Charming You

Chapter 1 MickyI cursed my luck a thousand times in the past nine days. It started last Wednesday when I was pulled over for speeding, and the cop gave me a ticket for going seventy-three in a sixty-five. Who gets a ticket for going eight miles per hour over the speed limit? My dog ran away on Saturday morning. Ophelia the beagle darted between houses and howled ecstatically at her freedom. A neighbor finally discovered her two hours later digging through some trash and wolfing down questionable food stuffs. On Monday, I met my new boss—a slick-haired, sharp-featured man with an overly white smile who used words like "synergy" and scheduled meetings at seven o'clock in the morning. I spotted a mouse—or worse, a rat—in my garage, heard a family of birds in my chimney, and possibly broken my toe on the coffee table. Plus, my stepmother was coming into town this weekend. Maybe the cold that flattened me two days ago was just an allergic reaction to recent events…and now this. Now—on top of everything—my car battery died. I was going to be late to my brother's house for dinner. Sweat trickled over my brow. The September temperatures still hovered above eighty, even as the sun faded. I looked around the emptying parking garage and pulled my cell phone out of my purse to call the auto club and explain my dilemma. "Yes, Ms. Llewellyn. We can have a technician there in forty-five minutes to an hour." "No chance they'd get here sooner?" I asked, mentally crossing my fingers. "Possibly, but at rush hour on a Friday, that's the best we can do." It was already after six thirty, and it would take me at least forty-five minutes to drive across Dallas to Pete's house. Being there by seven thirty was way out of the question. I swept back the fringe of hair falling dark and damp across my forehead and swiped it with the back of my hand. I hated to be a kink in my brother's plans. Technically, Pete was my half-brother, and my stepmother would no doubt see my tardiness, at best, as a result of chronic irresponsibility and, at worst, as a direct personal attack. Lila Llewellyn-Vanoy didn't believe in bad luck—just bad planning and malicious intent. I’d given up trying to make the woman happy a long time ago. What Lila thought of me didn't matter anymore. But I didn't want to ruin Pete's evening. He planned to introduce his girlfriend to his mother, and it was important. He told me that marriage to Clarissa was in his near future, and I wanted the evening to go smoothly. The thought of being late tensed my shoulders as I slid back behind the wheel of my Toyota Camry. I turned the key again and hoped for signs of life. Nothing. My sigh evolved into a cough. Even though I felt better today, remnants of my cold remained. Then, I called Pete. "Bad news. My car battery died, and I'm going to be late." "s**t. How dead is dead?" Clarissa Langley, Pete's girlfriend, inquired in the background. "I turn the key and hear nothing but clicks and the faint laughter of the gods," I quipped. "AAA is on the way. Is your mother there yet?" "Not yet," Pete answered before saying something to Clarissa about my car. "She's already checked into the hotel. She wanted to freshen up before coming over." He paused. "She did tell me she'd be here promptly at seven thirty." "Of course." I coughed. "Where's she staying?" "The Crescent." "Of course," I said again as I turned the key again and prayed in vain for a mini-miracle. A sharp knock on my window startled me into a loud curse. Crisp green eyes framed by the longest, darkest eyelashes I’d ever seen peered down at me. The chiseled angles of his face mesmerizing until I remembered I was in a downtown parking garage. Alone. Lord only knows what this guy wanted. "Who's that?" Pete asked. "I don't know. Some man." "Do I need to call the police?" "Uhhh." I paused and surveyed the man leaning over my car. "I doubt it. Do serial killers wear Hermes ties and look like Cary Grant?" "You never know." "It's fine," I told my brother. "I'll give you a call when the auto club guy gets here." "Sooner if you think you're headed for dismemberment and a crawl space. Or later if he buys you dinner." I laughed at Pete's suggestion before he reversed himself. "Scratch that. I need you here." "He doesn't look like the crawl space type. And I'll make it at some point." We said our goodbyes and hung up. Without power, I couldn't roll down the window, so I cautiously opened the car door. "Hello." The green-eyed man smiled. "Are you having some trouble?" "Umm...my car won't start. I've already called the auto club. They're on their way." "Oh, well, I'm right here," he turned and pointed to the dark blue Mercedes parked next to me. "I've got jumper cables if you need a start." The man tossed his dark blue suit jacket into the passenger seat of his car, removed his expensive silk tie, and began rolling up his sleeves. I climbed out of the car and stood next to him, acutely aware of his height. He had to be at least six foot three. He looked down at me even though I wore three-inch heels that heightened my already tall, five-foot-eight frame. He was hot. There was no denying that, which made me immediately suspicious. Not that he meant me harm, but in my experience, good-looking, charming men were