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Temptation on His Terms
Robyn Grady


Amidst growing threats to their high-profile family, studio boss Dex Hunter takes custody of his little brother – and tries to put his own routine as a Hollywood player on hold.Too bad his brother’s new nanny, Shelby Scott, is so easy on the eyes! Soon Dex needs to prove to Shelby he’s ready to settle down…if he wants to heat things up.










“You’re planning to kiss me again. And I’m afraid I might kiss you back.”

If that happened, and things got out of hand then turned irretrievably sour, Shelby would have no one to blame but herself.

That night when their lips had brushed, time had wound down, hormones had sat up and, for that moment, the urge to surrender it all had been hypnotic. They’d barely kissed and yet never in her life had she felt that level of raw sexual need. She’d been gripped so soon, so tight, her reaction afterward had been just as fierce.

Reaching forward, she swept the bag off the floor. “I don’t want to complicate things.”

As Dex came to stand before her, those wonderful, frightening feelings sparked again. When his fresh male scent slipped into her lungs, she held her breath and skirted around him.

Leaning back against the lounge, he crossed his arms and ankles. Relaxed. In control. Insufferable…and irresistible.




About the Author


ROBYN GRADY was first published with mills & boon in 2007. Her books have since featured regularly on bestseller lists and at award ceremonies, including a national Readers’ Choice Award, a booksellers’ best Award, CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award and Australia’s prestigious Romantic book of the year Award.

Robyn lives on Queensland’s beautiful Sunshine Coast with her real-life hero husband and three daughters. When she can be dragged away from tapping out her next story, Robyn visits the theater, the beach and the mall (a lot!). To keep fit, she jogs (and shops) and dances with her youngest to Hannah montana.

Robyn believes writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers. So drop by www.robyngrady.com and pass on your thoughts!




Temptation on His Terms


Robyn Grady






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my wonderful father,

who was always a hero in my life, as well as in

the lives of so many others. Love you, Jack.




One


Shelby Scott glared at the spectacle unfolding in front of the world-famous hotel and pursed her lips. With amused people skirting by, Dex Hunter was going all-out, kissing—or was that mauling?—one extremely enthusiastic lady. The blaze from her diamanté dress could help bring home a ship in a gale. A starlet wannabe, Shelby surmised, given that Mr. Hunter owned his very own movie studio.

When they’d met earlier that day—after she’d splashed hot coffee all over his shirt cuff—Shelby had promised herself that waitressing was only a stopgap. New to California, she had her heart set on finding a good nanny position. She had experience and everyone back home knew she loved kids. As luck would have it, Mr. Hunter was in the market.

A busy bachelor and head of Hunter Productions, Dex needed a suitable someone to help care for his little brother who was due to pay a solo visit. When Dex learned that child care was her vocation of choice, he’d seemed interested. Then he’d discovered that she’d read every book in the boy’s bestloved children’s series and even knew the difference between a stegosaurus and a T. rex. Apparently his brother loved dinosaurs.

Dex said he felt as if he’d struck gold. She’d felt the same way. Because he’d been short on time, they’d agreed to meet tonight to talk more and hopefully finalize the deal.

But the cheap display she was witnessing now quashed any chance of them working together. When his five-year-old brother arrived from Australia, Dex Hunter could make other arrangements. She’d had enough of dealing with Casanova types. In Hollywood or Mountain Ridge, Oklahoma, in blue jeans or tailored trousers…

Hell, they were all the same.

The snap-lock kiss finally broke apart. Dex Hunter’s focus shifted and, as if guided by radar, landed smack-dab on Shelby. While she watched, he set the clearly giddy woman aside then strode past two awnings and straight up to Shelby. Over the scent of coming rain, his fresh musky scent filled her lungs at the same time his masculine presence enveloped her. Broad through the shoulders and tall—even compared to her five-foot-ten-inch frame—tonight he exuded a born-to-bed confidence.

But his lidded, tawny-colored gaze was the kicker. Beneath the streetlights, those eyes might be mistaken for a lion’s…an intelligent, potentially dangerous beast’s.

“You’re early,” he said, straightening his collar.

“I’m sure I’m right on time.” Shelby couldn’t help herself. “Are you in the habit, Mr. Hunter, of making a downright show of yourself in public?”

His eyebrows knitted together before he caught on and threw a glance over a jacketed shoulder. One corner of his mouth curved with a grin.

“She did kind of pounce, didn’t she?”

“Oh, and he palms off responsibility, too.”

His gaze sharpened, then he dragged a finger and thumb down each side of his mouth. When his hand lowered, his jaw was tight and his grin was rubbed clean away. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“We’re not getting off at all.”

Finished and done, she headed for the nearest bus stop.

She’d been in Los Angeles two weeks. Other than a few days in Oklahoma City years ago, she hadn’t set foot outside of her hometown before. She’d only settled on California because of a much-loved old movie where the heroine, who had needed a new start, had lucked out when she’d ended up here. Now, feeling alone—and naive—the idea of buckling and going back to “familiar” surged up to grip her like a vise. She had a lifetime of memories in Mountain Ridge—mostly good.

Some seriously bad.

Which was why she’d made that promise to stay away and stay strong. She refused to endure pitying or even disapproving looks from folk she’d known all her life. And if some said that was running away, if there were people who dared imply that was yellow…well, who gave a fat fairy’s—

She heard the slap of footfalls on the pavement behind her. Next minute, Dex Hunter reappeared, his dynamo frame physically blocking her this time.

“You said you’d have dinner with me,” he said, “to discuss my proposition.”

“If that’s how you conduct yourself in public while expecting company, I don’t care to know what you’d get up to in the privacy of your own home, whether an innocent little boy was staying or not.” She tipped forward, spoke clearly. “I won’t be a part of it.”

“That woman’s a friend.”

“That would be a friend with benefits?”

“We were saying goodbye.”

“I might be a country girl,” Shelby drawled, “but I didn’t fall off the back of a hay cart yesterday. That embrace was not a friendly farewell.”

It was a prelude to something much deeper. Burning, desperate. She’d come across that kind of kiss before.

“Bernice had too much to drink,” he told her, catching up as she set off again, a single stride of his equaling two purposeful steps from her. “She’s meeting some buddies and wanted me to tag along. When I said I had plans…” He scratched his ear. “Well, she tried to convince me.”

“And you put up such a fight,” Shelby said prettily.

“For all you know, she might’ve been my girlfriend. A fiancée even.”

At the mention of the F-word, Shelby’s stomach swooped and she stopped. Dex Hunter couldn’t take a hint, even when it slapped him upside the head.

“I didn’t like what I saw.” Didn’t like the way it made her feel. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable. “Call a nanny agency. And, for heaven’s sake, wipe that lipstick off your cheek.”

“I checked out your references this afternoon,” he said. “Got some people on the phone.”

Shelby felt her gaze widen, her throat constrict.

