by Robyn Grady
He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Rance thinks you’re a natural.”
“Beginner’s luck.”
“Or legitimate talent.”
“You don’t have to butter me up, Mr. Hunter.”
“The name’s Dex.”
“Either way, I haven’t changed my mind about working for you.”
He frowned across at her. “You believe me about Bernice, don’t you?” Gazing ahead, she nodded. “So what is it? You don’t enjoy Chinese? I have a housekeeper, so no chores there. I’ll get a cook in, too. Should have done it years ago.” She remained silent. “Did I mention your own suite overlooking the ocean?”
She turned her head away.
He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. “You’re not giving me, or Tate, a chance.”
But she simply continued to gaze out at the Los Angeles streets whirring by. Dex gripped the wheel tighter. Man, she was stubborn. He only wished she wasn’t so darn attractive.
They arrived at Shelby’s apartment block, a modest complex situated in a nice enough neighborhood. Nevertheless, he cut off the engine and swung open his door to see her in. Shelby was already out and on the pavement.
“You don’t have to see me to the door,” she said as he joined her.
“This isn’t up for negotiation.”
“You’re right. It’s not.”
But when she headed off, he followed. His mother had raised her sons to see women home properly. That went for Miss Independence here, too, whether she liked it or not.
When he headed up the path and passed her, she took a moment; then, out of options, she continued on, as well. At the entrance’s security door, however, she held her ground.
“Thank you for the evening. It was…different.”
“Thank you for the help.”
He was sure that when Rance returned from his week away, he would be checking out every café on The Strip to pass on his personal thanks, too.
Moving to key her code into the pad, she stopped to think and lowered her hand.
“I’m sorry I can’t see my way clear to help with your brother. It’s just…I think you’d do better with someone who’s more familiar with how your kind of circles work.”
“Shelby, I wouldn’t want you for this job if you were from those circles. I need a responsible caretaker for a five-year-old when his big brother can’t be around. I’m not after a hostess who can swing all the Hollywood ropes.”
When he saw a glimmer of maybe in her eyes, he had an idea.
Finding his cell phone, he brought up a video. “I shot this when I flew out to Australia last.”
Holding back a tumble of hair, she edged closer.
“That’s Tate?” she asked.
“Mucking around in the surf at a Sydney beach.”
With the summer sun at his back, Tate swayed as spent waves pushed up around his little legs then dragged back out to sea, almost sweeping him along, too. The tug finally brought him down onto his bottom. Splashing his hands in the wet sand, he giggled madly at the camera.
Shelby laughed, too, and when the video ended, she kept her gaze down. Eventually she hugged herself, then finally her head tilted and those incredible green eyes found his.
“He’s real cute,” she said.
“And smart. And loving. For a little kid, he gives the biggest bear hugs.”
Her smile grew again before fading into a thoughtful look. “This is the place where all kinds of stories come to life. But I don’t want to become a star, or even rub shoulders with the rich and famous. There’s way more ordinary folk live here than highflyers, and I never thought past working for an average family with a couple everyday kids. But you’re anything but average. When I’m with you, I have no idea what to expect next. I’m not a fan of surprises.”
“Sometimes surprises are good.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “Do you intend to have company over while your brother’s in your house?”
“If you mean women, I’m not seeing anyone. Even if I were, this is Tate’s time.”
Working his edge, he mentioned a salary figure and her eyes widened.
“Tate might not even like me,” she said.
“Don’t think we have to worry about that.”
She thought some more.
“How long would you need me?”
“How does a six-month contract sound?”
She frowned. “His parents are okay with him being away that long?”
Dex hesitated. Shelby already thought his life was a whirlwind. No point revealing the more urgent reason behind Tate’s visit just yet. Whoever had planned those assassination attempts on Guthrie’s life had almost succeeded in kidnapping not only the Hunter patriarch but also his youngest son. Although the target had been Hunter Senior, never Tate, Guthrie wanted his baby boy well out of the way until this danger had passed. Unfortunately no one knew when that would be.
She wanted to know, why a six-month contract?
“I simply want to make it worth your while,” Dex replied, which was true.
When, clearly torn, she gnawed her lip, he prodded.
“Come on, Shelby. Say yes, for Tate’s sake.”
“I’d want to keep this place for days off and, well, in case things don’t work out.”
“Of course.”
After an eternity, she gave a small nod, then a smile. “Give me a start date and I’ll be there.”
He could have hugged her—and tight. Not a good idea. He’d be content with those few seconds he’d held her after that black sedan had nearly plowed her down. He was certain that kind of judgment glitch on her part wouldn’t happen again. Too close of a call.
“Let’s say Friday,” he said.
“That soon?”
“Tate’s here in a week. We need to get the place organized. Get provisions and equipment in.”
“Oh. Sure.” She drew her willowy frame up tall. “I can do that.”
“Shall we shake on it?”
