Beauty and the Big Bad Wolf Read online

  And one thing she would stubbornly refuse to do was let her grandmother guess this was the absolute worst time for Amelia to be away from the office. The company’s software writers were asking for more pay, the board of directors was demanding to see higher profits and she was going to have to lay off some of her favorite people. And if the business didn’t improve, she’d have to come up with a new business plan.

  On top of that, her boyfriend Jeff was pressing her for a commitment. If she married him, she wouldn’t have to worry about a job. He’d support her. But she didn’t want to simply be taken care of. She was an achiever, determined to succeed on her own. And that meant she couldn’t afford to take one day off, let alone a week. But her grandmother needed her, and so she came.

  “You look tired, dear,” her grandmother said, peering at Amelia over her bifocals.

  “Maybe just a little.” She was always tired these days, but she’d learned to live with it.

  “You work too hard.”

  Too hard? Was there such a thing? “What would I do if I didn’t work hard?” she asked. “Watch soap operas? Shop? Do lunch?”

  “I was thinking more of something like gardening, cooking or walking in the woods.”

  Amelia smiled. “Maybe when I’m retired, like you. For now, I’m on track. I have certain goals and objectives. I thought by now…” She broke off before she got started on her plans for the future. The future, always there, full of possibilities, always right around the corner, but always just out of her grasp.

  “Does this have anything to do with your parents?” Granny asked with a frown. Granny made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of the rigid all-work-and-no-play, goal-oriented lifestyle Amelia had been brought up with.

  “I suppose their advice is always there in the back of my head—push forward, get to the top, let nothing stand in your way—sure. But I like to think they’re my goals, and not theirs.”

  “I’m sure they are,” Granny said calmly.

  “Something smells good,” Amelia said, eager to change the subject. “You haven’t been cooking, have you?”

  “I made a lasagna before I went in for surgery,” Helen said. “I took it out of the freezer and hobbled over to put it in the oven tonight.”

  “I could have put it in for you. You have to stay off your feet. I’ll go wash up and change into something comfortable.”

  “Same room, top of the stairs,” Helen said. “Where are your shoes?”

  “Oh, uh, here in my bag.” No use going into what happened. Why start off by complaining about one of her neighbors? Though maybe Granny knew what his story was. If anyone knew, it would be her. She could inspire confidence in the shiest bachelor or the most hardened con man.

  Amelia told herself to forget Granny’s surly neighbor. He’d certainly forgotten her, though she couldn’t imagine many others who’d penetrated his fence, and his warnings, and actually gotten inside the compound. Maybe that explained why he’d glared at her as though she were an alien from outer space—he didn’t see that many strangers.

  She quickly plugged in her laptop, recharged her phone battery and checked her messages. In the small upstairs bathroom with the whitewashed walls, she scrubbed the makeup off her face, ran her hands through her hair, then changed into faded jeans and a T-shirt.

  From the top of the stairs, she heard voices from below. Her granny’s voice and a man’s voice. She frowned. Oh, dear. Would she have to make polite conversation with some yokel? Yes, if he was a friend of Granny’s. Should she change? No, she was in the country now. It was probably one of the geezers from the local garden club who wouldn’t notice what she was wearing.

  “I stacked the firewood out on your deck,” Brian Wolf said as he stepped into Helen’s living room. He’d just seen the fancy British sports car in front of the house, but Ms. “Do you know how much these shoes cost?” was nowhere to be seen, fortunately. If he could get out of here without encountering her, he’d count himself lucky. If Helen hadn’t just called to say she was desperately in need of firewood, he would have waited to come by until he was sure the red-haired hotshot was gone. “You’re not really out of firewood. There’s quite a pile out there.”

  “Oh, is there? I didn’t see it,” Helen said, her faded blue eyes wide and innocent. “You’ll have to forgive an old lady. My eyesight is fading along with everything else. Oh, you brought Dante. Come here, you sweet boy.”

