“Sit down.” Her grandmother pointed at the couch. “You got some learning to do, and we’re not taking no for an answer. Tanner is a great catch, and you’d be stupid to let him get away—which it sounds as though you’ve already decided to do. So, listen close. There’s a lot to cover, and you, my poor dear, are clueless.”
Lannie plopped onto the couch, giving up the argument before it got started. No way could she get out of this, now that they had her in their clutches.
Noni whispered behind her hand with another woman, Dot—the same one who’d danced burlesque, or claimed to. They cast her a sneaky look and murmured a few more seconds before Dot headed for the exit with her walker. Slide, clunk, slide, clunk, off she went on her mission—which, at the pace she traveled, might take her all night to accomplish.
She’d hiked her purple polyester pants up to just under her breasts, leaving four inches of baggy sock showing at the bottoms. Hunched over, white haired, with sagging skin everywhere, she sure didn’t look like any stripper Lannie’d ever seen.
She’d humor them. What could it hurt? They were harmless.
Twenty minutes later....
Lannie stared at the diamond-studded pasties, complete with tassels, resting in her grandmother’s hand. Included in the box of goodies Dot had the maintenance man bring in from her room were a set of giant pink feather fans almost as tall as she was and matching sheer panties with a diamond-covered area in the front barely large enough to cover the girly-bits. Off the back side, in a reinforced panel, plumage fanned out, giving the term shake your tail feathers a more generalized meaning.
Lannie blinked. Oh, hell no.
Noni grabbed her hand, pried it open, and dumped the sparkly nipple covers into her palm. “They’re called pasties. You put them on your boobies, dear.”
“What?” Lannie blinked. Of course she knew where they went. That her grandmother knew, well, proved to be a bit disturbing.
“Like this.” Dot took them from her and demonstrated over her clothes, cupping them to her breasts, moving her shoulders and making the tassels swing back and forth, humming “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” “In my day, I could make these babies spin like nobody’s business. Now they’d point at the floor.”
“Oh, God.” She so didn’t need the visual.
The maintenance man, who appeared to be in his twenties, and way too interested in the proceedings of the recreation room for his own good, stood in the doorway and coughed, choking back a laugh.
Lannie turned and glared at him. “You can leave now.”
“Let me know when you’d like me to take the box back to your room, Mrs. Levins.”
“That won’t be necessary. Lannie is going to take it home with her. You could be a dear and carry it out to her car for her when we’re done here.”
“Not a problem ma’am.”
Yes a problem. Lannie choked and looked around the room for something to crawl under. Could this get any more humiliating? They were supposed to be sweet little old ladies. And to think she’d been appalled at what Tanner had been reading to them. Chances were good they could write racier stories based on personal experience. Good Lord, what had she gotten herself into?
“Don’t worry, Lannie. When we’re done with you, Tanner will be licking the toes of your boots, begging you to give him a piece of your sweet ass,” Dot said and winked.
More laughter from the doorway.
If this got back to Tanner...oh hell, how could it not? She sat in a room full of old ladies. They loved to gossip. Plus, he’d told them he’d come back tomorrow to read more of the smut.
Chapter Three
The decals in the back window of the truck, gave away the owner’s identity. Lannie groaned. He appeared to be staying at the same hotel. No way did she want to bump into him. But she’d already paid for the room and didn’t want to go somewhere else, so decided to sneak in the back way and avoid him.
Her night had been packed full of humiliating experiences. Now, she had one thing on her mind. Take a shower, change into her comfortable clothes, and climb between the sheets. She parked on the other side of the building, way at the back of the lot, and walked around, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to the second floor, hoping to avoid the hotshot who had been the topic of discussion for the night. Every discussion. She’d gotten a full lesson on it all. From the proper way to use the fans and spin the doohickeys on her chest, to how to roll a condom on his schlong, blowjobs, and a multitude of things that should never come out of grandma’s mouth. At the mature age of thirty years, she’d seen a dick or two—although, not Tanner’s—but she couldn’t tell them that.