She took his extended hand, and that transfixing sensation he’d experienced when he’d caught her earlier seized him again. Pleasant. Heart pumping. Inappropriate. He’d got what he needed and now he should count himself lucky and go. And yet after this simple skin-on-skin contact, suddenly he really wanted to stay. But that would require her asking him inside, which would never happen. He didn’t know her well, but she certainly wasn’t the kind to invite in a man she’d known less than a day for a drink.
* * *
A delicious heat spread over Shelby’s limbs, echoing in her chest, through to her core before she gathered herself and found the wherewithal to wind her hand away. Brushing her tingling palm down the side of her dress, she forced words past the thickness blocking her throat.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said.
“I look forward to it.”
Over the noise of distant traffic and a TV blaring from some nearby window, Dex’s voice sounded deeper. Gravelly and rich. Had he felt that amazing electric surge, too? The warmth had been so frighteningly tempting…enough to wonder if she ought to ask him to stay for a nightcap. Or wish she’d never met him at all.
She didn’t want to feel attracted to any man, particularly a man like Dex Hunter. Obviously he liked women. Women would sure as beans like him. And she didn’t want to get involved with anyone—not for any reason. Past experience was still too raw in her mind.
There was an awkward loaded moment where his lidded gaze stayed fused to hers as if he were waiting for that invitation in. When she lifted her chin, his shoulders rolled back, he tipped his head and while she entered the building, he proceeded to his car.
A moment later, inside her partly furnished apartment, Shelby moved to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the mattr
ess and, thinking back, drew out the decades-old photo that had been torn away on that sudden gust. Not so long ago, she had ripped it into pieces. Then, before leaving Mountain Ridge for good, she’d painstakingly taped the bits together again.
The girls in the photo seemed like ghosts to Shelby now. One had hair the color of a chestnut; the other’s locks were as fair as a magnolia bloom. Friends since early grade school, they’d loved each other unreservedly. Had shared everything.
But some things were off-limits, even where best friends were concerned.
Three
As he headed home, Dex’s thoughts were dragged away from Shelby Scott’s ever-growing allure when his cell phone buzzed. He connected the call, and his younger brother Wynn’s voice swelled out from the hands-free speaker. Frowning, Dex caught the time display on the dash.
“Bro, it’s two in the morning in New York. What’s up? Decide to get a head start on the morning’s five-mile run?”
“I’m not that organized.”
Really?
Wynn had his father’s tenacity and his mother’s heart. Unlike his older brothers, early on Wynn had decided he wanted to settle down and have a family. He wanted the happily ever after his parents had shared before their mother had passed away.
Maybe that’s what this call was about, Dex thought now. Maybe on the heels of Cole’s engagement news, Wynn had an announcement of his own. Absolutely made sense, given he and his photographer girlfriend, Heather Matthews, had been inseparable for over two years.
“Did you get Cole’s message?” Dex asked. “Can’t believe he’s found the woman of his dreams. She must be something else to hold his attention away from the boardroom.”
“Great news. I’m happy for him.”
“No chance of you and Heather making it a double ceremony?”
“Heather and me… We’re taking a break.”
Dex almost swerved off the road. They’d seemed smitten whenever he saw them on family get-togethers back home in Sydney. Committed. Or Wynn had been, at least.
“Actually,” Wynn went on, “it’s pretty much over. We’re still friends.”
“God, Wynn… Man, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s late afternoon in Australia but Cole’s not picking up. Any more news on Dad and his situation?”
Respecting Wynn’s feelings—his need to move the conversation along—Dex got his thoughts together and summarized.
“Well, you know that after that first incident when his vehicle was run off the road, Dad was targeted again. Gunshot missed him by inches. Thankfully his P.I. was on hand when that maniac showed up a third time.”
“He’d been visiting Uncle Talbot.”
“Guess after all these years, Dad finally wants to mend fences.”
Decades ago, Guthrie had assumed the chairmanship of Hunter’s then much smaller family business, which had comprised print media only. Although he’d been assigned a position of authority, Guthrie’s brother had felt marginalized, patronized. Eventually he’d walked out. The grudge festered into a long-standing feud.
Dex believed that break was part of the reason why, after Guthrie’s heart surgery a few years back, he had divvied up Hunter Enterprises’ now worldwide interests evenly among this generation of brothers. Wynn had been given rule over Hunter’s print sector.
As far as Dex was concerned, Wynn had drawn the short straw. Steering that side of the business through the digital revolution needed not only brains but also a steely nerve. In times such as these, profits could be made but long-standing empires could just as easily crumple.
If Wynn felt the pressure, he never complained or asked for help. Which, Dex deduced, might one day be his brother’s professional undoing.
“After that shooting, Dad’s P.I. chased the guy, right?” Wynn was saying. “Can’t believe the fool ran straight into traffic.”
“Apparently he’d had a beef with the Broadcasting News Division,” Dex said, easing onto the freeway that would see him home in five. “When he didn’t regain consciousness, that should have been the end of it.”
