Hard to Resist

by Jean Brashear

  “No.”

  The word was so laden with hidden meaning that Rue made the fatal mistake of looking into Andrew’s eyes.

  Writers might describe what happened next as drowning in a deep pool, but for Rue, the sensation was more like flying. Caught in Andrew’s gaze, she imagined herself growing wings and flying far beyond the confines of the small, simple life she’d carved out. There was such hope in her vision that Rue almost cried.

  But she saw something else, too. She saw a reserved man struggling and uncomfortable.

  “Actually, I came to say something to Rue.” Glancing around the table, Andrew looked like he’d rather be anywhere except in Maudie’s Diner facing the Tuesday Tarts.

  “Andrew,” Rue said softly, wishing it was just the two of them but understanding that the women in the room were her loyal friends. “It’s okay.”

  As much as Rue had wanted to believe her date with Andrew had been another encounter with a Bad Man Who Dumped Her, she couldn’t help but remember his tenderness, his charm, his sincerity—and the way she’d felt in his arms.

  Besides, men and women didn’t think alike and they surely didn’t act alike. Confronted with a problem, men ran off and did their own thing while women called a committee meeting and got everybody’s opinion.

  Not that she was letting him off the hook. She still stung from his abrupt departure, but she liked to think of herself as a fair-minded woman who didn’t hold grudges. The least she could do was listen to what he had to say, especially since he was making the supreme sacrifice of a reserved man exposing his feelings in public.

  “Whatever you want to say, just spit it out, Andrew. I can take it.”

  “You’re making this too easy for me, Rue.”

  His look of gratitude belied his words. Rue, ever the tender hearted, reached up and touched his hand. The brief touch electrified her.

  “It’s okay.” She spoke to him as if they were the only two people in the room. “Everything’s okay. I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you accept my apology?”

  “I accept, Andrew.”

  To show she was sincere, Rue gave him a genuine smile. In fact, she was relieved.

  “Thank you, Rue.”

  Andrew lingered, as if he had unfinished business with Rue. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. Holding her breath, she waited. Her friends stopped chattering.

  After a small eternity, Andrew left to pick up his take-out order. Something inside Rue folded. What more was there to say? Now she could go back to life as usual.

  Sheila and Patsy’s daughter, Sophia, sighed audibly, while Patsy beamed.

  “See,” Sophia said. “My uncle is a good guy.”

  “You’d get no argument from me,” Sheila said. “If I didn’t love Rue so much, I’d be wishing I’d kept that date for myself.”

  Rue was only half listening to the banter swirling around the table. Her mind was on Andrew, probably standing at the cash register paying for the take-out boxes.

  When he’d walked out of the room, Rue realized she had more in common with him than she’d first thought. Andrew was as private as she. Like Rue, he apparently didn’t like airing his personal affairs in public.

  That made his public apology all the more precious to her. Turning back to her friends, she changed the subject to Daisy’s baby shower.

  Or maybe they were already on the subject. She’d been so wrapped in her feelings for Andrew she wouldn’t have known if her hair had caught fire.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS HE LEFT Maudie’s Diner, Andrew felt like a rooster who had cavorted with the head hen and ruffled the feathers of every hen in town. Trying to apologize to Rue in front of witnesses had been the single biggest act of bravery in Andrew’s life.

  Or so he told himself as he headed to the garage with enough take-out chicken, meat loaf and burgers to feed a third-world country. As his team tore into the boxes, he found himself thinking about Rue.

  Ever since she had waltzed in, his life hadn’t felt normal. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, restless for no reason he could think of. He’d stop in the middle of brushing his teeth, unable to remember if he had already flossed. He’d be scrolling through the TV menu and opt for An Affair to Remember over High Noon.

  Rue had bewitched him.

  It was a good thing she’d backed out on Patsy’s invitation. He didn’t know what would happen if he were cast into her company during the adrenaline high of a NASCAR race.

  Andrew’s cell phone rang. With a chicken wing in one hand and his cell phone in the other, Andrew thanked his lucky stars the Rue mishap was behind him.

  “Andrew Clark,” he said into his phone. Now he could get on with his life.

  TWO DAYS LATER when Rue opened her shop, she switched on all the lights, put on her hair-cutting apron then put on a CD. When Daisy walked in, she said, “Rue, what is that sappy music?”

  “Frank Sinatra.”

  “He’s dead, isn’t he? Who in the world listens to him?”

  Andrew, Rue almost told her. Instead, she went to the player and put on an album by George Strait. As the country/Western ballad about love lost filled the beauty shop, Rue came to a major decision.

  “Daisy, if I go to New York with Patsy, can you handle the shop while I’m gone?”

  “Oh, my gosh! You’ll get to fly in their private jet. Oh, my goodness!”

  “Well? Can you?”

  “You bet your sweet patooties I can handle this shop. When’s the plane leaving?”

  “At noon.”

  “Then what are you doing standing here?”

  Andrew would be at Watkins Glen. As Rue hurried home to pack, she thought about the luxury of having days instead of hours to find out if what she was feeling for Andrew was simply hormones gone wild or if it was something more enduring. True love. The stuff of every woman’s dreams.