“At the café,” he said, using a handkerchief to scrub that smear from his jaw, “you mentioned a couple places you worked for back home. People spoke highly of you and your capabilities, by the way. Mrs. Fallon from Hatchlings Kindergarten was especially impressed. She said you connect particularly well with boys.”

“I liked roping more than tea parties growing up,” she admitted as her thoughts raced on. She didn’t mind that he’d followed up on those names she’d supplied, but now she couldn’t help but wonder. Who else had Dex Hunter spoken to? What else did he know? Not that he would give a hoot about that ugly incident last month. The episode Mountain Ridge would whisper about and lament for years to come.

“I haven’t seen my youngest brother in six months,” he was saying, “but I’m sure he’s the same kid. Full of mischief and ideas and buckets of energy. You’d like him.” A fond smile reflected in those tawny-colored eyes. “Everyone does.”

Shelby released a breath.

Okay. She was curious. Had his brother sat in a saddle yet? Did he like checkers or baseball? Maybe he was more into building blocks, constructing little towns and surrounding them with farms, barns, horses, cows…

Shelby straightened.

None of that erased this man’s lame excuse for the nearly R-rated scene she’d just witnessed. Friend indeed.

She crossed her arms. “You’ll find someone else.”

“I want you.”

“Please, just go and join your—”

Midsentence, she’d glanced back. And froze.

The woman—Bernice—had flung her arms around yet another man. As her new victim gently pried her away, Bernice tottered then—oh, dear Lord—crumpled and began to cry. While Shelby’s heart sank, two women rushed up. With arms linked around Bernice’s waist, the friends Dex Hunter had mentioned carefully led her away.

“Bernice’s fiancé broke off their engagement the other week,” he said. “I’ve known the guy for years. Not the marrying kind. Guess tonight, before she went home for good, Bernice wanted to prove something to the world. To herself. Not that she needs to. She was always too good for Mac.”

Knots filled Shelby’s stomach. How very much she felt for that woman. Hurt and despair could lead a person to do some seriously dumb things. Things you could barely make sense of later on and never take back.

Dex’s voice broke into her thoughts. “This town’s too tough for someone like her. Too tough for a lot of people.”

Shelby felt his evaluating gaze on her again, before he straightened both shoulders and got back on track.

“Whatever you decide about the job,” he said, “I still want to take you to dinner. You’ve been working, serving people all day. Bet you’re as hungry as I am, and I could eat a horse.”

She gave a grudging grin. “Sounds as if Mrs. Fallon at the kindergarten mentioned my appetite.”

He chuckled, a smooth rich sound that left her feeling as if she were swirling in a pool of deep warm water. Or was that quicksand?

“Tate has an appetite, too,” he said. “Last time we caught up, cheeseburgers were his favorite fillers. Although I might have had something to do with that.”

Her smile, and opinion of Mr. Hunter, loosened up more. He really was charming. And persuasive. A tricky combination, as past experience had taught her. Still…

“Guess there’s no harm in sharing a meal,” she said. “But we’re going Dutch.”

“No need—”

“I insist.”

Dex didn’t mistake Shelby Scott’s tone. The clear-cut message in her words or in her eyes. She would have dinner with him. Might even answer more questions about her nanny experience in Mountain Ridge. Given that their misunderstanding regarding Bernice had been sorted, no reason he and Shelby shouldn’t get back to negotiations. Although he wasn’t convinced that she saw it that way.

She had a point. Most people would simply call the best nanny agency in town, let them do the screening and save themselves the trouble. But his gut said Shelby Scott was the right person to help care for the little guy, who not only meant more to Dex than anyone in the world but also needed his protection.

Someone wanted to harm their media mogul father. Until that man was brought to justice, Tate needed a safe place to stay. No member of the Hunter clan would take a chance on the five-year-old being caught up in another incident like the one Sydney authorities were investigating now. After being run off the road then, later, shot at, his father had been assaulted and almost abducted. Tate had been with his dad and had been a whisker away from being kidnapped, too.

As Dex swept his gaze up and down the boulevard, deciding on the ideal place to dine—cozy and quiet without being too intimate—his cell phone buzzed. When he ignored it, Shelby seemed confused.

“That could be important,” she said.

“We’re on our way to dinner.”

“Where I come from, it’s rude to ignore a ringing phone or a knock at the door.”

He considered her big frank green eyes. This wasn’t the time to tell her that, in L.A. at least, people ignored phones all the time.

Dex answered the call.

On the other end of the line, his scriptwriter Rance Loggins blurted out, “It’s not working. You want Jada to confront Pete at the wedding, but I don’t think she should. It’s too predictable.”

“You’ll work something out. Sleep on it.”

“I thought you wanted this script finished.”

Dex flicked a glance Shelby’s way. She stood patiently, looking like a blend of angel and seductress in a pretty pink dress, glossy hair bouncing under its own weight and a warm breeze.

“Dex?” Rance interrupted his thoughts. “You there?”

“Swing by the office—”

“I’m out of town for a week starting tomorrow. It’s a pivotal scene.” Rance must have heard him push out a breath. “I’m only repeating what you told me. You want it right and you want it quick. This is all that’s holding us up.”

Hunter Productions had enjoyed a record opening weekend with their most recent release, Easy Prey, an action flick featuring one of the day’s biggest box office stars. Dex had other movies coming out but he had a good feeling about this one. The characterization was genius. He smelled smash hit. Awards.

Dex eyed Shelby again, caught the time on his watch. Right at seven. Two steaks, desserts, a bottle of wine, cat in the bag…

“I’ll be over after ten,” he told Rance.

Silence echoed in his ear.

“You’re fobbing this off because of a woman,” Rance said.

“No, I’m not.” Not in the usual sense.

“I thought you were committing yourself to building Hunter Productions back up. Making it strong again.”

Dex had known Rance a long time. He counted this man as a friend. Now Dex’s jaw clenched and voice lowered. He was laid-back, certainly. That didn’t translate into pushover.

“You’re forgetting who pays the bills,” he let his friend know.

“You need to make the cash to pass it on.”

Dex ended the call. With her own phone, Shelby was taking shots of the famous fashion shops on Rodeo Drive across the way.

“You need to cancel, don’t you?” she said, phone near her face as she clicked. “That’s fine. In fact, it’s best.”

Flicking back his jacket hem, Dex set his hands low on his belt. Damned if he’d let her get away that easily. If for some reason she gave notice at the café, he might never find her again. But Rance had a point.

While he’d refused to spend his life hunched over a desk at the office, until this latest hit, Hunter Productions’ books had favored the lean side. When he’d first come out here from Australia, a kid of twenty-five, a friend at the time had helped him with manipulating budgets. He’d learned a lot from Joel Chase, and had put in the kind of crazy hours his family might have trouble believing of him. Even so, if he had to tend to business tonight, he wouldn’t let this other important matter slide.

“Come along,” he suggested. “We’ll grab a bite afterward.”

“I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you well enough.”

“I don’t own a wooden club, Shelby. I won’t knock you out and drag you away to my secret lair.”

