The Girl Most Likely To... Page 9

Dana supposed the room had great potential. Still, like Sara, she could use an Indian with a monkey on his shoulder to do some decorating magic. Of course, Sandy Bend didn’t have anyone nearly as exotic as Ram Dass, and the closest they came to a monkey was Mrs. Hawkins’s Shih Tzu. That being the case, Dana started piling junk in the middle of the floor.

  “Are you up there?” Mr. V bellowed a while later.

  “Yes,” she yelled.

  Each tread in the stairway to her new domain creaked as her landlord approached. He appeared in the doorway. “I talked to the moving company about when my stuff’s going to get here, and you have a week to get yourself resituated.” He looked at the pile of old magazines, books and newspapers that was now the focal point of the room. “My old buddy, Carlo the Torch, would have a field day up here.”

  “Carlo wouldn’t happen to be coming to town, would he? I could use the help.”

  Mr. V shook his head. “Sorry, Carlo’s booked for the next fifteen to twenty.”

  She laughed. “Then it’s up to me.”

  His eyebrows arched upward like startled caterpillars. “A pretty girl like you? What’s the matter with the men around here? They must be putting something in the water supply if you don’t have guys lined up outside the door.”

  “Well, I got divorced a while ago. Since then, I haven’t exactly been encouraging anyone.” Except last Friday, and look what that got you, her conscience reminded her. “I’m happy being alone,” she lied aloud.

  Mr. V shook his head. “No way.”

  It was her turn to feel disbelief. “You think you know me that well already?”

  “Of course I do. We’re two of a kind, kid. We need to be around people. I moved back from Florida because I was tired of being alone. Truth is, there’s a special lady in town I’ve never forgotten.”

  “Really?” Dana couldn’t help the excited rise to her voice. She loved talking to people about this kind of stuff. That was half the reason her salon was so successful. She truly cared about her clients and she never betrayed a confidence.

  “Yeah, really,” Mr. V echoed. “And don’t get all curious on me. I’m not telling you who it is in case she slams the door in my face. I have my pride, you know.” He braced his hands on either side of the door frame and gave her a speculative look. “I’m betting you won’t make it to summer without having some guy fall for you.”

  Dana managed to suppress a skeptical snort. “That would be one loser of a wager.”

  He chuckled. “Trust me, I’m pretty good at this betting thing.” His expression grew more serious. “I’m willing to bet that you lead with your heart. Any guy who comes sniffing around here is going to have to prove to me he’s good enough for you.”

  She peered at the dusty floorboards. Anything to hide the start of tears she felt shimmering in her eyes. She generally wasn’t the weepy type. It had to be the cumulative effect of the break-in, the move…and Cal.

  “Thanks, Mr. V,” she managed to say without making a teary dope of herself.

  “Think nothing of it,” he said in a voice that sounded a little thicker than usual. By the time she was collected enough to look up, her self-appointed guardian angel had disappeared.

  DANA WAS STILL SMILING about the amazing contrast between her landlord’s flashy exterior and marshmallow heart when just before eleven, she strolled down Main Street toward her salon. She was about a block from work when her mother stepped out of In a Knot, the town’s needlework shop. Dana was trapped. She and Eleanor had made eye contact, and neither of them had looked away soon enough to pretend they hadn’t.

  Biting back a resigned sigh, she closed the distance to her mother. “Hey, Mom. New coat? It’s pretty.”

  “I’ve had it for years.”

  “It’s still pretty.”

  Her mother frowned in response.

  It terrified Dana to think that someday she might look like her mother, with her brackets of perpetual dissatisfaction on either side of her mouth, and the faintly superior tilt of her nose that Dana recognized as a defense mechanism. Their bones were the same, which left it to attitude to make the difference. No problem there, since she and her rigid mother were direct opposites in the way they approached life.

  She waited for her mom to contribute to the small talk, but Eleanor Devine had apparently come up dry.

  “Well, I have an eleven o’clock appointment coming in, so I should get moving,” Dana said to fill the gap. She hesitated, then figured what the heck, why not give it yet another shot? “You know, Mom, you can come in anytime you like for a haircut.”

