Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (4 page)

And what sucked even more was how Allie’s dad had treated the Wright family way back then.

“Was he hot as a teenager?”

“He always seemed so much older, more worldly somehow. I wouldn’t have known what to do with a guy like him. So I crushed on his brother instead. Jamie was safer. He was skinny, could barely put one foot in front of the other without tripping, and was only a year older than me. We didn’t go any further than a lukewarm homecoming date, though. I told my dad Chad Stone was taking me that year. He would’ve had a conniption fit if he’d known I’d dated either of the Wright brothers.”

“I have a feeling your dad’s opinion hasn’t changed in all those years.” Roxanne secured a sequined bra top on the mannequin and draped a coined belt around her hips.

Allie studied the mannequin’s breasts, plump against the bra top, and jealousy settled over her. “Why can’t I have boobs like her? If I did, I bet Cameron would’ve taken one look and forgiven me on the spot.”

Roxanne thumped a plastic breast. “They look good, but men like ’em squeezable.”

Darn it, Allie barely had enough to squeeze. She covered her A-cup breasts with her hands, closed her eyes and chanted, “I love my body. It’s perfect because it is mine.”

“That accident rattled you more than I thought if you need a get-in-touch-with-yourself moment.”

Allie pushed up her chest, trying to form a slight cleavage at the V-neck of her T-shirt. “Thank God you sell lingerie for us slightly gifted girls so I don’t have to shop in the preteen underwear section anymore.”

“Girlfriend, no offense. Anything would’ve been an improvement over those cotton training bras and panties you were wearing. A woman who teaches other women to use their sexual power should know better.”

“I’ve got an even bigger problem now.” The weight of it pressed on Allie’s shoulders. “My clients have figured out I’m not seeing anyone.”

For the past few years, she’d been so consumed with her studies and launching her business that she hadn’t given much thought to the supply—or lack—of suitable and eligible bed partners. Sex was easy to manage in theory. In reality, it was a lot tougher to get the rubber to meet the, uh, road.

“I’m surprised it’s taken them this long to figure out you’re a big, fat—” Roxanne checked out Allie’s shorts and T-shirt. “Okay, a little, skinny fraud.”

“How can I expect them to take risks, demand the life they want, when I’m not doing the same?”

“You can’t.”

“They want me to pick a special project. We’re all supposed to report back Friday.”

“So get busy.”

Cameron popped to mind again. Maybe her getting-busy solution had been delivered to her. The accident she’d seen as a stumbling block this morning might be the oasis for her sexual Sahara desert. Allie grabbed one of the orange vibrators Emmalee had eyed earlier, tossed it from hand to hand. “I may have a solution.”

“Is this solution’s name Cameron Wright?” Roxanne skirted the counter to stash the remaining vibrators in the glass-topped case before Allie could snatch another.

The earthy smell of jasmine from Roxanne’s signature candles helped Allie focus. She tapped her temple with the tip of the Promise Keeper XL, the silicone warm against her skin. For too many years, she’d let opportunities slide from her grasp, bowing to the pressure from her father to be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect Shelby. But conforming to expectations, her father’s or anyone else’s, was no longer on her agenda.

Because everyone knew good girls were too busy worrying about what everyone thought to grab life by the...horns...and wrestle it to the ground.

She’d bet Cameron Wright had one fine set of horns.

“I tell my clients to create their own possibilities, but I’ve been neglecting myself. He’d make the perfect project.”

“But is he available?”

Oh, shoot. Allie’s excitement deflated slightly. “Surely he wouldn’t have moved home alone if he were involved.”

“And he’ll be A-OK with you chatting about him in a session, especially one his mom might be sitting in?”

“I won’t name names.”

“You think you could keep this quiet?”

It was a risk, a potential con to presenting Cameron with a sex-only proposition. But the pros jumped up and down waving their arms and trampled the cons underfoot. “What man doesn’t like the idea of sex with no expectations for a real relationship?”

“If you say so. But he looks like he could be more fun than an all-day sucker. You might end up with a real sweet tooth.”

No, she needed a serious relationship about the way Roxanne needed a drawer full of Hanes underwear. Allie absently shoved the vibrator into her back pocket and grabbed a notepad from the counter. “What I need is a plan.”