Her gaze held his with a narrowed pondering look that said she wasn’t so sure. She was wary and, living in a place like L.A., wary was good. If she was cautious about going to some unknown address, it only showed common sense. Another plus.

He’d lay the rest on the table.

“My writer’s hit a snag with a script,” he explained. “The story’s a romantic comedy with an edge. We’re working on a pivotal scene where everything falls apart. The man who the female lead once loved—a man who cheated on her—is getting married to her friend and she’s invited to the wedding. Her date for the evening had to bow out so she’s gone on her own.”

The single line forming between Shelby’s brows suggested that she was intrigued so he went on.

“She’s sitting with a group of the bride’s relatives, who go on about how beautiful the bride looks in her gown. Then a clumsy waiter spills cucumber soup on the female lead’s dress.” When Shelby blinked, maybe remembering the splashed coffee incident earlier that day, he continued. “In her stained gown, she’s on her way to the restroom, asking herself why she’s putting herself through all this, when she runs into the groom.”

Shelby waited. “Then what?”

“We’re not sure.”

Exhaling, she glanced around at the same time she absently dropped her cell in her tote. A Santa Ana wind chose that moment to whirl around their feet, up their legs and into her bag. The gust picked up a loose paper—a card of some sort. Twirling out from the tote, it circled midair then swept toward the road.

Shelby snatched at it. Missed. Without thinking, she stepped off the curb at the precise moment a gleaming new V-8 sedan whooshed past.




Two


Dex leaped forward. At the same instant, the gust from the vehicle—or, perhaps, her own fear—propelled Shelby back onto the curb. Off balance, she smacked into him, then toppled sideways toward the pavement. Before she hit concrete, he caught her in a dramatic low-slanted pose.

While she lay stiff at a thirty-degree angle, his arms suspending her weight, Dex found himself studying her face. Her eyes, fixed and round with fright, were actually the most unusual mint-green mixed with flecks of blue. A tiny scar interrupted the sweep of one eyebrow. This close, her lips looked so much fuller.

Those lips moved now, quivering as Shelby managed a few hoarse words.

“Seems I’m still getting used to the traffic.”

A second of inattention and she might have ended up in the hospital, or worse. Instead she was lying here, her back a foot off the ground, her mind spinning and nerve endings crackling with awareness.

This was a city where stories came to life. Right now she felt as if she were in a movie: a girl far from home almost demolished by a moment’s distraction. Instead she’d been saved with the help of a tall, tawny-eyed man, who felt so hot and capable holding her in this tango-type dip that, if she weren’t so dazed, she might well melt.

Dex carefully set her on her feet. As the numerous sounds and lights faded back up, Shelby schooled her expression, straightened her twisted dress and told her rabid pulse to quit pounding so wildly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Everything except my pride,” she admitted. “I feel stupid.”

Judging from the curious looks of passersby, her incident was a bigger draw than Bernice’s show.

“That paper that whipped out of your bag,” he said. “It must’ve been important.”

She remembered and her heart squeezed. “Sentimental value,” she replied. Now that piece of her was gone forever.

Dex crossed to a nearby base-lit palm tree and swooped down. When he returned, the paper—a photo—was in his hand. Shelby’s breath let out in a rush. Accepting it from him, she pressed the picture close for a second then placed it in her tote, in a zipped compartment this time.

“A person I respect very much,” he said, “used to say that sentiment is never overrated.”

While now didn’t seem the right time to ask who that person might be, Shelby decided she’d like the opportunity to find out…maybe over a late dinner.

“Is that invitation to visit your scriptwriter still open?” she asked.

His face broke into a big white smile. “Rance and I would be honored.”

A few minutes later, he was opening the passenger-side door of a sleek black Italian sports car. After she’d slipped into the leather bucket seat and buckled up, the engine growled to life and the pristine machine rolled into a break in the traffic.

“Does this sort of emergency script thing happen often?” she asked, trying not to double-guess this decision or feel overwhelmed. Far too much had happened today. She wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up and found this had all been a dream.

“When you decide to make a movie,” Dex said, changing up gears, “there are all kinds of challenges.”

“I imagine a room filled with smoke,” she said, “and a man sitting at the end of a long table, tapping away madly on a typewriter while someone else paces back and forth, head down, hands clasped behind his back.”

Dex sent over a look.

“A typewriter?”

She reconsidered. “Guess that’s a little last-century.”

“They have heard of the internet where you come from, right?” he teased.

“Oh, sure. We put a cow on a treadmill to generate the extra electricity.”

He laughed, and that warm deepwater feeling swirled around her again.

“I’m not a native to these parts, either,” he offered. “I grew up in Australia.”

“That explains the accent. I thought maybe British.”

“We Aussies have better tans.”

In the shadows, her gaze swept over his neck, his hands. From what she could see, he was naturally beautifully bronzed.

“Australia’s halfway around the world,” she said, forcing her gaze away from his classic profile—the strong jaw and hawkish nose. “What made you move here? Fame and fortune?”

Or had he run away from something? It happened.

“My family owns Hunter Enterprises.”

“Which owns Hunter Productions, I presume.” His movie company.

He clocked down a gear to take a bend. “My mother was born near your neck of the woods.”

“Oklahoma?”

“Georgia, actually.”

“Um, hate to tell you, but Georgia’s nowhere near Oklahoma.”

“Oh dear. I am still new to town, aren’t I?”

Smiling, too, she settled more into her seat. “Back to your story…”

“My mother and father found each other at a Fox Theater event. Dad was taken with her Southern charm and beauty. He proposed the next month.”

She grinned. “Your daddy’s a romantic.”

“He sure did love my mom.” Dex’s thoughtful smile faded. “When she died a few years back, he married again.”

“A nice woman?”

“My father thinks so.”

Heading down a less busy stretch of road, he stepped on the gas. With the engine growling and scenery slicing by, she waited for him to say more about his stepmom, but he didn’t, which seemed to say a lot.

Soon they rolled into a wide private drive situated in an upmarket neighborhood. A dark-haired man around her height answered the towering wood-paneled door. When he noticed her, the glare behind his trendy spectacles said he wasn’t pleased.

Shelby thought about turning on her heel and finding her own way back to her apartment. Instead she found the wherewithal to appear unaffected. She’d dealt with and survived those kinds of looks before.

The moment passed, introductions were exchanged and Rance Loggins invited them both inside.

Dex and Rance traded a few words as they moved down a glass-walled corridor that showcased the tropical gardens outside. In a room decorated in hardwood, gleaming steel and slate-gray leather, Shelby quietly took a seat on a cloud-soft sofa while Dex shucked off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

As he began going over the problem scene with Rance, Dex lowered himself down beside her—too close, Shelby thought, yet strangely not close enough. Whether having him save her from hitting the pavement earlier or the simple fact the other person in the room wasn’t thrilled at his surprise company, she felt somehow safer knowing Dex was close. Safer and also hyperaware—of his scent. Of his heat.

