The Patriot Girl (6 page)

She glanced up. The dim lighting made her eyes sparkle and his need to touch her intense.

“Thank you for the beautiful roses. I’ve never seen any so big. Do you know what kind are they?”

“
Rouge Baiser.
They’re from France.”

She twirled the single rose. “And how long were you planning on holding this one hostage?”

“As long as it took to be with you again.” There was a sexiness in the way she glanced up at him from beneath those long lashes, without moving her head.

He reached across the table and placed her fingers in his palm.
Piano fingers
, his grandmother would have called them.
Popsicles
, he would call them. “Are you cold? I could get you a jacket.”

“No.” She pulled her hand back. “My hands chill when I’m nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous?” He poured them some wine to help calm her down.

“This business meeting.”

A tall blonde-haired woman approached the table and handed each a menu. “Shelly will be your waitress this evening. She’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” MaKayla opened her menu.

A kick on Dustin’s shin made him jump, causing a sharp object from beneath the table to stab him above his kneecap.

The woman touched his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He bit back a groan. “Fine. Thank you.”

“Sorry.” MaKayla cringed when they were alone. “I didn’t mean to kick you. If this table was any smaller I’d be in your lap.”

“I can arrange that if you’d like.”

“Where will the owner of No Bulls sit?” She looked around. “Unless of course he’s decided not to come.”

Dustin fell silent. How should he break this to her?

“He’s not coming, is he?”

“No, he’s not coming.” Closing his menu, he looked up and cringed at her raised brow. Better to tell her now before the meal—this way he’d only get a glass of wine thrown at his head rather than a steak dinner. “He’s already here.”

Her eyes darted the room with excitement. When she focused on him for an answer, he raised his shoulders and opened his arms.

“You?”

He nodded. A hand over her mouth and her wide eyes was not the reaction he’d hoped for. “Sorry to have disappointed you.”

“I’m sorry.” She lowered her hands. “That’s fine. I’m just surprised.”

“Would you have agreed to this dinner if I told you at the club that I owned the place?”

She placed the menu against her chest.

“We can still discuss business.” He held his breath while she contemplated her answer.

“Okay.”

Victory.
The smile on her face and the sparkle in her eye foretold something good. Her excitement reminded him of the Christmas morning when he was nine and his grandfather had given him his first real Stetson.

She put her menu down and folded her hands. “Okay, Mr. Secret-keeper. Dalton is so out of the way from everything…what are your advertising plans?”

He shrugged. Besides a flyer at the bank, his best friend’s auto shop, and the local paper there were other ways to advertise? Any other means of getting the word out would be a blessing. Her saying Dalton was away from everything was an understatement. He could use all the help he could get to generate business.

He shrugged. “Flyers and the newspaper. Why?”

“Because…” She bit her bottom lip and stared at him.

“Look, if you have ideas on how I can generate more business, I’d love to hear them. I’m a businessman. I also have other investments that take up my time, besides No Bulls.”

He sensed there was a lot on her mind. Why was she hesitating? Normally a woman came out and spoke her mind, but MaKayla’s mouth gaped open, her chest rose, and then collapsed.

“My son is leaving for college this weekend. I’m looking to start my own public relations business. I don’t have much experience, but it’s what I studied in college. I need to start getting my name out there, as does your club, so I was hoping maybe—”

“We could start advertising and making money?”

She nodded.

There was plenty of money from his investments and his wife’s life insurance policy to hire a publicist. Every decision he’d made since Liz’s death had been an endowment toward Melissa’s future. With the right publicity, No Bulls could be his biggest venture.

Hiring MaKayla would help with the business
and
help him get to know her better. In the end, Melissa might somehow benefit from both.

“I’ve never considered hiring a publicist. What kind of ideas do you have?”

Her smile grew, and her green eyes widened. “I have several. First, Charlie Peterson’s radio show in the afternoon would be priority. I’ll do what I can to get you on the air. That alone will be a challenge.” Opening her large purse, she handed him a stack of papers. “I’ve made this proposed contract out for a three-month period. It’s not set in stone, so anything can be changed.”

