Beauty and the Brit
LIZBETH SELVIG
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the circle of real Davids in my life:
Cyrus David—my beloved father-in-law, who taught me truths about life both here and in the hereafter
I could not have survived without, and who is waiting at Heaven’s gate for us to join him;
Jan David—my husband, who changed the entire world the day I met him and still lives as if his only goal
on Earth is to make my life happier and easier;
Adam David—my son, who enriched my life from the moment he came into the world with his kind and hilarious personality, and shows me every day what it means to be gifted with a truly gentle and peaceful spirit;
And our littlest angel David—my first grandson, who taught us about loving through ultimate sadness and now holds the hand of great-grandpa Cyrus David while he plays guardian angel to his little sister, Evelyn.
Acknowledgments
* * *
IT DEFINITELY TAKES a village to write my books! And my village is filled with the most amazing citizens:
Tessa Woodward: the nicest person, and the most encouraging and talented editor I could ever ask for. Thank you for urging my stories into becoming wonderful novels, for always loving my characters, and for never yelling at me when I’m four hours later than I say I’ll be.
Elizabeth Winick Rubinstein: half agent, half friend, who makes me feel ten feet tall whenever I talk to her, but who will never let anything slide that isn’t good enough. Thank you for finding me.
My mom, Grace Feuk, who starts every book with me, listening to tentative concepts and reading the first shaky pages, and then making everyone she knows read the final product. Just . . . thank you with all my love!
My critique partners: Ellen Lindseth, who brainstorms like crazy and talks me off of ledges when I don’t want to write anymore; Laramie Sasseville/Naomi Stone, who makes me write active sentences so my writing doesn’t drag and then cheerleads to the end; and Nancy Holland, who watches my language and characters like a hawk—thank goodness!
My Alaskan muses, who still never fail me: Morgan Q. O’Reilly, Maxine Mansfield, and DeNise Woodbury know how much I rely on their opinions and expertise and support.
Jennifer Bernard: thank you for being unfailingly honest and more helpful than you’ll ever know. And for holding my hand and guiding me through the minefield that is publishing.
Candis Terry, that goes for you, too.
So many thanks to Joy Miller from Warrington, England. (Who knew you could make a lifelong friend in three weeks on a cross-England hike?) Thanks for answering all my British questions on topics from language usage to Queen’s Scouts!
And, most importantly, thank you to my readers. I still can’t believe you aren’t any of you my mom but you still read my books. It’s mind-blowing! And I love you all.
Contents
* * *
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
An Excerpt from The Rancher and the Rock Star
An Excerpt from Rescued by a Stranger
About the Author
Also by Lizbeth Selvig
An Excerpt from The Cowboy and the Angel by T. J. Kline
An Excerpt from Finding Miss McFarland by Vivienne Lorret
An Excerpt from Take the Key and Lock Her Up by Lena Diaz
An Excerpt from Dylan’s Redemption by Jennifer Ryan
An Excerpt from Sinful Rewards 1 by Cynthia Sax
An Excerpt from Whatever It Takes by Dixie Lee Brown
An Excerpt from Hard to Hold On To by Laura Kaye
An Excerpt from Kiss Me, Captain by Gwen Jones
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’ve been in this country ten years and this is your first game of hoops. Sad, man. How’d they even grant you citizenship?”
David Pitts-Matherson ignored the jibe and crouched in front of his friend. Dr. Chase Preston looked very little like a physician at the moment. He dribbled the ball slowly, intense as Kevin Love, the bounce echoing through the cavernous gymnasium.
“Chatter on, mate,” David replied with a practiced sneer. “I’m a fast study.”
“Sure y’are. I’ll go easy on you anyhow, Limey, so you understand what you’re studyin’.”
David feinted left and then right, his shoes squeaking on the polished wood floor. The fake worked. He batted the ball from Chase’s hand and headed down the court, his dribble admittedly sloppy. When Chase reached him in three long strides, David stopped, took hurried aim, and let the ball fly. It missed the basket and the backboard by a foot, careened off a caged clock, took a hearty bounce, and skittered into a wall.
Chase doubled over in laughter.
“What was that?” he crowed. “Thing had about as much control as a fart in a fan factory.”
David choked, his own laughter wheezing free in a fit of coughing. He might have a noticeable accent, but as far as he was concerned nothing took the prize for sheer outlandishness like Chase’s Southern drawl and resulting phrases of lunacy.
“Nice steal, though.” Chase wiped his eyes. “We’ll work on the shooting.”
David retrieved the ball, dribbled three or four times, and took a jump shot. The ball banked off the backboard and swished neatly through the net.
“No need.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate British arrogance?” Chase grinned and captured the ball, dribbled it to the free-throw line, turned, and sank the shot. “Nothin’ but net.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate Americans showing off?”
“Yup. You have.”
