That Touch of Pink

“I don’t like him. But I’m not blind and I don’t tell lies in spite of the fact I don’t like him. Here’s the thing. When he told me he wouldn’t take us on the campout, I got that Fred-feeling in my gut.”

“You’re telling me Dixon is a shallow jerk who’d leave you in the lurch to try out for a TV reality show?”

“It’s not the trying-out part. It’s the finding-Ms. Fear-Factor-who-jumped-on-his-bandwagon-and-his-bones-after-which-he-never-came-back part,” Abby said, remembering that particular brand of devastation. “And I don’t know if Dixon would do that. I never intend to find out. Because in my book, breaking one’s word on first acquaintance is a giant red flag.”

“From what I’ve heard, Riley Dixon is a hard worker. A former Army Ranger who’s built a profitable security business in under five years. Soldiers don’t get to be Rangers by slacking off.”

“Then we’re back to welsher.” She met her friend’s gaze and sighed. “Okay. I’ll admit to some lingering hostility toward the man who shirked most of his responsibilities—the most important one being his daughter.”

“I understand why you’d have this over-the-top reaction. Kimmie doesn’t have a dad, and you’ve got to be both mother and father to her.”

“That’s all true. But I’ve come to terms with it.” She ignored her friend’s raised eyebrow. “Part of coming to terms with it is knowing my limitations. I bought Riley Dixon to fulfill the father role for the weekend. How was I to know that he’s a macho jerk who breaks his promises? In my book, that makes him a Fred The Flake clone.” Abby huffed out a breath that lifted her bangs off her forehead. “Like all men, Riley Dixon is ducking his obligations.”

“Not all men are that way.”

“No? Couldn’t prove it by me.”

“Let me rephrase. Not all men are flakes. Just the ones you meet.”

“Why is that? I’m a high school librarian. Every day I deal with kids who don’t return books, don’t turn in assignments and just generally don’t do what they’re supposed to do. It’s my job to mold them into capable, dependable, efficient, honest adults. Admittedly, I’ve only been doing this for a little over three years, but I’ve had students come back and say I’ve made a difference in their lives. So is it just bad karma that I’m surrounded by irresponsible, dishonest men? Am I a flake magnet? Should I roll over and let Mr. Macho walk all over me? What recourse do generally law-abiding people have when someone doesn’t live up to their obligation?”

“Did you or did you not say he offered to reimburse you?”

“He did.”

“So take the money and hire one of those mounted police guys. I hear they’re quite impressive in their tight trousers and red coats. The hats are a little funny-looking, though.”

One corner of Abby’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Texas is a little far from the Canadian border to make that a viable solution.”

“Too bad,” Jamie sighed. “What about a Texas Ranger? The hats are better, and they’re right in our own backyard.”

“That’s law enforcement, not nature guide.”

“They’re hot, too.”

Abby stared at her. “Maybe you need to go home and take a cold shower.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she said, an odd look on her face.

Instantly alert, Abby stopped pacing. “Is something wrong, Jamie?”

“No.” She shrugged.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Abby asked. “Does it have anything to do with the guy your parents bought you at the auction?”

A smile curved up the corners of Jamie’s mouth. “Yeah. A little. I’m dealing with it. No big deal.”

Abby had learned that if her friend didn’t want to talk about something, nothing could drag it out of her. So they might as well go back to the problem at hand. “Okay. Let’s come up with some really creative grounds for suing Riley Dixon.” Abby was glad when her words produced a laugh.

“So you refuse to let him reimburse you and just camp out with Kimmie in your new backyard and take her to the park for a walk?”

“No can do,” Abby said. “Not authentic enough for The Bluebonnets. It’s gotta be real. At least one night living off the land. With dirt and no flushing toilets. Microwave bad, fire good,” she said in her best caveman voice.

Jamie laughed. “That seems pretty extreme.”

“Don’t tell Kimmie that. She’s got her heart set on getting all her badges. You know her. When she gets something in her head, she’s going to do it. And come hell or high water, she’ll get it perfect. I keep telling myself that determination is a good quality in an adult.”

“There’s got to be another way.”

