That Touch of Pink

“You’ve got eyes. Did you think she was overweight?”

He thought she had the curviest little body he’d seen in a long time, although it was hard to tell in that full-skirted thing she’d been wearing. But her arms were toned and the silky shirt she wore under it molded to her breasts in a way that tempted a man and made him hot all over.

“I didn’t say F-A-T. I said P-H-A-T—pretty hot and tempting.”

“No,” he lied. “I didn’t think that.”

“Okay. Then I have to conclude you’re scared.”

He stood, to crank up the intimidation factor, and glared down at her. “This is me we’re talking about. When I was in the army, I parachuted into hostile territory with nothing but a knife, a sidearm and a radio. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“And this is me,” Nora said, unfazed by the intimidation ploy. “I was there to pick up the pieces when Barb Kelly walked out with the child you fell in love with—”

“Don’t go there,” he warned.

“Why not? You just did.”

“No, not where you think. I just faced reality a long time ago. I’m a place-holder.”

“Not that again.” She sighed. “Poor you. You were adopted, and Mom and Dad love me best because I have their DNA. Trust me, it’s not that special.”

“You’re wrong. You’re pretty special.”

“So are you. For the record—and this is the last time I’m inflating your fragile male ego—the folks love you. Dad’s shirt buttons are in serious jeopardy of popping every time he boasts to his buddies about his son the Army Ranger.”

“Enough,” he said. “I’m not a kid any more.”

“You’re acting like one.”

“Am not.” He grinned as she sighed. “Do me a favor and just bury it.”

“You can duck into your foxhole if you want,” she said. “But I think you noticed the resemblance to Barb, too, and it scared the stuffing out of you.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“Then why did you refuse to keep your word and do the survival weekend?”

“I’m busy. Just got the new contract.”

“You didn’t have it in the bag when she was here. Definitely scared.”

“Busy.”

“Scared.”

“Busy.” Now it was his turn to sigh.

Squabbling just like when they were kids. And their parents had always seemed to take her side. Because she was their biological child and he’d been adopted when they’d thought conceiving their own baby was impossible. But there was something about Nora. He simply couldn’t hold it against her that she was a product of the folks’ love and DNA. He’d felt protective of her from the moment she had come home from the hospital. He had a bond with her. More than that—he loved her.

“Is there any way I can convince you you’re wrong?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to share, or do I have to use more aggressive interrogation techniques?”

“No tickling,” she warned.

“Then talk.”

“Right back at you, Riley. Face Abby Walsh. And talk.” She sighed at his look. “The thing is, you don’t have a choice. This is you. Although you try to hide all your good qualities behind a surly exterior, I happen to know you’re loyal, honest and you always pay your debts and do your duty. You gave your word to the Charity City Foundation when you volunteered the weekend for auction. And you’re an honorable man. You can’t do anything but talk to her.”

He hated that she was right. “Okay. You win.”

“Good.” She pointed at him. “But remember. That doesn’t mean the talk needs to be personal. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t under any circumstances get involved with her.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, sis. I don’t do personal. I’ll smooth things over.” Things like the curve of her cheek and the slender column of her neck. The insubordinate thoughts made him grind his teeth and proved that Abby Walsh was trouble with a capital T. “By the time I’m finished oozing charm, she’ll be glad to let me compensate her for the money she spent.”

And he’d be off one very large, very uncomfortable hook.

Chapter Two

A half hour after deciding to be sweet and lovable in his quest to change Abby Walsh’s mind, Riley stood on her doorstep. He’d have been there sooner, but it took him a few minutes to find out where she lived.

Her place was in The Villas, one of Charity City’s newest areas built by Richmond Homes. It was a charming neighborhood, meaning he was in the right place to take his charm out for a spin and see what it could do. And she’d accused him of lacking charm and courtesy. She was in for the charmfest of her life, he thought, pushing the doorbell.

“Who’s there?” It was a child’s voice behind the door.

“Riley Dixon,” he answered.

“The man Mommy bought at the auction?”

“Yes.” His reputation preceded him.

The door opened and a pint-size girl stood in front of him wearing pink satin pajamas, matching slippers with feathers on the toes and a pink robe with cartoon princesses on it. Her hair was long enough to disappear behind her shoulders, but what he could see of it was wet. Taking a mental leap, he guessed she’d just had her evening bath and was dressed for bed.

“Kimmie?” he said, remembering how Abby had corrected him when he’d called her “the kid.”

“Yes.”

He noticed the sleeves and hem of her robe were trimmed with white lace and tried to picture her camping in rugged terrain. Paying back the Charity City foundation should have been easy. Take a guy camping and teach him a few survival skills. End of obligation. But his luck wasn’t that good. The woman who’d bought him would consider a broken nail a life-altering event. And her child no doubt took after her.

“I’d like to talk to your mom. Is she here?”

There was a ten-year-old car in the driveway, but that didn’t mean the mom in question was on the premises.

“Mommy’s in the attic. It’s upstairs, and the ladder is pulled down.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m watchin’ TV before I hafta go to bed and I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It’s okay. I can find her.”