Bachelor By Design: Bachelor By Design / Too Hot For Comfort

Viper hesitated, his suspicious gaze flicking over Trace. “What about this guy? He claims he doesn’t have any ID. How do I know he’s not a vice cop disguised as a jerk?”

“If I was a cop I’d arrest you for impersonating an ape. Now, as soon as we find Ramon we’ll find my ID. He has my wallet.”

She closed her eyes with a groan. “Oh, Trace, he didn’t.”

“He did. Unless the Chihuahua ate it.”

Viper flashed his gold tooth. “Sounds like Ramon is finally living up to the D’Onofrio name. Now my cousin Chloe here is another story. She’s a downright embarrassment to the family. In fact, we used to call her Squeaky, ’cause she’s so squeaky clean.”

Chloe glowered at him, which only seemed to amuse her cousin.

Viper gave a low chuckle. “And because she was always squeaking on all of us, a real tattletale—ow!” he yelped, his words abruptly cut off as a tiny woman with short, iron-gray hair twisted his ear between her bony fingers.

“That’s enough out of you, Virgil D’Onofrio. I’ve told you before to stop harassing my customers.”

“But, Ducky,” he protested, as she pulled him by the ear toward the bar.

She reached over the counter and pulled out a bucket and sponge. “If you don’t have anything better to do, you can mop those bathroom floors. I want them shining by the time you’re through.”

Viper rubbed his red ear. “But, Ducky….”

She planted both hands on her narrow hips.

“And if I hear one more ‘But, Ducky,’ I’m going to use that sponge on your mouth—after you’ve scrubbed those floors.”

Trace found himself suddenly approving of the buxom, chain-smoking, tough-talking dynamo. Even if she did look like a charter member of the Hell’s Angels.

Viper paled and backed away, obviously smart enough to take her threat seriously. “Yes, Ducky.”

“And don’t just barge into the ladies’ room without knocking like you did last time,” she admonished as he disappeared behind the men’s-room door.

The little iron-haired tyrant lit a cigarette, then turned back to Trace and Chloe. “Welcome to Ducky’s.”

Chloe smiled as she turned to her date. “Trace, I’d like you to meet my grandmother, Ducky D’Onofrio.”

5

CHLOE BIT BACK a smile at the stunned expression on Trace’s face. She probably should have told him sooner, but the man seemed to bring out the worst in her. Especially after he’d practically accused her grandmother of killing off her husbands. Ducky might not be totally legit, but she wasn’t dangerous. Or, at least, not lethally dangerous.

Ducky enveloped her granddaughter in an affectionate hug. “It’s been too long, Chloe. Now, let me take a good look at you.” Ducky stepped back and held her at arm’s length. “Not bad.” She reached out to pull the peasant blouse off Chloe’s shoulders. “There, that’s much better.”

This time Chloe’s smile broke through when she saw a muscle flex in Trace’s cheek. She had to give him credit, though—he exercised surprising restraint.

Ducky turned around and elbowed Trace in the ribs. “Bet you find it hard to believe I’m old enough to be a grandmother.”

He placed a hand over his ribs. “Well, I…”

Ducky glanced at her granddaughter. “Is he always this slow or is he just overwhelmed by a double dose of D’Onofrio beauty?”

Chloe leaned over to kiss her wrinkled, rouged cheek. “You’ve been making men speechless for the last forty years, Ducky. What do you think?”

Ducky snorted. “I think it’s a shame you never went into the con game, girl. You’re one smooth talker.”

“Then I should be able to talk you into two ice-cold beers—on the house.”

Ducky cackled. “You’ve got ’em. Go on and sit at my special table. I’ll be right there.”

Trace watched her grandmother bustle off toward the bar, a dazed expression on his face. Coping with more than one D’Onofrio at a time tended to have that effect on people. Especially when one of those D’Onofrios was Ducky. Chloe loved her spry, unconventional grandmother, despite her flirtation with the wrong side of the law.

Ducky had been there after Chloe’s mother went to prison, providing advice and comfort. Intensely loyal to everyone in the family, Ducky had taken a special interest in Chloe. She’d encouraged her granddaughter’s dream to go to design school and even cosigned her college loan papers. Ducky might not be your typical grandmother, but Chloe loved her fiercely.

“She’s really your grandmother?” Trace whispered as they seated themselves at the secluded table.

She nodded. “My father’s mother. Only she doesn’t allow her grandchildren to call her anything but Ducky.”

He scowled at her. “You might have told me sooner.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “But, Trace, I thought you already knew everything.”

Before he could reply, Ducky arrived at the table with three frosty bottles of beer in her hands. She held Trace’s bottle just out of his reach. “I don’t serve a drink to a man unless I know his name.”

“I’m Trace Callahan,” he replied.

Chloe leaned forward. “Ducky, we can’t stay long.”

Ducky sat down at the table. “You’ll stay long enough for this Callahan to tell me what his intentions are toward you.”

“My intentions are strictly honorable,” Trace assured her.

“That’s too bad,” Ducky replied with a disappointed sigh. “A man with strictly honorable intentions isn’t much fun. Have you even kissed her yet?”

“Ducky!” To Chloe’s consternation, a hot blush crept up her neck. “This is only our first date. Besides, we’re not here to talk about…kissing. We’re here about Ramon.”

“What’s that boy done now?”

“He’s in trouble,” Chloe replied, glossing over the finer details. “I have to find him. Has he been here this evening?”

Ducky shook her head. “No, but he was here last night. Had some bimbo with him, too.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “A girl?”

“More like an Amazon,” Ducky said with a cackle. “Ramon definitely had his hands full.”

“Who was she?” Chloe asked.

Ducky shrugged. “Beats me. I was busy in the back. I just got a glimpse of her.”

“What about Cousin Viper,” Trace asked, “didn’t he ask to see her ID?”