Leanne Banks - The Fairest of Them All

“Well,” he said, slowly rubbing his chin, “since you brought it up, there is one thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Carly said.

He bobbed an ice cube with one of his fingers.

“What I need is a beautiful, intelligent woman who will let me take her out to dinner and community functions for the next few months.”

He glanced back at her. “I find I have a preference for a tall, leggy riverboat owner with short, dark hair and violet eyes. And a smile a man would kill for.”

His warm gaze fell on her eyes, then her mouth. Despite reason, Carly’s heart fluttered. Her cheeks heated. She felt charmed and flattered. She almost believed the snake. It was on the tip of her tongue to accept. What woman would turn away this delicious, undivided attention from such a sexy man?

Then she came to her senses. “Have you considered the personal ads?”

A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth as he shook his head. “Carly, this is no way to treat a buddy.”

That was the problem. She didn’t see Russ as just a buddy. She saw him as a desirable man. Although his teasing was intended as innocent fun, she could easily envision herself getting hurt under the constant onslaught of his brand of masculine attention. Everybody knew Russ Bradford changed women as often as a college freshman changed majors.

She risked an assessing glance at him. Since his brief disastrous marriage, no woman had ever touched Russ’s heart. When things got sticky, Russ extricated himself from the situation. He had the ability to hold his emotions aloof. After her childhood, Carly needed a man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

Just then, the waitress set their steaming entrées on the table, and Russ led the conversation in other, less volatile directions.

They talked about her new brochure. She asked about his mother who had moved to Florida after Russ’s father’s death.

One of Carly’s clients, Francine Granger, and her husband stopped by their table. “Carly, you’re just the person I’ve been wanting to talk to. We need to confirm my reservation for our anniversary party on your riverboat.” Francine gave her balding husband an affectionate squeeze. “Norman and I have been married for twenty-five years, and we want a big celebration.”

Carly smiled at the effervescent Francine and long-suffering Norman. She’d bet money that Norman would be happy with a quiet dinner at home, but she wouldn’t quibble. Francine’s anniversary party promised to be as extravagant as the woman herself.

“Russ, you will be able to play the piano for us, won’t you?” Francine continued.

Carly’s stomach sank. She and Russ still hadn’t resolved the issue, and she didn’t want to lose Francine’s business.

The middle-aged woman, who happened to be a member of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, fixed an appraising eye on Russ. “You know, Russ, my daughter Caroline will be visiting from graduate school soon. She’ll need someone to take her around. Do you think you could—”

Russ cleared his throat and threw a meaningful glance at Carly. “As far as my playing for your party, that’s totally up to Carly.”

She could have killed him. He’d boxed her in. Francine and Norman were waiting for her reply. If she refused, she might lose the business. If she accepted, she’d be obligated to Russ for the entire summer.

Slowly, as if the words were squeezed from her, Carly said, “Russ will play for your party.” Then her mind snatched another idea. The corners of her mouth turned up into a bright smile. “As for Caroline, Russ is—”

“Completely booked,” Russ interjected smoothly. He shot her a grin that somehow mixed triumph and sensual promise. “I’ve got all sorts of plans for this summer.”

The Grangers murmured goodbye while Carly glared at Russ. “That was dirty,” she hissed after they left.

Russ shook his head. “That’s negotiation. I give you something you want.” His warm gaze lingered on her lips. “You give me something I want.”

Her heart jumped into her throat. Carly knew his explanation was pragmatic, but that didn’t explain her dizziness. She cleared her throat. “And what do you want?”

“I’m attending a banquet next Saturday where I’m supposed to present an award. I need you to go with me.” He shrugged. “Natalie’s been hinting about rings I won’t be buying her.”

Carly felt a stab of disappointment. Ever practical, Russ sensed when a woman was getting too close and preferred to take care of it in an expedient way. She sighed in defeat. Grudgingly, she asked, “What time?”

“Five-thirty,” he said as they stood to leave. “And heels would be nice, Carly.” Russ ignored her startled expression. He’d thrown in that last request as a test. She hated wearing heels. Opening the door, Russ stifled the urge to let out a victory yell. His plan was working.

It hit Carly late one night when she was going through some correspondence at the office. She shoved aside the bills and thank-you notes from the local police and senior citizens group.

Carly almost tossed the form letter announcing the opening of Central Tennessee’s Women and Children’s Center. One of the support groups, however, struck her as if she were an unarmed soldier.

Children who have lost a parent.

She should be past it, but her memories were ruthlessly vivid. She remembered a five-year-old girl struggling with the death of her mother, crying alone in bed. How many nights had she called for Mommy or Daddy and neither had come?

She rubbed her cheeks, surprised to find them damp. She remembered the stuttering. She remembered reaching out to her daddy only to have him turn away. It had gotten worse when her stepmother, Eunice, entered the scene. Looking back, Carly realized she’d lost both parents at the same time. While her stuttering had inspired her brothers’ protective nature to epic proportions, her father had become more distant.

Carly had spent the first part of her life trying to reach an unreachable man. A man who kept his emotions to himself. She wouldn’t do it again. She’d tried hard to please her stepmother when her stepmother didn’t want to be pleased.

An uneasiness settled deep in her stomach at the thought. Although Russ was kind, he scrupulously avoided emotional involvement. Could she spend the summer pretending to be his romantic interest and remain unaffected?

Carly thought of Russ’s sexy mouth and shuddered. You’re dead meat.

Disgusted with her weakness, she thumped her desk. She would just have to remind herself that Russ would never be serious about her. Russ liked to play. When things got emotional, he tended to leave. She needed a man who could handle the tender side of a relationship.

With that plan in mind, Carly felt comforted. She looked at the letter again. She couldn’t volunteer. It would hurt too much. She could, however, offer a cruise as a special outing for the children. Going with her instincts, she wrote a letter to the center and sent it off.

At twenty-nine minutes after five on Saturday night, Carly was tearing through the bottom of her closet in search of heels. She pulled out a pair of pink fuzzy bedroom slippers, tennis shoes and black patent-leather flats. She felt hopeful when she found a white sandal with a real heel, but she couldn’t find its mate.

The doorbell rang, and she cursed. “Just a minute,” she called. What was wrong with her? This was just Russ, for Pete’s sake. She took a deep breath and stood. Smoothing the little black knit dress over her hips, she attempted to regain her composure.

She glanced into the mirror and approved the contrast between her freshwater-pearl choker and the black jewel neckline. After ruffling her hair and applying red lipstick, Carly scooted into the black patent flats and went to open the door.