Flirting With Temptation (5 page)

“Six months,” Babette said with pride.

“And you want to learn how to cook. Shoot, maybe I’ll get a little meat on your bones after all.”

“Maybe so,” Babette agreed, though she doubted it. She was doomed to be skinny and shapeless, and while men didn’t seem to mind the Paris Hilton look, she dreamed of the kind of curvy frame Clarise and Granny Gert sported so well. She hadn’t been blessed with what Granny Gert termed the Robinson Treasures, aka big boobs, or the Robinson Rump (no aka necessary). Then again, you always want what you don’t have. Case in point, her hair. Right now, it was blond and straight, giving even more prudence to the Paris resemblance. She typically only changed the color when life circumstances changed, but her life had been uncommonly stable since she’d started the Love Doctor bit, and consequently, she’d been a blond for over half a year.

As if following Babette’s thoughts, Granny Gert chimed in. “Do you realize you haven’t changed your hair in ages? You really are settling down. In fact, maybe it’s about time you considered finding a nice man and settling down that way too. Or maybe calling up an old flame and doing a little match-mending for yourself.”

Babette hadn’t confided that she’d been thinking about that very thing. She’d thought about it a lot last month, in fact, when Clarise told her that Jeff and Kitty hadn’t tied the knot after all. She’d made it as far as picking up the phone and dialing his number, but when the answering machine picked up, she simply hung up. Besides, if he still thought about her and wanted to talk to her, then he would’ve called her.

He hadn’t. And since then, she’d kept herself busy with her business and with trying to pay off bills. She rarely ever thought about him.

But she was thinking about him now, and all because Granny Gert had said the “s” word.

Settling.
Unfortunately, the word had dual connotations. She
wanted
to settle, to be committed and all of that. It’d worked out pretty well on the job front so far. But with a man, another “s” word seemed to go hand in hand with settling. Or make that two “s” words. Smothering and stifling.

“I know that look,” Granny Gert said. “What’s his name? Or would I get it right if I guessed?”

“No one.” Sure, she’d momentarily envisioned Jeff, waves of sandy hair teasing a tan face, and a sexy smirk that made her insides quiver, but it wasn’t because she was thinking about him in
that
way. Not in a settling down and sticking together forever way. She was just thinking about him because he’d been the only guy she dated who didn’t want to smother her, stifle her. Jeff had understood the impulsiveness that had her switching jobs, hairstyles, degrees. And he
hadn’t
tried to get her to commit to their relationship long-term. She’d liked that. Really.

When Granny looked suspicious, Babette added, “Seriously. I haven’t even been out on a date since I started the Love Doctor business, haven’t been looking and haven’t got anybody in mind.” She winced. She did have someone on her mind, but that wasn’t necessarily the same thing as someone “in mind.”

“Well, it’s high time you started looking. And while you’re looking, you can locate Rowdy too. I’m not sure whether I could get the nerve to call him up, or anything like that, but if I find out how he spends his days and all, I could manage to bump into him sometime.”

“Accidentally, of course.”

“Naturally,” Granny agreed, dumping the noodles in a silver colander in the sink. “Oh, by the way, I bought some golf shoes today.”

Babette squinted toward the kitchen. “Golf shoes?”

“I used to golf with Henry, you know,” Gert said, as though she hadn’t swapped subjects from finding Rowdy Slidell to purchasing golf shoes in record time. “Or rather, I used to ride in the cart when he golfed, but I believe I’m going to take it up and give it a go.”

“O-kay,” Babette said slowly. “Does Rowdy Slidell play golf or something?”

Her grandmother shook her head. “Heavens, how would I know? I’ve only seen him at reunions.”

“Do you even know where to go? I mean, is there a golf course near here? I know about the one at Inverness, but isn’t that one for more,”—Babette hesitated, not sure how to continue.

“Advanced golfers?” Granny supplied, then nodded. “Yes, it’s definitely not a place for beginners, but that isn’t where I’m going. I’m thinking about going back to the course at Mirror Lakes. It’s near the house where Henry and I lived when the kids were little, and it’s the course where your Grandpa and I used to go. Even when we moved from that old house and lived closer to other courses, he always drove back to Mirror Lakes.” She paused, sighed. “It’s a special place to him, and to me.”