His thigh was only a reach away, obviously muscled, long and strong. Her focus shifted to his polished big black shoes. Those feet sure would thump around in a pair of cowboy boots.

“So, what do you think?”

With a start, Shelby brought herself back to the conversation. Dex had spoken to her, and both he and Rance were waiting for a reply.

“What do I think about what?”

Rance reiterated the scenario—Shelby was sure more for his and Dex’s benefit than hers.

“The female lead was the groom’s girlfriend until he cheated on her. Broke her heart. Later he proposed to her friend. She’s at the wedding reception and has bumped into her ex. Now they’re standing face-to-face.”

Dex thatched his fingers behind his head and stretched out those long trousered legs. “She needs to slap his face. Stomp his foot. Throw a drink in his face. We just need the words.”

“I’m telling you,” Rance said, “there’s no surprise in that. The audience will expect it.”

Shelby wet her lips, took a breath. She could see it all so clearly.

“She needs to speak up. She needs to speak to everyone there.”

Dex lowered his hands and studied her. “You mean confront him in front of the entire reception crowd about his cheating?”

“She’s classier than that,” Shelby said. “She’d gather herself and, never feeling more alone, in her cucumber-soup-stained dress, with everyone knowing and pitying her, she’d ask for the microphone and say what a gorgeous couple the bride and groom make. How she wished them every happiness. When she hands back the mic, with tears glistening in her eyes, the audience won’t applaud. As she walks away, weaving between tables then out wide arched doors that let in the sunshine, every guest is quiet. They’ve heard the rumors. In their hearts they already know. Reese and Kurt’s relationship won’t last.”

“You mean Jada and Pete’s relationship.”

Shelby blinked across at Rance and gave a thin smile.

“Sure,” she said. “That’s who I mean.”

Dex sat mesmerized. What just happened? Shelby had no experience with scripts or storytelling as far as he knew, and yet she’d enthralled them both with her rendition of how this pivotal scene ought to play out. Except…who were Kurt and Reese? And an even bigger question now was…behind that homegirl front, who was Shelby Scott?

Running a hand back through his shock of dark hair, Rance jumped up. “Let’s get that down.” He slipped in behind the laptop, pushing aside the hard copy, which was fanned out over the tabletop. “We’ll need more backstory.”

Three hours passed, during which Shelby joined Rance at the table, Chinese was ordered in and the scene ended up in great shape. On his fifth cup of coffee, Rance turned at enough of an angle to sling an elbow over the back of his chair.

“Do you write, Shelby?” he asked.

“Not my strength.” Shaking back her mane of mahogany hair, she admitted, “But I watch a lot of movies.”

Dex pushed away his empty box of chow mein. “Have an all-time favorite?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Bet I won’t.”

“I like silent movies,” she admitted. “I like Valentino.”

“So do a lot of women in L.A.” Rance stood and stretched his back. “The haute couture kind.”

She laughed, and Dex saw Rance’s face light in a way he’d never seen before. After a nasty bust-up, Rance hadn’t dated in over a year. Dex guessed that tonight his friend had decided the drought should end.

“I don’t have much interest in high fashion,” she said.

“You should.” Rance sauntered over to where she sat. “I’m sure high fashion would like you. The screen, too. I’m surprised Dex hasn’t offered you a read.”

“Of a movie role?” She set down her chopsticks. “I don’t much like talking in front of people unless they’re kids.”

While she explained her nanny background and how tonight’s meeting had come about, Dex mulled over her admission. He wasn’t sold. She had spoken in front of a crowd at least once in her life, and the mysterious Reese and Kurt had comprised the subject matter.

As if she’d read his mind, her green gaze hooked over and caught his. Then she studied the time on her drugstore wristwatch and declared, “I need to get home.”

“Beauty sleep?” Rance asked with a you’re beautiful enough shine in his eyes.

“Shift starts at seven.” She found her feet. She’d already explained her work as a waitress on The Strip.

“Shelby’s place serves the best cheeseburgers in town,” Dex said. “And the best coffee—when I can keep it in my cup.”

He and Shelby shared a private smile before she began collecting empty boxes. “I’ll clean up.”

“You’re my guest,” Rance insisted.

“Neither of you would let me pay my share. This is my contribution.”

“You’ve done enough with your help on that script,” Dex pointed out.

“More than enough,” Rance added.

But, her mind made up, Shelby had already gathered up the boxes.

When she was out of earshot in the kitchen, Rance readjusted his glasses.

“She’s not your regular flavor. At first I thought she was another wannabe actress hoping to ride on your coattails all the way up to leading-lady heaven.”

“And now?”

Rance held his heart. “I’m in love.”

That was Dex’s cue to laugh. But he didn’t. Instead he stood and offered his friend a warning.

“She’s off-limits.”

“I thought she said you liked her for a babysitting gig?”

“And I don’t need her distracted from her job.”

“This is for your little brother, right? A vacation. Some time building sand castles. Couple days doing Disneyland. You’re not signing Shelby to a five-year contract.” He tapped fingertips on top of his hard copy. “She might enjoy having a stab at a different kind of role.”

“Helping you with scripts?”

“Why not?”

He’d tell him why not.

“She’s young. A nice girl from a small town. She doesn’t need anyone confusing issues.”

“And I suppose you have no intention of throwing a few of your own complications in.”

Dex was about to set Rance straight. Certainly Shelby was a beauty in all senses of the word, but he wasn’t laying a trap for her. He didn’t plan on seducing her, no matter how much he might like to.

Shelby reappeared.

“So, we’re done here?” she asked.

Rance’s grin was wry. “For the time being.”

After goodbyes, Dex and Shelby were back on the road. He put the address she gave him into the GPS while mulling over Rance’s comments. Shelby had been in town a second, and already she was attracting attention because of her looks and intelligence. Her modest brand of charm. As he pulled the car out and headed down the street, Dex decided that he’d need to get her signed before someone else snapped her up as a babysitter, model, actress, script doctor or, possibly, wife. Things happened fast in this town.

He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Rance thinks you’re a natural.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

“Or legitimate talent.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Mr. Hunter.”

“The name’s Dex.”

“Either way, I haven’t changed my mind about working for you.”

He frowned across at her. “You believe me about Bernice, don’t you?” Gazing ahead, she nodded. “So what is it? You don’t enjoy Chinese? I have a housekeeper, so no chores there. I’ll get a cook in, too. Should have done it years ago.” She remained silent. “Did I mention your own suite overlooking the ocean?”

She turned her head away.

He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. “You’re not giving me, or Tate, a chance.”

But she simply continued to gaze out at the Los Angeles streets whirring by. Dex gripped the wheel tighter. Man, she was stubborn. He only wished she wasn’t so darn attractive.

They arrived at Shelby’s apartment block, a modest complex situated in a nice enough neighborhood. Nevertheless, he cut off the engine and swung open his door to see her in. Shelby was already out and on the pavement.

“You don’t have to see me to the door,” she said as he joined her.