  Including her own. Finally, Rue was ready to admit it.

  With her bag in one hand and the morning edition of the paper in the other, Rue climbed into her Mustang. Front page headlines screamed, “Former Champs Vie for 2010 NASCAR Sprint Cup Win.” Underneath were photos of Kent Grosso and the good-looking, devil-may-care Garrett in their racing uniforms. One of the patches sewn into the piece that protected the right clavicle of each driver was the same worn by every competitor on the tour, the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series logo. The other simply read Champion.

  Rue left her house for the airport an hour early. Though she knew she’d have time on her hands, she wasn’t about to keep Patsy and Dean waiting.

  The day was sunny, the weather was still warm, and Rue drove her Mustang with the top down. She even turned on a country/Western station and sang along with every song. Currently, she and Willie Nelson were crooning “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground.”

  She didn’t know all the words and her singing voice would frighten kids and small dogs, but that didn’t bother Rue. She was singing at the top of her lungs.

  Life was good. No matter what happened between her and Andrew Clark, Rue intended to enjoy every moment at Watkins Glen.

  ANDREW HAD ARRIVED at the hangar early. For one thing, he considered being late a sign of rudeness. Since Garrett and Grace had left yesterday in Andrew’s private plane for early sponsor duties, he was his sister and Dean’s guest.

  For another, he was a stickler for details. Even though Dean and Patsy had a cadre of mechanics to ensure the safety of the plane, Andrew had to see for himself that everything was in working order.

  He was doing his second walk-around when he heard the loud music. Some country/Western ballad being sung horribly off-key.

  A fairly decent guitar player and a better-than-average harmonica player, Andrew knew his music. He walked onto the tarmac in front of the plane and shielded his eyes.

  The music preceded a Mustang. A familiar Mustang.

  Rue was driving with the top down. Her red hair flew out behind
her, bright as the Don Juan roses climbing the arbor in his backyard.

  “Reeelease meee,” she warbled.

  It was all Andrew could do to keep from bursting out laughing. That was one of his favorite songs, and Rue was slaughtering it.

  As she swung into one of the parking slots, he strode toward her Mustang, trying to keep a straight face.

  She jumped from her car, a jolt to the senses in tight blue jeans, a bright yellow sweater set and earrings that looked like sunflowers. Or dinner plates. They were so big Andrew could have used them to serve his hot dogs.

  When she saw him, Rue’s surprise was written all over her face. Obviously she hadn’t expected him to be on this plane. In a quick-on-her-feet transformation, she planted her hands on her hips. Her unmistakably defensive gesture amused him.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you grinning like a jackass eating saw-briars?”

  “A jackass?” He’d been called many things, but never that.

  For some reason, Andrew found it wildly funny. While he was laughing, Rue stomped around her car and popped her trunk.

  “Will you stop that guffawing? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a lady with a big suitcase.”

  “Allow me.”

  Andrew hefted her luggage from her trunk. He’d expected something in the nature of a suitcase that would hold enough clothes for an ocean voyage aboard the ill-fated Titanic. Instead, Rue had packed in a square case no bigger than one of the larger carry-ons. Burgundy with hot pink polka dots. What else had he expected?

  Still, score one for Rue. Most women packed four times what they needed. Then ended up at the stores wherever they traveled buying more.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to see the inside of this plane.” Rue pranced off ahead of him, and Andrew followed.

  There was something so lively and carefree about her, he wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted to see if her joie de vivre would rub off on him.

  Was that why he’d been waking, restless, in the middle of the night? The sense that some vital life force was missing from his life?

  As always, when he was in cogitation mode, Andrew’s long stride slowed to an amble. Over the years, on those rare occasions when loneliness had prompted him to picture himself with a woman, he’d imagined himself falling for someone reserved who would fade into the wallpaper at parties. Somebody like him.

  Rue would never fade into the anything, let alone wallpaper.

  Andrew made the fatal mistake of glancing ahead to watch her.

  Those finely curved hips. The self-confident yet seductive way she walked. The sunshine in her red hair. Her bright circus colors that made you want to turn cartwheels. The heady fragrance of her perfume.

  Unexpected desire hit him with the force of a level five hurricane. It was a good thing Patsy and Dean weren’t there to see his reaction.

  Andrew thanked his lucky stars that he had time to get his inconvenient attraction to Rue out of the way before he had an interested audience. Furthermore, he was glad the object of his desire was in front of him. She probably didn’t have a clue about the reaction she was causing.

  Suddenly she turned and smiled over her shoulder. Andrew felt like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He slowed his steps to put more distance between them.

  “Do you mind if I go aboard?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Actually, she was Dean and Patsy’s guest, but that was splitting hairs.

  Andrew hadn’t slowed down with the deliberate intent of watching Rue Larrabee climb a set of stairs, but that was the end result. If he’d thought watching her walk was the biggest test he’d have to his self-control, he’d been horribly mistaken.

  Rue on a set of stairs was lethal. Visceral memories assaulted him, and he nearly cracked his teeth biting back a groan.

  This was going to be a very long trip.

