Fool for Love

by Beth Ciotta

  “Newly single.”

  “Have you heard from Ryan?”

  “No.” She was torn between relief and outrage. “Goes to show what I meant to him. Not a call, text, or e-mail. I could be dead for all he knows. Or cares.”

  “Maybe he feels bad. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to check up on you.”

  “Whatever.” The longer she was away from him, the more she wondered what she ever saw in him. The longer she was away from Manhattan, the more she felt like a woman caught between two worlds and not wholly belonging to either.

  “Tell your dad about the breakup yet?”

  “You asked me that yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “Same answer as yesterday. No. Although I did try to call him last night. Got his voice mail. Left a message, nothing specific. I’m waiting for a callback.”

  “You’ll feel better once you tell him.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Monica smiled. “Don’t you want to move on with your life?”

  “I am moving on with my life. New motto: Embrace the adventure. Live in the moment.”

  “So if Dev asks you out—”

  “He won’t.”

  “But if he does, you’ll embrace the adventure, right?”

  “He’s totally wrong for me.” Which was probably why she was so drawn to him. Another controlling alpha male. Hello, heartache.

  “So he’s not Mr. Right. Doesn’t mean he can’t be Mr. Right Now.”

  Chloe laughed. “You’re such a bad influence!”

  “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  They shared geeky, sappy, best-girlfriend smiles; then Monica gestured to the upcoming intersection. “Maple Street dead ahead. Make a right. That’s it,” she said, pointing to a multi-level building that took up half the block. “Doesn’t look like there’s a parking space on the street, so you’ll have to swing around to the small lot on the side.”

  “It’s not as quaint as some of the other buildings in town,” Chloe noted as she followed Monica’s instructions, “but it’s not very modern looking either.” Frankly, considering the vibrant personalities of the Monroes, J.T.’s Department Store was surprisingly unimpressive.

  “From what I understand, Devlin’s dad and grandfather and even his great-grandfather put most of their time and energy into the workings of the store. I think the last time this building had a major exterior overhaul was in the nineteen-fifties.”

  “I can see why Devlin’s keen on renovating,” Chloe said as she nosed into a parking space. “It’s not much to look at.”

  “Maybe not, but J.T.’s stocks quality items for reasonable prices. The staff is friendly and efficient, and they have a kick-butt no-hassle return policy. As the saying goes, don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  Chloe breathed in the crisp, cool air as she and Monica rounded the building. Her senses buzzed with anticipation as they neared what appeared to be one of three front entrances. She eyed the old-fashioned white cursive penned across the green-and-blue-striped awning: J.T. Monroe’s Department Store—established in 1885. Three years prior to Oslow’s. Clutching Daisy’s shopping list, Chloe pushed through the glass doors with the same excitement as when she’d first entered Manhattan’s historic Macy’s. She couldn’t explain the immense wonder and joy she experienced when she spied the old-fashioned candy counter and the display featuring moose socks, moose mugs, and moose stuffed animals in three distinct styles and sizes. Charming!

  “Shoot.”

  Chloe looked over and saw Monica checking text messages.

  “It’s Leo. He wants me to call. I’m going to step outside for this. You go on. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done.”

  “Take your time. I need to assemble five Sunday ensembles, remember? Including handbags and shoes!”

  “I still want to know about Big Al,” Monica said as she backed toward the door they’d entered.

  “I am so crossing that off the list,” Chloe mumbled to herself. “I am not shopping for a vibrator.”

  “Can I help you?”

  Chloe glanced up into the sparkling eyes of an overeager salesclerk—an older woman with a fondness for overprocessed hair and excessive makeup—praying she hadn’t heard her grumbling about a dildo. Blushing, Chloe stuffed the list in her jacket pocket and smiled. “Why, yes … Mitzi,” she added after glancing at the woman’s name tag. “Could you direct me to the ladies’ fashion department?”

  Three seconds later, as she trailed after Mitzi trying not to think unkind thoughts about the woman’s overly tight pants and overly swishing hips, Chloe’s own phone chimed with an incoming text.

