by Lisa Plumley
“Very funny, Mom. Tell you what. We’ve got my car. I’ll just meet you at your house, okay?”
Nancy looked skeptical. Josie plowed onward anyway.
“My convertible’s parked right over there. Luke was nice enough to drive me here. I’ll give him directions.”
After a few more minutes’ persuasion, Nancy got in her car. Wearing an uncertain look, she leaned out the window. She frowned at Josie. “Twenty minutes. Not an instant more. After that, I’m sending out a search party.”
Unconcerned, Josie waved. “See ya’! Love you!”
Nancy pulled out. Luke watched as she zoomed out of the special parking zone, then maneuvered her way into the light traffic. Five minutes later he was behind the wheel of Josie’s crappy Chevy, ready to do the same.
He glanced at Josie. She sat awkwardly in the passenger seat, frowning at her ankle.
“So, which way to your Mom’s house?”
“That way.” She pointed.
He looked. “That’s the freeway on-ramp. She didn’t go that way.”
“I know. I’m going back to Blue Moon to get my stuff, then I’m going home to Las Vegas. There’s nothing wrong with my right foot, and this isn’t a stick shift. I can drive.”
“But—” Confused, he gestured in the direction her mother had gone. “Your mom thinks you’re going to her house.”
“No.” Josie waved off the idea as though she’d never suggested it. “It’s easier this way. Trust me.”
He couldn’t believe it. “You’re going to ditch your own mother?”
“It’s…not like that.” Biting her lip, she seemed to consider telling him something. Then, “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”
Luke studied her. “I see why some people aren’t thrilled you’re back in town.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you never seem to do what you say you’re going to do.”
“Like…?”
“Go to your mom’s. Ice your ankle. Put up flyers.” He paused, examining her stony profile. “Start a dance school.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you shouldn’t drive with an ankle the size of a prizewinning heifer.”
“Awww.” She batted her eyelashes. “You country boys and your sweet talk.”
If she only knew. Doggedly, he added, “I know you shouldn’t go so long between tune-ups.” He jutted his chin toward the Chevy’s front end. “That’s why your engine sounds like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s begging for mercy.”
“Oh, so now you’re a handyman and a mechanic?”
“Yes.” He ignored her surprised look. He was used to it. Staring her down, he prepared for his big finish. “I know you shouldn’t let those busybodies run you out of town like this.”
Her defiant gaze met his. “Nobody’s running me out of town. I decided to leave.”
“Okay. If you say so.” Luke drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. He shrugged. “But this looks a lot like running away to me. That must be what happened the last time you lived in Donovan’s Corner, too.”
The temperature in the car dropped at least twenty degrees.
“Look. Either drive me to Blue Moon or get out of the car so I can do it myself.”
He glanced at her. Despite Josie’s expression of bravado and her air of rebelliousness, she looked like hell. Or at least as close to it as a va-va-voom redheaded showgirl could get—pale-faced, shook up, and definitely in no condition to drive. He’d wanted her to leave, but not like this.
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” he said.
“What?”
“That’s how long the doctor said you’re supposed to recuperate. That’s how long you’re staying. At Blue Moon.”
“Oh, puhleeze. Make me.”
“If that’s how you want it.” Luke put the car in drive, then backed out. He was done arguing with her. “Consider yourself officially kidnapped.”
Chapter Six
Being officially kidnapped wasn’t that bad.
Not that Josie would’ve admitted it. Luke’s simplified small-town “wisdom” had added insult to injury (“running her out of town”…ha!), and his know-it-all approach to how she should handle her sprained ankle had irritated her to no end.
Who did he think he was, anyway? The guru of Donovan’s Corner? He was a hunk, sure. But when it came to her, he was way off base. Way, way off base. Josie was sure of it.
As a dancer, she’d had injuries before. She knew how to handle them—with rest and then retraining. As a former Donovan’s Corner resident, she’d had her share of run-ins with the town’s stuffier citizens. She knew how to handle them, too—by getting the heck out of Dodge. No dance school dream was worth being judged at every turn.
