Pretty Woman

by Fern Michaels

  Rosie backed up when she saw the swing start to move. At first it just moved back and forth a little with the breeze in the tree, but then it started to sway faster and faster. Rosie stumbled in her haste to get away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I only wanted…You don’t have to worry about…please don’t be upset. I won’t…”

  “You ready, Rosie?” Jack called from the verandah.

  Rosie nodded. “Look!” she said, pointing to the swing that was sailing as high as it could go. She was startled when Jack let loose with a loud laugh. “What? Why are you laughing? The air isn’t even stirring.”

  “That’s Martha telling us it’s okay. Us. She likes you. That swing only moves when she approves of something. I was holed up here with my dad and uncle during the last hurricane. Seventy-mile-an-hour winds. That damn swing didn’t move. Neither did the branches of the tree. I know it’s hard to believe, and I would have thought I was dreaming or imagining it, but Dad and my uncle saw it, too. Ask them.”

  “But…”

  “It’s Martha’s tree, Rosie. She’s very protective of it, and her space underneath it. Martha will let you know when it’s time for you to get on that swing. I tried it once, and she booted me right off. My dad saw that, too. Don’t even try to figure it out, Rosie.”

  “Okay, I won’t,” she said, eyeing the tree warily before she turned back to Jack. “Are you ready?”

  “I packed up the car, and I’m good to go. How about you and Buddy?”

  “He’s been sitting in the car waiting for the last fifteen minutes. He’s ready to go home, too.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Weary to the bone, but contented, Rosie leaned back and listened to Jack chatter about the November triathlon, her training, the gym, and anything else he felt like talking about. She was glad she didn’t have to contribute to the conversation. Even so, she felt connected to the trainer. Somehow, this holiday weekend, they’d forged a bond she couldn’t explain. She felt attracted to him, her thoughts and desires going off in all sorts of directions, but the timing wasn’t right. And then there was Kent and the missing gun. Along with all her other emotions, a feeling of dread settled between her shoulder blades.

  An hour later, Jack swung into her driveway and parked by the garage. “Home sweet home,” he said, laughing.

  “No place like it. Your house on the river is beautiful though. I can see why you love it so much. It’s too bad you can’t spend more time there. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you turn into a different person when you’re there.”

  Jack looked at Rosie in awe, “You picked up on that? Martha used to say that to me.” He linked his arm with hers and walked to the house, stopping twice while they waited for Buddy to do what he had to do. He growled, though, when he raced up the back steps to the door. His body slammed the door as Rosie stuck the key in the lock, her own nerves twanging at the dog’s apparent anxiety.

  Buddy barreled through the open doorway as his mistress ran to the keypad to turn off the alarm. Her feet crunched on the broken glass and china, ground coffee and rice littering the floor. “My God, what happened?” she said, looking around at the mess.

  “I think it’s safe to say your house was broken into, Rosie. Stay here while I check the other rooms.”

  “But the alarm was on. You saw me turn it off. The windows are locked and armed.”

  “Then it must be someone who knows your code. Stay here, Rosie.”

  “Like hell! This is my house. No one but Vickie, Luna Mae, and I have the code. It had to be Kent. He’s looking for the ticket.”

  Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned around to look at Rosie. “And now he has a gun.”

  Rosie ran her hands through her short-cropped brown hair before she jammed them into the pockets of her olive green slacks. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’re succeeding, Jack. The house is empty. Otherwise, Buddy would be going ballistic. Well, let’s see if he found the ticket.”

  Rosie’s heart fluttered in her chest when she walked into the guest room. She struggled to take a deep breath when she saw the floral cushion on the floor. She ran over to it and picked it up. The small white ticket sailed downward.

  Rosie let out her breath in a loudswoosh of sound as she bent down to pick up the ticket.

  Jack could only gape, his jaw dropping.“That was your safe place! Under the cushion!”

  “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Rosie quipped. “The ticket stuck to the bottom of the cushion when the cushion fell to the floor.” She unbuttoned the button at the top of her shirt, which matched her slacks, folded the ticket, and stuck it down her bra.