  Brian watched his “ferocious” watchdog wag his tail and take his place by Helen’s side so she could lavish attention on him.

  “Call me anytime,” he said. “You know I can use the exercise. Before I go, wasn’t there something you wanted done in your greenhouse?”

  “Oh, yes. My potted Meyer lemon tree has to be moved. It’s not getting enough sun where it is. But it can wait…for a few minutes. Actually, it takes two to move it. My granddaughter Amelia just arrived, and she’ll be downstairs in a minute to help you.”

  Oh, no. He was stuck with another encounter with Helen’s granddaughter, who was just exactly what he’d imagined from her descriptions—sophisticated, well-dressed, snotty, aloof, cool and sure of herself. He knew the type only too well. The only thing that had surprised him was the rich color of her hair. The photographs he’d seen of her were black and white. In the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, it had shone like a copper penny, almost blinding him.

  “Amelia,” Helen called. “Come on down. We have company.”

  “If she’s busy, I can come back another day.” He eyed the front door, thinking of making a run for it.

  “She’s not busy at all. She’s here to take care of me. Isn’t that sweet, giving up her vacation to spend it with me? Honestly, she’s the kindest, sweetest, nicest girl in the world. Pretty and smart, too.”

  “I’m sure she is,” he said politely, though he was sure what he was hearing was grandmother-speak.

  “Just sit down. She’ll be right down. You two have a lot in common.”

  “You think so?” Brian asked, unable to conceal the skepticism in his voice, while bracing one hip against the wall near the door.

  “I know so. You’re both capable and hardworking.”

  Hardworking? He hadn’t felt like working for almost a year now—ever since his life had fallen apart late one Saturday night on a mountain road. Hard worker or not, he did not want to have any more to do with Ms. High-and-Mighty. He’d rather stay buried in the woods, alone with his dog and his thoughts. On the other hand, he didn’t want to disappoint Helen. She was one hell of a wonderful woman—independent, self-sufficient, warm and generous. She deserved better than that fiery, arrogant granddaughter. But for Helen’s sake, he’d try to be polite to her.

  “Amelia is quite an amazing girl,” Helen said. “A wonderful cook, a brilliant executive…”

  “Granny.” Amelia’s voice came wafting down the stairs. “Are you talking about me again?” The startled look on her face as she reached the bottom step was almost priceless. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the dog, and she knew instantly who the visitor was. Her gaze flew from the dog to the man, and she stared openmouthed at him, gripping the back of a chair as if she were in danger of falling down. He smothered a grin while Helen introduced him. If he gave in to that kind of impulse, and really smiled, he was afraid his face might crack.

  “Amelia, I want you to meet my neighbor, Brian Wolf. And this is his dog, Dante. Honestly, if I ever get a dog, I’d want one just like this. I’ve told you about Brian and his dog, haven’t I?”

  “I… I don’t think so, no,” she murmured.

  If she’d known he was there, Brian was sure she would have made up some excuse to stay in her room until he’d left. But it was too late. She forced a smile and held out her hand to shake his. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m just as sorry as you are that your grandmother is trying to match us up, but as soon as we move the lemon tree, I’m out of here, and we won’t have to see each other again. So buck up, smile and sh
ake hands. If I can stand it, so can you.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, noting that she’d changed out of her city clothes into something more suitable for country life. He’d bet that in the city she never wore that old cotton T-shirt that hugged her breasts. He shouldn’t be staring, but he told himself he was only trying to figure out the faded logo. Faded or not, she still smelled of some expensive perfume, and she didn’t fool him. She could wear whatever she wanted—denims or an apron, dungarees and a straw hat—she was still a city woman, with expensive shoes, a hairstylist, waxed eyebrows, an analyst and a personal trainer. Yes, he knew the type. All sharp edges and high expectations. He’d had enough city women—one was enough to last a lifetime—to know that they didn’t fit into country life. He’d give this one a few days before she made up some excuse and headed back to town.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, his voice sharper than he’d intended. “It’s too bad you had to wait for a crisis to come and visit.”

