The Great Escape (21 page)

“Save your breath.” The last of the chocolate disappeared into his mouth. He wadded up the wrapper and shoved it in his pocket. “Open your suitcases.”

“There’s nothing inside that shouldn’t be there,” she declared.

“Let’s hope that’s true.”

It wasn’t. Panda found another large chocolate bar. Even for a big man, it was a lot of chocolate, but he consumed every bite. Temple was furious. “You don’t have to be such a prick.”

“You didn’t hire me for my warm personality. You knew this wasn’t going to be a picnic.”

“Fine.”

She started to whip past him, but he caught her arm. “Do I need to search you, too?”

She reached into the pocket of her slacks and sneered, “Tic Tacs. They’re perfectly harmless, and I’ve had enough of this.”

“It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

She gave a hiss of outrage as he began running his hands down her body. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Give it a rest.” He whipped a pack of Skittles from her other pocket, then grabbed the Tic Tacs for good measure. “Compassion’s for losers. Isn’t that what you always say on TV?”

“I’m not paying you seventy-five thousand dollars to lecture me!”

Seventy-five
thousand
dollars? Lucy couldn’t believe it. She wondered what her parents had paid, then thought of her thousand-dollar bribe and what a laugh-fest that must have given him.

“Not a lecture,” he said. “An observation.” Apparently his stomach had reached its limit because he shoved the Skittles in his own pocket along with the chocolate wrappers, then closed her suitcases. “I’ll carry these upstairs for you.”

“Don’t bother!” She grabbed them away and hauled them up the stairs.

“Seen enough?” Panda said, his back still turned to the door where Lucy lurked.

“Still trying to absorb it all,” she replied. “The two of you are a real riot.”

He briefly inspected the spot once occupied by the baker’s rack. “You can leave anytime you want. As a matter of fact, why haven’t you?”

Because this was her house.
“Because I’m still punishing myself for my bad judgment in people.” She disappeared back into the kitchen.

It was only four o’clock, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she heated up a skillet, added some oil, and tossed in one of the pork chops she’d picked up in town. It would have tasted better on the grill, but she’d thrown that rusty mess out last week.

The pork chop had just begun to sizzle nicely when Panda, still dressed in his businessman’s attire, shot into the kitchen. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around the handle of the skillet, and stalked out the back door.

“Hey!” She raced after him as he strode across the yard. “Bring back my pork chop!”

He flipped open the lid of the garbage can next to the garage, flicked his wrist, and sent her pork chop tumbling to its death. “No cooking unless it’s something Temple can eat, too.”

“No cooking? What do you mean,
no cooking
!”

“The smell was going through the house. She’s supposedly doing a cleanse, and you’re not going to torture her.”

“
Me!
You gulped down a thousand calories in front of her!”

“Natural consequences. What you’re doing is different.”

She threw up her hands. “I don’t believe you!”

His mouth twisted. “Maybe you’d better call Mommy and have her send in the SEALs to protect you.”

Had she really kissed this man? Let him—let him—do
that
? Viper was beyond pissed, and she pointed a chipped charcoal fingernail right in his face. “You,” she said, “are going to pay.” And off she went.

H
E WAS ALREADY PAYING
. J
UST
being near her again was torture. He still remembered his first sight of her. The night of the rehearsal dinner. She’d been standing at Ted’s side in a ladylike blue-green dress, her shiny hair many shades lighter than it was now. All he could think about was how impeccably matched the two of them were, the perfect all-American couple. It wasn’t until almost two weeks later, the night at Caddo Lake when she’d finally called her family, that he’d realized she truly wasn’t going back to Ted. Stupid.

You weren’t that good anyway.

What a fricking lie. He was the one who’d been inept—rushed, clumsy, out of control. Lucy had been giving and natural, with none of that phony porn star posturing women seemed to believe they needed to bring to the bedroom.

He’d counted on her taking off as soon as she saw that he’d come back, but instead of jumping on the ferry the way she should have, she’d decided to cook pork chops in his kitchen. Now he had two problem women on his hands, both of whom wanted to use his house as their hideaway. One of them was a demanding pain in the ass, but he’d handled Temple before, and he could do it again. The other was a different kind of pain in the ass, and the way he most wanted to handle her was naked.