“This isn’t up for negotiation.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

But when she headed off, he followed. His mother had raised her sons to see women home properly. That went for Miss Independence here, too, whether she liked it or not.

When he headed up the path and passed her, she took a moment; then, out of options, she continued on, as well. At the entrance’s security door, however, she held her ground.

“Thank you for the evening. It was…different.”

“Thank you for the help.”

He was sure that when Rance returned from his week away, he would be checking out every café on The Strip to pass on his personal thanks, too.

Moving to key her code into the pad, she stopped to think and lowered her hand.

“I’m sorry I can’t see my way clear to help with your brother. It’s just…I think you’d do better with someone who’s more familiar with how your kind of circles work.”

“Shelby, I wouldn’t want you for this job if you were from those circles. I need a responsible caretaker for a five-year-old when his big brother can’t be around. I’m not after a hostess who can swing all the Hollywood ropes.”

When he saw a glimmer of maybe in her eyes, he had an idea.

Finding his cell phone, he brought up a video. “I shot this when I flew out to Australia last.”

Holding back a tumble of hair, she edged closer.

“That’s Tate?” she asked.

“Mucking around in the surf at a Sydney beach.”

With the summer sun at his back, Tate swayed as spent waves pushed up around his little legs then dragged back out to sea, almost sweeping him along, too. The tug finally brought him down onto his bottom. Splashing his hands in the wet sand, he giggled madly at the camera.

Shelby laughed, too, and when the video ended, she kept her gaze down. Eventually she hugged herself, then finally her head tilted and those incredible green eyes found his.

“He’s real cute,” she said.

“And smart. And loving. For a little kid, he gives the biggest bear hugs.”

Her smile grew again before fading into a thoughtful look. “This is the place where all kinds of stories come to life. But I don’t want to become a star, or even rub shoulders with the rich and famous. There’s way more ordinary folk live here than highflyers, and I never thought past working for an average family with a couple everyday kids. But you’re anything but average. When I’m with you, I have no idea what to expect next. I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“Sometimes surprises are good.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “Do you intend to have company over while your brother’s in your house?”

“If you mean women, I’m not seeing anyone. Even if I were, this is Tate’s time.”

Working his edge, he mentioned a salary figure and her eyes widened.

“Tate might not even like me,” she said.

“Don’t think we have to worry about that.” She thought some more.

“How long would you need me?”

“How does a six-month contract sound?”

She frowned. “His parents are okay with him being away that long?”

Dex hesitated. Shelby already thought his life was a whirlwind. No point revealing the more urgent reason behind Tate’s visit just yet. Whoever had planned those assassination attempts on Guthrie’s life had almost succeeded in kidnapping not only the Hunter patriarch but also his youngest son. Although the target had been Hunter Senior, never Tate, Guthrie wanted his baby boy well out of the way until this danger had passed. Unfortunately no one knew when that would be.

She wanted to know, why a six-month contract?

“I simply want to make it worth your while,” Dex replied, which was true.

When, clearly torn, she gnawed her lip, he prodded.

“Come on, Shelby. Say yes, for Tate’s sake.”

“I’d want to keep this place for days off and, well, in case things don’t work out.”

“Of course.”

After an eternity, she gave a small nod, then a smile. “Give me a start date and I’ll be there.”

He could have hugged her—and tight. Not a good idea. He’d be content with those few seconds he’d held her after that black sedan had nearly plowed her down. He was certain that kind of judgment glitch on her part wouldn’t happen again. Too close of a call.

“Let’s say Friday,” he said.

“That soon?”

“Tate’s here in a week. We need to get the place organized. Get provisions and equipment in.”

“Oh. Sure.” She drew her willowy frame up tall. “I can do that.”

“Shall we shake on it?”

She took his extended hand, and that transfixing sensation he’d experienced when he’d caught her earlier seized him again. Pleasant. Heart pumping. Inappropriate. He’d got what he needed and now he should count himself lucky and go. And yet after this simple skin-on-skin contact, suddenly he really wanted to stay. But that would require her asking him inside, which would never happen. He didn’t know her well, but she certainly wasn’t the kind to invite in a man she’d known less than a day for a drink.

A delicious heat spread over Shelby’s limbs, echoing in her chest, through to her core before she gathered herself and found the wherewithal to wind her hand away. Brushing her tingling palm down the side of her dress, she forced words past the thickness blocking her throat.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

Over the noise of distant traffic and a TV blaring from some nearby window, Dex’s voice sounded deeper. Gravelly and rich. Had he felt that amazing electric surge, too? The warmth had been so frighteningly tempting…enough to wonder if she ought to ask him to stay for a nightcap. Or wish she’d never met him at all.

She didn’t want to feel attracted to any man, particularly a man like Dex Hunter. Obviously he liked women. Women would sure as beans like him. And she didn’t want to get involved with anyone—not for any reason. Past experience was still too raw in her mind.

There was an awkward loaded moment where his lidded gaze stayed fused to hers as if he were waiting for that invitation in. When she lifted her chin, his shoulders rolled back, he tipped his head and while she entered the building, he proceeded to his car.

A moment later, inside her partly furnished apartment, Shelby moved to the bedroom, sat on the edge of the mattress and, thinking back, drew out the decades-old photo that had been torn away on that sudden gust. Not so long ago, she had ripped it into pieces. Then, before leaving Mountain Ridge for good, she’d painstakingly taped the bits together again.

The girls in the photo seemed like ghosts to Shelby now. One had hair the color of a chestnut; the other’s locks were as fair as a magnolia bloom. Friends since early grade school, they’d loved each other unreservedly. Had shared everything.

But some things were off-limits, even where best friends were concerned.




Three


As he headed home, Dex’s thoughts were dragged away from Shelby Scott’s ever-growing allure when his cell phone buzzed. He connected the call, and his younger brother Wynn’s voice swelled out from the hands-free speaker. Frowning, Dex caught the time display on the dash.

“Bro, it’s two in the morning in New York. What’s up? Decide to get a head start on the morning’s five-mile run?”

“I’m not that organized.” Really?

Wynn had his father’s tenacity and his mother’s heart. Unlike his older brothers, early on Wynn had decided he wanted to settle down and have a family. He wanted the happily ever after his parents had shared before their mother had passed away.

Maybe that’s what this call was about, Dex thought now. Maybe on the heels of Cole’s engagement news, Wynn had an announcement of his own. Absolutely made sense, given he and his photographer girlfriend, Heather Matthews, had been inseparable for over two years.

“Did you get Cole’s message?” Dex asked. “Can’t believe he’s found the woman of his dreams. She must be something else to hold his attention away from the boardroom.”

“Great news. I’m happy for him.”

“No chance of you and Heather making it a double ceremony?”

“Heather and me…We’re taking a break.”

Dex almost swerved off the road. They’d seemed smitten whenever he saw them on family get-togethers back home in Sydney. Committed. Or Wynn had been, at least.

“Actually,” Wynn went on, “it’s pretty much over. We’re still friends.”