  “Women!” Jack said, disgust ringing in his voice. “Why didn’t you take it to a safe-deposit box, Rosie?”

  “I don’t have one. I thought if I had the ticket in a hiding place, Kent would have a better chance of finding it. He has a shrewd, devious mind. I know he did this. I can’t explain about the alarm, but I know it was him. I just know it, Jack.”

  “Okay, I’ll go with that because I think you’re right. I also think you better check around to see if anything else is missing.”

  “Well, he took my jewelry box and the money I had in it. I think I had about four thousand dollars. You know, for emergencies. I hate waiting in line at the bank. I hate waiting in line, period.”

  “Did you ever hear of the wordsafe? You could have one installed in half an hour. Hell, I can install one for you. Anything else?”

  Rosie looked around at the mess in her bedroom. The mattress and bedding littered the floor, the box spring was tilted askew. The contents of her dresser drawers were scattered everywhere. The bathroom fared no better. Body powder was everywhere, coating everything with a white glaze.

  Her clothes in the closet were on the floor, the pockets of everything inside out. Her shoes had been tossed in all directions. She felt sick, violated by what had been done to her home. What bothered her more than anything, though, was the look of disgust she was seeing on Jack’s face.

  She reacted.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Jack. This is my home. My castle, so to speak. I should be able to do things the way I want. I took the time, the effort, and paid for a top-of-the-line alarm system. I shouldn’t even have had to do that, but I did. Most people keep a certain amount of cash handy. Maybe I had a little more than most, but that’s my right, too. What good is having jewelry locked up in a safe-deposit box? I’m calling the police and the alarm company to find out how this happened. We probably shouldn’t touch anything until the police make their report and dust for fingerprints. The only ones they’re going to find are mine, Luna Mae’s, and Kent’s. I can tell you that right now.”

  Jack walked over to where Rosie was standing. He cupped her chin in his hand. “Look at me, Rosie. I’m not judging you. I would never do that. If you think I’m angry, I am. I’m angry that I agree with you that your husband did this, and I’m angry that we both think he stole my gun. I am not angry with you.”

  Rosie’s eyes filled with tears, blurring his sturdy figure. She felt his lips on hers as tears splashed between them. It was the sweetest, sexiest, most mind-boggling kiss she’d ever experienced. She swayed with dizziness, wanting it to go on forever.

  It was Jack who drew away first, a look of stunned wonderment on his face. “Uh-huh,” was all he could think of to say.

  Rosie was a little more verbal. “I liked that. Want to do it again?”

  “I do, but we aren’t going to. We are going to call the police and the alarm company. Then we are going to clean up this mess. After which, what do you say to the two of us taking a nice shower together? I wash your back, and you wash mine.”

  “That sounds wickedly delicious.” She turned around so Jack wouldn’t see her worried face. Taking a shower meant he would see her naked body. And feel it. Did she care? She had cared earlier in the weekend. Now she decided she didn’t give a tinker’s damn if he saw her naked body or not. If he couldn’t handle it, it was his
problem. She did take a moment to wonder what his wife had looked like. Was she thin and petite? Was she beautiful? Did she have a wonderful smile? Well, there was only one way to find out.

  “Jack, what did your wife look like?”

  “Would you like to see a picture of her, Rosie?”

  “I would, Jack.”

  Jack pulled his billfold out of his hip pocket and withdrew a picture of Martha. His thumb traced her likeness for a second before he handed it over.

  “She’s beautiful, Jack.” Rosie’s voice rang with sincerity.

  “And she was just as beautiful inside as she was outside. Like you, she was a pretty woman. I’m thinking you thought she was a little woman, maybe a size six or something like that. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Rosie said honestly.

