The Reluctant Beauty

The Reluctant Beauty

By

Laurie LeClair

Copyright © 2014 by Laurie LeClair

All rights reserved. This work is not transferable. Any reproduction of this work is prohibited without the permission of the author due to the infringement on the copyright. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the creation of the author or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is coincidental.

Dedication page

To everyone, like Peg Newbury in this book, who doesn’t think they are beautiful. Believe me, you are beautiful, just the way you are!

And to my husband, Jim LeClair. Thank you for always making me feel beautiful and loved.

“Jiminy Cricket, that can’t be him!” Peg Newbury huddled behind the potted plants along the half wall dividing the foyer from the elegant restaurant.

“Move over. I can’t see,” Rico said, nudging her aside. “Which one? There’s three guys by themselves. What’s the description say?”

She cradled her ever present clipboard closer to her side, essentially hiding it from him. “I know it don’t say world-famous floss aficionado smack dab in the middle of a crowd.”

“Gross. What’s he digging for anyway?” He made a face and shivered. “How about that one—”

“Excuse me, madam, sir.” The prim and proper deep male voice interrupted their search.

Peg winced, crouched down lower, and pasted on a smile before she turned to him. His eyebrows were raised so high they nearly met his artificially engineered hairline.

“Toup,” Rico surmised.

“You sure?” Peg thought it was hair transplants; she could almost count the plugs even from here.

“Well?” The uniformed man, most likely the maître de, waited for them to answer his unspoken question. He reminded her of a penguin in that tad-too-tight-for-his-own-good white shirt and jacket.

“Yeah, now that I look more, you’re right, Rico. Definitely a toup.” There was movement in the restaurant area. Peg whipped around. “What about him? The guy, big glasses, soup just got delivered?”

“I’ll have to ask you to leave now?” His too-polite request was met with a loud snort from Rico.

“Oh no, Brutus, this gal’s got a date here.”

“With you?”

“If it were me, we’d be drinking champagne and having a blast already. No, silly, one of them.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the half-filled restaurant.

Peg didn’t have to face him to feel the way his gaze traveled along the length of her. “Go ahead and say it, buster. I dare you.”

“Madame.” He coughed a few times. “Looks…healthy.” He coughed again.

She and Rico turned to look at each other. Rico rolled his eyes. “Don’t pay attention to him.”

“Him and everyone else, right?” At six feet tall, Peg had little reason to wonder what the man meant. She’d gotten stares and snickers since she walked into her first day of middle school and towered over most of the teachers. Her growth spurt had come on sudden and strong. She’d been teased ever since.

She should be used to it by now. But, she wasn’t. Not by any means.

The maître de prompted her again. “Just point your…date out and I’ll escort you both to the table.”

“Moi? Joining them?” Rico quickly corrected the assumption. “I got my own date across town. I’m just here to make sure she finds him and goes through with it.”

There was a commotion at the door. The maître de turned to look. Peg snagged Rico’s hand and together they sneaked around the outside of the wall and to the opposite side of the restaurant.

“Holy, Batman and Robin, that was a close one,” she whispered loudly.

“You’re telling me?” He fluffed his hair. “Look.” He pointed to where they’d just been. “He’s looking for us.” The older man searched, scowling deeply.

“Duck! He’s looking this way.” Peg huddled down and Rico did the same. “You have to help me find this guy.”

“You don’t know his name, what he looks like, how tall, nothing. What do you know about him?” His voice held the same disgust her mind felt about the whole thing.

“He’s free the night I need him, that’s all.”

“Family night. Here in town at your place. In a week. Why in the world did you let it get this far anyway?”

Peg held up her index finger—“Work.”—and then the next one—“Work.”—until she’d held up each one and repeated the same word after each. “I couldn’t get away to see them, so they’re coming to me. Whether I like it or not.”

Her friend blew out a puff of air. “What in the world am I going to do with you?”

“Hopeless, huh?” she asked with a squeak in her voice as she stretched her neck to look at the diners once again.

“Try him.” Rico nudged her in the back.

“But he’s eating his soup already. Geez, don’t you’d think he’d wait for his date?”

Heavy footsteps approached. She turned to see the man bearing down on them; a bigger scowl snagged his eyebrows together, so it looked like a caterpillar sitting there.

“Go, Peg. Just try him out. Never know. But I gotta go.” Rico clamped his hand on her arm and practically dragged her up with him, and then he shoved her around the wall and into the dining area. “Tootles,” he called. “Remember, meet me back at my place in five hours to compare notes.”

The maître de hovered nearby. Peg figured he’d throw her out for sure if she backtracked her steps.

Standing there, all six foot tall now, diners began to turn and gawk. She clutched her clipboard a tad tighter and forced a smile. “Haven’t you ever seen the Jolly Green Giant’s daughter? Sprout couldn’t make it tonight, so I’m it.”

That got a few laughs, which put her slightly at ease.

Tell a joke and crack them up, before they lash out. That’s how she survived through school. And life till now.

The curly-haired man eating his pale green soup stared at her, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his wide eyes blinked, reminding her of an owl.

Penguin, caterpillar, and an owl. This place was a regular zoo. Or the beginning of a bar joke
…

She slid into the seat opposite his. “Hi. Name’s Peg. You must be my date.”

Still, he blinked.