He took the pile from her hand and began to read. “M & M Public Relations?”

“That’s my company.”

He nodded and continued to read.

When he had finished, she placed another piece of paper in front of him. “Here’s a list of ideas I have in mind. We need to start by letting folks know No Bulls exists. Radio, signs, fliers, phone calls…you get the idea. We also need some kind of bait—something to get the folks wanting to drive say thirty minutes or more to…Something’s confusing you. What is it?”

He glanced up and smiled. Was she a mind reader? How’d she know he already had a problem with the contract? She read him better than most people who’d known him for years did. He rubbed his chin.
Stipulation number four has to go.
He turned the paper for her to read and pointed to the one discrepancy. “I want this gone.”

“That clause gives us both the opportunity to cancel the contract anytime within thirty days after we sign. I don’t recommend you have it removed.”

“I don’t want out. Do you?”

“No. But you——”

He placed her chilled hand to his lips. “Even if I happen to do this?”

“That won’t get me to rip up the contract.”

“Good. Get rid of it.” He continued to read the paper.

“It doesn’t say anything here about dancing while conducting business.”

“Why would it?”

He shrugged. “Because I think better when my feet are moving and I have a beautiful woman in my arms.”

“How would I talk to you about business while you’re dancing with a beautiful woman?”

He hoped he hadn’t offended her. He’d been out of the dating circuit too long, but he’d never known a compliment to upset anyone. “I’m sorry if I’ve transgressed. You are the ‘beautiful woman’ I was referring to. I enjoyed our dance the other night.”

“I know.” This time
she
grabbed his hand. “I was joking. It was sweet and sincere.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Yes…I mean…no.” MaKayla pulled her hand back. “You make me nervous, but for reasons I don’t want to talk about. Thank you for offering to help me out, but maybe this is a bad idea. You can keep the lists. I hope you’ll find them helpful.”

“No.” Being nervous around him because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself wasn’t a good enough reason to dismiss this idea.

If they didn’t work together, he might never have the chance to be with her again. He would sacrifice the urge to caress her soft skin if it meant keeping her around.

“It sounds as if we could use each other’s help. If I promise to keep my hands and compliments to myself—most of the time—would you consider this business arrangement?” Okay, he never made a promise he couldn’t keep, but he’d sure as hell try to keep this one—most of the time.

“I won’t say you’re not a pleasurable distraction, but I need to keep my mind focused on getting this business going. Do you understand?”

“Totally.” He read the contract once again. Another problem flashed in front of him as if a bell and a whistle had blown at the same time. He pointed out clause number six. “We need to change this too.”

“Three month contract?” Her voice pitched. “How long do you want the extension?”

“Reduction. Two months.” He raised her fingertips to his lips. “I promise to keep my hands to myself for business’ sake. Three months without being able to touch you might drive me insane. After two months we’ll reevaluate, and then take things from there.”

“It could take a month to get someone from the radio station on the phone. I need the three months, Dustin.”

Three months of seeing her smile, getting to know her, enjoying her company, but not being allowed to touch her—this was a tough choice. If it meant helping her out and getting a few PR pointers, this decision was a no-brainer.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Where do I sign?”

“Nowhere. Take everything home and re-read it. We can set another date and time when I can answer any questions you might have, before we sign.”

He’d sign her three-month contract and do all he could to help get her business started. But afterward, he’d work with her on a month-to-month basis. Already he was wanting to mix business with pleasure, and the deal wasn’t even final.

The waitress interrupted. “Are you folks ready to order?”

“I believe so.” He nodded. “Ladies first.”

“A steak, medium-well, with a baked potato and corn.”

“I’ll have the same.”

The waitress tucked her pencil behind her ear as she removed the menus from the table. “Great. I’m Shelly. If you need anything else, let me know.”

