Flirting With Temptation (22 page)

Rose muttered something about needing to check the biscuits, looked at Babette in an I-told-you-so manner, then went back to the kitchen.

“You did do a good job doctoring the sunburn,” Babette said. “I’m not even peeling all that much.” She’d hoped that the compliment would take his mind off her deception. But this was Jeff, and he knew her. Well.

“Yeah, I got to thinking about that today at the office,” he said, standing way too near, all tall and gorgeous and intimidating. “And I thought that if the Lidocaine and aloe hadn’t worked, and if you still were in such bad shape, then you should go see a doctor. I was even going to offer to drive you.”

“But?” she prompted, knowing more was coming.

“But then I realized that Rose wouldn’t let you suffer for three days straight. She’d have already gotten you to a doctor, one way or another, if you weren’t getting better. And then I started wondering why you would lie about how bad your sunburn was, for three days straight.”

“I am peeling a bit,” she reminded, and turned so he could see the small area on her biceps where she’d started peeling.

“But you’re also talking, and quite well,” he pointed out.

She snapped her mouth shut, not knowing how to argue with that, since she hadn’t stopped attempting to explain herself since he got here.

“And then it hit me, the reason you’d want me to think you can’t leave this condo.”

“Because I’m trying to learn to cook,” she said quickly, rather proud of herself for responding so fast.

It didn’t fool him. “Because you’re afraid you’ll flirt, and that I’ll catch you flirting, and then you won’t succeed in getting me to talk with Kitty.”

She gasped, but it sounded bogus even to her own ears.

He grinned. “Be ready in an hour, Babette. We’re going dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Yeah. Dancing. You know, couples, music, a band. Dancing.”

She swallowed hard, felt a twinge of panic. Dancing was a prelude to sex, and dancing was such an easy means for flirting. He was trying to trap her, and she wasn’t sure how to get out of it.

“But we’re cooking dinner,” Tillie called from the kitchen. “And Hannah is coming over to teach her how to make cinnamon rolls. Then we’re going to talk about the guys at Sunny Beaches and then spend the night here with Babette. It’s our girls night out. You wouldn’t ruin that for us, would you?”

Tillie was telling the truth, exactly what Babette had promised they’d do tonight, and she was beyond thankful that they’d planned their special girls night out. Surely he wouldn’t disappoint three women in their eighties simply because he wanted to prove a point to one in her thirties.

“That’s right. I can’t go dancing tonight,” she said. “Sorry.” She tried to look apologetic, but a smile of pure triumph was itching to be set free. It was itching so much, in fact, that she had to squish her mouth up like a persimmon to keep from smiling, and then cheering. Tillie had just become her new BFF.

Jeff’s turquoise eyes narrowed suspiciously, but then he seemed to regroup, and smiled.

That smile made her nervous. She really needed him to go. Because suddenly, and quite out of the blue, she recalled him helping her on Saturday night, drying her off with her shirt, putting those spectacular sheets on her bed, getting her a night shirt, taking care of her, being more than a friend . . . and she wanted to kiss that smile.

“Tomorrow then. That’s even better, in fact. There’s a benefit dance at a nightclub in Panama City. We’re going. Be ready at 6:00.”

“But we’re cooking at 6:00,” Tillie said. “I’ve already bought the stuff to teach her how to make beef stew. We’re cooking it here, then taking it over to Sunny Beaches to feed the guys. Pick her up at 8:00.”

Babette didn’t know whether to laugh at Tillie ordering Jeff, or cry because she could almost feel her impending failure. Dancing without flirting. She wasn’t even sure that was possible. “We are cooking again tomorrow night,” she said. “And truthfully, it could take longer than we’d thought. Probably another night would be better for you and I to . . .”

“Be ready at 8:00. We’ll be a little late arriving, but that’s okay.” He nodded goodbye to the two women leaning out of the kitchen and hanging on every word, then he grinned at Babette. “Be ready.” And then he was gone.

“I’m so screwed,” she said, at the precise moment that her cell phone started ringing. She picked it up, checked the caller ID, and prepared to talk to Kitty for the tenth time today. Once again, Babette would have to dodge her questions about specifics that Jeff had said about their relationship. Then she’d tell her the same thing she had all day, that she’d been making progress, and that Kitty could count on Jeff talking to her by next week. That would be true, if Babette could make it without flirting. “I’m
so
screwed,” she repeated, and answered the phone.

