Irresistible Stranger

by Jennifer Greene

  But not yet. Right then, she just wanted Griff.

  “Hey, Griff, I just want to…”

  “Griff, what do you think of…”

  “Griff, how can I…?”

  Griff considered hurling out the back and beating his head on the closest rock. He’d been patient all morning, but at this point he was hot, cranky, frustrated and just plain fed up. There were too many problems-all of which needed addressing immediately. There were way too many questions with no answers, and a zillion people hovering every damn time he had a chance to dig in.

  This time, when he turned around there was Mrs. Georgia Maryweather, four-foot-eleven in heels and a ribboned hat, holding a peach-pecan pie. “Griff, I felt certain you’d need a little pick-me-up, bless your heart. The mister and I, we were so sorry to hear about the fire. It sure is a mess.”

  “What a kind thing to do. Thank you, Mrs. Maryweather.”

  Griff gave himself credit. He didn’t blow his temper, because of course he’d never bellow at a sweet old woman. Or a crotchety old woman. Or any woman. As anyone in town knew, he didn’t have a temper. He was low-key, never moved fast, never expressed anger.

  Damned if he would behave like his dad. Ever. No matter what the provocation.

  Mrs. Maryweather, of course, wanted a complete, chatty version of what had happened, who did it, what the damage would cost, what she and Mr. Maryweather could do to help, when he’d have the store back in business, the problem with young people today, the terror of crime and the story of her sister’s daughter’s cousin’s break-in last year.

  Griff could feel the start of a tic in his right eye. His stomach had shrunk to the size of a small, tight knot. Early-afternoon heat had come in like a prize-fighter, fast and sharp, a hot blow that could fell anybody.

  “Now, Griff, sugar, you just tell me if you…”

  “Griff…?”

  For four hours now, he hadn’t accomplished anything substantial. Couldn’t finish a conversation. Couldn’t end a sentence. Either the cell phone was buzzing or a fresh batch of people showed up. It wasn’t as if this was the fire of the century. It was just a mess.

  “Now, Mr. Maryweather and I, we’d-”

  A sudden movement caught his attention-the shine of glossy brown hair braiding through the crowd. Lily. Ignoring everyone, including a few accusing stares directed her way, she seemed solely focused on him, his face, his expression. Herman Conner, who’d been unshakable all morning, hitched up his trousers and aimed to block her path.

  But nothing was stopping Lily. She barged past elbows and looks and conversation, the frown on her brow deepening as she finally reached him. “I’m really sorry. I assumed I could get here a lot earlier. I got caught up.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” he assured her. “In fact, I should have called your cell, told you to forget it. There’s nothing anyone can do to help me right now.”

  She searched his face, barely whispered, “Yeah, right.” And then, in a sudden loud soprano, “Griff, I’m feeling sick with the heat. Could you just help me sit down for a minute? I’m afraid I’m going to faint.”

  She wasn’t going to faint. He couldn’t imagine why she’d pull such a drama, grabbing his arm, lifting her other hand to her forehead like a swooning Scarlett O’Hara. It was the hokiest acting job he’d ever seen…but he couldn’t be 100% positive of that. Lily did have trouble with heat, and it wasn’t as if he could ignore a woman asking for his help.

  Much less Lily.

  He’d have brought her into the nearest air-conditioning-which was the shop next door-but somehow Ms. Drama Queen, even as she moaned and groaned, elbowed him around the side of the store, down the alley, to a patch of shade. Faster than a snake, she wiggled through her purse and emerged with two water bottles. The first one she opened and poured over his head before he could even think about sputtering.

  The second, she handed him for a drink. “Sit,” she said.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He pushed a hand through his dripping hair, refusing to enjoy the sudden burst of cool. Although Lily couldn’t possibly know it, there were certain things Griff never did. Obey orders was one of them. Allow himself to be “handled” was another.

  “We’re going to cool you down and calm you down. Or you can vent a bunch of yelling on my head, if you’d rather. Both choices are okay with me.”