As she rounded the corner, there he sat, leaning against the wall outside her room, his legs stretched out before him. Shit. Lannie froze. The trash bag clutched in her hand hid the fans, rhinestone covered panties, and pasties. She braced, ready to make a run for it, but he’d already seen her. In fact, he stared straight at her.
The image of a banana and a woman without teeth, demonstrating something she never wanted to see again, flitted through her mind. She bit her lip and ignored the flush of heat racing over her face like a blast furnace. If only he knew the things said about him and what the old ladies had coached her to do.
No chance of escaping unseen, now, and if she bolted, he’d come after her. The determined look on his face told her that much.
Besides, if fate saw fit to give her a second chance—she couldn’t screw it up. She still needed his help.
Who knew how long he’d been waiting. Lannie took a deep breath and started down the hall, stopping when she reached her door, doing her best to pretend he wasn’t there. She swiped the card without looking at him, afraid of turning even redder if she caught his gaze and he somehow guessed the naughty things discussed about him earlier. She’d gotten more than a sexual education from Grandma and learned they did a lot more than knit in the nursing homes. She tightened her grip on the bag, praying the contents would remain a secret.
With her luck, the bag would split and spill out onto the floor. Why had he decided to play nice now? He hated her—well, unless Dot had called it and he wanted to tap her ass? Shit.
“What’s in the bag?”
“A craft project I did with my grandmother.” Full body blush. Her knuckles on the hand holding the bag, turned white.
“I didn’t know they did crafts. I’ll have to ask them to show me when I see them tomorrow night. So, what did you do? Macramé?”
Not unless Japanese knot tying qualifies. “No, um, nothing you’d be interested in.”
“Not necessarily. My grandmother used to make all kinds of stuff—quilts, cross-stitch. Some of the older ladies are very talented.”
“Oh, they’re talented, all right.” She sucked in a breath. “Why are you here?”
He climbed to his feet, standing beside her. Lannie could swear he studied the bag, which she’d been terrified to leave outside in her car, lest someone break in and find it. The thought of detailing the contents of her vehicle on a police report traumatized her. If she hadn’t worn her stilettos, she’d have hightailed it out of there with her naughty booty in tow.
Conversation with him, after the things she’d learned tonight, would be damn near impossible without reverting to a red-faced, stuttering mess. She’d never get the images of her lesson out of her head, not with him there to remind her—and she had to hide the bag and get rid of him.
The lock clicked and Lannie pushed the door open, going inside. Tanner followed her through, without bothering to ask if she wanted company—especially after he’d been such an ass to her. She tossed her purse on the bed, opened the closet, and shoved the bag inside, slamming the door shut. She took a deep breath and turned around. “Tanner, why are you—”
He cupped her face in his palms and lowered his mouth to hers. Soft, coaxing her response, taking his sweet time until she let him inside. Shove him away. Tell him to get out. A voice in her head screamed a thousand different things she
should do. Instead, she slid her hands up his chest and locked them behind his head, giving in to the taste of Tanner North, and doing her best to forget How to snag a man 101.
She would not to let him win. Tonight would be the last time Tanner North made her cry. She’d let her temper get the best of her and almost banged the one guy who hated her, knowing she needed his cooperation,
To be honest, she’d enjoyed the hell out of what he’d done to her in the supply closet and had let the passion take over until, as he kissed her, the urge to take the lip-lock further grew. Considering their past, she’d had to come clean about needing his help. But what a mess she’d made.
Her odds of convincing him to help her now had to be close to zero, but if his presence indicated the slightest possibility she could secure his cooperation, she wouldn’t do anything to screw up an opportunity. Including jumping his bones. Right now, he seemed pliable, and the kiss showed a one-eighty turn from the anger she’d encountered in the closet. Best to keep the situation that way. She could work with friendly.