Jeff felt like he was picking up a date for the prom when he arrived at Babette’s condo Wednesday night. Except instead of having to face the parents, he had to face an excited group of senior citizens. Rose and Tillie had apparently told all of the women at Sunny Beaches about Babette’s cooking lessons, or maybe about Jeff’s demand that she go dancing, but in any case, Babette’s apartment was overflowing with silver-haired women, all of them fussing over Babette.

“Don’t drink too much,” one warned, fastening a beaded black choker around Babette’s neck as she spoke.

“Watch the guys with cowboy hats. I never trusted a guy wearing a cowboy hat,” came from another. “And I certainly wouldn’t trust them if I looked that good in a dress.”

Babette grinned. “Thanks, Tillie.”

“There shouldn’t be any cowboy hats where we’re going,” Jeff affirmed, and he silently agreed with Tillie. Babette looked very tempting in the black cocktail dress.

“Just use that stuff I gave you, and you won’t have any troubles,” Tillie continued.

Jeff ushered Babette out of the condo and to the elevator, but resolved to ask her about “that stuff” later. Because he knew her so well, he could see the nerves bristling beneath the surface, the way she fidgeted with the straps on the black halter dress and the way she wasn’t looking at him any more than absolutely necessary. She was either very nervous, or very mad. He decided to find out which.

“You look very nice.”

“Thanks.” No eye contact.

“That dress came from one of our stores, didn’t it?”

He noticed her cheek inch up slightly, as though she were fighting a grin, and then she checked it, and said, “It did. When I shot the last Eubanks catalog, Preston gave me a discount card that’s good at all of your stores. I don’t use it too often, but I didn’t have a dress for the benefit, so I took advantage of it today.”

“You bought that today?” he asked, thinking he now knew why she’d almost smiled.

She nodded.

“At which store?”

“Panama City.”

“You drove right past the Seaside store to get to that one. Could’ve just bought the dress there and saved some gas.”

This time, she looked at him directly, and Jeff knew she was secretly pleased that he’d caught on. “Yeah, I could have, but you were at that store. I saw your car. So I kept driving.”

“You’re that pissed at me for taking you dancing?” he asked, as they stepped off the elevator and started across the lobby.

“I’m that pissed at you for trying to make me lose your challenge,” she clarified. “I’m not going to flirt.” She lifted a brow as though expecting him to dispute her. He wasn’t going to. He was simply going to prove her wrong, when he caught her flirting on the dance floor.

Then he realized that he didn’t even have to take Babette to a night club to have her face a flirting challenge. All she had to do was walk through the White Sands lobby. Several men nodded at her on their way into the building. She smiled politely, but then averted her eyes, completely turning away from their interested gazes. Then the valet attendant brought his car, and that guy also smiled a little too broadly at her.

“If you’d have been that nice when I first came in with Sylvia, you’d have gotten a decent tip,” she mumbled when she got in the car.

Jeff chuckled. He wouldn’t catch her flirting with the valet guy; that’s for sure. “He didn’t appreciate Sylvia’s charm?”

“He was too busy appreciating your brunette’s Jag,” she said, and Jeff grinned. At least she was talking to him, even if it was merely because she wanted to fuss.

They pulled away, but not before she snarled at the valet attendant.

“I take it you told Rose and her friends about my proposition,” he said.

“Yeah, last night. I think it was after my third rum toddy.”

“Your girls night out was a drinking party?” he asked, slightly surprised. It was Babette, and if anyone could get the seniors to loosen up, it’d be her.

“Believe it or not, the drinks were Tillie’s idea.”

“Tillie’s the one who said for you to use her ‘stuff’ tonight.”

Babette smirked. “Yeah, she said she had the perfect thing for me to use to keep guys from flirting with me, and therefore keep me from flirting back.”

“Should I try to guess?”

“You could try, but it’d be useless. Unless you were going to guess skunk oil.”

He glanced at her, and then at her tiny black purse. “In there?”