He pushed images of a naked Lucy from his mind so he could concentrate on the job at hand. This was the last place he wanted to be, but Temple was paying him a lot of money to babysit her, and she had refused to negotiate the location. He wished he hadn’t told her about the house, but he’d never imagined she’d insist on coming here, just as he never imagined her thirty pounds overweight and on the verge of ruining her career. He liked jobs that kept him on the move, jobs where there was at least the potential for a little excitement. This was a shit job, but it was also a highly lucrative one. Besides, Temple had been his first big client, and he owed her.

They’d met not long after he’d taken over the agency when her publisher had hired him for a routine security job at a Chicago bookstore where she was doing a signing. A twitchy-looking guy in the crowd had caught his attention. Panda had kept a close eye on him, and before the night was over, had stopped him from leaping over a row of chairs to carve up Temple’s face. From then on, whenever Temple needed security, she insisted he provide it. Thanks to her, he’d attracted other well-heeled clients, and his business had grown to the point where he’d been able to rent the Lake Shore Drive apartment he seldom slept in, buy this house, and put his mother in the best Alzheimer’s facility in Illinois.

His stomach rumbled, not from hunger but from trying to digest all that chocolate. He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Too bad Temple hadn’t been smuggling potato chips.

His thoughts drifted back to Lucy. He’d expressly told her not to change anything in the house, but she’d done what she’d wanted, and the changes unsettled him. Why had Lucy given in to Temple’s request? He couldn’t figure it out, but he did know that the sooner he could make her leave, the better, and the best way for him to accomplish that was to make sure she hadn’t forgotten his worst qualities.

If only the prospect of reminding her didn’t depress him so much.

T
HE
E
VIL
Q
UEEN WASN
’
T A
prima donna; Lucy would give her that. The next morning she worked side by side with Panda breaking down the bunk beds and carrying them outside. “Great cardio,” she told Lucy as she hauled a set of bedrails toward the front door.

Temple had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and traded in yesterday’s black outfit for roomy navy workout pants and an oversize V-neck mesh knit top, neither of them stylish enough to have come from her own clothing line. “I’m getting the idea that you and Panda have some history,” she said.

Lucy moved ahead of her to hold the front door open. “Wrong idea.”

Temple wasn’t fazed by Lucy’s cool response. “As long as he does the job I hired him for”—she angled her cargo through the doorway—“I don’t care what the two of you do the rest of the time.”

Lucy wasn’t used to being addressed as anyone’s underling, but before she could fire back, the Evil Queen and her load of bedrails had disappeared down the front steps.

Lucy had discovered a padlock on the pantry door when she’d gone into the kitchen for breakfast, and since she hadn’t been up to doing battle with Panda on an empty stomach, she’d settled for coffee. But now she was hungry. She located a carton of black cherry yogurt and a cold hot dog. Before she could finish either one, she heard a truck pulling into the drive, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door slamming upstairs, presumably Temple hiding from sight. Soon Panda and the driver were unloading what proved to be gym equipment.

Lucy had planned to bake bread for Bree and Toby, but after last night’s pork chop incident, she couldn’t see that happening, and she rode to the farm stand empty-handed.

Bree stood on a ladder, painting a colorful ribbon garland across the top of the farm stand’s pale yellow frame, the kind of whimsical decoration that might be seen on a carousel. The colors coordinated with the old-fashioned moss-green quilt she’d tossed over the counter to showcase a row of three-bottle honey pyramids.

Toby popped out from behind the stand as Lucy got off her bike. “I saw Panda’s car go by yesterday. You got a job for me?”

Toby was a complication she hadn’t thought through. “Not for a while. One of my … girlfriends is visiting. We’re going to be hanging out, so it’ll be boring.” The idea of the Evil Queen as a girlfriend made her shudder, but she needed to lay some groundwork in case Toby showed up unexpectedly at the house, which he would almost certainly do.

“But I can still come over and do stuff, right?”

“Toby, please stop harassing her.” Bree gave Lucy a tired smile as she got down off the ladder, leaving her tray of paint pots balanced on top. Although the morning was warming up, Bree didn’t have any body fat, and she wore a lightweight gray sweater over her T-shirt. Neither the tan she was acquiring nor the fresh sprinkle of freckles across her cheekbones concealed her exhaustion. “I’ll do my best to keep him from bothering you.”