But apparently her humiliating so-called homecoming had worn her down. Because when it came to the whole “kidnapping” scheme, Josie didn’t quite protest as much as she wanted to.
Luke confiscated her car keys. He refused to move her boxes of stuff back to her convertible. He insisted on taking care of her for at least twenty-four hours. And Josie? She decided she really didn’t have that much choice. After all, she’d been officially kidnapped.
There were probably worse things than being held in the grip of an idiotically appealing, macho handyman-mechanic, she told herself. Especially one who seemed stubbornly intent on pampering her until she recovered.
He was probably afraid Tallulah would fire him if Josie reported the terrible condition of the place. Or maybe his conscience was butting in because of the unrepaired-floor fiasco—something Josie couldn’t quite hold a grudge about, given how nice he’d been about helping her.
She sighed, then turned her face toward the enormous stone fireplace. Savoring the warmth of the blaze Luke had kindled for her, she decided it didn’t make much difference either way. When she really wanted to leave, she’d find a way to do just that. Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. For sure.
Honestly. It wasn’t as if she wanted to stick around to indulge some kind of schoolgirl crush on him, or anything.
“Hey,” Luke said by way of greeting as he entered the living room at Blue Moon—aka, Josie’s detention center. “You haven’t crawled out the back door and hitchhiked back to Las Vegas. I’m stunned.”
“I stuck around for the view.” She admired his arms, sinewy and perfectly tanned. Then his broad, Tshirted shoulders. Shoulders like those belonged on one of those Greek statues in a museum—or in the bed of a nice woman who’d appreciate them. “It’s a nice view.”
“Yeah. Flattery will get you everywhere. At least with me.” He shot her a dazzling grin. “But I’m still not giving back your car keys. You’re in no condition to drive yet.”
“So you’ve said. Once or twenty times.” She waved away the idea. “I’m just saying, you’re not exactly what I expected in a handyman. Especially a Donovan’s Corner handyman.”
“What do you mean?”
She examined him. Let me count the ways.
“Well, for one thing, you’ve got all your teeth.”
His grin widened, proving her right.
“For another, you’re reasonably open-minded. Unlike some people in this town, you don’t jump to conclusions. Much.”
As though considering that, he frowned at the items he’d brought—a two-liter bottle of Seven-Up, a package of Ding Dongs, and a deck of playing cards. He set them on the coffee table, then sucked in a deep breath.
“Wait, are you about to jump to a conclusion?” she asked, pretending to be horrified. “Don’t do it!”
Luke wasn’t deterred by her joke. “That’s the second—or twentieth—time you’ve said something like that about this place.” In the middle of opening the Ding Dongs, he regarded her curiously. “If you hate it here so much, why did you come back?”
“I dunno. Maybe I’ve got something to prove.” Josie blinked
, surprised. Where had that come from? “Or maybe I just wanted a cheeseburger at Frank’s. Nobody makes them like that anymore.”
Luke gave her a skeptical look.
“Come on. I’m kidding. What could I possibly have to prove to these old busybodies? Who cares what they think?”
He still looked unconvinced. Damn it.
“Besides, it’s not every day a girl inherits a mansion of her very own. I got itchy. I had to check it out. Haven’t you ever wanted to do that? Just chuck everything and take off to do something completely unlikely?”
A strange expression crossed his face. Josie guessed he had—or he’d wanted to. She wondered which.
“If you mean learn to samba,” Luke said, “then, no.”
Disappointed, Josie made a face. “No, I don’t mean ‘learn to samba.’” She felt sure Luke had been about to reveal something—something important. Something that had nothing to do with sambaing, and everything to do with him.
The truth was, despite her resolve to bail out on Blue Moon, she couldn’t deny a certain attraction to the place. And to its caretaker. Luke was interesting, if a little too laid-back in the repairing-the-mansion department. He was gorgeous, if a little too mysterious. He was often funny, occasionally puzzling, and always gallant. Really, Luke had more going for him than the last four men she’d dated in Las Vegas had.