David laughed again and clapped Chase on the arm. Not quite a year before, Chase had married David’s good friend and colleague Jill Carpenter, and this was the second time David had overnighted with Chase at Crossroads youth and community center in Minneapolis. He was grateful for the camaraderie, and for the free lodging on his supply runs to the city, but mostly for the distraction from life at the stable back home in Kennison Falls. Here there were no bills staring up at him from his desk, no finances to finagle, no colicky horses. Here he could forget he was one disaster away from . . . well, disaster.
It also boggled his mind that he and Chase had an entire converted middle school to themselves.
“All right, play to thirty,” Chase said, tossing him the ball. “Oughta take me no more’n three minutes to hang your limey ass out to dry.”
“Bring it on, Nancy-boy.”
A loud buzzer halted the game before it started.
“Isn’t that the front door?” David asked.
“Yeah.” Deep lines formed between Chase’s brows.
The center had officially closed an hour before at nine o’clock. Members with ID pass cards could enter until eleven—but only did so for emergencies. David followed Chase toward the gymnasium doors. Voices echoed down the hallway.
“Stop pulling, Rio, you’re worse than Hector. He’s not going to follow us in here.”
“It’s Bonnie and Rio Montoya.” Surprise colored Chase’s voice. “Rio’s one of the really good ones. Sane. Hardworking. I can’t imagine why she’s here.”
Rio? David searched his memory but could only recall ever hearing the name in the Duran Duran song.
“Don’t be an idiot.” A second voice, filled with firm, angry notes, rang out clearly as David neared the source. “Of course they’re following us. They might not come inside, but they’ll be waiting, and you cannot handle either of them no matter how much you think you can. Dr. Preston’s on duty tonight. He might be able to run interference.”
“They won’t listen to him. To them he’s just a pretty face. Let me talk to Heco. You never gave me the chance.”
“And I won’t, even if I have to lock you in juvie for a year.”
“God, Rio, you just don’t get it.”
“You’re right, Bonnie Marie. I don’t. What in God’s name possessed you to meet Hector Black after curfew? Do you know what almost went down in that parking lot? Do you know who that other dude was?”
Chase hustled through the doorway. “Rio? Bonnie? Something happen?”
David followed five feet behind him. The hallway outside the gym glowed with harsh fluorescent lighting. Chase had the attention of both girls, but when David moved into view, one of them turned. A force field slammed him out of nowhere—a force field made up of amber-red hair and blazing blue eyes.
Frozen to the spot, he stared and she stared back. Her hair shone the color of new pennies on fire, and her complexion, more olive and exotic than a typical pale redhead’s, captivated him. Her lips, parted and uncertain, were pinup girl full. Her body, beneath a worn-to-softness plaid flannel shirt, was molded into the kind of feminine curves that got a shallow-thinking man in trouble. David normally prided himself on having left such loutishness behind in his university days, but he was rapidly reverting.
“Rio? You all right?” Chase called, and she broke the staring contest first.
David blinked.
“Fine,” she said. “I’m sorry to come in so late. I needed a safe place for this one.”
The teenage girl with her couldn’t have been more her opposite. Model slender and taller than Rio, a pair of dark eyes and a fall of glossy black hair showed a rich Latina heritage.
“Very funny,” the teen said, her lip curled in disgust.
Chase gave an easy chuckle. “Not our sweet-tempered little Bonita.” The teasing in his drawl coaxed a smile from the girl. “All right, now. You both look terrified as june bugs in a twister. What’s goin’ on?”
“About five minutes ago I broke up a transaction that included this one here. Paul and his asshat amigo, Hector, are beyond pissed off. I don’t think we should go home, at least for a few minutes.”
Chase folded his arms. “It was smart to come. Do you want a place to stay for the night?”
“No, no.” Rio dismissed the question. “Once we’re home we’ll be fine. They just need some time, a chance for everyone to cool off.”
Chase nodded. “Let’s sit here awhile, then, and I’ll be glad to take you home. But I’d feel better knowing what’s really going on.”
“What’s going on is that Rio came busting in on my date with Hector like Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Bonnie’s laugh was half a step from hysterical. “She clawed at him so hard she left scratch marks that will definitely leave scars down Heco’s face. That’s what made him furious.”
“And what does Paul have to do with this?” Chase asked.
“He was there,” Rio said. “He ran off with Hector after Boyfriend’s car drove away.”
“Boyfriend?” Chase’s features transformed instantaneously from concerned to fully alarmed. “He was part of this ‘transaction’? Is that what you meant?”
Rio nodded.
“That’s it. I have to have a talk with your brother.”
David listened to the exchange, amazed. He already knew how effective Chase’s people skills were from his reputation back in Kennison Falls. He’d heard the stories about his work with inner city kids two days a week, but he’d never seen the calm, serious community leader in action.
A crash, like a chair clattering across the floor, made all four of them jump. It reverberated from the lobby, followed by a foul expletive and the quick beat of running feet. Seconds later a handsome Latino man hurtled around the corner, eyes half-crazed.
