Open Invitation? (11 page)

“As I was saying—” Lil ignored him and turned to Jean “—Dan needs to learn some basic ballroom steps. He should be smooth and not step on any toes. He needs to be able to lead a lady confidently, in front of a crowd. I imagine he'll be dancing with his sister, the bride.”

Jean pursed his lips and walked around Dan as if he were a 4-H prize goat. “
Oui
. You will get J.R. some, ah, choes? Ze sheet-keekers,
non
. Not so good for dancing.”

“Boots are fan-friggin'-tastic for dancin', froggy.”

“You vil not call me zis ‘froggy.'”

“Then you
vil
not call me J.R. Got it?”

The two men eyed each other appraisingly.
“C'est
bien,”
declared Jean Pierre. He leaped toward Dan and grabbed his hand. Then he clasped him around the waist and pulled him close. Dan stiffened like a maiden broomstick.

To Lilia, Jean said, “Be still mine heart. He ees 'ot, he ees buff. If I were not spoken for, and eef he did not wear so 'orrible a belt, I would 'ave him. Oh, yes, indeed.”

“The hell you would!” Dan growled and sent him flying. Luckily for Jean Pierre, he was agile and so he didn't crash into the wall.

“What is meaning of zis? Brute!”

“I'm not touching that guy,” Granger said to Lil.

“Dan, he's harmless!”

“Zis J.R., he ees violent, Leelia!”

“Jean, behave. You did provoke him.”

“He ees not…gay?”

“No, he is
not!
” Dan thundered.

Lilia rushed to explain. “Listen, Dan, in Paris it's really only the gay men who work out, who have muscle like you. He just assumed—”

“Last time I checked, we were not in friggin' Paris!”

“Everyone,
calm down
. We are here for a simple dancing lesson. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, can we get on with things, gentlemen?”

“I am not gettin' snuggly with that man,” Dan said.

Lilia threw up her hands. “Fine. Then
I'll
dance with you. Jean will direct us both. All right?”

Some of Dan's anger dissipated and a gleam appeared in his eye. “Now that,” he said, “works real well
for me.” He walked over to her, took her hand and pulled her against him, glaring at Jean.

His big silver belt buckle was cold through her blouse, but Lil's stomach flipped and the butterflies returned. Little electric shocks zipped through her body.

Dan made a very male sound of satisfaction.

Jean Pierre sighed and pulled at his waxed mustache. “
Quel tragedie.
No, Beeg Tex is not gay.
Alors,
we waltz.”

A
S THEY LEFT
the dance studio, Dan congratulated himself on not having punted the little frog through his fussy stained-glass window and into Main Street traffic below.

“See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?” Miz Lilia said to him as he opened the passenger door of the Mustang for her.

He snorted.

“That's not the sort of noise a gentleman makes, Dan. The polite response is, ‘no, not at all.' Graceful and noncommittal.”

“And another whopper! That man
touched
me, Lilia.”

“Oh, please. He hardly had a chance to bounce off your belt buckle before you tossed him into the wall! Which, by the way, is not at all polite, either.”

“You don't say.”

“And he apologized before we left.”

Dan snorted again. “The man was staring at my
crotch
when he said ‘no, ah, hard feelinks, eh?' You call that an apology?”

Lil pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “He was mourning.”

Dan stared at her incredulously before speeding out of the parking lot. “Miz Lil, you are not as innocent as you let on, and I ain't goin' back there.”

She sighed. “Unfortunately I am, and you are. Going back there,” she clarified. “You have to learn to dance, Dan.”

His jaw worked. Then he shot her a sideways, calculating glance. “I'll go back there if you'll spend the night with me.”

“Dan!”

“That's the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“I'll think about it. Now, take a left at the next street. We're going to see Enrique for your haircut at eleven.”

Dan frowned at the car's digital clock. “It's eleven-fifteen.”

“Enrique's always late. He's an artiste and cannot be rushed.”

Dan groaned. “Oh, no. What are you going to put me through now?”

“Enrique is marvelous.”

“Uh-huh. Does Marvelous Enrique lead an alternative lifestyle, too?”

“Enrique is married with three beautiful children. Don't stereotype, Dan. It's rude and displays a narrow mind.”

“Oh, puleeeze. I just call it like I see it.”

“Then you haven't seen nearly enough, now have you?”

She was starting to piss him off again with that superior socialite tone of hers. He'd had enough of that from Mama over the years since her transformation. He
decided to knock Lil off her ivory pedestal again. “I haven't seen
nearly enough
of you nekkid.”

Predictably she blushed. “Take the next right, Dan.”

“I'd rather take you, darlin'.”

“Dan, stop it!”

“All lights were green for ‘go' last night. What's the matter, honey, have you replaced me already?”

“What? No! What do you think, that I'm some kind of…of…slut?”

“Hey, sluts have all the fun, hon. Besides, I'm teasing you. I don't think you could pick up a man to save your life.” He grinned.