Babette knew there was more to this than Granny was telling. She’d carefully averted her eyes as she spoke to Babette, and she’d slid her hands in the pockets of her dress. Babette read her easily; hiding something. But Babette had no idea what.

“I believe dinner is about ready,” Granny said, and before Babette could determine exactly what question she wanted to ask about Granny’s rejuvenated interest in golf, of all things, the buzzer sounded by the door.

“I’ve got it.” Babette stood and crossed the room while the square panel continued to blast its annoying sound across the small space. She punched the button and called to the guard station. “Yes?”

“Ms. Robinson, you have a guest,” Milton said.

Ms. Robinson?
Babette and Granny Gert looked at each other, both of them knowing this wasn’t Milton’s typical tone, or salutation. Usually, he said, “Babette, so-and-so is here. Want me to send ’em in?” But not this time.

“A Ms. Kitty Carelle is here to see you, ma’am,” Milton added, enunciating the words as though he suddenly had gone British.

“Have mercy, did he say what I think he said?
Who
I think he said?” Granny asked loudly. “Kitty Carelle? Here? To see you?”

The same questions reeled through Babette’s head too, except hers were embellished with an additional name.
Jeff’s ex, Kitty Carelle? Here? To see me?

“Is Ms. Carelle with you now, Milton?” she asked, using a professional tone.

“Nope, Babette,” Milton said, lowering his voice and switching back to good ol’ boy mode. He really enjoyed playing guard dog for the neighborhood. “She rolled her window back up. Guess those uppity folks don’t like to sweat in this blissful late April heat. Been a hot one today, hasn’t it? Guess she can’t take it,” he said, then added a sarcastic, “Bless her heart.”

“Any idea what she wants, Milton?” Babette asked, while Granny swiftly turned off the stove, withdrew the bread from the oven and left the kitchen to stand by Babette.

“Yeah, what does she want?” Granny echoed.

“She said she wanted to see Babette Robinson about a business matter. She also said she didn’t have an appointment, but that she didn’t think you’d mind.”

Babette nodded, swallowed. Two weeks ago, she’d helped Lenora Maxwell, head of the Birmingham Welcome Committee, reconnect with an old flame. Ms. Maxwell had promised to tell her friends of Babette’s talents. Evidently, one of those friends must’ve been Kitty.

Granny Gert gasped. “Oh, Babette. You don’t think . . . He’s the only guy she’s ever been engaged to,” Granny spouted, adding insult to injury. “But doesn’t she know about you two?”

“Probably not.” Jeff wasn’t the type to kiss and tell, and since Babette had never been in the society pages—and since that was probably the only way Kitty Carelle would have ever seen her with Jeff or anyone else—then no, the woman most likely had no clue whatsoever that the Love Doctor was Jeff’s ex-ex-flame, sort of.

Then again, there was a chance that Kitty wasn’t here to talk about Jeff. Or that she wasn’t here to talk about her own relationships. She could be asking about Babette’s services for a friend; that’d happened a few times, particularly with women who were well-known in the community. They didn’t want people knowing there were any problems in their love lives, so they had someone else ask Babette about her services.

Yeah, that could be it.

“Lord have mercy,” Granny whispered, “What are the odds?”

Babette silently repeated the sentiment. Who was she kidding? Kitty wasn’t here for someone else, or for some other relationship. She’d been engaged, not so long ago, and Babette knew that more than likely, that’d be the relationship Kitty needed to mend. Or correction, the relationship she needed Babette to mend.

“Hell,” Babette mumbled, and Granny nodded.

“That’s the word I’d use,” she said, “if I used that word.”

Babette glanced down at her tank top, khaki shorts, and bare feet, then she pressed the speaker button. “Milton?” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, Babette, her window is still up and she’s talking on her cell phone. What you want me to tell her? Want me to tell her you’re not in?”

“No, but thanks for the offer,” she said to the sweet old man. “However, can you stall her a couple of minutes and give me time to change?”

“You got it.”

“Kitty Carelle,” Granny said, shaking her head. “What are you going to tell her, if she’s wanting you to get her back with Jeff?”

“I don’t know.” Turning down Kitty Carelle’s business wouldn’t exactly secure Babette’s staying power as the Love Doctor of Birmingham, but helping her get back with Jeff . . .