“Rio, where the hell are you?” He caught sight of them and slowed to a walk, jabbing his finger through the air as he approached. “Damn it, Manita, I could kill you. Do you know what kind of a mess you caused out there?” He spoke with a slightly exaggerated Mexican accent.
“Don’t you ‘little sister’ me in your fake Spanish. This is a mess you started, assh—” Rio cut herself off. “At least your real little sister is safe. No thanks to you.”
“I was handling it.”
“Handling it? Bonnie was in the car with him. Do you have some special kind of shit for brains? Get lost, Inigo. I’m starting to think Paul is dead to us.”
Rage twisted his features, and he lunged forward. David tensed instinctively, recognizing the look of a man momentarily unhinged. Paul made it two steps, and David slid sideways into his path, throwing one arm straight out, clotheslining the young man midleap. Paul’s feet shot out from under him, and he landed on his back, but not before hooking David behind the knees. David slammed the deck flat-backed, and the air left his lungs in one sharp exhale. Paul flailed around, attempting to right himself.
David forced himself upright, coughing as his lungs reinflated. Rio reached out a hand to her brother. Paul slapped it away and scrambled to his feet. To David’s shock, she offered her hand to him next. With only the slightest hesitation, he took it.
If he’d expected her grasp to be light and feminine, he’d been quite mistaken. She clasped his hand firmly, planted her feet, and pulled him up, keeping her eyes on his as he rose. Her head reached the bottom of his lip.
“Thanks.”
To his further shock she smiled. “Nice tackle. Are you all right?”
Behind her, Chase held the wriggling, still cursing brother by both shoulders.
“Brilliant,” David said. “Dusted the floor, but none the worse.”
Her mouth gaped. The accent caused that all too frequently, something he found slightly ridiculous.
Paul pulled toward Bonnie, and Chase spun him away. “That’s enough, Mr. Montoya. Lead the way to my office. Ladies, let’s get this straightened out.”
Rio ignored the directive. “You’re Br—”
“Bruised up?” David cut her off with a teasing wink. “I’m not, though. Honestly. Please don’t worry.”
“Worry?” She scoffed although her eyes remained wide. “I’m trying to figure out what the Duke of Edinburgh is doing in a place like this.”
“I see. Well, since the Duke of Edinburgh is Philip, husband to Queen Elizabeth, I’d say you don’t need to worry about that either. But I appreciate the mistaken identity.”
She wanted to laugh. He could see it in the quiver of her lower lip and the sparkle trying to overtake the anger in her eyes. Even the weak little smile she’d offered seconds ago had transformed her face; he’d have loved seeing the full-blown version. Instead she battled back the forces of mirth and tightened her lips.
“You Not-Duke-of-Edinburghs all look the same to me.” She shrugged. The joke in the middle of her crisis touched him. That took strength. “Thank you, whoever you are, for stopping Paul. He wouldn’t have hurt us on purpose, but
he’d have knocked me down.”
“Glad I could be of service.”
She slapped one hand over her mouth—to hold in the laughter, as evidenced from the return of the sparkle to her eyes. When she got control she shook her head.
“I don’t believe for one minute you aren’t a duke. Nobody talks like that.”
“Evidently I do.” He stuck out his hand in a proper greeting. “David,” he said. “Not to be confused with Philip.”
“Rio, short for Arionna,” she replied. This time her fingers slipped like satin into his handshake, trailing tiny jolts of pleasure across his palm. “And now I need to go see what the doc thinks I have to do.”
He had a suggestion. Stay away from her brother, stand there, and keep talking to him.
RIO SLIPPED INTO Chase’s spartan, yellow-painted office, mostly unadorned except for a bookcase full of books—Crossroads’ bare bones lending library. Although not many books found their ways back once lent. Chairs had been pilfered from other rooms, and everyone had a seat except Doc Preston, who perched on the edge of an old, black metal desk. Bonnie sat several feet away from Paul, who slouched sullenly on a metal folding chair. Rio sat beside Bonnie, far too aware of David-Not-Philip taking up a post by the door.
“First of all,” Chase said. “The extra person back there is David Pitts-Matherson, a good friend from Kennison Falls.”
The small town in southern Minnesota where Doc lived. Rio spun to look again at the duke. The stuffy, hyphenated name fit the first image Rio had had of him—a little stiff, a lot extremely hot man. But now that she’d glimpsed his inner laughing-eyed joker, she couldn’t reconcile anything hoity-toity with him.
“I think you need a better class of friends, Doc.” Paul practically spat the words.
Rio glared at him. He’d dropped the fake accent he used on the street, something that drove her insane.
“I’m sorry to have met on such violent terms,” David said.
Rio wasn’t sorry. Few people took Paul Montoya down anymore because he was the gang leader’s right-hand man. David had done it as easily as stepping off a curb.
Beauty and the Brit Page 1