often times up to no good. Slightly shaggy, dark brown hair fell in his face when he leaned over, framing startling green eyes. His smile was warm and gentle. He had a lean but muscular body with broad shoulders and a masculine, athletic grace. Heat washed over me, and not from the weather. His tan hand extended toward his car, and I wondered what those strong fingers would feel like on my body. God, he's a complete stranger. My throat went dry. I pursed my lips and shook my head like an Etch-a-Sketch to erase the images springing up in my mind. "So, do you want a jump start?" My body screamed, "Yes!" But, I managed to pull it together enough to answer about my car. "I think I do." My voice turned husky as much from the surprising rise of desire within her as from my previous week's illness. "No harm in trying. If that's not the problem, the AAA guy will figure it out when he gets here." He popped his hood, then his trunk, and pulled out an emergency kit much like the one I kept telling myself I should get. "I keep telling myself I should get one of those," I confessed, stepping between our cars. "You should. I bought them for my mom and my sister." "Just the women?" He laughed and walked back to the front of his car. "All I have is women." "How gallant," I replied. "I try. Do you have brothers and sisters?" "I have a brother. That's who I was talking to on the phone." "Are you close?" he asked, shouting as he opened the hood of his car. I got back into my car to pull the lever and pop the hood. "Yes, actually," I shouted back. "It would have been nice to have a sister." As a kid, I’d often felt alone. I had gone with my mother after my parents' divorce, which meant leaving Pete as well. I would have loved to have more siblings around while I was growing up. People who understood what I was going through and could share the painful experiences of my parents' divorce and subsequent remarriages. "I can see that. I always wanted a brother," my handsome savior said, standing in front of my car and reaching inside for the release hatch to raise the hood fully. He fiddled for several seconds, but couldn't get it open. "Hey, do you know how this thing works?" I walked up beside him. My fingers probed under the hood, brushing against his in the small space. He smelled incredible – tangy, salty spice. Focusing on the task at hand, I found the latch and quickly released it. "You just have to know where to push," I said, looking up at him. The heat of his strong body next to mine triggered an acute awareness of his proximity, and I had no choice but to inhale his scent. His brilliant, emerald eyes sparked. I wasn't vain, but I knew men often admired my figure. I ducked my eyes and noticed the top button of my blouse had come undone. I was revealing a bit more cleavage than intended. He grinned. "Well, isn't that always how it is." With that, he quickly hooked the cables to each car battery and commanded me to try my key again. I turned the ignition and my car rumbled to life. "Fabulous," the sexy stranger exclaimed, leaning over the open car door. "Thanks so much...?" I trailed off, not knowing his name. "Nick." He presented his soiled right hand then withdrew it. "Nick Halden. I work at Winston Stratford." I recognized the first two names on the long list of partners in the law firm occupying the top four floors of the building. Now I understood how he afforded the Hermes tie. "We'll shake hands another time," I responded after a brief pause. "I'm Micky Llewellyn. I work in marketing at Azur, the tech firm on the fifth floor." Nick raised his eyebrows. What did he think I did for a living? "Pleased to meet you, Micky." "I'd better be going. If I leave now, I can be slightly rather than egregiously late." I rolled down the window and closed my car door. "Big Friday night plans?” "Not especially. Just dinner with family." "The brother?" "Yes. And my stepmother, who is a real stickler for promptness." "Lovely,” he said with a deep, rich laugh. "Well, I won't keep you, but I will ask you a favor." "What's that?" I asked. "I think you owe me a drink. How about tomorrow?" "Owe? That doesn't sound like a favor." "A favor in return for services rendered." "I can agree to that. But I’m busy tomorrow,” I lied. “Give me a call on Monday." As I dug a business card out of my purse, I knew I should have just agreed, but I didn't want to appear too eager or to rush into anything. That had bitten me in the past. So what if I’d probably spend the whole weekend working instead of allowing myself the distraction of drinks with a handsome, successful man who looked like sin in a suit? He was probably used to getting whatever woman he wanted, whenever he wanted. "I'll definitely call you. It's not every day I get to be the white knight for a beautiful woman." Nick gave me a charming smile that quickened my pulse. Suspicion inched up my spine even as the warmth of his gaze invaded my belly. I had horrible luck with charmers. The last one made my week from hell seem like a hangnail. So I smiled at my well-dressed white knight and backed out of the parking space. As I drove off, I couldn't help but take another peek at him in the rearview mirror. Jesus, he's hot. Maybe my luck wasn't so bad after all. At least I hoped so.