“I don’t want to find another way. I had it all figured out and paid for.” She held her hands out, palms up. A helpless gesture, and she hated feeling helpless—maybe even more than she hated relying on a man. “What am I going to do?”

“Talk to him again.” Jamie shrugged as if it were that easy.

“Are you saying you won’t sue him?”

“No. I’m saying people are too sue-happy these days when a simple conversation could save time, aggravation and money. He’s ex-military. Surely he’s a rational, logical man.”

Abby sighed. “Listen to yourself. Any self-respecting legal eagle would take this case and run with it for all the billable hours they could get. You, my friend, are going to starve.”

“I can afford to take off a few pounds.”

“You are so lying. And you’re too thin. You’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

“No. Except I know you don’t really want to sue Riley Dixon. You just needed to let off steam.”

“Busted,” Abby said.

“And I suspect the name-calling did wonders for your anger abatement level.”

“You think slacker, welsher, jerk and flake helped?”

“I do, indeed.”

Abby sighed. “You’d be right. But don’t let on to Kimmie. I always tell her to use people’s given names and I’m fairly certain none of the above are on Fred’s birth certificate. Or Dixon’s, either, for that matter.”

“She’ll never hear it from me. But in that spirit, I’d be happy to role-play with you for your next conversation with Riley Dixon.”

The thought of seeing him again sent quivers through Abby and she remembered the mayor’s comment on auction night about thrills and chills. His words were turning out to be annoyingly prophetic. She wondered if she might be better off if she waved the white flag and retreated.

Riley Dixon watched the elevator doors close, then turned to his sister. “We got the contract.”

Nora smiled. “To put security systems in all the district’s high schools?”

“Yup. Starting with Charity City High.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re excited?” Nora asked, toying with the pen on her desk.

“Of course.”

“Then why do you look like someone let your favorite pistol rust in the rain?”

“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess it’s because we shouldn’t need metal detectors and surveillance systems in high schools.”

“It doesn’t mean that all kids have gone over to the dark side,” she pointed out.

“I know.”

“You can’t take responsibility for what’s wrong with the world today.”

“I know that, too. But it seems wrong to profit from it.”

She lifted her shoulders. “The Board of Education budgeted for the security measures. And frankly, if they’ve decided it’s necessary, I’ll sleep better at night knowing they’ve hired the best company for the job. So will a lot of high school parents. Mostly the kids are good, normal kids. You’ve been hired to make sure they’re safe from the occasional bad apple. The school district feels it’s money well spent. Why don’t you?”

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“You’re welcome. In exchange, I’d like to know why you practically threw Abby Walsh out of your office.” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and met his gaze.

Riley knew his sister well, meaning she wasn’t going to back off. “She was here to make arrangements for the survival weekend I donated to the Charity City auction.”

“Wow. That clears up any confusion,” she said sarcastically. “And here I thought she’d done something really bad. Like having the audacity to look a lot like Barb Kelly.”

Riley winced. Abby Walsh was petite and feminine and beautiful. Her skin looked soft and her shiny brown hair even softer. It was like a curtain of silk teasing her shoulders. And Nora was right. Abby looked an awful lot like the pregnant woman he’d married to give her baby a name. The same woman who walked out two years later when the biological father finally showed up to claim his rights. Better late than never had made him feel like hell.

“Her daughter needs some kind of scouting badges,” he explained.

“And you jumped to the conclusion that she was cut from Barb Kelly cloth and dumping the kid on you.”

“Yeah.” Just like old times, he thought. “I’m glad you understand.” It’s what he loved about Nora.

“But I don’t understand. Didn’t you clarify the situation?”

He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk. “She claimed she’d never turn the kid over to a complete stranger and said she’d be going on the `outing’ too.” He huffed out a breath. “Outing. As if it’s a society picnic with hoity-toity baskets and buckets of champagne.”

“It couldn’t be possible that you thought she was phat.”

“You’ve got eyes. Did you think she was overweight?”

He thought she had the curviest little body he’d seen in a long time, although it was hard to tell in that full-skirted thing she’d been wearing. But her arms were toned and the silky shirt she wore under it molded to her breasts in a way that tempted a man and made him hot all over.

