked real and... Anyway, I was too tall for the troll, so I wound up in lace tights and fairy wings, and I was still too tall. The tights were too small, and every time I moved they slipped lower and the lace rubbed my skin raw.”
“Let me get this straight, you launched into a discussion about Mel Gibson’s butt and screwed things up with Helen, just so Bernadette could
scratch
herself?”
She nodded and watched him digest the information, his face solemn, his eyes as hard as turquoise chips. Just when the tension was thick enough to smother her, he burst out laughing.
“You’re not mad?” she blurted out.
“Why would I be mad?”
“Well, scratching’s not very ladylike, and I didn’t exactly keep my end of the bargain, but I had to talk fast, and I was nervous.” She gave Tyler a wide-eyed look. “What do we do now?”
“
We
don’t do anything. I’ll head back in there and see if I can patch up any mess you made. And you,” he said, glancing at his watch, “are off the hook for now. Dinner is practically finished. I’ll just tell Helen the spell got worse and you called it a night.”
She took a deep breath. “So it’s over.”
“
Almost
over,” he corrected. “After another quick performance at breakfast, you’ll be finished, Helen will be out of here and I’ll be off the hook.” He passed a hand over his face and she noticed how tired he suddenly looked.
Her heart gave a painful thud.
“I’m really sorry if I messed things up.”
“At least it was for a good cause.” His fingertips brushed her jaw, straightening the silk collar that had somehow turned up. “But under no circumstances bring up the subject again.”
“Deal,” she said, hoping her voice sounded even while her senses were spinning. Bouncing. Doing a very fast, furious version of the macarena.
“Thanks for helping Bennie,” he said.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“For what?”
For making me feel like Dorothy spinning away into the unknown. For making my heart pound so fast I feel as if I’m having cardiac arrest. For making me feel things I haven’t ever felt before. “For not being mad,” she finally said. “And for having
the
best pair of buns I’ve ever seen.”
An odd glimmer lit his eyes. “I’m not going near the buns comment, but I’m certainly not angry.” He touched her shoulder and trailed his fingertips down her arm. “Though I’m not so sure about mad.”
Before she could question him, he pulled his hand away, his fingers skimming the side of one breast in the process.
“Sleep tight.” He turned to stride back into the dining room while she stood there, barely breathing, trying to figure out what had just happened between them.
He’d touched her. Not just touched, but
caressed.
Her nipple stood at attention beneath the cream silk blouse and a wave of heat flooded her face.
Not that his touch meant anything. Tyler Grant was a flirt, a lady-killer, a wildcatter, wielding charm and sex appeal like Rambo with an Uzi. A girl had to be careful. She could enjoy the attention, the flirting, the whole seduction game, but she couldn’t forget whom she was playing with, no matter how her traitorous hormones tried to claim amnesia.
It was just a game, and Tyler Grant was one smooth player. And for the first time, Lucky was off the bench and smack-dab in the middle of the action.
 
“CHECKMATE!” Helen cried after the shortest chess game in the history of the world. “Didn’t you see me coming, Tyler? Why, even a child wouldn’t have made that last move. It played right into my hands.” The implications were there, but Helen was too pleased at winning against Tyler, who never lost a chess match, to see it as anything more than a well deserved victory.
“You must be feeling a little under the weather, son,” Merle said, sparing a glance at the chessboard before he resumed his pacing. His steps paused periodically as he dictated into a microcassette recorder.
“Actually, there must be something going around.” Tyler patted his middle. “I’m feeling a little queasy. I think I’ll look in on Bennie then call it a night.”
“But it’s only a little after nine,” Helen cried. “I was hoping we would have a chance to discuss Bernadette’s enrollment at Smithston. I’ve brought the brochures and an application—”
Tyler interrupted with an exaggerated moan. “Cramp,” he croaked in explanation, clutching his middle.
“This isn’t one of those spells your nanny had, is it?” Her words dripped sarcasm and Merle patted her shoulder.
“Now, now, dear. The woman couldn’t help herself. You heard Tyler. It hits her suddenly. That’s understandable with her being so accustomed to the cool Scottish weather. This must be quite a change for her, though I can’t say as I’ve ever heard of a heat allergy.”
“I’m sure my cramp had nothing to do with an allergy,” Tyler assured them. “Probably something I ate.”
“I bet it’s the mushrooms,” he heard Helen tell Merle after he’d bid them both good-night and started for the hallway. “They’re dangerous. Not fit for civilized taste buds.”
“You’re allergic to mushrooms,” Merle said.
“I am not. I have an iron constitution. The Bells don’t have allergies, dear. We’re all as healthy as horses.”
Their voices faded as Tyler headed down the hall, past the kitchen and library. He turned a corner toward Bennie’s room.