But the worst was yet to come. Wynn also knew that, not long after the incident outside Uncle Talbot’s, their father had been assaulted in broad daylight. Dex’s stomach muscles clutched remembering how close Guthrie and Tate had come to being shoved into that black van something like a week after the shooting incident, perhaps never to be seen or heard from again. He’d give his eyeteeth to know who and what was behind it all.
“Tate’s coming out here for a visit,” Dex told Wynn. “Dad wants him out of the way in case there’s more trouble. He wanted his wife, Eloise, to vacate Sydney, too, but in her third trimester, she’s staying put.”
“Guess she wants to be with her husband.”
Dex couldn’t contain it. “You and your rose-colored glasses.”
“We might not approve of his marriage, but we should support it.”
Dex wondered if Wynn even suspected. Last Christmas Eve, when the family was all together under one roof, Dex had interrupted their dear stepmom trying to play pucker-up with a repulsed Cole. Dex’s older brother had thundered out of the room while Eloise tittered on to Dex about having a lash in her eye. Quite a piece of work.
He’d been torn for a time, as Cole must have been. No one wanted to see someone they loved be made to look like a fool. But neither did a son want to cause trouble in his father’s marriage. When these attempts had begun on their father’s life, Cole had admitted he’d suspected Eloise. Private checks had cleared her of involvement—on that score at least.
Wynn said he’d keep in touch and ended the call at the same time Dex pulled into his garage. As he exited the car and passed through the internal door leading to the kitchen, he shook his head over the torment his father had endured. Some deranged people imagined they had the right to intimidate others. Some felt compelled to hurt—financially, emotionally. Physically.
On his way through to the living room, Dex lifted his nose and frowned. Smoke? A movement outside, beyond glass sliders, caught his eye. Something on the back lawn, no more than a foot high, was glowing red. He edged over, slid open the door and moved outside.
Positioned before the palm-fringed pool, a box that resembled a crude miniature coffin stood smoldering. When a piece fell to the grass, sparks spat out. A couple hit his trouser leg but, while a chill ran up his spine, Dex didn’t move to slap them away. This message was patently clear.
Recently he’d received a threatening letter; if he didn’t pay, an unfortunate incident years back would come to light. He knew that the incident to which the letter referred involved his friend Joel and an industrial building burning down. Thankfully the building had been empty at the time. That didn’t excuse the act. Arson was a criminal offense. So too was withholding evidence.
Although Dex had mentioned the note to Cole, he hadn’t taken the threat seriously. But now he wondered. Could this somehow be connected to his father’s trouble? Was the scum involved with his father’s assassination attempts for some reason widening his net?
Either way, how could he bring Tate here now?
Four
“Can’t you please take me with you when you go?”
Shelby stopped wiping a tabletop to smile over at her friend and fellow waitress.
“It’s not so bad here,” she told Lila Sommers. “Besides, you’ll hear about your college application soon and, in no time, you’ll be way ahead of the game.” Shelby sighed. “A double degree. I can’t imagine how full of brains your head must be.”
“I’m not so bright that I can land a job with one of this town’s most eligible bachelors. Dex Hunter’s been coming here ordering cheeseburgers and fries forever.”
“I’m not sure about your interpretation of eligible. Being single doesn’t necessarily make someone the pick
of the bunch.”
“Okay.” Lila began counting fingers. “Let’s move onto charismatic. Absurdly handsome. Dripping with money.”
“Which you know has nothing to do with why I took the job.”
This morning while they’d set up, Shelby had filled Lila in on the previous night, ending with how she’d made the mistake of looking at that video featuring Dex’s little brother. Until then she’d decided she wasn’t a good fit with his world. From jumping to conclusions over Bernice and that unfortunate embrace, to nearly falling in front of a vehicle, then being invited to a genuine movie script session…
Merely being in his orbit left her feeling gauche.
But, irrespective of her pedestrian style—or, as Dex had said, because of it—he wanted her to be his brother’s temporary nanny. Watching Tate play around in the surf, seeing that exuberant expression light his little face… She couldn’t help but want to give Tate the stability he deserved when he came out to visit his high-flying older brother. She also wanted to hear that gorgeous giggle again.
“You must want a batch of your own someday?” Lila asked, straightening salt and pepper shakers, pushing in chairs.
Children of her own? She’d love that more than anything. But she pointed out, “I have to find the right guy first.”
And, for the time being, she wasn’t looking.
“You never know. Dex Hunter might be that man.”
“Didn’t your mama ever tell you? It’s the charmers you need to watch out for.”
“My mom’s middle name is Man-Hater. Her advice is to stay away, period.”
“Guess she’s been burned.”
“Big-time—by my dad.”
“Oh, Lila, I’m sorry.”
“It’s between them.” Lila straightened her apron then flicked back her brunette ponytail. “Dad and I are cool. Now that he knows how much I want to do college, he says he’ll help pay my tuition.” She went to wipe the next table. “If I get in.”