  “Gail has been my hairdresser for the past thirty years,” her mother said in a tone that made Dana feel as though she’d suggested committing treason.

  Gail Webber ran a small salon outside of town, and she and Dana had a good relationship. Dana sent her the traditionalists among the local population, and Gail sent Dana the trendsetters.

  “I’m not suggesting anything radical, just some pampering.”

  “I’d never do that to Gail.”

  But Eleanor thought nothing of snubbing her own daughter. A little trust, the slightest bending, that’s all Dana really wanted. Just enough to know she could tell her mother she was sorry for those rotten teenage years—and beyond—without having her heart ripped from her.

  Though she ached on the inside, Dana kept her smile firmly in place. “Well, the offer’s open. See you around.”

  But she knew she’d never see her mother in Devine Secrets.

  A few minutes later, boots off and work clothes on, Dana stood in the back room of the salon, assessing her shoe options. As always, her mother had barraged her defenses. She felt worn down and more than a little bummed. It was time to pull out the big guns of footwear.

  “Prada,” she said, and just the word made her feel better. It was so exotic and sophisticated. So not her mother. She pulled her beloved gray patent pumps with chunky four inch heels from their cubbyhole. She’d picked up these babies at an Internet auction site for next to nothing. Ah, how she loved technology…when it cooperated. Feeling much closer to composed, she marched to the front room, gave her dead computer a dirty look, and then prepared to give her eleven o’clock client the trendy kind of haircut a hot, Prada-wearing stylist should. If clothes could make the man, shoes could most definitely make the woman.

  “I NEED A VACATION,” Cal announced just after the town fathers had exited the police station.

  “You just had one,” Mitch pointed out unhelpfully.

  “Chicago was not a vacation.”

  His brother grinned. “So it was work?”

  “Keep it up and I’m putting you on roadkill patrol.”

  “I’d be scared…if we had one.”

  Cal checked his watch. “At five o’clock, I’m getting in that excuse for a pickup truck and driving to my lodge. All I need is one uninterrupted night—”

  “Uh, Cal?”

  “What?”

  “You know that call that came in while you were talking to Mayor Talbert about the crime wave?”

  Cal fought to keep his voice level as he said, “There is no crime wave.”

  “Perception is everything.” Mitch was parroting Dick MacNee, who’d been standing elbow to elbow with the mayor. By the time Dick had finished working the man up, Talbert’s face had glowed a near-lethal shade of red.

  “Just go on.”

  “The call was from Steve. He’s climbing the walls—at least, he’s climbing them the best he can with a bum knee. He wants you to come out to his place for dinner and a few beers. I told him you’d be there.”

  “You what? So now you’re my social director?”

  “Yeah, and it’s a crummy job. Other than what happened between you and Dana in Chicago, which you’ll kill me if I ask about, you don’t have much in the way of a social life to direct anymore.” Mitch took a swallow of his coffee. “He’s your best friend. It wasn’t like you were going to say no.”

  Cal braced his hands on eithe
r side of one of the station’s narrow front windows. It looked like a postcard outside, with the snow just beginning to fall. He loved this place. Really, he did. But just now, it didn’t feel that way.

  He turned toward his brother, who showed the minimal good sense to get his feet off the desk. “You’re fired.”

  “From here?” Mitch asked.

  Cal didn’t like the halfway hopeful look in his brother’s eyes. “No, as my social director. I can take care of my own life.”

  The jury was still out on whether he could do it without further screwing up.

  JUST BEFORE SUNSET, Dana pulled up the narrow two-track road to Steve and Hallie’s home, which sat above dunes spilling into Lake Michigan. Snow coated the trees arching over the lane, and the waning sun cast a fairyland glow.

  Paradise, she thought. That is, until she pulled round the bend and found that the other tracks in the road weren’t from Hallie’s car, as she’d assumed. Instead, they were from an old Dodge pickup she knew Bud Brewer owned. But Bud was in Arizona, and she’d already seen Mitch drive by in his car as she left work, which meant…

  She’d been set up.