“I didn’t say F-A-T. I said P-H-A-T—pretty hot and tempting.”

“No,” he lied. “I didn’t think that.”

“Okay. Then I have to conclude you’re scared.”

He stood, to crank up the intimidation factor, and glared down at her. “This is me we’re talking about. When I was in the army, I parachuted into hostile territory with nothing but a knife, a sidearm and a radio. I’m not afraid of anything.”

“And this is me,” Nora said, unfazed by the intimidation ploy. “I was there to pick up the pieces when Barb Kelly walked out with the child you fell in love with—”

“Don’t go there,” he warned.

“Why not? You just did.”

“No, not where you think. I just faced reality a long time ago. I’m a place-holder.”

“Not that again.” She sighed. “Poor you. You were adopted, and Mom and Dad love me best because I have their DNA. Trust me, it’s not that special.”

“You’re wrong. You’re pretty special.”

“So are you. For the record—and this is the last time I’m inflating your fragile male ego—the folks love you. Dad’s shirt buttons are in serious jeopardy of popping every time he boasts to his buddies about his son the Army Ranger.”

“Enough,” he said. “I’m not a kid any more.”

“You’re acting like one.”

“Am not.” He grinned as she sighed. “Do me a favor and just bury it.”

“You can duck into your foxhole if you want,” she said. “But I think you noticed the resemblance to Barb, too, and it scared the stuffing out of you.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“Then why did you refuse to keep your word and do the survival weekend?”

“I’m busy. Just got the new contract.”

“You didn’t have it in the bag when she was here. Definitely scared.”

“Busy.”

“Scared.”

“Busy.” Now it was his turn to sigh.

Squabbling just like when they were kids. And their parents had always seemed to take her side. Because she was their biological child and he’d been adopted when they’d thought conceiving their own baby was impossible. But there was something about Nora. He simply couldn’t hold it against her that she was a product of the folks’ love and DNA. He’d felt protective of her from the moment she had come home from the hospital. He had a bond with her. More than that—he loved her.

“Is there any way I can convince you you’re wrong?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to share, or do I have to use more aggressive interrogation techniques?”

“No tickling,” she warned.

“Then talk.”

“Right back at you, Riley. Face Abby Walsh. And talk.” She sighed at his look. “The thing is, you don’t have a choice. This is you. Although you try to hide all your good qualities behind a surly exterior, I happen to know you’re loyal, honest and you always pay your debts and do your duty. You gave your word to the Charity City Foundation when you volunteered the weekend for auction. And you’re an honorable man. You can’t do anything but talk to her.”

He hated that she was right. “Okay. You win.”

“Good.” She pointed at him. “But remember. That doesn’t mean the talk needs to be personal. In fact, if I were you, I wouldn’t under any circumstances get involved with her.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, sis. I don’t do personal. I’ll smooth things over.” Things like the curve of her cheek and the slender column of her neck. The insubordinate thoughts made him grind his teeth and proved that Abby Walsh was trouble with a capital T. “By the time I’m finished oozing charm, she’ll be glad to let me compensate her for the money she spent.”

And he’d be off one very large, very uncomfortable hook.

Chapter Two

A half hour after deciding to be sweet and lovable in his quest to change Abby Walsh’s mind, Riley stood on her doorstep. He’d have been there sooner, but it took him a few minutes to find out where she lived.

Her place was in The Villas, one of Charity City’s newest areas built by Richmond Homes. It was a charming neighborhood, meaning he was in the right place to take his charm out for a spin and see what it could do. And she’d accused him of lacking charm and courtesy. She was in for the charmfest of her life, he thought, pushing the doorbell.

“Who’s there?” It was a child’s voice behind the door.

“Riley Dixon,” he answered.

“The man Mommy bought at the auction?”

“Yes.” His reputation preceded him.

The door opened and a pint-size girl stood in front of him wearing pink satin pajamas, matching slippers with feathers on the toes and a pink robe with cartoon princesses on it. Her hair was long enough to disappear behind her shoulders, but what he could see of it was wet. Taking a mental leap, he guessed she’d just had her evening bath and was dressed for bed.

