Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

“It’s not that I don’t think it’s possible,” she said. “For other people,” she added. “I just get the impression I might have better odds on a slot machine in Vegas.”

“Lucky with the slots?” he asked, his dark eyes amused. Something about his easy manner quieted her, made her feel less frantic.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Ever thought you might just need some time to figure out what you want for yourself, let alone in a man?” he asked.

Lori didn’t want to go there. She didn’t even want to consider the possibility. “Due to my dearly departed father, I don’t have the luxury of time right now.” She sighed. “I know I want to make this money work for good, and I don’t want to wait.”

He nodded and handed her the folder. “We’re back to square one. Here are your first two prospects. I’ll have more by the end of the week.”

“Thanks.”

He paused a moment. “Don’t drink too much champagne.”

She smiled. She supposed she’d earned his cautionary comment, since he’d witnessed the worst hangover of her life. “I won’t. One glass, two Oreos, and as many letters as I can read.”

“Aren’t those letters depressing?”

Lori laughed. “Depressing letters from Sunny Collins?” She shook her head. “My momma was a firecracker.”

He narrowed his eyes in speculation.

She couldn’t resist prodding him. “What? What are you thinking?”

“Maybe that firecracker gene is hereditary, and maybe your daddy was scared to death of it.”

“Maybe,” she said, remembering her father’s overly protective ways. She’d spent so much of her life not wanting to hurt him that she’d resisted any urge to rebel, with the exception of visiting her sisters and brother once they’d reunited several years ago.

He glanced at the folder. “Those guys have no idea what they’re in for. Be gentle with them.”

Impatience hissed through her. “There’s nothing to worry about. I was raised well. I’ve always been described as well-mannered and polite.”

“That was when Harlan was watching every step you took. Now that you have the opportunity, you may want to-” He paused as if he was searching for the right word and dropped his hand to rest on his hip. “Experiment.”

Distracted by his large hand on his lean hip, she felt herself grow warmer. She dragged her gaze up from his hips, taking in his muscular chest. She’d bet he looked great without a shirt on. She bit her lip in surprise at herself. Her sex switch had been turned to the permanently off position so long, she’d begun to wonder if she was abnormal. And now she was getting turned on by her accountant? How wack was that?

She muffled a sound of strangled frustration. “You’re talking about sex again, aren’t you? I’m starting to wonder if I had you all wrong and if you aren’t obsessed with it. I don’t foresee that I’m going to suddenly go wild, but if I do, don’t worry, I’ll use protection.” She desperately searched for a way to diffuse her strange attraction to Jackson. “Auntie,” she added impulsively.

His eyebrows shot upward. “Auntie?” he echoed.

“Yes. You remind me of a nanny I had for several years. Auntie Pauline.” This was a stretch. “She left just before I started driving, and the last three years, all she did was warn me about boys and sex.”

Scrubbing his forehead with one of his big hands as if her logic was too much for him, he shook his head. “Whatever. You’ve been warned. You’re of age, even if you don’t always act like it. That’ll have to be good enough for me. Let me know what you think of the contenders. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said and opened the door.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Just doing my job,” he said, then shot her a dry sideways glance. “Such as it is.”

The following day, Jackson arrived with information on three more contenders. He noticed Lori fidgeted as she reviewed the file contents. She tapped her bare foot on the floor. Her dog, seeming to sense her unrest, trotted restlessly around her feet.

“What do you think?” Jackson asked.

“I don’t know,” she said with a frown. “There’s something missing.”

“What’s missing? You have photographs, family history, health history, education, and financial status.”

She sighed and shrugged. “It just seems like a bunch of facts and numbers. What about their personalities? Their interests?”

The woman was a moving target, and Jackson hated moving targets. “I thought you said since this was going to be a business relationship, their personalities and interests wouldn’t matter.”

“Technically, I guess they don’t. But I would just feel better if I knew a little more about their interests before I see them. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Are you interested in seeing any of them?”

“Not until I have a little more information about their personalities.”

“Anything that you know is a dealbreaker up front?” he asked.