  “What?”

  “Griff, you looked seriously ready to explode.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah? I’m a teacher. I told you that. I work with gifted students. I think I told you that, too. Extra-bright kids.” She nudged the cold water bottle toward him again and couldn’t help miss how he glared at her, but still, he took a long, long pull. “I’m used to knowing when they’re going to blow.”

  “I don’t blow.”

  “Of course you blow. Everybody gets angry sometimes.”

  “I couldn’t be less angry.”

  “Right. See, my kids-they’re used to high expectations put on them. They’re used to meeting those expectations, getting a thrill when they even do more. But when they can’t quite make that A-plus grade, they can go through a mighty crash. They hate it.”

  “I’m not one of your kids, Lily. And I sure as hell don’t need caretaking. By anyone.”

  “There’s no reason in the universe why you can’t come unglued now and then.”

  There sure as hell was. His father capitalized every reason why a man-A Good Man-expected control from himself. Always. No exceptions. No discussion. “I’m not unglued.”

  She didn’t take a breath, didn’t look patient, didn’t keep pushing the psychology crap. He had to get back to that infernal commotion, he knew that. He’d been talking all morning, couldn’t waste time on any more useless talk. Stuff had to be done.

  But somehow-not because he was unraveling or unglued or any nonsense like that-he did spill a little. “Everyone’s talking about the fire. Hell, me, too. It’s arson. That’s damned upsetting, but reality is still…there are some practical things that have to be done. I got hooked up to a temporary generator, but it doesn’t have enough juice for what I need in the back room. Debbie-of Debbie’s Diner-has taken the fresh ice cream, going to sell at the restaurant. But I’ve got my batch freezers, my barrel freezers, the high-sheen blenders, the flavor tanks. All the equipment it takes to make and test serious ice cream. I don’t care about some stupid financial loss. It’s the mess. It’s-”

  She interrupted. “I get it. So what do you need first? An electrician to work on the power? Or do you need to move the equipment? Have to find a place? What?”

  “It’s sort of…all of the above. I need some straight information-from an electrician, a plumber-before I can make a move. But every time I turn around, there’s a dozen people, the police, Herman, the insurance investigator…my kids. The darned kids are so worried they can’t stay out of it, but I-”

  “Okay.” She lurched to her feet. “You stay here. Sit, drink some water, rehydrate, use your cell. I’ll take care of the boys. Between the three of us, we’ll run interference for you. You get done what you need to get done.”

  He frowned.

  She cocked her head. “What?”

  “You pulled this last night and it was reasonably cute, but enough’s enough. You’re manipulating me. Handling me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As if I could. Relax, Griff. I’m not the manipulator type.”

  She charged off, leaving him in the cool shade with the water, staring after her. She was right, of course. He’d never met anyone less of a manipulator type than Lily.

  But something fishy was definitely going on. He could feel it. His stomach had de-clenched. The tic had disappeared. He’d lost the freaked-out feeling.

  That woman was downright dangerous.

  But then he took another cool slug of water and hunkered down with his cell phone.

  Dangerous.

  Lily.

  Pairing those two words created an oxymoron
if ever there was one. He liked her. Possibly he way more than liked her. He was downright fascinated by how powerfully and unexpectedly he was attracted to her-got a real click when they were talking. Got more than a click when they were touching.

  But she wasn’t dangerous.

  She was in danger.

  And he damned well better keep that priority on the front line.

  By four that afternoon, Lily was blister-hot, savagely hungry, and having a terrific time. The boys, Jason and Steve, had worked with her like parts of a well-honed team. Initially, she’d sent them off with money to buy ice, cups, water. She’d scared up a card table from the business next door and set the whole thing up to work as a barrier between Griff and the bystanders. Those still curious could congregate, but they couldn’t get to him-at least not without interference, and the boys were pit-bull-protective that way.

  She had a feeling no one had trusted Jason with personal cash in…forever, because he counted back every penny of change, braced as if expecting her to accuse him of lifting a cut. When she praised both boys for helping to protect Griff, they both grew five inches-at least-and walked around with the posture of soldiers.