Besides, let’s face it. She was as susceptible to that devilish grin of his as the next girl was. Maybe even more, since “devilish” generally promised “break-the-rules bad boy”—her favorite kind of guy.
Hmmm. Josie watched as Luke poked at the fire, sending sparks up the chimney. Now that she no longer planned to keep Blue Moon, there might be sparks happening of an entirely different kind. Luke wasn’t off-limits anymore. She wasn’t going to be his boss, and he wasn’t going to be her handyman. That meant things were looking up. And here she was, with twenty-one and a half hours to kill. Doctor’s orders.
“I meant something really unlikely,” she prompted. “Like taking up skydiving or driving cross-country with nothing but a guitar and a Chihuahua.”
“Is that the voice of experience talking?”
“Maybe.” Josie smiled. This guy was a mind-reader. “Or maybe I’m just trying to jog your memory, Mystery Man. How about working as an extra on a movie set? Building homes for the homeless? Flying on a trapeze?”
Luke replaced the fireplace poker, then came toward her. “How about having my house taken over by a down-on-her-luck showgirl? That’s new. And unlikely.”
“Hey.” Offended, she lifted her chin. “I’m not down on my luck.” True, she’d been a little…squashed…by the events of her big homecoming. But she felt herself beginning to bounce back. Bolstered by a few hours’ relaxation, the half pity-burger she’d wolfed down, and the solid comfort of Blue Moon, Josie felt better equipped to deal with everything. “But I do think it’s cute how you love this place so much, you call it your own.”
“Yeah. Cute.” Wearing that frown again, Luke strode across the spacious living room. “You’ve got one thing right. This place is important to me.”
“See? That’s how I know I can trust you. You’re dedicated to your work. That’s not something you see every day.”
He shot her a look. “You spent the whole day telling me how crappy my handyman work was.”
“Well, you can’t hold that against me. It’s been a pretty tough day.” Josie yawned. “Which means that now I deserve to cut loose a little. What with being kidnapped, and all.”
“Come on. It hasn’t been so bad.” Luke hunkered down beside the coffee table, adjusting the pair of pillows beneath her propped-up ankle. “You got your choice of ground-floor servants’ bedrooms. And you got to keep your cell phone.”
“True. That’s another reason I know I can trust you. A homicidal maniac ax murderer would never have let me keep my trusty Nokia.” Josie patted the customized pink-sparkle-plated phone on the sofa cushion beside her. She’d called Parker with an update not two hours ago. “I figure you must be okay.”
Actually, she figured he was more than okay. Strange as it seemed, Josie trusted him, which was more than she could say for most of the people she met. Unlike the high rollers, playboy gamblers, and entitlement-obsessed CEOs who came to Vegas with the idea that everything there was for sale—even the showgirls—he hadn’t patronized her. Or lied to her.
Also unlike them, Luke hadn’t tried to grab her ass.
She frowned, suddenly off-kilter by the realization. Why hadn’t Luke tried to grab her ass? Was she the only one feeling a buzz between them?
Wondering, Josie tilted her head. Luke still crouched beside the coffee table, now exchanging her limp bag of frozen corn for a package of frozen peas. He patted it gently in place—the “icing” portion of her sprained-ankle treatment. He glanced at his watch.
“What’s the matter? Got a hot date?” she teased.
He hesitated. Josie’s heart stuttered.
Get a grip, she commanded herself. You just met him. He doesn’t even want to grab your ass.
But that didn’t seem to matter. As aggravating as Luke sometimes was—especially when arguing against her dance school idea—Josie had to face facts. His was one of the few friendly faces she’d encountered since setting out on her big adventure. Unlike another of those friendly faces—her mother’s—his didn’t belong to someone who’d once scraped Gerber mashed sweet potatoes out of her nose. That was a plus right there.