“God, Wynn… Man, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s late afternoon in Australia but Cole’s not picking up. Any more news on Dad and his situation?”

Respecting Wynn’s feelings—his need to move the conversation along—Dex got his thoughts together and summarized.

“Well, you know that after that first incident when his vehicle was run off the road, Dad was targeted again. Gunshot missed him by inches. Thankfully his P.I. was on hand when that maniac showed up a third time.”

“He’d been visiting Uncle Talbot.”

“Guess after all these years, Dad finally wants to mend fences.”

Decades ago, Guthrie had assumed the chairmanship of Hunter’s then much smaller family business, which had comprised print media only. Although he’d been assigned a position of authority, Guthrie’s brother had felt marginalized, patronized. Eventually he’d walked out. The grudge festered into a long-standing feud.

Dex believed that break was part of the reason why, after Guthrie’s heart surgery a few years back, he had divvied up Hunter Enterprises’ now worldwide interests evenly among this generation of brothers. Wynn had been given rule over Hunter’s print sector.

As far as Dex was concerned, Wynn had drawn the short straw. Steering that side of the business through the digital revolution needed not only brains but also a steely nerve. In times such as these, profits could be made but long-standing empires could just as easily crumple.

If Wynn felt the pressure, he never complained or asked for help. Which, Dex deduced, might one day be his brother’s professional undoing.

“After that shooting, Dad’s P.I. chased the guy, right?” Wynn was saying. “Can’t believe the fool ran straight into traffic.”

“Apparently he’d had a beef with the Broadcasting News Division,” Dex said, easing onto the freeway that would see him home in five. “When he didn’t regain consciousness, that should have been the end of it.”

But the worst was yet to come. Wynn also knew that, not long after the incident outside Uncle Talbot’s, their father had been assaulted in broad daylight. Dex’s stomach muscles clutched remembering how close Guthrie and Tate had come to being shoved into that black van something like a week after the shooting incident, perhaps never to be seen or heard from again. He’d give his eyeteeth to know who and what was behind it all.

“Tate’s coming out here for a visit,” Dex told Wynn. “Dad wants him out of the way in case there’s more trouble. He wanted his wife, Eloise, to vacate Sydney, too, but in her third trimester, she’s staying put.”

“Guess she wants to be with her husband.” Dex couldn’t contain it. “You and your rose-colored glasses.”

“We might not approve of his marriage, but we should support it.”

Dex wondered if Wynn even suspected. Last Christmas Eve, when the family was all together under one roof, Dex had interrupted their dear stepmom trying to play pucker-up with a repulsed Cole. Dex’s older brother had thundered out of the room while Eloise tittered on to Dex about having a lash in her eye. Quite a piece of work.

He’d been torn for a time, as Cole must have been. No one wanted to see someone they loved be made to look like a fool. But neither did a son want to cause trouble in his father’s marriage. When these attempts had begun on their father’s life, Cole had admitted he’d suspected Eloise. Private checks had cleared her of involvement—on that score at least.

Wynn said he’d keep in touch and ended the call at the same time Dex pulled into his garage. As he exited the car and passed through the internal door leading to the kitchen, he shook his head over the torment his father had endured. Some deranged people imagined they had the right to intimidate others. Some felt compelled to hurt—financially, emotionally. Physically.

On his way through to the living room, Dex lifted his nose and frowned. Smoke? A movement outside, beyond glass sliders, caught his eye. Something on the back lawn, no more than a foot high, was glowing red. He edged over, slid open the door and moved outside.

Positioned before the palm-fringed pool, a box that resembled a crude miniature coffin stood smoldering. When a piece fell to the grass, sparks spat out. A couple hit his trouser leg but, while a chill ran up his spine, Dex didn’t move to slap them away. This message was patently clear.

Recently he’d received a threatening letter; if he didn’t pay, an unfortunate incident years back would come to light. He knew that the incident to which the letter referred involved his friend Joel and an industrial building burning down. Thankfully the building had been empty at the time. That didn’t excuse the act. Arson was a criminal offense. So too was withholding evidence.

Although Dex had mentioned the note to Cole, he hadn’t taken the threat seriously. But now he wondered. Could this somehow be connected to his father’s trouble? Was the scum involved with his father’s assassination attempts for some reason widening his net?

Either way, how could he bring Tate here now?




Four


“Can’t you please take me with you when you go?”

Shelby stopped wiping a tabletop to smile over at her friend and fellow waitress.

“It’s not so bad here,” she told Lila Sommers. “Besides, you’ll hear about your college application soon and, in no time, you’ll be way ahead of the game.” Shelby sighed. “A double degree. I can’t imagine how full of brains your head must be.”

“I’m not so bright that I can land a job with one of this town’s most eligible bachelors. Dex Hunter’s been coming here ordering cheeseburgers and fries forever.”

“I’m not sure about your interpretation of eligible. Being single doesn’t necessarily make someone the pick of the bunch.”

“Okay.” Lila began counting fingers. “Let’s move onto charismatic. Absurdly handsome. Dripping with money.”

“Which you know has nothing to do with why I took the job.”

This morning while they’d set up, Shelby had filled Lila in on the previous night, ending with how she’d made the mistake of looking at that video featuring Dex’s little brother. Until then she’d decided she wasn’t a good fit with his world. From jumping to conclusions over Bernice and that unfortunate embrace, to nearly falling in front of a vehicle, then being invited to a genuine movie script session…

Merely being in his orbit left her feeling gauche.

But, irrespective of her pedestrian style—or, as Dex had said, because of it—he wanted her to be his brother’s temporary nanny. Watching Tate play around in the surf, seeing that exuberant expression light his little face…She couldn’t help but want to give Tate the stability he deserved when he came out to visit his high-flying older brother. She also wanted to hear that gorgeous giggle again.

“You must want a batch of your own someday?” Lila asked, straightening salt and pepper shakers, pushing in chairs.

Children of her own? She’d love that more than anything. But she pointed out, “I have to find the right guy first.”

And, for the time being, she wasn’t looking.

“You never know. Dex Hunter might be that man.”

“Didn’t your mama ever tell you? It’s the charmers you need to watch out for.”

“My mom’s middle name is Man-Hater. Her advice is to stay away, period.”

“Guess she’s been burned.”

“Big-time—by my dad.”

“Oh, Lila, I’m sorry.”

“It’s between them.” Lila straightened her apron then flicked back her brunette ponytail. “Dad and I are cool. Now that he knows how much I want to do college, he says he’ll help pay my tuition.” She went to wipe the next table. “If I get in.”

Shelby thought of her own father, an anchor, a safe guiding light.

“I don’t hate men,” she said. “But I am steering clear for a while.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so the way you were looking at Dex yesterday. Nothing to be ashamed of. If a guy like him showed me that kind of interest, I’d melt like milk chocolate on a grill.”

Heat suffusing her cheeks, Shelby pushed in a final chair. “There’s work to do. Lunch rush’ll be pouring in soon.”