“He needs to be kind. Now that I think about it, even though I’m not going to be emotionally involved with this man, I don’t want to live with someone who isn’t kind.”

“Define kind,” he said.

She gave him a blank look. “Oh, I can see why you would need a definition. Kind means somewhat compassionate, not nasty or sarcastic in a mean way. Kind means polite. Kind means not making a joke at someone else’s expense or being happy at someone else’s failures. Oh, and he needs to be nice to animals. If he’s not nice to animals, then he’s got to be a total loser.” She picked up her Pomeranian and nuzzled his neck. “Right, Kenny?”

Jackson squeezed the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to run screaming out the door. “I’ll do my best, but some people are experts at covering up a lot of nastiness.”

“True,” she murmured. “Maybe you could get a character reference or two, and if I get serious about one of them, you could do a deeper personal review.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of it this afternoon, give you the results, and maybe we can get a face-to-face tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she said, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Jackson was ready to toss his notebook on the ground and say to hell with it. “You need to make up your mind. Are you ready to do this or not? If you’re serious about pursuing marriage, you need to get on with it. Don’t get me wrong. I still think it’s a crazy idea and you would be much better off just living by a budget-it would be a maturing experience for you.”

“So will marriage,” she said and took a deep breath. “I’ll be ready to begin tomorrow.”

Two days later, Jackson introduced prospect number one, Allan Sunday, to Lori. He stayed long enough to encourage pleasantries, although pleasantries were difficult because Lori’s dog, Kenny, barked throughout the exchange. As soon as Lori led Allan to the living room, Jackson excused himself.

He stepped into his car, loosened his tie, and shook his head. So, this was what his life had come to? Finding a temporary husband for a kooky heiress. Swearing under his breath, he turned up the volume on the radio, allowing Eminem to express his rage for him.

He hoped Allan would work out. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although a bit on the geeky side. He’d graduated from college several years ago and wanted to start his own business. He had no history of drug abuse, he wasn’t a Romeo, and his record was so clean it squeaked.

Jackson pulled into his new parking space at work and felt a surge of optimism as he opened the glass doors and strode toward his office. Allan met all of Lori’s qualifications. There was no reason prospect number one shouldn’t become Lori’s groom.

“Mr. James, Miss Granger is waiting on line one,” the receptionist told him.

Jackson ’s stomach fell. A call from Lori this soon wasn’t a good sign. “I’ll take it in my office.”

He pulled the door closed behind him and picked up the phone. “Jackson James.”

“Hi, Jackson, this is Lori.”

“I know. Is Allan still there? Did you already reach an agreement?”

She gave a nervous-sounding laugh. “I guess you could say that.”

Jackson felt an itchy irritation climb the back of his neck. “What kind of agreement?”

“Well, Allan had a little problem, and we’re just not going to be able to live together.”

“What could be wrong with him? The guy is perfect. No record, no bad habits.”

“He’s allergic to dogs.”

Jackson groaned.

“It’s a problem. It doesn’t seem like it should be that big a deal, but I keep Kenny with me all the time, and Allan is very allergic. I couldn’t put him through six years of asthmatic reactions. That would be too cruel.”

“Have you considered confining Kenny to part of the house so Allan could have a dog-free zone?”

Silence followed. “Kenny is going to be around a lot longer than any husband.”

Bachelor number two was Ian Thompson. He seemed nice and sufficiently bland. Although a college dropout, Ian was brilliant. He wanted money to fund his inventions. During the dinner she shared with Ian, Lori had difficulty following Ian’s thought patterns, but that wasn’t the major problem, and Lori dreaded telling Jackson why Ian wouldn’t work.

“He smells funny?” Jackson echoed, staring at her in disbelief the morning after the date. He set his cup of coffee and bagel aside. Darn, the food wasn’t going to be a good enough distraction. “You won’t marry him because he smells funny?”

Lori folded her hands in her lap and sat up straighter in the parlor chair. It might sound nuts to Jackson, but it was more important than he thought. “It’s an issue. Think about it. I’ll be smelling this man for six years.”