Obviously stung, she said, “I could, too. I'm just not in the habit of doing so.”

“You say it like you think it's a bad habit. Spend the night with me, Lil. I got all kinds of bad habits to teach you in Uncivilization 101.”

“Here we are,” she said in false, bright tones.

“Come get nasty with me, nice girl.”

She bolted out of the car without waiting for him to open her door.

Dan smiled and went after her.

 

T
HE SALON
was draped in a lot of toilet-cleaner-blue velvet and cluttered with gold frames. This Enrique guy obviously thought he was royalty, since he even had a big vase stuffed full of peacock feathers. Dan winced and looked for a place that a self-respecting man could sit down.

Even the receptionist wore blue eye shadow and blue
nail polish and her face had gold sprinkles on it. She looked like a harem girl.

He cast an uneasy glance at Lilia and adjusted himself.

Her eyes widened. “Never, never, never do that in public again!” she snapped.

“What? Damn, it was torqued wrong.”

“I don't care if it's tied in a knot, you wait until you're in private to do that.” Lilia shook her head and looked as shocked as if he had just tried to murder someone. Did the woman need to relax, or what?

After a ten-minute wait, this Enrique clown danced out to meet them, and Dan knew immediately that he was in trouble again.

Enrique looked like a pint-size Ricky Ricardo. He kissed Lilia and beamed at her. “Allo, beeeyoootiful!”

“Hi, handsome.” Lil dimpled.

The little guy clapped his hand to his chest. “She steal my heart,” he announced, to no one in particular. “It make boom-boom!” Then he looked at Dan. “Where you lasso thees one? Who butcher your hair, Cowboy? And the belt buckle? I could use for mirror!”

What the hell? Nobody seemed to like his belt, and this was getting old. Dan folded his arms across his chest and glowered at the man. “Aren't you guys supposed to suck up to your customers, instead of insulting them? And my dad cuts my hair, thank you very much.”

“He use hedge-trimmer? He is blind, no?” Enrique grinned unapologetically and poked him in the belly.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“You seet in my chair, Cowboy. We transform you
into the prince. The boots,” he said to Lilia, “the boots I like, but no the belt. You burn, eh? And the shirt, too. He got good face, good…how you say? Ah, build. He talk a leetle funny.” Enrique draped Dan in a navy-blue plastic cape and began to hum tunelessly.

“Excuse me, but I
am
in the room, you little tamale.”

Lilia cringed, but Enrique burst out laughing. “Tamale? No, no. I wear no corn husk.” He fished around in a drawer and came out with some wicked looking scissors and a comb. Clutching these in one hand, he reached for a spray bottle with the other. “You are late, so you no get hair wash.”

Dan's mouth dropped open. “Of all the—we were
not
late! Well, we were, but
you
were late.”

Enrique ignored this, sprayed him with the water, set down the sprayer again and grabbed him by the hair.
Snip! Snip! Snip!

“You're enjoying this,” Dan accused Lilia.

She nodded and smiled serenely. Then her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

She pulled it from her purse, which matched her shoes. He half expected her to pull out a pair of kid gloves in the same shade. “Hello?”

As Dan watched she turned pink and looked pleased. “Serves you right,” she said. “Besides, rice cakes have lots of fiber in them, and you're full of it.”

Had Miss Manners just insulted her blond Amazon partner? Well, Dan was all for it, since the wench had taken his suitcases to the Salvation Army.

“What do you mean, revenge? I just took revenge on
you, for the carrot juice! The cycle should end there…. Oh, well, fine. I'm trembling…. Be quiet and go and get Mr. Granger a couple of new belts. He'll also need a raincoat and some riding gear—”

“No pansy pants!” Dan growled.

“—yes, bring the boots, too, and we'll hope that he doesn't need special fitting. There's no time for custom-made ones…but the boots are the most important, since he'll need them for his riding lesson tomorrow. He swears he won't wear the hat, but bring that as well.”

Enrique continued to snip and Dan wondered if he was leaving him any hair at all. He decided it was best to close his eyes.

“I don't need a riding lesson,” he announced to Lilia when she got off the phone.

“We had this talk. Just do one and then we'll reevaluate if you still don't think it's necessary.”

Dan sighed and Enrique distracted him by pulling here and there on his hair like a monkey and cutting more off with a different pair of scissors, “For texture, yes?”

Yeah, whatever.

Finally the little dude dusted him with a gigantic blue powder puff and sprayed a tennis-ball sized blob of white foam into his hands. Then he clapped them onto Dan's head and worked in the nasty goo. He whipped out a hair-dryer and brandished it like a gun, pointing it, pretending to sight his target through the back, and pulling the “trigger.”

He freeze-dried Dan's hair into fashionable swirls
and spikes and then sprayed it with some kind of aerosol glue.
“Bueno!”
he finally declared, whipping off the blue cape.