“Plan schman. Don’t overthink this.”

“Maybe you’re right.” When something unexpected happened, a woman had to use it to her benefit. Allie was a believer in direct communication. Couldn’t get much more direct than almost running over a man.

Now, how to get him interested in wrapping his hands around a body part other than her neck?

Chapter Three

Allie stood on the pitcher’s mound brushing the diamond dust off her knees and caught sight of Cameron leaning against the chain-link fence surrounding the softball field. Dang it, her plan to shower and enhance the girls with a push-up bra was a goner. She glanced down but resisted adjusting them inside her serviceable athletic bra. Confidence would have to be her weapon of choice because she didn’t have a heck of a lot else going for her this afternoon.

She strolled through center field and shaded her eyes with her hand as the sun evaded her baseball cap’s protection. “Did you catch much of the practice?”

“Enough.” Cameron was staring at the field like a thirsty man gazing into an empty well.

That’s right
,
he used to play baseball here—but only until around the time his dad left town.

“Beck coaches too. Maybe you could play on his team sometime.”

He grunted.

Not happy. Maybe she could go for a third strike with this man. Damage his car. Stir up potentially painful memories. What next? Break his leg?

Allie kept walking toward him until only the outfield fence separated them. “I coach a team of great kids.” She smiled and pointed to Ben, in his baggy skate shorts and beat-up Houston Astros cap. “Ben is Bitsy Miller’s son.”

“Yeah, I saw him and his buddies this morning.” Cameron straightened from his slouch against the fence. His jeans were more faded than the ones he wore this morning, so white at the seams they might unravel any second. She swallowed. Why did his questionable wardrobe make her mouth water? “Listen, princess, I’m not here to chat about your little softball league—”

“Allie, want a Popsicle?” Tiny Oberlin yelled from the metal stands near third base. Tiny’s nickname was spot-on. He was small for his age, but he was Allie’s pinch runner because he was the quickest boy on the team.

And he had perfect timing. “Sure, I’ll take grape. Cameron?”

“No, thanks.”

Oh, she was tempting the man all right. Sweat, dirt and Popsicles, three requirements for a proper proposition.

Think
,
darn it.
Engage him.
Entice him.

“What brought you home?” Oh, seductive conversation, without a doubt.

His eyebrows lifted. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She arranged her face in her best counselor expression and waited.

“I was tired of living in Austin. Didn’t have to anymore. So now I don’t.” He crossed his arms, and, oh Lord, when had she turned into a biceps woman? About the time his shirtsleeves rode up and showed off tanned skin and bulgy muscles. “After today, I’m not convinced it was such a hotshit idea.”

“Won’t your friends there miss you?”
Subtle much
,
Allie?
Not really.

“They’ll manage, but I hear you’ve got some new friends.” He bit off the last word.

“Roxanne started Red Light a couple years ago. She and I were sorority sisters at Southeast State. Eden moved to Shelbyville recently and opened a café.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Oh. Surely he didn’t think Personal Assets was some kind of escort service. “Listen, I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression—”

“One grape Popsicle, delivered!” Tiny jogged toward them with the package held up like a prize. Allie always provided a huge cooler of cold treats for post-practice. The boys clustered around the ice chest doing what boys that age did best. Telling jokes, punching each other, slurping up ice cream and laughing like maniacs. She loved these kids, and coaching the team was a bright spot in her week, but it didn’t make up for the kind of male companionship she’d done without lately.

Lately?
Try longer than that.

Her pinch runner skidded to a stop beside Cameron, and Allie said, “Tiny, this is Cameron Wright. He grew up in Shelbyville. You know his mom, Ms. Emmalee.”

The boy had enough manners to swipe his sticky, dust-covered hand down his T-shirt before he offered it to Cameron. “Man, I’ve heard about you. People say you tore it up in football and baseball.”

“I don’t know about that, but I did play.” Cameron clasped Tiny’s much smaller palm in a firm handshake and smiled. Allie’s insides warmed. Sexy
and
nice. A little surly, but that was just what she needed. This bad boy all grown up was going to help her banish her good girl forever.