Besides, being with him just made her feel better.
“I’m timing the ice packs for your ankle,” he said.
Great. She was getting sappy. He was getting practical.
What were the odds?
“Oh. Right. The ice packs.”
“But if you want me to leave, I will.”
Josie didn’t want him to leave. But she didn’t want to say so. After all, the man had (kind of) kidnapped her. She was still officially opposed to that.
Biting her lip, she glanced around the living room. Among all the tarp-shrouded furniture, Luke had only uncovered the sofa. The fire was great, but the shadows it cast in the corners and the whole Scooby-Doo atmosphere of Blue Moon at night was starting to spook her.
“I’ve got some things to do in the carriage house,” Luke said. “I’ll check on you in twenty minutes.”
“Wait! You don’t have to rush off.”
He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted.
“Umm, what’s all that for?” She pointed to the things he’d brought. Yes, it was a lame distraction. It was all she could muster on short notice. Being kidnapped had damaged her flirting abilities.
Cooperatively, Luke lifted the soda. “Refreshment. Seven-Up is the only thing to drink when you’re under the weather. At least according to Marta.”
Finally. A personal detail. “Marta?”
“My…babysitter. When I was a kid.”
“Ah.”
Next, Luke lifted a Ding Dong. “Sustenance.” He lifted the deck of cards. “And entertainment. But I’m having second thoughts about these. Playing cards might make this whole kidnapping thing too much fun for you. You’ll never leave.”
“Only if you’re lucky.” Josie smiled. “Come on. I need some distraction and you’re all that’s available. You owe me.”
He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair. Was it her imagination, or was he reluctant to leave?
“What do you have in mind?”
“Seven-card stud.” Her favorite card game. “Aces high, no limit, minimum bet…one Ding Dong.”
With her good toe, she pushed a cellophane-wrapped chocolate cake into the kitty. Then she looked at Luke.
He put his hands on his hips. He arched his eyebrow. “Poker? With a Las Vegas showgirl? I’d have to be crazy.”
“Showgirl?” That was the second time he’d mentioned that tonight. “I never told you that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Hunkering down again, he picked up the cards and pl
ucked them from the box. He executed a perfect two-handed riffle shuffle. “After getting all the gossip in town and listening to your mom jabber about you, I figured it out. Just because I work with my hands doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
He dragged over an ottoman and sat on it, settling in. Josie watched his hands as he shuffled.
“I like that you work with your hands.” To her, doing the kind of work he did suggested trustworthiness. Plus, it positively demonstrated studliness.
“I like that you work with your body.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly.
“Yeah. Most men do. But just for the record, that makes me a dancer, not a stripper.” Reminded again of the day’s events, Josie frowned. “I wish people in this town would get that through their thick heads.”
“They might if you stuck around to show them.” Luke dealt the cards. “But you’re leaving once you’re healed, right?”
“Damned straight, I am. Of course. Sure.”
He gazed at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Add in a ‘definitely’ and I might believe you.”
She snorted. “Shows what you know. I’m not staying here. I’ve already been through all that. For a minute, Tallulah’s offer made me forget. But Donovan’s Corner doesn’t like me and I don’t like it. End of story.”
“You must come back here pretty often,” he said. “To visit your folks.”
Josie squinted at her cards. She gestured for another one, then wagered a second Ding Dong. Maybe if she pretended he wasn’t going all Barbara Walters Special on her, he’d quit it.
Luke didn’t even glance at his hand. “Or do they come to see you in Vegas instead?”
“Look, are you going to play cards or not?”
“Do they think you’re a stripper, too?”
Exasperated, Josie met his gaze. “You’re awfully inquisitive. For a guy, I mean. Most men would rather gnaw off their own toenails than have a conversation. Especially on purpose.”
He wagered a Ding Dong, unbothered by her dig at his manhood. “Most women never shut up.”
She pursed her lips demonstratively.
“Women are the ones who invented talking to plants.”
She rolled her eyes.