  “No. When I first met her she was a little bit of a thing, but Martha had a weight problem. She worked at it, though. She was never able to drop below a size fourteen. She used to call herself a plump pigeon because she was short and round. Look at me, Rosie. It’s what’s inside that counts. Some people, no matter how hard they try, no matter how hard they work at it, are never going to be little and skinny. As long as you exercise and eat right, that’s all you have to worry about. I told you I was a fat kid. I learned to be tolerant.”

  Rosie’s eyes misted. She watched as he slipped the picture back into his wallet. She turned around, picked up the phone, and called the police.

  Two hours later, Rosie walked the two police officers to the door. When the door closed behind them, she looked at Jack. “They’re going to talk to Kent. He will be livid. If you don’t mind, I think you should call Heather and ask her point-blank if Kent was with her at the river house. I’d like for you to do that before the police get to him. That way, he won’t be able to coerce her into lying for him.”

  “Did the alarm company guy say anything?”

  “He’s on the phone with the monitoring station now,” Rosie said.

  “Okay, you deal with him, and I’ll call Heather.”

  Rosie nodded as she walked down the steps and into the kitchen where the alarm pad was located. The technician was just hanging up the phone. She looked at him expectantly.

  “There’s no malfunction. You said you were away for the weekend. Someone entered your house, turned off the alarm, then rearmed it. They did it twice over the weekend. The last time they did it was yesterday, a little after three-thirty in the morning. That’s all I can tell you, Ms. Gardener. I checked the locks on your doors. There’s nothing wrong there. Someone must have a key. Sign here.”

  Rosie scrawled her name at the bottom of the slip, folded her copy, then shoved it into a kitchen drawer that held hundreds of other receipts.

  Rosie crunched her way over to the table where she sat down. She eyed the broken teapots and wanted to scream in anger. Kent would do something like this.

  Vickie and Luna Mae had keys to the house, and both of them knew how to arm and disarm the alarm system. It had to be Kent. There was no other explanation.

  That damn lottery ticket was making her life a living hell. She needed to do something about it, and she needed to do it soon. Real soon since Kent now had a gun.

  Rosie heard Jack before she saw him, Buddy at his side. “Heather said it was Kent with her at the house. She wanted to know why I wanted to know. I told her the truth. I don’t know if that was wise or not, Rosie. It’s too late now, though. When she finally figured out why I was asking, she was quick to point out that Kent was with her the whole time and never out of her sight. When I pressed her for more details, she said she’d fallen asleep, then Kent woke her up saying he felt sick and wanted to go back to town. I guess her father is on her case over this, too. I’m sure she’s talking to your husband right now.”

  “Poor Heather. I say that, and I don’t even know the young woman. That will be the end of their relationship. Kent will view it all as a betrayal on her part.”

  “Does Kent know anything about guns, Rosie?”

  “I don’t think so. However, there are a lot of things I don’t know about Kent. For all I know, he could be a crack shot. If it’s considered fashionable to own a firearm and be a good shot, then, yes, he knows how to use one. Whatever is ‘in’ at the moment is what he’s most interested in. He is no longer on my radar screen, Jack.”

  “Let’s get this all cleaned up. I’m staying here tonight. Either in your bed or on the couch. Your choice.” Jack grinned.

  “Then I opt for the bed,” Rosie said boldly.

  “Attagirl. Come on, let’s get to work.”

  Shortly before six, Jack and Rosie looked at each other before they dusted their hands dramatically. Now it was relaxation time. Rosie’s heart thumped in her chest. Her eyes were bold, her cheeks slightly flushed. “You said something about taking a shower together. Or would you rather go in the Jacuzzi with a nice glass of wine?”

  Jack leered at her. “Right now I’d settle for someone running the garden hose over me. If my opinion counts, let’s take a shower and hit those pretty sheets I just saw you put on the bed. What’s your vote?”

  Rosie had never done a wicked, unplanned, spontaneous, serendipitous thing in her life. She pursed her lips. “I have a garden hose. It’s been a while since I scampered through the tall grass buck naked.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jack said. He was breathing hard, Rosie noticed. She quirked an eyebrow in his direction. Buddy stared at them both before he threw back his head and howled.