She’d never been certain before why he didn’t like her, but after his reaction to her comment about her story making him famous, Lannie knew. Tanner North hated the media spotlight. She’d cast it on him twice, and managed to ask him if he wanted more of the publicity he despised. Of course he’d think she’d tried to seduce him to get what she wanted. He believed she’d used him before for fame—and maybe she had, a little. A lot of glory had come from her Kosovo story.
But the photo and later the article she wrote, told an important story—of unknown heroes—and if she had the chance, she’d do it all again. His story had been worth telling. She’d no excuse for the way she’d butchered him for the Star Chaser though—other than she’d let her temper run the show.
Six years before....
They’d pushed the reporters and bystanders back, but Lannie ducked inside one of the tactical vehicles when no one watched. She waited until they moved away to climb out and hide by a stone wall. The soldiers were too busy keeping the crowd outside the two-block area to notice her. She’d remained invisible with the perfect view to the action.
First, Sergeant Tanner North slipped under the bus. Nothing profound happened for quite some time. Then, about ten minutes later, he scrambled out, screaming for the children and their chaperones to get off and run, sending them toward where she’d hidden. He ran onboard and toward the rear, where a woman and child were still sitting. A flurry of movement ensued and Tanner carried a small boy off the bus, leaving the woman behind. He’d run three hundred yards, not quite to the wall where the rest of the children had already taken cover, when the bus blew.
Lannie snapped her career-changing picture at that exact moment, when a fireball bloomed behind Tanner. The blast knocked him off his feet. The child had been uninjured, but Sergeant North took the brunt of the force in his back and was injured again when he hit the pavement. The impact would put him in the hospital for weeks. The shockwave caused a concussion and, she’d been told, if he’d been any closer, the damage to his organs and brain could have been fatal.
Sergeant North had saved fourteen children and one woman. The mother of the young child he’d carried out had been chained at the back of the bus with a bomb strapped to her, and didn’t escape the blast. With the IED rigged to a countdown timer, Tanner’d no choice but to comply with her pleas to take the child and leave.
The public hailed him as a hero, despite the single fatality. Lannie had captured his bravery, but also his pain at leaving the young mother behind. His face—the haunted look—would capture the hearts of millions around the world. The emotion she’d captured had been a shot in itself, but the explosion she caught behind him was the stuff of legends, a once in a lifetime photograph.
Tanner North became a celebrity overnight, the secret crush of women everywhere.
Her worst enemy.
***
Tanner had planned to give Lannie the rest of the night before he approached her again, after acting like such a dick. Nothing put things into perspective the way quiet time and reflection could, and had. He’d mauled her and ended the encounter by accusing her of stalking. Real smooth.
He sat in his truck for an hour, waiting for her to come out. When she didn’t, he wondered whether she saw him in the parking lot and waited for him to leave. So he headed for his lodgings, determined to give her space.
When he’d reached the motel, he couldn’t resist calling the nursing home to ask her grandmother where she might be staying. He’d told the older woman he wanted to apologize. What her grandmother said next, surprised him. Lannie booked a room at the same place. She went on to give him the number, maybe with a little too much enthusiasm. And what did he discover? They were neighbors.
Then he was pissed again and chose to sit out in the hall, ready to confront Lannie about the stalking. He rolled a thousand scenarios around in his head as to why she’d done it, getting angrier with each passing minute. Money. Fame. Who the hell knew. All he knew for certain, their supposed chance meeting would benefit her somehow. He shouldn’t be surprised. She’d used him to climb the ladder of success before.
Then she came around the corner and he got a good look at her face, traumatized, not the expression of a woman on the hunt, prepared to bring down her prey. She looked, for lack of a better term, shell-shocked, and he’d been the one to cause it.
Back to feeling like a dick.