  It was enough to give a teacher heart palpitations. Man, it felt good to see a beaten-down kid try on some self-esteem.

  Okay, so maybe the afternoon wasn’t all peaches and cream. The sheriff insisted on taking both boys aside, grilling them on where they’d been at every hour of the night before, and whether they could prove it. Herman Conner had pointed a finger at her and said, “Honey, you and I are going to have a little talk later,” which put a mosquito in her stomach.

  That wasn’t the only icky part of the afternoon. Griff’s fire had lowered her popularity points, and it wasn’t as if she had been batting a thousand before last night. Still, being out and about was a way to talk with people. Listen. Ask questions. She discovered others who’d known her mom and dad-and others who’d worked at the mill before it closed.

  A hefty truck pulled in the back alley and started loading out what was, she assumed, Griff’s fancy equipment. A few guys hung with him for a while, scuffling the dirt, hands on hips, jawing plans and problems. By the time the truck rumbled off and Griff aimed for her, she was being confronted by three redheads.

  She’d already met Mary Belle-the buxom redhead who ran Belle Hair-at the grocery store. But this afternoon she had her two daughters with her, not that that relationship needed explaining. The teenagers looked just like their mama-lots and lots of eye makeup. Major breasts, displayed in sweetheart tees. Heaven knew what hair color they’d all been born with, but new-age red was obviously adopted as their family color of choice.

  “Lily, sugar, I wish you’d let me do something about that hair,” Mary Belle told Lily.

  “I’m dying to get it cut. I just honestly haven’t had time,” Lily said, which was 95 percent true. The only holdback was a sincere worry what Mary Belle might do with a pair of scissors.

  “I could give you some real style, honey. Jazz you up some. You need a little more…” Mary Belle made a motion with her hands “…style, if you want to appeal to a man like Griff.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s all right, Lily. I hear everything in the salon. No point in trying to keep gossip from me. And bless his heart, I tried to catch him myself-when I was between husbands, anyhow. Never did work, even though I know he wanted to try.” Mary Belle cocked her head. “Anyhow-y’all give me a call in the morning, I’ll get you in, and that’s a promise. I’ll do you myself. Trained in Savannah, you know…well, hello, handsome.”

  Griff came up behind them, greeted Mary Belle’s coy flash of eyelashes and inviting smile with his usual Southern boy charm. But Lily had long figured out he could flirt in his sleep; it didn’t mean anything beyond an unshakeable kindness to women. Behind the courtesy, though, she could see the tired circles under his eyes, the smudges of dirt that tracked his clothes, dusted his shoes. He was one wiped-out cookie.

  Still, he looked better than earlier, when she’d worried he was absolutely at the end of his rope-even though he’d denied it to the death. She wouldn’t make that mistake again, suggesting he had human qualities, like anger and frustration. Those sharp edges were definitely gone. Now he just looked as if he could crash the instant he sat down-if given the chance.

  Lily had been thinking about that all day. Whether she was going to give him that chance to rest.

  Or whether she was going to do something she’d never done in her life. Take a petrifying risk. Hurl good sense to the winds. And make love with a man for no reason beyond that she terribly, totally, irrevocably…

  Wanted to.

  Chapter 7

  “So you finally get to escape from here?” she asked him.

  “Finally is the operative word.” Griff couldn’t believe she’d stuck it out through the whole afternoon.

  “Hey! Quit looking at me! I’m wilted. More than wilted. Hair went flat, clothes went wrinkled, the whole body went droopy.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She looked beautiful. The more he was around her, the more he was becoming addicted to the fresh cheeks and huge, dark eyes, and all that thick, silky hair. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was damned close to impossibly appealing. “Wait a minute. You weren’t listening to Mary Belle, were you? Promise me now, you’ll never let that woman get near you with a pair of scissors.”