“Wouldn’t it be a fairy tale come true if you two fell in love, got engaged—”

Shelby snapped out her cloth. “No fairy tale happening here.” Given that she’d confided in her friend about that embarrassing predicament back home, Lila ought to know she wasn’t thinking that way. Or shouldn’t be. “I’ll work for Dex Hunter on a purely professional basis or I won’t work for him at all.”

“Great we got that all cleared up.”

At the sound of that amused, masculine voice and the sudden stunned look on Lila’s face, Shelby held her breath and slowly turned around. Dressed in jeans and a casual button-down, Dex stood before her, a teasing smile slanting his lips. He looked so laid-back, weight on one leg, shoulders angled, and yet those tawny eyes held that same intensity…the same knowledge and hunger that had left her legs feeling as wobbly as Jell-O last night when they’d parted.

None of that changed the fact she’d meant what she’d said. She wasn’t interested in romance. She wasn’t concerned about his broad, hard chest, his palpable sex appeal…that entrancing bone-melting smile.

Shelby mentally shook herself. What was he doing here anyway?

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’re perspiring.” Beads of sweat were glistening high on his brow.

“It’s a hot day.” He wound his already folded cuffs up another turn as if to prove it. “I just dropped by to say there’s been a change of plans.”

“Tate’s not coming?”

Mother hen Lila stepped in. “You do realize she’s resigned. The boss kicked the wall and said she could leave now except he’d be short for the lunch rush.”

“Tate’s still coming out,” Dex assured them both. “In fact, he’ll be here late tomorrow.”

“Last night you said a week.”

Dex folded into a chair. “I phoned Sydney this morning to…arrange some things. Cole, the brother stationed in Australia, is set to leave on a sabbatical. He wanted Tate’s trip signed and sealed before he left. My father agreed.”

“Suddenly you don’t look so happy about it.”

“I had some other news last night,” Dex explained as Lila laid a coffee before him then hung around to wipe an already sparkling table. “I need other accommodations until a minor problem’s sorted at my place.”

“Problem as in plumbing or a hole in the roof?”

“More like rodents in the basement.” His pensive gaze flicked up from his steaming cup. “I’ve organized a suite in town. I’d like you to help me get the place organized.”

One minute she was a waitress, next she was being whisked away to a hotel by a multimillionaire. She had to catch her breath. Shelby slid into the seat beside him.

Behind them, her boss’s unhappy voice ground out.

“Those chairs are for patrons only.”

Shelby jumped up. Mr. Connor’s usually nonexistent jaw was jutting. On either side of a bulbous nose, his small dark eyes narrowed. He addressed his remarks to Dex.

“She’s here to serve tables. You’re a good customer, but I have a business to run.”

Dex got to his feet. “Shelby was taking my order.”

Connor exhaled as if he’d heard it all before. “Look, we don’t run that kind of establishment. If you want to—you know—chat, there are other places for that.”

Shelby’s temper flared. Did Connor call her what she thought he’d just called her? She stuck out her own chin.

“Now wait a minute—”

Dex held up a hand. “Let me handle this.” He addressed Connor. “Obviously that isn’t the kind of discussion I’m having with Ms. Scott.”

“It looked pretty cozy to me,” Connor replied. “Particularly after your nice long talk yesterday.” He eyed Shelby. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I’ve offered Shelby employment,” Dex said. “I believe she passed on her resignation to you this morning.”

“So it was you.” Connor narrowed his gaze again. “Sure. She resigned, but I still have her till the end of the week.”

“I was hoping,” Dex continued, “that you might consider releasing her earlier than that.”

“Like when?”

“Like now.” Connor shrugged. “Like I said, I have a business to run.”

Dex drew out his wallet. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement—”

“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.”

“There was a time when you didn’t listen?”

She blinked, recovered, then found a container of coffee. “We’re not talking about me.”

As she put the coffee away, Dex unraveled his arms. He hadn’t meant to spook her, but now he hoped she’d let those other questions drop. Although, frankly, he’d still like some answers about her past. Did her earlier prickling feelings involve Reese and Kurt?

She crunched up the last empty grocery bag and dropped it in the trash. “Done and finished.”

He pushed off the counter. “Let’s check out the place.”

The living space was roomy. White walls and carpet—probably unwise with a young boy crashing around the place. Facing the plasma screen TV and elevated view of the palm-lined pool and cabanas, the U-shaped dark leather sofa was huge. He read Shelby’s face. Comfortable. Low-maintenance. She moved to the glass doors.

“Can we have the outdoor table and chairs put away somewhere?” she asked.

A good safety measure for curious kids who could climb like monkeys.

“Consider it done,” he said.

She turned to face him and, with the afternoon sun slanting in, her hair looked as if it were threaded with strands of shining copper.

“Why did you choose a suite in a hotel rather than a house?” she asked.

He dragged his gaze away from her glowing silhouette to concentrate. “Tate’ll have everything he needs. A pool and swings and a big playroom.” And first-class security. He studied the giant plasma. “We’ll need games and controls.”

“I’d prefer games we can play together. Books, paints and blocks, too.”

His chest grew warm at a memory…he and Cole and their mom building wobbling towers that more often than not tumbled down before they were finished. Then they’d sigh—or clap and laugh—and do it all again.

“You’re old-fashioned,” he said.

“It’s called being involved.”

“Are you?”

Perplexed, she laughed. “Of course. I get involved with any child I care for.”

Actually he’d meant romantically involved and, although she avoided commenting more by going to check out the playroom situation, he suspected that she knew it.




Five


Two days later at an LAX arrivals gate, Shelby’s heart almost burst watching Dex sweep his cute-as-a-button brother up into the air and swirl him around.

“How was the flight?” he asked an excited Tate, whose face was split with a grin. “Were the crew good to you?”

“Daddy got a special lady to sit by me the whole way.” Tate waggled a finger toward the stream of passengers pouring out from the gate. “That’s her.”

A woman sauntered over. She was of average height but that was as far as average went. Her thick ash-blond hair was drawn into a luxurious ponytail that flowed over one shoulder and down to her waist. Her eyes were big, widely spaced and a startling ice-blue. Toned arms and lithe build said keeping in shape was her lifestyle of choice. But that aura of confidence was her best quality. Proud and assured, she might have owned the world and would just as happily have given it away.

Meanwhile, Dex looked blindsided. “No one told me…”

Coming closer, the woman threw up her hands. “We wanted to surprise you, you big dope.”

Tate held his stomach; he was giggling that hard. “Your mouth dropped all the way down,” he told Dex and then showed him a five-year-old’s interpretation of stunned—eyes crossed, tongue out.

Growling playfully, Dex gave the woman a huge hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I flew out to Sydney to see how Dad was doing,” the woman—Dex’s sister?—said. “Dad was stressing about getting Tate over here with you as soon as possible. So we pushed it all forward, I volunteered to chaperone and here we are.”

Shelby digested it all…but couldn’t figure out why Guthrie Hunter should be so anxious about organizing his youngest son’s visit to L.A. This was just a vacation, right?