  “‘Leo wants to make up,’” she read aloud. “‘Now.’”

  “Excuse me?” Mitzi asked.

  “Nothing. Sorry.” According to the text, Monica was sorry, too. She was skipping shopping in favor of a kiss-and-makeup quickie with her husband, leaving Chloe on her own. She tried not to feel bad about her friend’s good fortune. So what if she had to shop alone? So what if she bumped into Devlin? As much as she’d fantasized about tearing his clothes off and doing it against a tree or in a closest or under a covered bridge, she could resist temptation.

  With luck, she wouldn’t see him at all. In and out. Shop and go. She had a list and she had a good eye. Her fashionista background roared to life as they skirted the shoe department and neared multiple racks of clothes. For a small store, J.T.’s had a decent selection of quality merchandise. She spotted two perfect Sunday dresses right off and mentally matched them with a pair of yellow pumps she’d spied two aisles back. In and out. Shop and go. “Embrace the adventure.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Should’ve known I’d find you glued to the computer.”

  Devlin glanced over his shoulder as Jayce Bello sauntered into his office. As if his oldest friend had sensed a personal crisis and magically appeared. Pleased yet surprised, Devlin rose to greet the man. “What are you doing here?”

  “Told you I’d have this report to you by noon today.” He tossed the thin file onto Devlin’s desk, clasped his hand in a warm shake, then dropped into an opposing chair.

  “Expected a fax or an e-mail,” Devlin said, reclaiming his own seat. “Not a personal delivery.”

  “I needed to fly up anyway. The Ashfords informed me they’re not renewing the lease on my parents’ house. Sudden job opportunity in Arkansas.”

  “Who relocates to Arkansas?”

  “My former tenants. I’m here to assess the condition of the property. Don’t know that I want to rent it out again. Maybe it’s time to sell.”

  “And sever all ties with Sugar Creek?”

  Jayce shrugged. “Unlike you, I’m not bound by family.”

  “Nice to know where we stand.” As far as Devlin was concerned, Jayce was a second brother. They’d grown up together. Tight friends since grade school. An only child, Jayce had spent countless hours at the Monroe house and had joined them for family affairs and even on a few vacations. When Jayce’s parents had been killed during his senior year of high school, Devlin’s parents had stepped in to help him through the transition. Even after he’d moved to New York, the deep bond remained. Or so Devlin had thought.

  “I was referring to blood.” Jayce crooked a taunting grin. “Since when did you get all sappy-ass sentimental?”

  Since about a half hour ago. The shaky state of his dad’s health only intensified Devlin’s devotion to friends and family. The urge to preserve and protect those bonds had never been more fierce.

  “Bad day?”

  “Had better.” He closed two accounting programs, rose, and crossed to the refreshment sidebar installed by his grandfather more than fifty years ago. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Devlin poured two cups—one black, one with sugar.

  “That file’s been sitting on your desk for five minutes now and you’ve yet to open it. Last we spoke you were anxious for details regarding Chloe Madison’s former arrests.”
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  Right now it was the last thing on mind, but since he couldn’t discuss his dad’s condition … “Since you’re here,” he said, locking the file in a secured drawer, “just spill.”

  Jayce drank from his cup, then shifted into PI mode. “Since Chloe’s record was expunged, I couldn’t obtain detailed specifics, but some matters were part of public record. I got enough information to track down parties involved, but even their stories were sketchy, not to mention one sided.”

  “Go on.”

  “First arrest was ten years ago—shoplifting. She left a Fifth Avenue boutique with a designer coat she didn’t pay for.”

  “A coat? Not easy to hide. What, did she stuff it in another shopping bag?”

  “She was wearing it.”

  “So she casually walked out of the store wearing stolen merchandise.” Devlin shook his head. “Can’t decide if that’s stupid or ballsy.”

  “Actually, she didn’t walk. She ran. She was midway down the block before the salesclerk who gave chase stopped her with the help of a cop. Chloe claimed she’d gotten an emergency call from a friend on her cell phone and she’d been so flustered, she’d blown out of the store without thought. Since the clerk had been in the other room looking for a similar coat in a different size, she didn’t hear the call, just caught sight of Chloe tearing out the door.”

