Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [2]
Well, anybody except the real wonderful guy, who’d turned out to be nothing more than a wonderful liar.
“Stop thinking about Blake the Snake.”
“Are you a mind reader?”
“No, you’re just incredibly easy to figure out, Miss wholesome, blond, always-smiling girl-next-door. Whenever you think about him, your face scrunches up, your lips disappear into your mouth and you look like you want to hit somebody.” Shrugging and sipping from her beer, Tara added, “Of course, you look that way when you fight with one of the über-mamas, too, but none of them are here.”
Über-mamas. That was the name she and Tara had come up with to describe some of Annie’s more difficult clients. There weren’t many, but a few ultraorganized, ambitious, arrogant mothers of the children cared for at Baby Daze seemed to view day care providers as overpaid dog walkers. As if there was no more to watching a toddler than changing his diaper.
“You weren’t in love with him, you’ve admitted that much. And you hadn’t even slept with him.”
“Thank God.” Something had held her back, some intuition. She’d blessed that intuition when she’d found out her Divorced Mr. Wonderful was, despite his claims to the contrary, Married Mr. Cheating Pig.
“So forget him.”
“I have. Almost. I just have to get through this weekend and then I can pretend I never knew the man.”
“Tell me again why you can’t just tell your family what happened? It’s not like any of it was your fault.”
“You met my folks when they came to visit me last spring. Do you really need to ask that question?”
Tara pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. She’d had a firsthand glimpse at Annie’s life as the only daughter in an overprotective, small-town family who wanted her back home, married, and pushing out babies—now, if not six months ago. If they found out their “little girl” had had a bad affair with a married man, they’d harass her endlessly to give up her dreams of big-city success and come home where she could meet a decent local boy and settle down.
“Forget I asked.”
“I’ll get someone to play boyfriend, let them all see I’m blissfully happy and fine, then gradually stage a breakup over a series of weekly phone calls.”
Satisfied with at least that much of the plan, she reached for her drink, still musing over a possible Plan B. The man she showed up with didn’t have to be really handsome just because she’d told her family he was. Somebody much more plain and normal-looking than any of these sexy bachelors being auctioned off to support a kid’s Christmas charity would do.
Beauty was, as she knew, in the eye of the beholder, and her family understood that. Just last year her brother, Jed, had convinced them all he’d met a future Miss America. His fiancée, however—a sweetheart whom the family adored—more resembled a Miss Pillsbury Dough Girl.
So maybe they’d think she’d simply exaggerated about how handsome her new guy was. Or that she was wildly in love, just as her brother had been. She didn’t have to bring home a guy who looked like…like…
Oh, my God, like him.
Once again, as it had been doing all night, her gaze drifted toward the table, and the auction program lying open upon it. About two minutes had elapsed since her previous covetous glance, which was the longest she’d gone all evening without at least a peek at Bachelor Number Twenty, described as a good-natured rescue worker. An all-out hero. Absolutely perfect.
In addition, the man was an all-out hunk-a-holic.
As she stared at those midnight blue eyes, Annie’s heart again played a quick game of hopscotch in her chest. Just as it had the moment she’d spotted him, this complete stranger, whose name she didn’t know but whose face and body were as familiar as her last erotic dream.
Those cheekbones were high and prominent, the nose strong, the jaw