“Kimmie?” he said, remembering how Abby had corrected him when he’d called her “the kid.”

“Yes.”

He noticed the sleeves and hem of her robe were trimmed with white lace and tried to picture her camping in rugged terrain. Paying back the Charity City foundation should have been easy. Take a guy camping and teach him a few survival skills. End of obligation. But his luck wasn’t that good. The woman who’d bought him would consider a broken nail a life-altering event. And her child no doubt took after her.

“I’d like to talk to your mom. Is she here?”

There was a ten-year-old car in the driveway, but that didn’t mean the mom in question was on the premises.

“Mommy’s in the attic. It’s upstairs, and the ladder is pulled down.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m watchin’ TV before I hafta go to bed and I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It’s okay. I can find her.”

After Kimmie went back to her show, he looked around. Abby’s place was small, but very nice. And very pink. It was like living in a Pepto-Bismol bottle. Everything he’d seen so far confirmed his decision to return her money. Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs and found the attic access just as Kimmie had said. As he got closer to the ceiling opening, there was the distinct scraping sound of boxes being moved followed by a lot of grunting and panting.

Riley poked his head through the opening and noticed the attic was crudely finished, with a wooden floor and unpainted wallboard. Obviously she used it for storage, but judging by the boxes stacked against the walls and so high over her head she couldn’t reach them, he figured she hadn’t put them there. She’d said she didn’t have a husband. But that didn’t rule out boyfriends.

In sweatpants and a white T-shirt, a barefoot Abby stood with her back to him. Without the flowing skirt, he could see for himself that she was as curvy as he’d guessed. Before he could shut down the thought, he realized he was glad she wasn’t wearing jeans that would compress her softness into stiff denim. Quickly he clamped the lid on that image even as his palms tingled at the idea of touching her.

She reached up for a box and maneuvered it forward, then staggered under the weight. He moved quickly to take it from her and when she saw him, she jumped back with a screech of surprise.

She pressed her hand to her heaving chest. “What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”

“It’s my business. I’m in security.”

“Funny how that doesn’t make me feel secure.”

Ignoring her verbal projectile, he said, “Kimmie let me in.”

She rubbed a finger beneath her nose. “I guess I need to give her a refresher course in stranger danger.”

“I’m not a danger. Besides, she asked who was at the door.”

“Because she’s not tall enough to see through the peephole.”

“Are you?” He gauged her height. “Tall enough to see out of it, I mean.”

“I think it was installed by the Jolly Green Giant. But that’s beside the point and doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

“I wanted to talk to you, Ms. Walsh. To apologize for my behavior earlier.”

“Oh?” She fixed him with a skeptical look as she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

Her stance did interesting things to her chest and he had to regroup to remember why he was there. Charm. Yeah. That was it. “I may have been a little abrupt—”

“May have been? Abrupt? Buster, you could give lessons.”

“Okay. I deserve that. And I’m here to say I’m sorry.” He watched her face, waiting for a sign that his charm was working. A second later, her mouth softened and a small smile set off her dimples. He wondered how many men she’d brought to their knees with them.

“I accept your apology, Mr. Dixon.”

“Riley,” he said.

“And I’m Abby. As opposed to Ms. Walsh.”

“Okay. Look, I wanted to talk to you about the survival weekend.”

“Actually if you hadn’t stopped by tonight, I was going to drop in at your office tomorrow to discuss it.”

“Great minds,” he said, referring to thinking alike.

“Yeah.” She rested her hands on her hips. “You first. What did you want to say?”

“First, may I say what a lovely daughter you have.”

Her face brightened at the words. “Thank you. I think she’s pretty special.”

“And very pretty, too. The pink satin princess thing works for her.”

“Yeah. She likes to take her bath early and watch television before bed. The pajamas and robe are her favorites and—”

“Not warm enough for camping.”

The expression of benevolence disappeared, replaced by skepticism. “I wouldn’t let her wear them camping.”

“It’s not just the sleepwear. Camping is an all-or-nothing sort of thing. You admitted it’s not your cup of tea,” he pointed out, recalling her remark about pools and sissy drinks.