  “Couldn’t they verify her story by calling the friend in need?”

  “Apparently the friend’s story was suspect, though, yes, it eventually proved strong enough to cast doubt on Chloe’s guilt. And, no, I don’t know details of the friend’s so-called crisis. Arrest number two,” Jayce said. “Two years ago. Disturbing the peace. Chloe got into a verbal row with a chef she’d dissed in an online critique for the e-zine I told you about. The dude she was dining with interceded. Punches were exchanged, between dude and chef, not Chloe, although she was in the thick of it. I didn’t speak to the friend because I didn’t want it getting back to Chloe, but I did speak to the chef. He blamed the row entirely on Chloe and her friend. If you want Chloe’s side, you’ll have to ask.”

  Except he didn’t want to let on that he’d pried into her background. “That would be tricky.”

  “Is it even necessary? Obviously, she’s not a dangerous criminal, just someone with bad timing or shitty judgment.”

  “Either/or resulted in another run-in with the law a few days ago.” He had started relaying the reckless driving fiasco when his desk phone rang. “Devlin Monroe,” he answered on speaker.

  “Dev, it’s Chris. Need you in my office. We’ve got a security issue involving the woman who works for Daisy.”

  He raised a brow. “Chloe Madison?”

  “I stopped the department manager from calling the police. Thought you’d want to keep this quiet.”

  “Be right down.” He disconnected, glanced at Jayce, who, damn him, was grinning. “Don’t suppose you’d consider waiting here.”

  “Right.” He blew out of the office on Devlin’s heels. “One thing’s for sure: That girl adds color to your dull-ass life.”

  “Why is everyone under the misconception my life is dull?”

  “Are you seeing anyone? When’s the last time you got laid? Have you been out with friends lately? A ball game? Poker night? Did you boat or tube on Sugar Creek even once this summer?”

  Devlin didn’t answer.

  His friend snorted as they cleared the stairs and hit the main floor. “Dull.”

  Devlin tuned him out as he navigated the first floor—not particularly bustling, then again this was Tuesday afternoon and in between the summer and winter high seasons. Past cosmetics and perfume, specialty gifts, handbags and accessories, and, last, women’s fashion. He stepped into Chris’s small office and into a heated storm.

  “She’s blowing this out of proportion!” Chloe shouted. “If you’d just—”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Mitzi turned her outrage on Chris. “Why aren’t you sticking up for me? Why—”

  “What’s going on?” Devlin felt Jayce slip in behind him, heard the snick of the door as he afforded them privacy. His attention, however, was on the two women who whirled to face him. Mitzi Hall, a fairly new employee, a woman who’d recently lost her husband and seemed hot to replace him as soon as possible. Twice she’d flirted with Devlin, though he’d pretended not to notice.

  Then there was Chloe. Her sweet face burned with embarrassment, or maybe it was fury. From his experiences with her so far, probably both.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding,” she said.

  “She ran out of J.T.’s,” Mitzi said to Devlin, “wearing things she didn’t pay for. I knew there was something fishy about her when she said she was shopping for your grandma.” She pointed at Chloe. “As if your grandma would wear that.”

  Actually, Devlin thought as he took in the bright blue and green floral dress with the matching green shoes and purse, she would. Up until a few years ago, Daisy Monroe had been conservative in most matters. But just as her behavior had turned unpredictable and outrageous, so had her taste in clothing. Not that this particular outfit looked outrageous on Chloe, but on his seventy-five-year-old grandma? On second thought, it could’ve been worse. At least the hemline was modest and the heels two inches shy of sexy.

  Jayce cleared his throat and Devlin forced his gaze from Chloe’s shapely calves to her sparking eyes. “I assume you can explain.”

  “Of course I can explain. First, I didn’t run; I walked.”

  Mitzi gasped.

  “Okay. I race-walked. But that was because I was frustrated. I got a phone call.”