She opened the purse, fished out a tiny bottle.

“Let me see that.”

“Okay, but don’t tell Tillie,” she said, putting the bottle of oil in his palm.

Jeff rolled down the window and tossed it out.

“That was mine!” she yelled, turning to see where it hit in the opposite ditch. “And you just littered.”

“First of all, there’s no way I want to risk you spilling skunk oil in my car, or on me, or on yourself, for that matter. And second of all, I’m fairly certain that bottle was biodegradable.”

“Sure it was.”

He grinned. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. And you’re not dousing anyone with skunk oil tonight.”

“Aren’t you the bossy one? You
will
go dancing. You
will
flirt. You
will not
use skunk oil.”

He waited. Surely she couldn’t spout all of that without laughing.

She didn’t disappoint, her throaty laughter filling the car and making him smile. “You’re terrible,” she said.

“Hey, I might have asked you to do the impossible . . .”

“It isn’t impossible, and I’m going to prove it tonight.”

“Anyway, I might have asked you to do something difficult, but I didn’t lie to you.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You said you couldn’t get out of bed and couldn’t talk.”

“I was in the bed every time Rose told you I was.”

“What about the talking?”

She started fiddling with her seatbelt. “How much farther is it?”

“Avoiding the question?”

“Nope, I’m just asking another.”

“Fine. It’s not too far, ten more minutes.”

“Okay, then while we’re driving, let’s talk about you and Kitty.”

That threw him. “You never asked me anything about her Saturday, when that’s what you’d said you wanted to do, so I assumed you changed your mind about us talking about her. Remember, if you don’t flirt, I’ll talk to her. There’s no reason for us to discuss her now.”

“That’s what I thought too,” she admitted. “And trust me, I’m much more comfortable with simply winning this challenge and having you do what I need you to in order for me to keep my percentage at a hundred percent. But your ex is growing impatient and wants details.”

“Kitty’s calling you?”

“I do have to keep my clients informed of my progress. That’s part of my job.”

“I bet she’s your most relentless customer.”

“She’s very eager for results,” Babette said, as though Kitty hadn’t probably been calling her every hour on the hour for days. If anyone knew how persistent Kitty could be when she wanted something, he did.

“So you need me to tell you something, so you can relay it to her and get her off your back,” he said, pulling into the club’s parking lot.

“I just need to report something,” Babette said. “I’m not bad-mouthing the woman you’ll be seeing again come next week.”

That made him laugh. “Don’t count on it.”

“I am counting on it. A lot. Now, I just need to ask you some questions about Kitty . . .”

“Later. We’re here,” he said, pulling up to the entrance and turning the car over to the valet.

Babette grumbled as she exited the car. “We’re going to talk about her before the night’s over,” she said, then looked up at the sign for the benefit. “Closed party? Partner swap?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that. Tonight is a partner swap.”

“Which means?”

“It’s pretty simple. You can’t dance with the same partner twice.”

Her brown eyes grew even darker, and her brows dipped severely. “We’re not dancing with each other?”

“Sure we will. Once.” He grinned, then escorted her inside. “But for the rest of the dances, you’ll have other partners. Oh, and if you’re going to win your part of this deal, you won’t flirt.”

Jeff was very pleased with himself. He’d bought tickets to the partner swap night, an elite event planned with all proceeds going toward a new community center, several weeks ago with no intention whatsoever of attending. He’d simply planned to donate the money and let that be it. But now, with his proposition to Babette, this occasion was the perfect opportunity to win this challenge.

He watched the host for the evening, the president of a local bank, greet Babette and saw the way the older gentleman smiled appreciatively at her. He was evidently captivated by the long red hair, the lithe physique, the genuine smile. But he’d really be impressed if he knew the feisty woman within the pretty package.

Jeff neared the two of them and heard the man say, “Yes, we thought this would be a unique way to raise money for the new center. It was my wife’s idea, if I must be honest, though. I’d love for you to meet her, Ms. Robinson. There she is, the one in the green dress. She’s on her second dance. See, you’ll sign up here and get a number, then begin your dance rotation, with your date being your last dance for the evening.” He smiled adoringly at his wife as she spun around the dance floor with another older gentleman.