The sweats were good, but he’d give a lot to see her in a bikini by that pool, and maybe wet… Damn, he was going to have to get his thoughts under control or he was dead in the water. Nora was right. There was a striking physical resemblance between Abby and his ex-wife. But, now that the shock had worn off, he could see the differences. Abby’s eyes were brown, a warm rich shade of cocoa, and there was a sweetness about her Barb had never possessed. But there were similarities, too, like they both needed him. Different reasons, but Abby still wanted something from him. He needed to get out of this ASAP.

“The outdoors isn’t my cup of tea,” she confirmed. “But Kimmie wants her hiking and camping badges. I figured a survival weekend would kill two birds with one stone—maximize my auction purchase. It’s only one night. I can suck it up.”

“You think so? Without hot showers, or cold, for that matter, since there won’t be running water. Dirt is a major component. The ground is hard and damn cold. TV is out of the question. No electricity,” he explained. “It’s dark and Mother Nature didn’t think to install street lights. Not a whole lot to do but sit around and watch the leaves fall. No froufrou food or microwaves.”

“Because there’s no electricity?” she asked sweetly, too sweetly.

“Even if there was, a microwave would be too bulky and heavy to backpack in. Only necessities get lugged over rugged terrain.” He planted his feet wide apart and rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at her. “It’s primitive and uncomfortable. So you see—”

“No.” She started to walk by him.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait a minute. What does that mean?”

“You should know. It’s what you told me a little while ago. What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

“I know what it means. Are you saying you got the message that camping isn’t for you and you’ll let me reimburse you—with interest—for what you paid at the auction?”

“And let you off the hook?”

“A man can hope.”

“Not a chance.” She took a step toward him, close enough that their bodies were nearly touching and the subtle, sexy fragrance of her perfume filled his head and fogged his brain. “I understand that you weren’t expecting Kimmie and I when you donated the weekend campout. But we’re what you got. And now you’re stuck with us. If you’re going to fulfill your obligation to the foundation, you need to suck it up and get over whatever prejudice you’ve got against—”

“It’s okay, Mommy.”

Abby whirled away from him at the sound of her daughter’s voice. The little girl was sitting cross-legged, with her feminine little robe tucked around her, just inside the attic opening. Riley didn’t have a clue how long she’d been there. Not good for a man who’d at one time prided himself on being able to hear a leaf drop when his life depended on it. And for reasons he didn’t want to think about, he was feeling as if his life depended on making this stubborn woman understand why he couldn’t do what he’d promised.

Abby went to her child and squatted next to her. “What’s okay, sweetie?”

“If he doesn’t want to take us on the campout, it’s all right.”

“I know how much you want your survival badges, Kimmie.”

“I did, but—” The little girl shrugged.

“You know if you don’t get both of these badges in the next six weeks, you can’t go on to the next level in The Bluebonnets.”

“I know.”

“And Caitlyn will be going on ahead of you into a more advanced group with a different leader. Remember she’s getting her last badge at the next meeting?”

The little girl nodded. “But it’s okay. Grandma told me that disappointment is part of life. And growing up means learning to live with it.”

“I let you down. Sweetie, I’m so sorry—” Abby’s voice broke.

“It’s not you, Mommy. If my daddy had come back like he promised, he’d have taken me camping. But he stayed in California. I’m six now. I’m big enough to understand.”

“I wish I was,” Abby mumbled. “Why did you come up here? Did you need something?”

“You need to tuck me in. It’s time for bed.” Her voice broke on the last word and her chin started quivering just before she disappeared through the opening.

Riley felt like pond scum. Slimier than pond scum. Both of them were close to tears. Damn it to hell. If he agreed, he would have to hang with Abby overnight. That was a bad idea, outdoors or anywhere else. And if it was just her, he could have stuck to his guns and pulled out of the op. In the Rangers, he’d worked and trained and prided himself on being the toughest of the tough. But nothing had hardened him enough to say no to a six-year-old who’d already gotten a bum deal.

Charm was no match for a little girl’s tears.