He hadn’t meant to follow her into the room like a puppy, and he never intended to kiss her, but around Lannie, Tanner seemed to do the exact opposite of everything his instincts advised him to do. Her leave me alone vibe didn’t seem to sink in. When she’d said his name, the way Tanner fell off her lips, the expression on her face, made him want to pull her into his arms and show her everything would be okay. He’d wanted to make her pain better.
Tanner broke the kiss and lifted her chin with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She turned away, but he wasn’t about to let her hide. Tanner brought her gaze back to his.
“For taking advantage, treating you like shit—being a jerk. Should I go on?”
She sighed. “Can we start over?”
“Yeah. My name is Tanner North. I’ve never dated a redhead, but I think I might change my ways since I met this really hot one. I love Italian food, watching the stars, and reading romance to ladies in the nursing home, and if you haven’t had anything to eat yet, I’d like to take you out for a pizza.”
“I haven’t, and I am starving. Can you give me a minute to change into something else first?” She blushed a deep red and looked away. Could she be reliving the supply closet and the heavy petting? The front of his pants grew tight. She glanced down and, for the millionth time, turned a lovely shade of scarlet. Yeah, he sported wood, and he didn’t care if she knew how badly he wanted her.
“Take as long as you want.” He smiled and headed for the door, stopping to glance back. She gave him a weak smile and fiddled with her shirt. What would hearing what she had to say hurt? A gut feeling told him what she wanted was more important than he’d first believed. “We’ll talk over dinner about the photo shoot you mentioned. Not saying I’m onboard, but I’ll hear you out. Sound okay?”
She nodded. He shut the door and leaned against the wall, again, to wait.
***
Lannie wore a green sweater and a pair of blue jeans; faded, loved, they molded to her curves, accentuating her voluptuous figure. She didn’t look like a slob, but she also didn’t look like she wanted to seduce him. Yeah, she had her agenda, and he could only guess what.
She wouldn’t look at him while they waited for their pizza and, anytime he managed to catch her eye, she turned a shade of burgundy and began to play with the wrapper from her straw. Twisting, rolling, folding, everything but turning the paper into an origami crane.
“Something bothering you?” He grabbed her hand.
“I...no.” She pulled away. “You said you would hear me
out?”
“Yes.”
“I’m trying to get a job, one I need, and the man doing the hiring has more or less told me if I can’t get you for this calendar shoot, I won’t get the position.” She looked up. “I had no idea you’d be here. I drove straight from the interview to see my grandmother. That’s the truth and I know what it looks like. If you did agree, the calendar they’re putting together would be for a good cause, to raise money for wounded veterans.”
“So, I wouldn’t have to pose naked, would I?”
“Oh, no.” She flushed pink again, the color reaching the tips of her ears. “Not at all, but I’m sure they’d like you to show a little chest.” Her face got even darker, and she looked down, breaking eye contact.
He grasped her hand again, and when she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let her. “Tell me what’s got you frazzled here.”
“I’d rather not say.”
He fought the smile tugging on his lips. “About our time in the closet?”
She sucked in a breath. “No. Yes. Maybe.”
“Did the ladies say something...?”
“No!” She grabbed her ice water and began to chug it like she’d been in the desert for a month.
He eyed her. Yeah, they’d said something. Which brought him full circle back to the mysterious bag she’d claimed held an arts and crafts project. First chance he had, he’d pull what she’d stashed out of the closet and see what Lannie Sawyer had to hide. “Easy on that stuff. I don’t want you buzzing when I take you back to my room.”
She choked and coughed, slamming the glass down nearly empty.
“The old ladies are your hot button. I’ve never seen anyone abuse water like whiskey in order to avoid answering a question.”
“What? I’m not avoiding anything.”
“I call bullshit. Tell me what they said—after I left.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d known them for six year, well most of them. Lannie’s grandmother was a new acquaintance, but every bit like-minded when it came to her granddaughter’s happiness, and it said a lot if the ladies were trying to set them up.
Shockwave (Calendar Men: Mr. May) Page 4