Bouncing Tate up onto his hip, Dex remembered introductions. “Teagan, meet Shelby.”

Shelby smiled, nodded. “Shelby Scott.”

“Shelby’s new to town,” Dex said. “She’s offered to help me look after this little guy while he’s here visiting.”

While Dex ruffled his brother’s hair, Shelby stepped closer to say hello. His eyes were the same unusual tawny color as Dex’s but without the flashes of blue.

“Your brother showed me a video of you splashing around in some waves,” she said.

“I love the beach,” Tate told her. “I’m a nipper now.”

“A junior lifesaver?” Dex held up his hand for a high five. “Way to go!”

Teagan asked, “So how long have you two been dating?”

“No, no,” Shelby said at the same time Dex hurried to explain. “I’ve employed Shelby to be Tate’s nanny.”

“Oh. I just assumed…” Teagan’s quizzical expression evaporated on a big smile. “Well, it’s great to meet you.”

They collected luggage then strolled out to the parking lot with Tate chattering about dinosaurs and airplanes the whole way. Needing more seats than a sports car allowed, Dex had hired a luxury SUV. As he buckled Tate in, then piled bags in the back, Teagan spoke in Shelby’s ear.

“Sorry about that misunderstanding. But it’s not a leap that you two could be an item. If you weren’t so glamorous and tall and beautiful—”

“Me? Glamorous?” In a plain cotton dress and no makeup? In any dress, for that matter.

“Well, you might be a nanny now, but I’d bet good money, if you stay in L.A., some lucky talent scout will snap you up.” Teagan wound the sturdy black knapsack off her back. “My tip is to get a good agent, pronto.”

“But I don’t want to be snapped up.”

“You don’t have any aspirations to be a leading lady, earn squillions of dollars, be adored and watched by crowds?”

Shelby shuddered. “I’m not a fan of crowds.” Teagan looked shocked and pleased at the same time.

Settling Tate in the backseat, Dex called out, “Hey, you two can chat in the car. We need to get this boy home. He’s got to be hungry.”

Tate began chanting, “Cheeseburber, cheeseburber!”

While Teagan slid into the front passenger’s seat, Shelby slipped in behind the driver’s seat.

“Dex and I went shopping yesterday,” Shelby let Tate know. “There are all kinds of great things to eat and do at home.”

“I love your shack by the sea,” Teagan said, belting up. “All three stories of it.”

“Actually, we’re staying at a hotel.” Dex named the establishment and Teagan let loose a low whistle.

“You always did like the best. But you couldn’t have sold your place. You bragged to everyone who’d listen about that view.”

“This address is only temporary.” Dex ignited the engine. “Everyone buckled up? Let’s get this show on the road.”

Shelby saw the same questions in Teagan’s eyes now that she’d wanted to ask when she’d learned about Dex’s sudden move. But as long as the temporary change of address didn’t concern her or Tate while he was here, what did it matter where he lived?

“Guess you want an update on Dad,” Teagan said when they were on their way.

Tate was getting comfortable in his booster seat. “The bump on his head’s all better now.”

“That’s real good, buddy,” Dex replied then told Shelby, “Teagan runs her own fitness studio in Seattle.”

Shelby remembered the woman’s glowing complexion and bouncy step. “You don’t work for the family business, Teagan?”

Dex reached over to squeeze his sister’s shoulder. “She’s our resident rebel, aren’t you?”

“Translation,” Teagan said, trying not to laugh as she shoved her brother’s tickling grasp away while she pinned him with a mock stern look. “I wanted to make it on my own.”

“Admirable,” Shelby said.

“And necessary to my sanity.”

Dex started another thread of conversation, although Shelby somehow thought the two were related.

“So you caught up with Cole while you were visiting,” he said.

“I was pleasantly surprised.” Teagan filled Shelby in. “You’d have to know our big brother to understand when I say he’s a giant control freak, to the point of driving everyone up the wall. But that seems to have changed since he realized there are more important things in life than telling people what to do.”

“Sounds like you might reconsider working for the business,” Dex slipped in.

Teagan pretended not to hear. “His fiancée, Taryn Quinn, is a honey. Strong-willed, smart. Cole’s match in every way. I never thought I’d say it but there’s a side to Cole that’s pure pussycat.”

“I’m looking forward to the ceremony,” Dex said with a grin in his voice.

“You’re not married, Shelby?” Teagan asked.

“No.” Shelby’s hands flexed and bunched on her thighs. “Not married.”

“Your accent…Texan?”

Dex replied for her. “Shelby comes from a little known place called Mountain Ridge, Oklahoma.”

“Sounds so peaceful,” Teagan said. “Horse Whisperer country.”

She thought that was set in Montana but Shelby shrugged and confirmed, “We own a ranch.”

“You like that life?”

“Very much.”

Teagan looked back over her shoulder. “If you weren’t chasing the limelight, what made you make the move to L.A.?”

Shelby felt Dex’s curiosity, too. While her pulse rate jumped, she assumed a calm expression. “Well, you see—” she rubbed her suddenly damp palms down her skirt “—it was time I saw more of the world.”

“Sounds like California’s just the beginning then.” Teagan moved around in her seat to face her. “I have a friend, a teacher. She flew overseas a couple years ago. Landed a job as a governess in France. She lives in a castle now. Can you believe it!”

“Stop giving her ideas,” Dex growled, turning onto the highway. “I’d like to keep Shelby with me a while.”

Studying the back of his head above the rest, seeing the smile creasing the corners of his eyes in the rearview mirror, Shelby felt the tension locking her shoulder blades ease. He sounded so determined. So sincere. And now that Tate was here and he seemed so happy and well-adjusted…

For the first time since seeing Dex being kissed by that poor woman that night, Shelby felt truly confident about agreeing to his terms.

“Can I please have annava cupcake before I go to bed?”

Dex, Shelby and special guests Teagan and Tate were all settled in the living room of his Beverly Hills Hotel suite. Despite his assertion that she didn’t have to cook, Shelby had whipped up a magnificent roast with all the trimmings for dinner. She’d also baked scrumptious cupcakes—and not from a packet. Dex had very nearly asked to lick the bowl.

Now at Tate’s understandable request, Dex sat straighter in his corner of the giant horseshoe-shaped sofa and mentally rubbed his hands together. Another cupcake? Great idea.

“Honey, you’ve already brushed your teeth,” Shelby explained to Tate as she fanned out children’s books on the coffee table.

“And those cakes were huge.” Teagan set down her empty cup of herbal tea that smelled like brewed lawn clippings. Probably tasted like that, too. “One cake is plenty for a kid your size. And before you say anything, brother dear, you’ve already had four.”

Appalled, Dex sat back. “Did not.” He’d had three.

“You’ve always been driven by your taste buds.” Teagan nodded at her brother’s middle. “You’d better watch out or you’ll look like a pear before you know it. I can set you up with a routine. Thirty minutes every day is all it takes to keep in shape.”




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