  Again.

  Dana fleetingly considered taking off, but she was no quitter. The past couple of days might have pushed her to an emotional brink, but she was sure she could handle dinner without doing anything too crazy. She also refused to let Hallie think she was getting anywhere by throwing Cal into her path whenever possible.

  Dana quickly checked her makeup and hair to be sure she looked okay, not that the impulse had anything to do with Cal’s presence. Nope, not at all. She worked up her best I’m-so-immune-to-you attitude—that jaunty smile and confident glow in her eyes—and grabbed the wine she’d brought to share at dinner. One of these days she was going to have to remind her best friend what best friend status was all about.

  As she climbed the broad wooden stairway to Sandy Bend’s most impressive log home, she told herself that she could handle Cal, that she would handle Cal.

  Hallie met her at the kitchen door, which was used in winter since the official entrance faced the lake, and the wind was howling off the water.

  “Hey, glad you could make it. We’ve got some extra company, too.” Hallie’s smile was a bit tentative, as it should be, given her rat-fink status.

  Dana handed the wine to her friend. “I don’t suppose you’re driving your dad’s pickup, are you?”

  “Um…no.”

  “Didn’t think so. Cal’s in there, isn’t he?”

  Hallie danced her way around the question. “Why don’t you come on in?” The pitch of her voice matched her nervous smile. “We’re just hanging out around the fireplace while the lasagna finishes cooking.”

  Cal was in there all right.

  “You could have warned me.” Dana unzipped her jacket, handed it to her friend, and then toed her way out of heavy winter boots. She longed for the security of some killer shoes to wear right now, instead of her blue ragg wool socks. And there was no point in even thinking about the red flannel shirt and jeans ripped out at the knees that she wore.

  Hallie led her into the expansive family room. Dana’s gaze skipped past the awesome view of the lake and settled straight on Cal. He sat on a love seat facing the fireplace. In profile, the bold sweep of his cheekbones—inherited from a Cherokee great-grandmother, she knew from Hallie—made for a sight that sent one powerful tingle through Dana.

  Steve rose from his armchair with minimal fuss, given his recently repaired knee. “Glad the snow didn’t stop you from getting here. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Dana froze. The last time she’d mixed Cal and liquor, it had been a volatile combination.

  “Nothing right now, thanks. And if I do, I know where to find it. Why don’t you just kick back and relax?”

  He grinned. “Always happy to oblige.”

  She turned to the source of her current emotional roller-coaster ride. “Cal,” she offered.

  “Dana,” she received in return.

  Maybe one day they’d work their way up to two-word greetings.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” Hallie said before flinging herself in the remaining armchair, leaving one open spot on the couch already occupied by Cal.

  “Thanks.” Dana served up the word with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

  She wedged herself as far away from Cal as possible. He seemed unaffected by her presence, which Dana should have found a relief.

  “So, why are you driving your dad’s truck?” she asked him in an effort to start a normal conversation.

  “Mine’s in the shop.” He showed her just about as much interest as she would a chess match on television.

  Telling herself that Cal Brewer wasn’t necessarily the be-all and end-all of men, she took possession of her full half of the love seat. Her shoulder came very, very near to brushing his. She hadn’t been this close to him since…

  She shivered with the vivid recollection of everything she was trying to put in her past. The heat of his muscled back under her palms as she held him closer… The hunger of his kisses…

  Cal gave her a faintly inquiring look. “Feeling okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  She had to be getting to him. How could she not, when his mere proximity was bowling her over? Still, he didn’t look especially rattled, and his calm was beginning to annoy her.

  Invisibility was Dana’s least favorite state. She made a show of unbuttoning the top couple buttons of her shirt to show just a whisper of the black lace camisole she wore underneath.

  “That fireplace sure throws off some heat, doesn’t it?” she asked him. Judging by Hallie’s poorly disguised snicker, the Marilyn Monroe-esque tone of voice she’d used might have been carrying it a bit far.