Considering Bree’s general ineffectiveness with Toby, Lucy wasn’t counting on it, and she slipped an arm around his shoulder. “The thing is, Toby, my friend isn’t exactly a kid person, so instead of coming over, maybe you could start showing me around the island. I know there are a lot of places I haven’t seen yet.”

“I guess.”

Lucy took in the Carousel Honey sign and freshly painted border. “I love what you’re doing. Is the sign working?”

“I’ve sold seven jars this morning.” She scratched a bee sting on her wrist, leaving a spot of raspberry paint behind. “I’m thinking about adding more products, maybe soap or beeswax candles. Whatever I can figure out how to make.”

“It’s still not going to be enough money,” Toby said, with his customary belligerence. “You should leave.”

Lucy quickly intervened. “The two of you have brought the farm stand back to life in just a couple of days. You should be proud of yourselves.”

“It’s Gram who should be proud,” Toby said. “It’s her honey.” He stomped off toward the house. “I’m calling Big Mike!” he shouted. “He said he’d take me out on his boat.”

“No!” Bree dashed to the driveway. “Toby, do not call Mike! Do you understand me?
Toby!
”

Toby had already disappeared.

With an air of weary resignation, Bree tucked away a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pulled a cigarette pack from a shelf behind the counter. “I’m no good at this.”

“He’s hurting,” Lucy said. “That makes him a tough challenge.”

“We’re both hurting.” She waved away the smoke, as if what hung in the air posed a bigger danger than what she was sucking into her lungs. “Sorry. Having a little pity party here.” She studied Lucy more closely. “You look so familiar. I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I’m sure we’ve never met. When I first saw you, I thought you were a kid.”

“I’m thirty-one.”

Her gaze drifted to Lucy’s hair, the new eyebrow ring, and the dragon tattoo on her neck.

“A case of arrested development,” Lucy said by way of explanation.

“I see.”

But Bree clearly didn’t see, and Lucy no longer felt right about keeping her identity hidden. She decided to take a risk. “I’m … sort of in disguise.” She hesitated. “I’m … Lucy Jorik.”

Bree’s eyes widened, her posture straightened, and she dropped her cigarette. She might be able to smoke in front of that odd girl who lived on the other side of the woods, but she couldn’t do it in front of the president’s daughter. “Oh … I …”

“I needed to hide out for a while,” Lucy said with a shrug. “This seemed like a good place.”

Bree realized she was staring. “Sorry. It’s just … a little unexpected.” She pushed at her hair again, trying to straighten it. “Why did you tell me? I’d never have guessed.”

“It doesn’t seem right to keep coming over here and not say anything. Hard to believe, but I have this thing about honesty.”

“But … You barely know me. I could tell everybody.”

“I’m hoping you won’t.” She wanted to change the subject. “That pity party you mentioned. Would you like to fill me in?”

A car slowed but didn’t stop. Bree gazed after it. “It’s a boring story.”

“I hate to admit this, but some days hearing about other people’s problems actually cheers me up.”

Bree laughed, the tension broken. “I know the feeling.” She wiped her hands on her shorts. “You really want to hear this?”

“Does that make me a bad person?”

“Don’t say you weren’t warned.” She rubbed absentmindedly at a paint flake on her arm. “Last November I came home from a luncheon at our country club and found my husband packing up his car. He said he was tired of our
privileged
life, he wanted a divorce, and oh, by the way, he was going to start over with his soul mate, a nineteen-year-old office temp who was twice the woman I was.”

“Ouch.”

“It gets worse.” The speckled sunlight coming through the trees cast her face in light and shadow, making her look both older and younger than she was. “He said he realized he owed me something for ten years of marriage, so I could have whatever was left after the debts I didn’t know anything about were paid off.”

“Nice guy.”

“Not even when I met him. I knew that, but he was gorgeous and smart, and all my sorority sisters were crazy about him. Our families had been friends for years. He was one of GM’s wonder boys before Detroit imploded.” She flicked her ash into the grass. “Scott and his temp headed off to Seattle to find their bliss, and the debts ate up everything we had. I’d only finished a year of college. I had no work experience and no idea how to support myself. For a while, I lived with one of my brothers, but after a few months of barely leaving my room, my sister-in-law let me know I’d worn out my welcome.”