“Play? The word’s you were a major badass at Memorial Stadium while you were at the University of Texas.” Tiny had the grace to look sheepish for cussing in front of Allie. Silly when she heard the boys’ ribald teasing and farting jokes on the field anyway.

Cameron focused on the toe of his boot, currently digging ruts into the dying grass. “Can’t say I’m much of a badass these days.”

She checked out the fit of his faded jeans. Badass, maybe. Fine ass, absolutely.

“What was it like, being first string running back for the Horns? Why’d you pick football over baseball? I also heard you got the hell knocked out of you your sophomore year. What was that all about?” Tiny bounced up and down on the balls of his feet in time with his rapid-fire questions.

“Kid, I haven’t thought about all that in years. It’ll take me time to remember my best stories. Why don’t you and your buddies stop by Scoot’s old place sometime and we can talk sports then? Right now, I need to chat with Ms. Shelby.”

His tone was hard when he said her name, and Allie winced inside. So far, this situation wasn’t leaning in her favor.

“Wait till I tell the guys about this.” Tiny’s bounce turned into a celebration shuffle. “Hey, maybe you could watch us play the big July Fourth game.”

“Maybe.”

Tiny took off toward his friends and tossed Allie’s Popsicle over his shoulder. Cameron snagged it in midair.

Allie grabbed for it, but he held it out of reach. “Hey, I offered you one. That’s mine.”

“Just saving it from landing in the dirt.” Cameron tucked the ice pop into his back pocket and motioned to a late-model truck behind him. “C’mon, you can sit on the tailgate and eat. I’ll give you a hand over the fence.”

Next practice, she would bring Blue Bell fudge bars, Tiny’s favorite. He deserved that and more for warming Cameron up for her. Allie got a solid toehold halfway up the fence, threw a leg over the chain-link, and Cameron grabbed her hand and waist. He swung her down and she caught the scent of car wax and Dr Pepper. Unlikely aftershave combo, but Allie’s hormones perked up and took a deep sniff.

Under the guise of keeping her balance, she squeezed his shoulder muscles. Warm and firm to the touch. She could feel his rough palm through her T-shirt, and she shivered. “Thanks.” Lord, where had all her oxygen disappeared to?

“No problem.” They strolled toward the truck and he passed her the Popsicle.

Once they were settled, their legs dangling companionably off the lowered tailgate, Allie peeled open the package and tried to catch the melted juice on her tongue. Grape syrup ran down her arm, off her elbow and onto her bare legs. Could she possibly be less of a temptation? To heck with trying to look seductive or even graceful. She took a big bite, risking a brain freeze.

“Look, I don’t want to drag this out,” he said.

Struggling not to slurp, she mumbled, “I’m sorry about the accident.” Sorry about his car, but not about running into him, her new special project. She covered her smile by taking another bite.

“If you’ll pay for BB’s repairs, we’ll call it even.”

“I’ll write a check, but somehow that doesn’t feel like enough. I’ve seen Scoot’s garage and I bet you could use some help cleaning up the place.”

He laughed. “What, princess? You planning to push the broom, set up the toolboxes or strip down all the nudie pictures?”

“I’ve done all that and more.” Except she’d hung the nudie pictures, rather than taking them down. “I do have some business experience in this town. I could give you a few pointers.”

“Yeah, rumor has it you have plenty of experience with people’s
assets
these days.”

Allie bit down hard on the wooden stick. Lots of people around Shelbyville had made more direct, condescending remarks about her business. She’d assumed he wouldn’t be small-minded after living in Austin all those years. Maybe she was wrong to think he was the right guy to tap for her long overdue sexfest. “I don’t know what you heard, but Personal Assets provides a much-needed service to the members of this community as well as others from as far away as Dallas.”

“You expect me to believe you, Miss Cherry Tomato Festival and homecoming queen, teach other people how to have sex?”

The artificial grape flavor turned sour in her mouth. If Cameron couldn’t understand what she was trying to accomplish with Personal Assets, then his special-project potential was less than zero. She needed him to get it. Get her. “I don’t so much teach people
how
to have sex as I help women overcome issues stifling their ability to have the most satisfying physical relationships possible.”