  She chuckled. “I’m desperate for a major trim, but I’m an easy cut. Otherwise, that woman’s sense of style would be more than a little…daunting.”

  He laughed-for the first time all day. And realized that his neck and shoulders were unknotting for the first time all day, too. He steered her under the overhang, for the shade, aiming for his EOS. “Thanks for hanging out this afternoon. Couldn’t have been fun. I owe you.”

  “Yup, you do. I expect diamonds and rubies and stuff. But for right now, I have a more immediate plan.”

  “What?”

  “You drop me off at the B and B. I’m going to shower and crash. You go straight home, turn off all phones, and crash yourself.”

  He waited. “That’s the whole plan?”

  “Well, maybe you should also lock your door so nobody can bug you.”

  “Hmm. I have a different plan.”

  “What?”

  They reached his car. He clipped open her door. “I drive you to your B and B. You get a change of clothes-like a swimsuit, a towel. We go back to my place. We can either shower first, or skip the shower and head straight for the hot tub-but I have in mind putting ice cubes in it. Have something ice-cold to drink. Followed by something ice-cold to eat.”

  “All right, all right, all right. You can have me. Body and soul, and skip the rubies. Just the words ice cold are enough to bring sentimental tears to my eyes.”

  “You’re easy, Lily.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”

  He’d bet the bank she hadn’t. He’d bet the bank there’d never been one thing any guy had ever found easy about Lily…which might be part of the reason he was so damned mesmerized.

  At the B and B, she only took a few minutes, flew out the door with Louella flapping on her tail, urging a plate of cookies on her, talking nonstop, waving wildly at him.

  He only had eyes for Lily. She dropped a sack in the backseat-big enough to hold a bathing suit and changes of clothes. But somehow, in those few minutes upstairs, she’d turned into another woman. The shorts had been replaced by a sundress, all white and yellow, the daisies at the hem fluttering around her knees.

  Her legs were bare.

  Her eyes were softer than chocolate.

  Her lips were noticeably free of lipstick.

  And she’d pulled up all that thick, silky hair with combs.

  “What?” she said, when she piled in and yanked on her seat belt. Instead of starting the car, she’d caught him looking at her.

  “Nothing. Just wiped out after that long day,” he said, but tiredness was the last
thing on his mind. He kept trying to remind himself that she was a teacher. Not that teachers couldn’t be gorgeous, but it was hard to think of them as femme fatales. And that was just it. She wasn’t. He could readily picture her in front of a bunch of kids, laughing, scolding, hugging the little ones, playing games. Not seducing guys. Not making guys melt at her feet just for a smile.

  Yet somehow, there was something in her eyes, the way she looked at him, the way she smiled at him-that messed with his head. Was still messing with his head.

  He had to make another stop to pull off the rest of his evening plan, but within an hour they were back at his place. The hot tub was set on lukewarm, the pool jutting over the hilltop. She emerged from her shower with a towel concealing her suit, and immediately saw the spread on the patio table. Plates and bowls were set in a bed of ice. Fresh shrimp with a sharp red dip. Chilled chardonnay. A plate of cheese, crackers and caviar. Lime sorbet in a sterling icer. Fresh peaches. It wasn’t exactly a normal dinner, but the food was all bite-size, no fuss.

  “That’s it,” she said. “I’m in love with you. I know, I know, that’s what all the ladies say.”

  “It is. I can’t help if I’m wonderful.”

  “Yeah, that’s your press all right.” She plopped the towel on a lounge chair, touched a bare foot to test the temperature in the tub, and then sank in with a groan loud enough to wake the sky. “Speaking of your press, though-I heard under the table that you’re some kind of high-brow math whiz.”

  There, for a moment, he felt reassured. She wasn’t perfect. In fact, when she started prying and probing and using that weird intuition of hers, she could be downright annoying. He didn’t have to worry about a permanent attachment to a woman who just never let anything rest. Right? “Hey, I already confessed I had a degree in math.”

  “Yeah, but you never said you used it to do really top-secret, fancy work.”