“I tell you, Ulysses.” Mabel’s voice carried from his father’s partially open bedroom door. “That woman is downright rude. Imagine her criticizing my food. Why, I’ve won the annual pie competition for the past five years in a row. That woman wouldn’t know a frying pan if it jumped out of the cupboard and bit her on the rump. And it wouldn’t have a lick of trouble finding its target...”
Tyler rubbed his tired eyes.
It’s Almost over
. The thought gave him the energy to push open the door to Bennie’s room.
She sprawled across the bed on her stomach, her chin propped on one hand as she scanned the pages of
Texas Horse and Trainer.
The package Helen had brought her lay on the floor several feet away.
“Hi, Daddy.” She smiled up at him.
“Did you like your new outfit?”
“Ugh, are you kidding? It’s white with roses all over it.”
“I’m sure it’s pretty. Why don’t you try it, honey? You might like getting dressed up once in a while.”
She gave a heavy sigh. “Okay, maybe I’ll try it.”
“That’s my girl. Lights out in five minutes.”
Her mouth dropped open. Before she could get in a word edgewise, he turned and pulled the door closed. Bennie would argue until doomsday if Tyler gave her the chance. And he tried never to do that, especially since she was so effective at wearing him down. When she turned a smile on him, he was a goner. Thankfully, she hadn’t figured that out yet The day she did, he’d be in deep trouble. But he was already in deep trouble, a voice reminded him when he heard a door open, then walked smack-dab into Lucky.
“Oops, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her hands splayed against his chest as she caught herself. “I didn’t hear you out here.”
“Obviously.” His gaze scanned her rumpled T-shirt and bare legs. Legs that went on forever. Long and tanned and...
Tyler swallowed and forced his attention back to her face. “Do you always walk around half-dressed?”
“I’m not half-dressed. Girls at the beach show ten times more than I’m showing, and I didn’t think it would matter what I was wearing in the privacy of my room.”
“You aren’t in the privacy of your room. You’re out in the hallway.” His gaze lowered of its own accord, and he saw the goose bumps rise on her tanned skin. His fingers itched to reach out and ease her sudden chill.
Chill? How could she be cold? He was burning up. Hot, and getting hotter by the millisecond.
“I was just going to tiptoe to Bennie’s room and say good-night,” she told him. “I didn’t expect to find you lurking in the hallway.”
“I wasn’t lurking. I was saying good-night myself.”
“Good night then,” she said, but before she could dart past him, he felt himself leaning toward her.
“Yes, it is a good night. A very good night...” He pressed against her, his chest brushing the tips of her breasts. A subtle touch, but it was still enough to send a jagged bolt of lightning down his spine, straight to his groin.
She looked startled for a quick moment, then her gaze brightened with wonder. It was the cookie look all over again, and the realization sent another jolt through him.
“I...I know this is harmless flirting and all,” she stammered. “But I don’t think this is really safe...”
He watched her form the words, warn him about Helen and why their current stance was too provocative. But what she was saying didn’t really register. The only thing that stuck was the way she moved her lips. Full, soft lips he wanted so much to taste, needed to taste.
“I really want to kiss you,” he told her.
“Me? Really—”
Then his mouth covered hers. He tasted her, nibbled the fullness of her bottom lip while she stood stiff as a board. Then she opened her lips on a sigh and her moment of surprise passed. His tongue tangled with hers, stroking, coaxing, and sensation skimmed down his spine, clear to his toes.
It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, anything he should feel with this woman. There was nothing particularly special about her. Sure she was attractive, and she tasted really good... To hell with good. She was intoxicating, mesmerizing.
Of course, Sherlock.
She knew exactly what she was doing. She’d probably practiced this innocent-hungry thing on some other poor sap who’d fallen hook, line and sinker. But not Tyler. He wasn’t some gullible, hot-for-anything-in-a-skirt guy. No way. Not him.
He deepened the kiss, drinking in her sweetness, and she melted against him. She was just so...innocent. So...hungry. And she wasn’t even wearing a skirt. Right. Tell that to the judge, sucker.
From far away he heard the slam of a door, the low murmur of voices and he forced himself away from her.
“Wow,” she said, her eyes closed, her head resting against the wall as if she didn’t have the energy to hold it up. “That was something.”
Something, all right. But what?
Nothing, he told himself as he spun on his heel and walked away from her. It was just chemistry between them. She was a mistress of seduction with all that wide-eyed charm, and he was just a lowly guy. A starving dog in the face of a juicy T-bone.
Only for a little while. Thankfully, she would be gone tomorrow. He focused on that thought and strode outside to the barn. Some neighboring kids had been out joyriding on their daddy’s tractor and had plowed down a stretch of fence in the north pasture earlier that day. The last thing he wanted was to be out fixing fences, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance of sleeping and with cattle grazing that pastureland he had to get the barbed wire back up.

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