“We will.” Dustin nodded. “Thank you.”

This time he welcomed the weight of MaKayla’s knee against his, rather than jumping out of his skin. If the bank robber who had tossed her into his arms needed a lawyer, Dustin would have to represent him pro bono as a thank you.

For the next several minutes, he continued with small talk as he read over the ideas she had for the club. He didn’t have a problem with what she’d come up with, but he wouldn’t discuss the details now. He was looking forward to seeing her again…to sign the papers.

Shelly came back too quickly with their meals. The smell of the grilled steak took him back to his childhood, and the only thing that could have distracted him from the woman sitting across from him. Summer Oklahoma barbecues, horseback riding, and bonfires at the ranch.

Those were the good ole days—days his daughter would never get to experience. If Grandpa’s heart had lasted longer than fifty-two years, Dustin would have helped him run the ranch. Melissa would have had a different life. The end of grandpa meant the end of the ranch and the end of his grandma, as Dustin had known her. Grandpa had been the love of her life, and he had taken the best parts of her with him to his grave.

As much as he missed Liz, he couldn’t allow the same thing to happen to him. He had Melissa to live for. Having this beautiful woman sitting in front him gave him a reality check.

If there was any hope of moving past what he couldn’t change, he had to put closure to his past once and for all. The only way to do that would be to let go of the guilt and call his lawyer to close the case on Paul Adams’s accident.

“This smells delicious, Dustin. Of course it’s always nice when someone else cooks.”

He could sit forever and admire the way MaKayla slid small pieces of steak through her pink lips. When she closed her eyes to relish the flavor, he held back from leaning over the table to kiss the juice off her lips. Who knew an innocent dinner could turn into something so erotic?

He cleared his throat. “Do you cook?” Good distraction from where his mind was headed. His one-track mind seemed ever-present these past few days. Allowing himself the hope of finding companionship was exciting.

Though Dustin might not be dead, his soul had been for the past three years. It was time to dust off the cobwebs and live again. He was now ready to move on, and he had MaKayla to thank.

“I don’t mind cooking when there’s someone else to enjoy it.”

She cooks.
The more he learned, the more he liked. The mystery about her was closer to being solved. But that had been all he would learn as they finished their meals in trivial chitchat for the next twenty minutes.

“That was delicious.” MaKayla placed her fork down then raised her wine glass. “Here’s to still being alive to have enjoyed it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He joined in the toast then tossed his napkin from his lap onto the table.

Besides the macaroni and cheese dinners he shared with his daughter on Tuesday nights, this meal—along with the company—came in second as being one of his favorites. He looked forward to doing this again. “How about we get together Friday night? I’ll sign the contract and we can talk about costs and anything else we come up with.”

“Sounds good.”

Shelly interrupted. “How is everything?”

Dustin nodded. “Great.”

“Care for some dessert?”

He looked across the table. When MaKayla shook her head, Dustin handed Shelly his credit card. “We’re all set. Thank you.”

It didn’t take long for the waitress to return with his credit card—and no receipt. The restaurant’s owner, Wesley Miller, couldn’t be far behind. The old man zigzagged between tables with his head down. His hair had largely disappeared since Dustin’s last visit. He wore his usual uniform along with a white apron.

Dustin replaced his credit card with a hundred dollar bill in Shelly’s hand as he stood.

“You know your money’s no good here.” Wesley hugged him. He rested one hand on Dustin’s shoulder and turned toward MaKayla. “You hold on to this fellow. He’s a good man. Saved my son’s life.”

She smiled at Dustin. “I hope to.”

Wesley slapped Dustin’s back, making him break eye contact with MaKayla. “You come back any time, you hear?”

“We will. Wesley, this is MaKayla. She’s starting her own business to help other businesses bring in more customers. You need to hire her, once she gets started.”

He tapped Dustin’s cheek. “Anything for you.” He turned to MaKayla. “You come back when you get things going, okay?”