  Steve chose that moment to ask Cal about the town council’s progress on permanently appointing him police chief.

  Cal gave a mournful shake of his head. “MacNee has locked on to the mayor and the council. Until I get the mess at Dana’s salon wrapped up, I’m not going to have any peace.”

  “Then arrest Mike,” Dana suggested ever so sweetly. “You’ll be police chief and he’ll be where he belongs.”

  He fixed her with a look that should have made Dana quake in her wool socks. Of course, she also thought maybe she saw a spark of primal interest in his eyes. And then there was the way he kept his gaze away from the small amount of skin she’d exposed, as though she didn’t exist from the eyes down.

  “You know, I’m getting damned tired of everyone giving me their opinions. I don’t tell you how to cut hair,” he said in a dead-serious voice, “so don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  Hallie sprang from her chair, grabbed Dana by the wrist and hauled her from her spot on the love seat. “Come check the lasagna with me.”

  “Sure,” she said, not that Hallie was giving her a choice.

  “Okay,” Hallie said once they were in the kitchen, “so it wasn’t my best idea, inviting you both here, but could you do me a favor? Let’s try to survive dinner without bloodshed.”

  “No sharp implements, then. And maybe you should seat us at opposite ends of the table.”

  “I’m not sure I should even put you in the same room,” her friend muttered as she pulled the lasagna from the oven.

  Dana couldn’t argue the point, not when the heat rolling from the oven seemed cool in comparison to what happened to her when she got close to Cal. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  Hallie snorted.

  Actually, dinner went pretty well until Dana mentioned her impending move to the attic.

  Cal’s fork clattered to his plate. “Do you know anything about this guy?”

  This was the first direct thing he’d said to her since they sat down at the table. “He’s fine. I have good instincts.”

  He glared at her.

  Hallie cut in with a cheery, “Well, then,” but trailed off into silence when he turned the same look of doom on her. />
  Cal focused on Dana again. His speech started with an alarmed “Are you crazy?” and heated up from there.

  While he recounted one big rumor about Mr. Vandervoort after another, Dana reached an inescapable conclusion. She’d never fall for his face-of-stone act again. He was definitely aware of her, and not especially pleased by it.

  Cal lectured, and Steve and Hallie began to nod in unison, as only married couples can. While Dana appreciated everyone’s concern, she began to fantasize about covering her ears and loudly singing off-key.

  “Look,” she finally said, “grilled Dana isn’t on tonight’s menu. I’m never going to find cheaper rent than in Mr. V’s attic and I’m flat-out broke. Nearly every penny I’d saved to finish the salon renovations is now going toward my insurance deductible. Besides, he’s a nice old guy, colorful, maybe, but not dangerous. So unless one of you is offering free housing, cut me some slack, okay?”

  She received their grudging consent, and only after she agreed to let Cal look into her landlord’s background.

  Hallie directed the conversation back to neutral ground for the rest of the meal. Dana kept a subtle eye on Cal. More than once she caught him watching her, too. This tightrope they walked was stretching mighty thin.

  Then, while everyone was in the kitchen helping to clean up, Hallie asked, “How are you going to move your bedroom furniture up to the attic?”

  “I’m not sure,” Dana admitted. “I have a week to figure it out.”

  “Ca-a-a-l?” Hallie asked in a wheedling tone.

  “No!” Dana blurted.

  She could almost fend off her attraction to him in neutral territory, but in her bedroom? She stood a better chance of landing on the cover of Cosmo.

  “Good idea,” Cal said to his sister. “It’ll give me a chance to check out Vandervoort.”

  At the sink, Dana gave Hallie a subtle elbow. A best friend refresher course was definitely overdue.

  ONE WEEK LATER, Dana realized that her concern over having Cal near her bed had been vastly understated. The attic was growing smaller by the second.

  “I can handle this myself,” she said as she quickly smoothed her hands over the fitted sheet and got ready to unfold the flat one. “You can just go on and do whatever it was you were doing downstairs with Mr. V.”