  Devlin could feel Jayce’s eyes burning into his back. Could feel his amusement. “Go on.”

  “It was important. I needed to hear and I couldn’t. What is it with the reception around here? So I moved around, seeking better signal, and suddenly I found myself outside.”

  “Likely story,” Mitzi grumbled. “She bolted because I scoffed when she told me to charge everything—about three hundred bucks’ worth of merchandise—to Daisy Monroe’s account. That’s when I stepped away to call a supervisor and poof she was gone.”

  “I told you, I got a phone call,” Chloe snapped. She turned her attention to Devlin, her big eyes pleading innocence, her body language softening from defiant to earnest.

  “I believe you,” Devlin said.

  Mitzi gaped. “What?”

  “You do?” Chloe looked stunned, then grateful, then leery.

  For once Devlin read her perfectly. She’d been the victim, in Jayce’s words, of bad timing and shitty judgment. Not malicious, just unfortunate. And just like that, Devlin’s foul mood lifted, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to an attraction that grew stronger with every Chloe mishap. Instead of running from trouble, he edged closer. “Thank you for being so diligent, Mrs. Hall, but I’ll vouch for Ms. Madison. I’d appreciate it if you’d follow her direction regarding billing. Chris, see that the merchandise is delivered to Daisy’s home.”

  “Will do.” Chris guided the blustering salesclerk from the office.

  Jayce followed, but not without sarcastic commentary. “A veritable rainbow.”

  Devlin nudged him out, then locked the door. When he turned, Chloe crossed her arms and squared her shoulders. He smothered a smile, knowing she expected a lecture. Instead he asked a question: “Where’s Daisy?”

  “On a date.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Mr. Redding took her for a scenic drive.”

  “Vince Redding?”

  The wary glint in her eye turned ornery, just like the tilt of her luscious pink lips. “I’m not sure, but I think he might have a crush on her.”

  “Vincent Redding,” Devlin repeated. “Owner of Oslow’s.”

  “You don’t approve?”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Because they’re too old to have romantic urges?”

  “Because they’ve known each other for years and I’ve never once witnessed an infatu
ation on either side.”

  “Maybe you weren’t looking at the right time.” She shrugged. “Whatever. I’m glad he stopped by. She needed a distraction. That last cupcake failure tanked her spirits.”

  “Shopping would have been a distraction. Gram loves to shop. Hard to believe she chose a leisurely drive over an opportunity to embellish her increasingly peculiar wardrobe.”

  She frowned. “You think this outfit’s peculiar?”

  “Not on you.”

  “Well, it’s not for me; it’s for Daisy. I’d show you the shopping list she gave me, but it’s in my jacket pocket, which is in the dressing room along with my purse. My actual purse,” she clarified, acknowledging the price tag and sensor device dangling from the handbag on her arm.

  “I believe you.”

  She narrowed suspicious eyes. “If Sheriff Stone told you about my record, you probably know I was arrested once for shoplifting.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny.

  “So why do you believe me?”

  He couldn’t say.

  “It was a crazy mistake. Poor judgment on my part. I don’t think the sanest when I’m frazzled.”

  “Who frazzled you this time?”

  “My dad. He wants … We don’t … Things aren’t the best between us.”

  He flashed on his own dad, not knowing if, by defying him, he’d just done their relationship more harm than good. Knowing he had some explaining to do either way. “Try to amend that.”

  “But—”

  “Is he a decent man?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Life’s short, Chloe.”

  She studied him for a long moment, either struggling for a response or wondering how to make a diplomatic escape because, hell, he’d just made this conversation personal. Intimate. She could’ve made a flip remark or segued into a quick good-bye, but she stood her ground and, as he acted on instinct and moved closer, her gaze sparked with anticipation. Desire. An invitation or a dare to seize the heated moment.

  Aside from the obvious physical attraction, he acknowledged a need to connect with her vibrant spirit. To act recklessly, spitting in the eye of fate. His social life wasn’t dull. Worse, it was dead. Right now he needed to feel alive. Strong. Impassioned.