  Amelia flushed, and he was almost sorry he’d criticized her, but not completely. Where had she been all this time? He’d lived here for almost two years, and as far as he knew, she’d never visited her grandmother.

  “Now, Brian,” Helen said reprovingly. “Amelia is a very busy person. She’s the head of her company, aren’t you, dear?”

  “Not quite yet, Granny.”

  “Well, you soon will be. Only, you’re looking peaked. Isn’t she, Brian?”

  “She looks fine to me,” he said gallantly. What else could he say with her grandmother sitting across the room? “You don’t often see that color hair,” he added gratuitously. He was rewarded for that remark by a hostile glare from Amelia.

  “Beautiful, just beautiful,” Helen enthused. “Comes from my side of the family. My sister Ruth had hair that same color. She was a beauty, too, just like you,” she said to her granddaughter. Amelia blushed, which surprised him. He would have thought she was much too sophisticated to blush at a compliment.

  Amelia quickly changed the subject. “How are your orchids doing, Granny?”

  Helen reported that she’d been given a new phalaenopsis while in the hospital, and it, along with her other plants, was in the greenhouse in the back. “Which reminds me,” she said. “Brian has offered to move my Meyer lemon tree for me. If you’ll give him a hand, I’d really appreciate it. It’s getting too much sun where it is, and the leaves are looking brown.”

  “I thought it needed more sun,” Brian said.

  “Did I say that?” Helen said with a little laugh. “I must be getting senile. Amelia will know where it should go.”

  “But I don’t really know…” Amelia said.

  “Thank you, dear. Dante can stay here with me.”

  What could she say to that suggestion? Nothing. Brian followed Amelia out the back door in total silence. He couldn’t help noticing how her faded jeans hugged her hips. So she didn’t dress like the busy executive every minute, even though she acted like one. If she didn’t have such a pained look on her face, if she didn’t purse her lips as if she’d just bitten into one of Helen’s Meyer lemons, she wouldn’t be hard to look at. As if it mattered. What mattered was she never visited her grandmother, and would have continued to ignore her if it weren’t for Helen’s hip surgery.

  He didn’t really care what this woman looked like as long as she took good care of her grandmother. As for him, he had nothing to say to her, and she obviously had nothing to say to him. In the small, glassed-in greenhouse, the air was damp and humid, the scent was rich and earthy. The orchids were lush, fragrant and sexy. The silence and the atmosphere were closing in on him and getting on his nerves. He looked around for a lemon tree, but he didn’t see one. Was this whole thing a setup? He wanted to leave, but he owed it to Helen to be polite to her granddaughter.

  He braced one arm against a wooden shelf. “So tell me, Red, what is it your company does?” he asked.

  “First,” she said, her chin tilted at an upward angle, “it isn’t my company. The company I work for makes software for medical use. And second, no one calls me Red.”

  “Why not?” he asked. He couldn’t help admiring the way her rich auburn hair shone under the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He took his finger, wound a strand of hair around it and examined it closely. “Is it because it isn’t real?” Pushing her buttons was so easy.

  She glared at him and stepped backward. He dropped his hand to his side. She looked so mad, he thought she might spit fire like a dragon. “Just kidding,” he said lightly.

  “And what is it you do, Mr. Wolf?” she asked icily.

  “Nothing,” he said. Damn, why had he started this line of inquiry? Now the tables were turned, and he wanted no part of it.

  “Nothing,” she repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. “Then why do you need all that security around your house? I assumed you were developing a secret weapon or, at least, a cure for cancer.”

  “Don’t ever assume anything about me,” he said brusquely. “Chances are, you’d be wrong.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” she said stiffly. “I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck.”

  “No,” he said, taking advantage of the remark to take another look at her long, lithe body. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Do you mean you’re retired?”

