Meeting Mr. Right (8 page)

Chapter Seven

Dear BJ,

I know I just sent you another email a little while ago. I hope you don’t feel like I’m inundating your inbox with messages, but I think I’ve had another revelation about myself, and I wanted to share it with you. You understand me better than anyone else I know, next to God, of course.

I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that after today, I’m going to be making some major changes in my life. I never realized until now that the woman I see when I glimpse at my reflection in the mirror every morning may not be the person others see when they look at me. We’ve been talking a lot about change, but maybe it’s not change at all so much as just reconciling what’s on the inside of me with what people see when they look at me.

Anyway, that isn’t the only reason I’m emailing you tonight. I wanted to double-check with you to make sure you didn’t need anything else from me for our project.

Sincerely,

Veronica Jayne

I
t had taken Vee an hour to curl her hair into the soft ringlets that now framed her face.

An
hour!

How so many women did this on a daily basis was beyond her comprehension. Why would any woman put herself through such utter nonsense if she didn’t have to? Vee didn’t have the patience for this kind of self-torment, not even on her best day. And as long as it had taken her just to
curl her hair,
she wasn’t certain this was going to be anything remotely resembling her
best
day.

Even so, she did have to admit to a fairly significant physical transformation. She stared into the mirror and saw someone she barely recognized. She’d brushed the sides of her long, flowing brown hair forward across her shoulders and allowed the rest to stream in waves down her back. She’d carefully lined and shaded her almond-colored eyes with sparkling silver eye shadow the way Olivia had taught her. She snorted at her reflection. She was a caricature of her normal makeup-less self, and she wasn’t the least bit confident that she didn’t look as silly as she felt.

This was crazy. It usually took her all of two minutes to pull her hair back in a knot and shun everything but the barest mineral foundation on her skin.

And as for plucking her eyebrows—what kind of barbarous personality had invented
that
particular brand of torture? She would rather relive Hazing Week at the fire academy than go through tweezing again, hair by painful hair, until her whole forehead was inflamed and burning red.

She shook her head at her reflection and scoffed. This whole idea was a big mistake from start to finish.

And she’d barely started what was sure to be an excruciatingly long day.

She was
so
tempted to undo all of the progress she’d made on herself, if a person could really call what she’d done to herself
progress.
A still-small inner voice was telling her to quit while she was ahead. The problem was that she was already late for setting up the Easter Banquet and she didn’t want to miss another moment of it. Washing the makeup off her face and the curl out of her hair would take time she didn’t have.

If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t be able to help with the meal at all. It was her first time serving with the fire department, although she, along with everyone else in Serendipity, had been involved with town fundraising for the event since she was in elementary school. The school held car washes and bake sales every year to help buy supplies for the dinner.

This time she’d be right in the middle of the action—actually physically helping the less fortunate—if she stopped staring at herself in the mirror and hightailed it to the community center.

She left the house without another glance. Less than ten minutes later she pulled her truck into the parking lot of the community center that served as the hub of many of Serendipity’s social events. Thankfully, Ben had been able to secure the parts needed to fix her timing belt and had repaired her truck in time for her to drive it to the banquet.

Under normal circumstances she would have elected to walk the short distance from her apartment to the center, especially as nice a day as it was, but there was no
way
she was going to walk that far in heels.

In fact, walking at
all
was somewhat of an issue. She’d always considered herself athletic and coordinated, but no matter how many times she practiced walking back and forth across her small apartment in three-inch heels, she could not seem to master the teetering-on-the-edge-of-falling feeling those ridiculous shoes produced.

Another “how do they do it” moment. She had a new appreciation for the women who attempted to wear heels on a daily basis.

Score one for the ladies of high fashion.

She’d almost reached the front door of the community center and was about to call out a greeting to a couple of her brother’s cop friends who were lounging by the door, but they spied her first before she could get a single word out.

One of the guys, Brody, had been stretched back on a metal bench, his arm extended over the back. His friend Slade had been standing with one foot on the bench, leaning forward with his forearm on his knee for balance. They’d appeared deep in conversation, at least until Vee strolled up, though maybe
stroll
was too generous a word for the actual gait she was using.

More like
lumbering
or
teetering.

Just not, hopefully, if God was gracious to her,
falling on her face.

Before she could so much as say hello to the guys, both of the men sprang to their feet like twin Jack-in-the-boxes after the trap mechanisms had been dispatched.

“Let me get that door for you,” said Brody, who had sprinted over to the set of steel double doors and had thus reached them first. He opened the right door with a flourish and waved for her to go through.

“No, allow me.” Slade reached for the opposite door, but when he tugged, it didn’t open. He grimaced and a bright-red flush rose to his face, but he recovered quickly.

“At least let me escort you in,” he crooned with what Vee presumed he must think was his best swaggering grin. To Vee it looked more like a laughably cocky contortion, which was made even more entertaining by the fact that he crooked his arm and offered his elbow to escort her like they were in a scene in an old movie.

Who were these fools, and what had they done with the police squadron?

“Thanks, guys, but I think I can manage on my own.” She probably was being overoptimistic, given the circumstances, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was flustered by the way the men were acting. They’d certainly never offered to open a door for her before, much less presented an arm for her to take.

What was up with that?

And then it struck her like a lightning bolt out of the blue.

Zap!

They didn’t recognize her.

At least, they hadn’t known who she was until she spoke to them. When they heard her voice, the men turned as one, astonishment written on both of their faces, their eyes widening and their jaws dropping.

“Vee?” Brody queried, his tone a mixture of bemusement and disbelief. Mostly disbelief.

“Well, I never,” Slade muttered under his breath, following the statement with a low wolf whistle as his gaze followed her figure from her eyes all the way to her toes, and then back up again.