“Well?” Granny prompted.

“I don’t know,” Babette repeated numbly.

“Okay, we haven’t got time to worry about it now. I’ll clean up the kitchen. You put on that new red dress you bought at Marshall’s. It’s sophisticated, but not too flashy. You’ve got to look professional, you know.”

“But it’s red,” Babette said, thinking it wasn’t all that professional.

“Red for love, my dear, and you
are
the Love Doctor. That’s why she’s here, and that red dress will keep your mind on that, hopefully.” She pulled the pot of spaghetti sauce off the stove and placed the lid on top, then continued neatening the kitchen while Babette headed down the hall to change.

In record time, she swapped the tank and shorts with her new red dress and matching sandals. Blessedly, she’d taken the time to give herself a pedicure this afternoon, so every toe was tipped in red. How about that, they matched her dress, and she hadn’t even planned it! Maybe it was a sign that this meeting would go well. Babette certainly hoped so, because there were oh so many ways that it could go badly. Very badly.

The doorbell sounded, and Babette’s pulse catapulted.

“I’ll get it,” Granny called, her voice all cheery.

Babette checked her appearance in the bedroom mirror while Granny Gert welcomed Kitty into the tiny apartment. Funny, it didn’t seem so tiny a few minutes ago, when she hadn’t been trying to impress a socialite. But, Babette reminded herself, Kitty had come here seeking the Love Doctor’s help, so tiny apartment or not, Babette had already made a good impression. And it definitely wasn’t because she used to sleep with Kitty’s ex.

Spotting a gold barrette on the end of her dresser, Babette brushed her hair and gathered it sleekly back, holding it in place with the barrette at her nape. She produced her professional, confident smile for the mirror, tried to forget the fact that the client—the very wealthy client—in the front room had been engaged to Jeff merely a month ago and envisioned that last student loan disappearing.

Nice vision. Nice enough to give her the courage she needed to get Kitty Carelle’s business, no matter who the other person in her relationship woes happened to be. She took a deep breath, then started down the hall toward the front of the apartment.

“I live next door,” Granny said to the pretty woman who looked even more like Heather Locklear in person. They turned toward Babette as she entered, then Granny continued, “I’m going home, Babette. Call me when you’re ready for dinner.” She grinned congenially at Kitty, took the lady’s hand and patted it appreciatively. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carelle.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Kitty said, her crystal blue eyes sparkling at Babette’s grandmother. She waited until Granny Gert had left, then turned to Babette and visibly swallowed. “You’re the Love Doctor, right?” she asked hesitantly, as though
she
were actually nervous. Babette noticed her body shifting ever so slightly, rocking almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other. Definitely nervous.

Babette smiled brightly. This woman didn’t know her from Eve. In her mind, Babette was a professional love-fixer and successful businesswoman. And
she
was nervous.

Worked for Babette.

Chapter 3

W
ith her heart racing, Babette completed her trek across the room and shook Kitty’s hand. “Babette Robinson,” she said, “And yes, I’m the Love Doctor.” She felt good about the confidence in her tone, the self-assuredness that filled her when talking about her business venture. With Kitty Carelle calling for her services, she was doing even better than she’d realized, and she was very, very pleased about that.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t call for an appointment,” Kitty said, holding up a business card that Babette immediately recognized. She’d had the cards, glossy white with red lettering, printed a few weeks ago. “Lenora Maxwell told me how you helped her reconnect with Vince Collins, and I thought you might be able to do the same for me.”

“Well, I can sure try.” Babette waved her hand toward the small table in her breakfast nook. She casually combined the three stacks of bills, slid them into a file folder and then pushed it aside. “Come on in and sit down. I’ll get some information from you, and we’ll define a plan for helping you mend fences.”

“That sounds fine,” Kitty said, her voice soft yet poised, extremely proper. She sat at the table, while Babette gathered her standard information sheets from her desk. Thank goodness she’d taken the time to generate professional forms for one-on-one meetings. Before Lenora, she’d simply used a spiral notebook to keep up with client information. After Lenora, though, she’d thought she should look more official, in case Lenora actually did send her friends Babette’s way. Babette was suddenly quite glad she hadn’t skimped on the quality. The creamy linen paper with her Love Doctor logo across the header was topnotch.