Robyn Grady - Temptation on His Terms

“I don’t want your money.”

Dex scratched his temple. “We need to settle this somehow…” He peeled off a few big bills.

Connor sniffed, then put out his palm. “Fine. But I’ll warn you. She’s not worth it.”

While Dex’s expression darkened, Shelby shrank back. She might want to deck Connor, but she suspected Dex just might do it. But then a crooked smile eased up one corner of Dex’s mouth and he stuffed the notes down the front of Mr. Connor’s Hawaiian-print shirt.

“That amount should cover any inconvenience or losses to your establishment. Now, I’m sure we’d all prefer that this parting be amicable.” His voice dropped and hardened. “Doesn’t have to be.” He peeled off another couple bills and offered them to Lila. “Thanks for the impeccable service in the past. I’ve enjoyed the food, even if your boss is a jerk.”

He asked Shelby to get her handbag. It took her ten seconds. When she was back, he grabbed her hand. She kept up as he headed out of the shop and down the busy sidewalk.

“Connor’s face was blotched, he was so mad,” she said.

“Connor’s an oaf.”

“Do you usually give oafs huge amounts of money to shut them up?”

“No, I don’t. But it was either that or shut him up another way.” Connor was lucky he hadn’t collected a broken jaw. Dex dragged a palm across his growling stomach and winced. “Damn, I’m hungry.”

“You get hungry when you’re mad?”

Usually he didn’t get angry.

“Must be some primitive instinct to refuel before and after battle, I guess.”

“When I want to let go and punch something,” she said as they strode past people strolling on either side of them, “I jump on my horse and take a long hard ride.”

“Not as good as knocking back a stack of pancakes.”

“Much better for the waistline.”

He paused and glanced at her. She looked hotter in that uniform than he remembered. Even in a burlap bag, Shelby’s assortment of curves would be difficult to dismiss. Pretty much impossible to forget. Her waistline had nothing to worry about.

Their stride had slowed. And he was still holding her hand. Clearing his throat, he let go.

“Have you hired an exterminator for the rodents?” she asked, shaking out her fingers. He must have been holding them tight.

“I’m not sure which method to take. Bait or blast.”

“Sounds nasty.”

“Nothing you or Tate will ever need to worry about.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now let’s get organized. We’ll make a list. Groceries can be delivered to the suite.”

“I’ll personally choose any food to be prepared. You have to keep a close eye on what kids eat.”

“I’m sure the delivery service has that covered.”

“But I like to walk up and down the aisles.” He scratched his head. “Why?”

“I won’t know everything I need until I see it.” Sounded like a lot of work to him, but her mind seemed set so they found a market and gathered up staples—bread, eggs, meat, Oreos. And fresh vegetables, including spinach. Shelby insisted greens were important for a growing boy. So long as she didn’t expect him to put any of that Popeye food near his plate.

Later, they arrived at the Beverly Hills Hotel. After porters collected the groceries, the valet parked the car and Dex checked in. They arrived at their suite at the same time as the porters. In the kitchen a moment later, he opened the first grocery bag and shuddered.

Shelby craned to see. “The way you screw up your nose around spinach, anyone would think it was covered in slime.”

“That’s exactly what it’s like when it’s cooked.”

“It’s packed full of vitamins.”

“You sound like an advertisement.”

She drew out a bag of carrots with the green bits still attached. “These are great for adding fiber to your diet. Vitamin A, too.”

“I’m more your potato-done-any-way kind of man. I’ve never met a curly fry I didn’t like.”

A stack of cans in hand, she twirled around, found the pantry and headed over. “I make my own brand of fries. Hopefully you won’t have to worry about feeding them to the dog under the table.”

“I don’t have a dog and you don’t have to cook.”

“Not even my specialty? Inch-thick seared juicy steak?”

He held his empty stomach. “You dare to talk that way when you know my condition?” He picked up a carton of cream. “Where are you on desserts?”

“I believe every day should end with wrapping your lips around something satisfyingly sweet.”

His gaze dipped to her hips. Well, they were in agreement there.

She turned away from the pantry while he was on his way to the fridge, and they bumped into each other. He wound a steadying arm around her. The contact was harmless; she even laughed when he said, “We’ll have to stop meeting like this.” But he was acutely aware of his blood pumping way faster than it should. Of her breasts accidentally brushing his chest.

Moving apart, they each continued with their task.

“I forgot to say that your friend found me at the café this morning,” she said. “He stopped by before heading out of town.”

Wondering where to put the cured salami sausage, Dex frowned across at her. “You mean Rance?”

“He asked if I wanted a job as his assistant.” She picked up a tub of butter. “I was flattered.”

“But you didn’t accept.”

“I could be wrong but I think Mr. Loggins wants more in an assistant than I’m prepared to give. I even told him that. He didn’t really answer, except to smile.”

It wasn’t hard to see that Rance was smitten. Although Dex would concede: Shelby did show promise as a script doctor.

She put the carton away in the fridge then found his gaze again.

“If I ask you something,” she began, “will you tell me the truth?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t really have rats in your basement, do you?” When he hesitated, she qualified. “Long skinny tails. Hunched furry bodies. Tiny white fangs.”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, Dex crossed his arms. Last night he’d wondered if the threats he’d received might somehow be linked to his father’s trouble. But he’d soon reverted to his earlier conclusion. The situations were unrelated. Whoever lay behind these extortion attempts was a coward. A lowlife who, Dex believed, didn’t have the guts to confront him face-to-face.

He wished he could turn back time. Change things.

Three years ago, his friend Joel Chase had broken down and sworn that, while he’d gone to that building with revenge on his mind, at the eleventh hour he’d had a change of heart. Unfortunately, rather than blow out the lit match, he had fumbled. The accelerant had done the rest. Dex had never been so torn in his life. How many others found themselves in that kind of predicament? Given no one was hurt, and Joel had been filled with remorse, he’d kept his mouth shut. Now, as then, Joel had way more to lose than Dex if the truth ever got out.

But this storm would pass. It must, because Dex would pirouette in public dressed in nothing but a pink tutu before handing over blackmail money to anyone for any reason. If Tate wasn’t coming to visit, Dex would have stayed put, laid a trap and confronted the creep if he dared to pull any more sick pranks. For now it was enough that he’d had those surveillance cameras hooked up.

He answered Shelby’s question about rats. “Let’s just say I needed to get out of that place for a while.”

“If there’s something you should tell me,” Shelby pushed, “best tell me now.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I have this prickly feeling running up my back, and I’ve learned to listen when that happens.”