Vee lifted her chin. “What is your problem?”

She should have been ready for this. She squared her shoulders. She
was
ready for this.

The looks on these guys’ faces was pretty much the reaction she’d expected from people—at least the part where they stared at her in shock. Frankly, she’d expected that to happen the second they caught sight of her. She couldn’t believe that she’d managed to change her outward appearance so much that not only had the guys not recognized her when she’d first arrived, but her appearance had sent them scurrying to one-up each other.

Oh, well. She didn’t have time to waste on a couple of knuckleheads like Brody and Slade. She perused the room, trying to find Chief Jenkins. As was town tradition, he and the police chief were responsible for handing out orders and work details to the people under their respective commands.

Instead of finding Chief Jenkins, her eyes met and locked with Ben Atwood’s. And unlike the fellows at the door, she was immediately and startlingly aware that
he
knew exactly who she was. There wasn’t a moment’s doubt or hesitation in his eyes, though he looked at least as stunned as Brody and Slade had been.

Her heart jumped into her throat at the sheer admiration in his eyes. For some reason, that one moment almost made the whole tortuous episode seem worth it.

But only for a second—before someone bumped into her from behind, jarring her enough for her to belatedly come to her senses.

This was
Ben Atwood
who had her heart racing.

How could that be?

* * *

Ben was certain his jaw dropped. Even if he’d managed a slick recovery, the astonishment he was feeling in every pore of his being must have been written all over his face.

Who
was this vision of loveliness floating across the room at him? His brain was spinning so fast he was sure his eyes must be deceiving him.

No one needed to tell him that it was
Vee
in that gorgeous royal-blue dress. He was perfectly, maddeningly aware it was her. And technically, she was limping, not floating.

But
wow.

Wow. Wow.
Wow.

The last time he’d seen her, he’d been rescuing her from her broken-down vehicle. She’d been wearing ratty jeans and a ragged T-shirt, and her forehead had been smeared with grease. She’d looked fresh and innocent and mischievous. It suited her.

But today, she’d cleaned up like...well, like a princess. There was no other way to describe her. He’d had no idea that the thick brown hair she kept so tightly pulled back in a knot at the back of her head could be the long, curly hair that was now cascading down around her shoulders and streaming three-quarters of the way down her back. He’d known that her eyes were beautiful and distinctive, but now they were enhanced by sparkly gray eye shadow and a subtle arch to her brows that called him to her gaze.

If it weren’t for the frown lining her face, the transformation from duckling to swan would have been complete.

Not that he’d ever thought of Vee as ugly. Stern, maybe, but not unattractive.

Now she was stunning. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from her in her dazzling dress and the high heels that accentuated her lean, womanly figure and surprisingly long legs for a person of her stature. He would never have imagined that under the tiny, no-nonsense attitude was a woman who would turn heads at even the most regal of functions, much less at a simple town banquet.

And there was no doubt that she
was
turning heads. Oh, yes indeed she was.

Men and women alike had stopped what they were doing to gaze at the newcomer in their midst. Observing the crowd, Ben could clearly see that Vee’s change in appearance had done a number on them. Vee had known these folks all of her life, but it was obvious that it took most of them a minute to realize it was Vee Bishop under that perfectly flowing hair and dazzling makeup.

For some reason Ben hadn’t been in doubt at all. She’d thrown him for a loop, but not that way.

It wasn’t long before the whole room was abuzz, with everyone noisily wondering the hows and whys of Vee’s transformation. Three of Vee’s single girlfriends—cheerfully christened throughout the town as the Little Chicks because of their tendency to speak in high, twittering tones—hovered around Vee, talking over themselves in their excitement to be heard. The moniker Little Chicks fit them—it definitely sounded like chirping to Ben.

And taking the spot closest to Vee was her best friend—who also happened to be one of Ben’s ex-girlfriends. Olivia Tate. Jo Spencer appeared at Vee’s other side and looped their arms together, exclaiming about how beautiful she looked loudly enough for the entire room to hear.

The women had rallied around Vee quickly, despite the fact that she was beyond a doubt the most beautiful woman in the room. There was no jealousy or pettiness. All of the girls were supporting her—not that Vee had ever needed any kind of support in the past.

Ben knew that moving into that particular circle, a flock of protective women nurturing their own, would be hazardous to any man’s health, especially him with his history with Olivia. Even the other guys appeared to be taking their time to watch rather than approach.

Their loss.

Ben bucked up his nerves, swallowed his amazement and darted forward, taking Vee’s other arm before another man could lay claim to it. Olivia moved to the side, allowing him more room in their circle.

As soon as he touched Vee, her deer-in-the-headlights expression disappeared, replaced by a hard-as-nails determination that was completely at odds with the soft ebb and flow of her gown.

“You look just lovely, dear,” Jo said, patting Vee’s arm. “Doesn’t she, Ben?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, but the word came out an octave lower than his usual voice and had an odd, husky tone to it. Discomfited, he cleared his throat. It figured that Jo would aim her question directly toward him when he was having a hard time finding his voice.

He felt like he should say more than simply assenting to Jo’s comment, but his mind was so jumbled he couldn’t think coherently. What had happened to his brain?

After a long, painful pause, he continued. “You look nice, Vee.”

Which was the understatement of the century. Idiot. What was he thinking?

He
wasn’t
thinking. That was the problem. He felt like hitting himself in the head to restore some mental function.

“Has anyone seen Chief around?” Vee asked, scanning the room and clearly determining to ignore the blatant admiration she was receiving. “I’ve got to get my orders so I can get busy helping out around here. No sense standing around doing nothing when I can be working.”