  “Not really,” he said, watching the way her eyes narrowed and her lower lip stuck out when she was annoyed. He wondered if she ever smiled. Not that he cared. It was not his job to coax a smile out of an uptight visitor. He really didn’t care if she ever cracked a smile. “Do you have any more questions, because if not…”

  “Just one. Are all the neighbors as unfriendly as you?”

  “You’ll have to ask your grandmother,” he said. “I like to think I stand out from the crowd.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she said.

  “I have a feeling that’s not a compliment,” he said drily.

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  “Why, Red, that’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me,” he drawled sarcastically.

  She looked at him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock. “I should be getting back to the kitchen.”

  “What about the lemon tree?” he asked. Truthfully, he’d almost forgotten about it himself. Was he that desperate for company that he was almost enjoying this banter? No way.

  She looked around and pointed to a short, stubby tree with shiny leaves, planted in a ceramic pot. She took one side and he took the other, and they moved it close to the slanted glass wall. His hand brushed hers as they set it down, and he felt a jolt of awareness so strong he dropped his side of the pot a little too soon. He jerked his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket. She shot him a puzzled look, but didn’t question his abrupt reaction.

  Brian knew what his problem was. Too much time alone. Too much time without a woman. On the other hand, he had no intention of getting involved with a woman again. He’d learned his lesson the hard way.

  Without saying another word, they went back into the house. Even though she was cynical and sarcastic, stiff and untouchable, he kind of hated to go back in because it would be interesting to see what she’d say next. She was capable of putting him down and challenging him with her questions. It was a surprisingly welcome change from all the sycophants who turned up in his driveway to tell him how brilliant and original he was, to plead with him to get back to work and finish what he’d started or to hear what his next project would be. She knew nothing about him—he was a clean slate—and frankly, she didn’t seem that interested in finding out any more.

  Which was fine with him. The feeling was mutual. He didn’t want to see any more of her after tonight. If someday he did decide to rejoin the world, as Helen often suggested, and he had to find a woman, he’d choose the company of some sweet, soft-spoken, sympathetic woman. For now, and for the foreseeable future, he intended to keep away from Ms. Amelia Tucker. The sooner the better.

  Chapter Two<
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  Back at the house, the rich smell of tomato sauce and cheese filled the air. Brian hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He hoped it didn’t show on his face, because even imminent starvation wouldn’t be reason enough to sit through dinner with Amelia. He’d done his bit. He’d been polite. They’d exchanged a few pointed remarks. There was no love lost between them. That was it.

  “You will stay for dinner,” Helen said.

  “I wish I could,” he said, making an effort to sound sincere, “but I have to get back. Something urgent has come up.” He managed a polite smile, and before Helen could press him about what was so urgent, Brian quickly said goodbye, whistled for his dog and walked out the front door. He felt guilty seeing the disappointment on the old lady’s face, but he didn’t want to give Helen any more ideas about throwing him and her granddaughter together.

  If he ran into Amelia again, he might be able to summon the energy to say he was sorry for his boorish behavior that afternoon. If he’d known who she was, he never would have acted that way, out of respect to Helen. But how was he to know she wasn’t another journalist after a big story? Or just a curious passerby who’d read about him? Or even one of his fans? Though, admittedly she wasn’t the type. He’d had enough publicity and intruders to last a lifetime. He couldn’t be vigilant enough, nor rude enough, to scare them all away. But he’d keep trying.

  Amelia never thought the man would stay for dinner, but she knew Granny would invite him. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when he declined and left with his dog. She did not feel the least bit let down. What she did feel was fatigue. It had been a long day, a long drive and then—him. Of course she was curious about him. Who wouldn’t be? But it was clear he wasn’t about to divulge any secrets—such as what he did or why he needed those buffers between him and the world.

  “You and Brian have so much in common,” Helen said when Amelia had set up her tray on the couch and served her a large helping of lasagna.