  “Exactly where is this hose of yours?” Jack drawled.

  “Why don’t I show you,” Rosie drawled in return as she stuck her hand down her bra to pull out the Wonderball ticket. She stuck it back under the cushion on the rocking chair before she crooked her index finger. “Follow me,” she whispered. She kicked off her sneakers and heard them thump on the hardwood floor. She heard two more thumps as Jack’s sailed across the room.

  She ran then, like a gazelle, out to the hall and the stairway, where she galloped down, Buddy behind her, Jack bringing up the rear.

  Rosie reached the hose first and turned the nozzle. Water shot everywhere before she aimed it at Jack. He wrestled it from her, water shooting upward to catch him full in the face. It was just enough time for her to scamper to the other end of the porch and grapple for a second coiled hose. She turned it on full blast as she whipped it around.

  “I think this is called frolicking,” Jack gasped.

  Rosie started to giggle. “Frolicking is good. How about tomfoolery?”

  “Tomfoolery is real good.”

  “If it’s so damn good, why aren’t we doing it?” Rosie said, spitting out a mouthful of water.

  Jack dropped the hose in his hand. It danced across the lawn till it came to a stop, the spray shooting upward. Rosie dropped hers at the same time. It snapped into place, finally coming to rest next to Jack’s hose.

  “Our own waterfall,” Rosie purred, water dripping down her body. She struggled to pull off her olive green shirt. “I could use some help here.”

  Jack took it to be the invitation it was.

  “You aresooo slow,” Rosie said, whirling the sodden shirt over her head. Her bra was suddenly in her hands. She twirled it around before she whipped it behind her.

  “Uh-huh,” Jack said.

  “You need to play catch-up here!” Rosie trilled.

  “I can do that! Yes sirree, I can do that.”

  Buddy ran between them, barking and howling. If it was a game, he wanted to play, but both players were ignoring him.

  “Oooh,” Rosie said, her eyes growing big.

  “I’m all caught up,” Jack growled.

  “Up, up, up!” Rosie chortled as she finally got the olive green slacks and her soaking-wet panties down to her ankles.

  He reached for her and she let him, as their wet, slick bodies melted together.

  Disgusted with this turn of events, Buddy dragged the wet clothes out of the way before he lay down, his big head on his paws.
r />   Dinner was going to be late tonight.

  Kent Bliss stepped from the shower and wrapped one of the Days Inn towels around his middle. He spread a second towel on the scratchy love seat with its mysterious stains. His dinner, a meatball sub and a bag of greasy french fries along with two cups of coffee, glared up at him from the coffee table. He unwrapped the sandwich, and chomped down, his thoughts on what had transpired back at Rosie’s house. He’d looked everywhere and still he couldn’t find that goddamn ticket. He’d been so angry, he’d wrecked her kitchen and broken her prized teapot collection. He knew as sure as he knew he needed to keep breathing to stay alive that the winning ticket was somewhere in Rosie’s house. Fresh anger ripped through him all over again.

  Never content to do one thing when he could do two at the same time, he flipped open the cell phone to retrieve his messages. There were four from Heather, each more agitated than the one before, and three from Hillary demanding to know when she was going to see him again. It was the last call from Heather that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. The police wanted to talk to him.

  The meatball sub and the french fries went back into the paper bag. He scalded his tongue on the hot coffee but barely noticed.

  “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, as his fist pummeled the love seat he was sitting on. The last call had come in from Heather at three minutes past six. It was now eighteen minutes past ten. He didn’t want to call her but knew he had to. Just as soon as he could get his breathing under control. It took him a full ten minutes before he felt comfortable enough to dial Heather Daniels’s number. He tried to make his voice sound unconcerned and cheerful. “Hi, darlin’, what’s up?” Not bothering to wait for a response, he gushed on, “What did you do today? Anything exciting? You know, I hate paperwork, but I finally got caught up. Maloy might even be so happy with me he’ll shower me with bonuses. So, tell me what you did all day without me at your side.”