Dan stared at himself and put a hand up to touch the miracle, only to have the hand smacked by Enrique.

“No poking the masterpiss, eh? Thees is work of art. Enrique is great genius.”

“Touch me again, Tamale, and I'll gut you. Understand?”

Enrique turned to Lilia, his hands on his hips. “He is rude, this one. He like his hair? You like?”

“Yes, he like his hair,” Dan growled.

“Enrique, you've outdone yourself. He looks like a movie star!”

“Yes, yes! He is…ahm…what his name, eh? He is the Nick Lachey? But lighter hairs and eyes.”

“And no Jessica,” Lil said dryly.

“Yeah,” Dan waggled his brows lecherously, “but I've got—”

He broke off at a bona fide glare from Miss Manners.

“You have many womens, yes?” Enrique asked. “Eh, you will have many mores without the belt.”

“Enough about my belt!” Dan said. “And no, I don't have many women. I like 'em one at a time. It'd be nice to keep one around for a while, but I can't seem to find one willing to live on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Plus the selection at your average agricultural convention is limited.”

“Agricultural convention?” Lilia raised her brows.

“Yes. I'm in the ranching business. Got my MBA
from Texas A & M, darlin'. You look surprised. Did you think I'd never graduated fifth grade?”

“Of course I didn't think that, Dan.” But she was stunned to find that he had an MBA. He was more educated than she.

Enrique flapped the cape at them. “You go now. I have other appointment.
Muchas gracias!
”

Dan exchanged a glance with Lil as he got out of the chair. “Thank you, Enrique. I'll be sure to order you a belt just like mine and ship it to you C.O.D.”

 

“W
HERE TO NOW
, Lil?” Dan asked later that evening. They had just finished dinner at an elegant restaurant in Greenwich. He'd learned a hundred more stupid social rules and he was heartily tired of being corrected on everything from his grammar to his conversation to his posture.

She'd made him lose his normal clothing that afternoon, dressed him in khakis and a blue blazer and hauled his ass to high tea at some swank hotel, where he'd been a lot more interested in the possibility of hourly rates than teeny little sandwiches that wouldn't satisfy a bird. At least he hadn't smashed any china or destroyed any furniture.

Then, to add insult to injury, she'd made him change again—this time into a friggin' suit—and drive an hour for dinner in the snottiest part of Connecticut.

Dinner had been fabulous, but he wasn't about to admit that to Lil.

She yawned delicately behind her fine-boned hand. “I'm ready for bed.”

“Excellent. I am so glad to hear that,” Dan said with a grin.
Finally! Something fun.

She looked startled. “I didn't mean it like
that
.”

“You said you'd consider spending the night with me.”

“Dan, I really shouldn't do that.”

“Why the hell not? I tell a real good bedtime story. I give a great back rub. And the Granger Shower Hour is without equal.”

“Dan…”

They'd reached the Mustang now, which looked odd in the lot of the chateaulike restaurant and inn. The place was peppered with Mercedes Benzes and Jaguars and BMWs. Dan's bright red rental car stood out like a sore thumb—a cheap one. Which made him laugh, considering the fact that he could probably buy the place twice over and still have money to redecorate. He might have rough manners, but he did well for himself.

“Yes, Lil?”

“We have to work together. And I shouldn't have been so…forward last night. I'm embarrassed.”

Her dark eyes slid away from his and her adorable, prim, pink mouth pursed. “Lil, you got nothing to be embarrassed about. You said you were tired of living like a little old lady, right?”

She nodded.

“Your nana brought you up, all by herself? And you were a nice girl, never got into any trouble, huh?”

She nodded again.

“Well, I'd say it's high time that you got naughty. And
I think the best gift I can give you is a little embarrassment, Granger-style.”

He took two steps and pinned her against the side of the Mustang. He took her mouth with his and made love to it thoroughly, losing himself between her lips.

He spanned her small waist with his hands and moved upward to cup her breasts, right there in the parking area, in full view of the restaurant.

She pulled away from his mouth, gasping, and she pushed at his chest. “Stop it, Dan! Everyone can see us.”

“I know.” He rubbed her nipples through the simple black corset top she wore—an article of clothing that had been driving him crazy all through dinner. It was obviously expensive, made of beautiful fabric and very tasteful, in spite of the provocative lacing at the front. She wore no bra underneath, not even a strapless one.

Lil moaned, gave in to his touch for a split second, her little nipples puckering, and then pushed at him again. He didn't budge. Instead he moved his hands down to her ass and pulled her hard against his erection. “Feel that?” he whispered. “That's what you do to me, honey. You are so hot…I want to spread your legs and take you right on the hood of this car.”

“Dan!” She blushed fire.

“That turns you on, doesn't it?”

“No!”

“Yeah, it does. I can see it in your eyes, Lil. And I want what's under that little black skirt of yours.”