“Not a big talker?” She shrugged. “Fine by me. Now.” She leaned closer, saying, “Here’s the deal. My folks, brother, and his preggers wife are coming next week to stay with me. I know, I know. I couldn’t stop them. Bullheaded when they want me to do something. Marriage? Hah! They’ve been harping on it for the last year now. It’s gotten worse since with my birthday around the corner and they think I should be wed and popping out babies in exactly one point eight years. Pop,” she shook her head, “sweet, kind, but a little obsessed with the numbers thing. He’s an economics professor.”

He still hadn’t moved his hand. She reached over and directed his hand to the table and the spoon back to his soup bowl.

“So,”—she stopped herself from saying Owl Eyes—“you game? Pretend you know me, pretend we date, and make it seem like we’re a couple. A day. Two tops. What do you say?”

Again, she witnessed the blank look.

An older woman appeared and stood at her elbow. “Who are you, may I ask?”

Peg looked at her, noticed the lady was well dressed with beautifully applied makeup, and her hair professionally colored champagne blonde. “Um…his date….potential date, that is?”

“A hooker?!” The woman’s voice rose. The other diners turned to watch.

The guy finally spoke. “Mother. You followed me?”

Heat slipped into the tops of Peg’s cheeks. She looked from him to the older, scowling woman, and then back to him again. Rising quickly, she said, “Look, lady, no offense, but you can have him all to yourself. My bad! No harm, no foul, okay?” Peg scampered away.

In the background, she heard the mother scold him and, contrite, he apologized. For all that was pure and holy, thank goodness that wasn’t the one Peg had been looking for.
Phew! Close call.

With most eyes on her, Peg wove through tables of the many curious diners. One lone man held up his hand and waved her into the empty seat at his table.

“You? You’re my date?”

“If you want me to be, honey.”

She groaned out loud. This was not her night. Maybe the guy had gotten cold feet and didn’t show up. She glanced around for any man seated by himself at the surrounding tables. None. Floss guy had left. Owl eyes and Mommy Dearest were in a heated whispered exchange.

Beyond the diners, she glanced at the bar. There was one guy—really cute, too—at the end, looking out once in a while. Could that be him? Some woman came up to him. Like a plane going down in flames, her hopes died.

“Let me buy you a drink? What’ll you have? Gin and tonic? Marguerite? Slow screw up against the wall at sunrise?”

Peg blinked at the last one. “What a line, bub.”

He laughed. “It’s a drink.” By the way his dark hair was perfectly styled (better than hers, in fact), his teeth chemically whitened (because no one could naturally have teeth
that
white), and the beautiful tanned skin, perfectly sculpted features, Peg sensed the line was a fishing expedition.

“I don’t pick up guys in bars.” There, she set him straight.

“I’m having dinner. So technically, you wouldn’t be picking me up in a bar.”

“Same difference.” She sighed. Peg had less than a week to find someone. There had been no takers until tonight. Dating Material, the dating site she’d joined in a moment of weakness and at Rico’s insistence, hadn’t coughed up any decent candidates. She tried messaging
Justanormalguy
. He responded within minutes. Not a good sign. But, what else did she have going for her?

Looking down at her clipboard, she scratched out the user name. Back to square one. What could be so hard with getting one measly date?

“We could have fun, honey,” the guy across from her coaxed.

“You in sales?”

“How did you guess? Cars. Sleek. Chic. Expensive. I can take you for a spin.”

“Fritters and French fries, what in the world have I gotten myself into this time?” she muttered under her breath.

***

Austin Rhoades leaned back in the bar stool at the end of the fancy restaurant bar with its glass top, gleaming lights, and pale green colors. He watched people come and go. None of them were his half-sister. Did she stand him up?

He sipped his drink, a club soda. Looking up, he saw his reflection in the mirror behind the bar and did a double take. He laughed at himself. He didn’t even recognize the man staring back at him.

Shaking his head, he still hadn’t accepted the fact he’d cut off all his hair and shaved off the beard. For two, long grueling years he and his band, the Rhoadies, toured the world. He needed a change from night after night of performing in front of thousands of screaming women, day after day of traveling from one city to the next, the constant stream of partygoers and hangers-on, little sleep, bandmates in bad moods with growing egos, and even less time alone and to think.

Once they’d landed in New York, they’d scattered to different parts of the country to decompress. He didn’t have a home. Just one half-sister left in the world. He stopped in Dallas. Next, parts unknown where
he’d
be unknown, thus the first steps in shedding his easily recognizable image of long hair and facial hair.

Out of the spotlight. Finally
.

Now he just had to keep it that way until he figured out his next move. He loved music, but hated everything that came with the fame.
Can I have one without the other?

His phone rang. His half-sister’s name came up. “Hey, Ev. Running late?”

“Late can’t describe what I’m going through at the moment.” She sighed, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“You’re happy. That’s what matters. So, rain check?”

“I need a favor.”

He groaned. What could it be? She never asked for much, but, right now, he wanted a quick visit and off to a quiet, laid-back spot. “Money? A new car?”

“One time, and I paid you back. No, nothing like that.”

Austin blew out a hot breath, eased back in his bar stool, and then glanced around the restaurant. “Okay, then what’s the favor?”

The stretch of silence should have clued him in. But the diner across the way caught his attention. She was tall when she’d walked across the room, model thin, nice neat curves where curves needed to be, and cute as all hell with that wavy, glossy caramel highlighted hair that seemed to tickle her neck and shoulders.

“Sis, you still there?” he asked absently as he continued to watch the lady jot something on a clipboard she held, grimace at something the guy she was with said, and then brush away his hand from her arm.

“I swear I wouldn’t ask you this… It’s for a friend. I sorta was going to meet you at the bar so I could keep an eye on her. First date thing.”