  RUE HOPED Andrew didn’t think she was being pushy, racing off to the plane like that, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. He’d taken her by surprise. She hadn’t expected him to be on Patsy and Dean’s plane. Besides, the minute she’d laid eyes on Andrew she’d wanted to kiss him.

  Kiss him, heck. She’d wanted to throw herself at him like some love-starved spinster.

  Okay, she told herself. Slow down.

  Judging by the way he’d laughed when she got out of the car, he probably already viewed her as somebody so perky she could brew coffee without a pot. She’d just capitalized on that image. Why not? She’d had years of practice being the life of the party.

  So what if it kept a safe distance between her and other people. Right now, that’s what she needed.

  Listen, she wasn’t about to repeat the mistake she’d made with Andrew at Cut ’N’ Chat. She wanted to take things slow and easy. She wanted to find out what was real and enduring versus what was just need talking.

  She stood in the aisle of the posh plane and breathed in the rarified atmosphere of the rich and famous. How easy it would be for Patsy and Dean and Andrew to act snobbish. Fortunately, they acted—and were—as ordinary as your next-door neighbor.

  Somewhere behind her, Andrew’s footsteps echoed on the stairs. Rue put a bright smile on her face and turned to face him.

  “I’ll just stow your bag,” he said.

  “Great!” Perky, perky.

  She widened her smile as Andrew came toward her. It began to waver when he stopped within touching distance.

  “I’ll just put it here,” he said.

  He was so close, she lost all rational thought. She could smell his skin, that wonderful combination of wind and sunshine and all man. She clenched her hands to keep from running them into the V of his open-necked shirt.

  “It?”

  “Your suitcase.”

  “Oh.”

  She couldn’t have moved if thirty-five circus elephants and a full brass band were about to mow her down.

  Andrew reached over her head, trapping her between his arms. Her hips were pressed against his—heaven help her—her nose was at his chin and her eyes were lip level. Delicious lips. Talented lips that had driven her crazy.

  Did she make a sound or did he? Laser-blue eyes captured hers. Suddenly the two of them were suspended in a cocoon of heat and desire, flame and temptation. Like a romantic movie classic in slow motion, his lips descended toward hers.

  Rue held her breath. He was going to kiss her. And she would be putty, helpless in his arms, unable to stop herself from kissing him back.

  His breath was warm against her face, his lips only a hair’s breadth away. And Rue was drowning. If she went under this time, she’d never regain her feet. She’d never be able to spend the next few days calmly assessing the situation, trying to decide if opposites did attract or if she and Andrew were destined to be a one-night stand.

  It took every reserve of willpower Rue possessed to duck under his arm and out of his reach.

  “This is fabulous! It’ll be like flying in the comfort of your own living room.” She tried for perky, and failed miserably.

  To his credit, Andrew had to visibly collect himself before he could answer.

  “Patsy and Dean go first class.” He managed to sound nonchalant. Briefly. “They even have champagne.”

  Fraught with layers of meaning, the word hung between them a full five seconds. On the heels of the almost-kiss, Rue came undone.

  She could hear the rush of her blood. The throb of her pulse felt like a drumbeat. Take me, take me, take me.

  Oh, help.

  “Rue…”

  “Don’t say anything.” She held up her hand. “Not one word, Andrew.” He opened his mouth and she practically shouted. “Not a word. I am not a ripe plum for just any old body to come along and pick.”

  Racing toward the back of the plane she burst through the door to the bathroom and leaned her head against the cool tiles.

  So much for perky. That act had last
ed all of five minutes.

  What other barriers would fall before this trip was over?

  CHAPTER TEN

  A RIPE PLUM FOR just any old body to come along and pick?

  Her statement said volumes about Rue’s character. All of it good. He would have laughed out loud if Rue hadn’t been so visibly upset. Though why he felt such relief, he couldn’t say.

  Or wouldn’t say. With the challenge of Watkins Glen still ahead, Andrew couldn’t afford to let Rue make him lose focus.

  What was taking her so long? He marched down the aisle and tapped on the bathroom door.

  “Rue?”

  “What!”

  She was prickly. Andrew was relieved to add a negative to his growing catalog of Rue’s traits. As a man who always controlled his temper, he couldn’t imagine himself with a woman who let every feeling show.

  “I just wondered if you’re all right.”

  “Of course, I’m all right. Andrew Clark, if you think I’m going to let you mess up my good time, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “Well…I didn’t say that.”

  “No man messes up my good time.”

  Where was all that passion coming from? Was it possible Rue had been hurt by men in the same way he’d been hurt by women. If he paid attention to such things, he’d know, but Andrew was not one to listen to local gossip.

  “Did you hear me, Andrew?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I heard that grin. Are you taking me lightly?”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Good. Don’t… And another thing. I didn’t come on this trip just to be near you.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “And there will be no repeats of our frolic at Cut ’N’ Chat.”

  “Frolic?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  His grin broadened. “Why don’t you open the door and come out so we can talk about that?”

  Rue was quiet so long he almost put his ear to the door to find out what she was doing in there. He could feel sweat collecting in the edge of his hair while he waited. Doggone that woman. She heated him up in more ways than he wanted to think about.