Leanne Banks: Trouble in High Heels

“You’re headstrong and you won’t compromise,” Jackson continued, infuriating her even further.

“What you mean to say is I won’t cave to instructions just because they’re given to me by a man. I’m trying to remember the last time someone working for me said something so rude to me.”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t pull rank, Lori. You’ve turned this into a circus, and I’m just trying to keep it within three rings. Part of the success of my assignment will be based on your expectations. If you don’t know what your expectations are, then you need to figure them out and tell me.”

But that was the problem, she thought, balling one of her fists and swallowing the urge to shriek. She’d already figured out she didn’t want to overthink this. She just wanted to do it. “I want a polite, discreet, and clean man who will sign an agreement to be married to me for six years, who will accept a settlement of divorce and then get out of my life.” She refused to talk about it anymore. The intense discussion was upsetting her stomach, or maybe it was the expression in Jackson ’s eyes. “And stop judging me. You’ve never walked in my shoes.”

He glanced down her legs at her high heels and his lips twitched. “I can’t disagree with that.”

“Hallelujah, have we actually found something we agree on?” she said more to herself than him. He unnerved her. She’d been in his presence only a little longer than ten minutes, and she was already feeling restless. “Okay, I think you have enough to get started. Let me know when you have some prospects for me.” She bit back the urge to say Now shoo. Jackson didn’t strike her as the kind of man to accept shoo-ing.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, reluctantly extending her hand but figuring it was the most polite way to dismiss him.

His large hand swallowed hers the same way his whole persona seemed to dwarf hers. The strength in his clasp was appealing, and while his confidence in himself made her all too aware of her lack of it, she couldn’t fight a grudging admiration. What she wouldn’t give to have that kind of confidence. She wondered how he had gotten it and suspected it hadn’t been the easiest path. Rock solid, so sure. The qualities were so attractive to her. But she knew he was a man who would only marry a submissive, agreeable woman-someone he could control. Not her, she told herself, and she gave his hand a firm shake.

Just as she had for the last few nights, Lori nixed social outings in favor of reading letters from her mother. There were so many it was going to take a while to read all of them. Her mother’s letters were full of warmth and her distinctive wisdom. The early letters, filled with news about Katie and the pets Lori had left behind, made her stomach clutch with emotion.

She glanced around her room, now redecorated in soft tones of mauve and blue, and remembered how when she’d first arrived here she’d been afraid the big bed would swallow her up in the dark.

The doorbell interrupted her reverie and she frowned, glancing at the clock. Nine o’clock. Curious, she rose from her bed with the letter still in one hand and her glass of champagne in the other. She was limiting herself to one glass so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of Jackson again. She walked down the hall and had partway descended the steps when she stopped at the sound of a male voice.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured to herself, when Mabel allowed Jackson inside the door.

He was dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt that accented his biceps and the exaggerated V shape of his body. His hair was the same, his face was the same. He was even holding a folder in one of those large hands of his. Without a suit, he seemed even more masculine to her.

As if he felt her studying him, he glanced up at her, and she felt his quick but thorough survey. She wore shorts and a summery tank top. His gaze lingered on the bare sliver of belly the shirt revealed, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Silly, she told herself. She wasn’t naked. She just felt as if she was.

“I have a few prospects for you to look over,” he said.

Surprise rushed through her. “Already?”

“You gave the impression you didn’t want to drag your feet,” he said. “And based on your spending, we need to get moving.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling anything but okay. Nodding, she walked down the rest of the stairs.

He lifted a brow at the sight of her champagne glass and the letter she held. “What did I interrupt?”

“I wasn’t getting drunk,” she assured him. “Just reading some old letters.”

He nodded, studying her face. “From your father?”

She shook her head. “No. My mother. My father-” She stopped, feeling a sharp jab of hurt and anger all over again. “My father kept them from me until he passed away.”

Jackson ’s mouth rounded in a low-voiced “Oh.” He was silent for a long moment that felt thick and full of emotion for Lori. “I could see where that might piss you off.”

She gave a rough laugh. “That would be an understatement.”

“Just how old are those letters?”

“This one’s about eighteen years old.”

He gave a whistle. “And your mom is-”

“Dead,” she finished for him. “He didn’t tell me about that until she had been gone, either. Nor did he tell me about my half brother.” She felt her anger building. When she’d first found out about her mother’s death and her half brother, she’d been angry, but her concern over her father’s heart condition had kept her from letting him have it. Now that he was gone and she was left to deal with his controlling ways, she was having a tougher time forgiving him so easily.

“Well, that puts a different spin on things,” Jackson finally said in a thoughtful voice.

For once, he wasn’t looking at her in disapproval. The knowledge made something inside her loosen and sigh. Confused, she swallowed a sip of champagne. “It’s all pretty complicated.”

He nodded and glanced at the folder in his hand, then the letter in her hand. “What’d your momma say?”

She smiled. “She told me how my kitty cat was doing and how much she and Priss and Delilah missed me.”

“Priss and Delilah?”

“Half sisters. We all had different fathers,” she added. “My mother was always looking for the knight in shining armor to rescue her. She was gorgeous, and men were crazy for her. At least temporarily.” She grimaced, recalling some of the stories her sisters had told her. “Unfortunately, she was a little blinded by her hope in eternal love.”

“And you’re not,” he said.

She shook her head. She couldn’t help feeling a pinch of longing when she looked at her sisters’ happy marriages, but Lori had the strong sense that since she’d had the good life during her childhood, it would be too much to hope for that she would experience eternal love as an adult.

Sure, she’d been obsessed with those singers from the short-lived rock group Extreme, and she’d fantasized about Luke Perry from Beverly Hills , 90210, but she’d never lost her heart to a man. Of course, the fact that her father had threatened every guy she ever dated with his life hadn’t helped matters.

“It’s not that I don’t think it’s possible,” she said. “For other people,” she added. “I just get the impression I might have better odds on a slot machine in Vegas.”

“Lucky with the slots?” he asked, his dark eyes amused. Something about his easy manner quieted her, made her feel less frantic.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”