To Catch a Man (In 30 Days or Less) (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series) (2 page)

Stone grabbed his wallet off the
front passenger’s seat and slid out of the car.  Reaching up to massage the
back of his neck he stifled another yawn.  God, he was tired.  He blinked to
clear the gravel from his eyes then walked over to meet the guy who was
climbing out of the Land Rover.

A quick glance told Stone his
Maserati hadn’t suffered a scratch.  The other vehicle was another matter.  It
now sported a smashed-in back bumper.  He steeled himself for the swearing. 
This was going to be one pissed-off dude.

The other driver was coming toward
him now, a slender kid of medium height with short black hair that glistened in
the sun.  Plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves, jeans and Timberland boots, he
must have been coming from work. 
Sorry to spoil the end of your work day,
kid. 

Stone glanced down and began
digging his driver’s license out of his wallet.  When he looked up again the
kid was standing right in front of him, green eyes flashing, soft pink lips set
in an angry pout.

Huh
?  Stone's gaze dropped
to the plaid-covered chest and there, pert and pointing straight at him, was
his confirmation.  The dude was a girl.

“Hey, what’s up with you, fella? 
Falling asleep at the wheel?”

Stone frowned.  Kind of aggressive,
wasn’t she?  It was when she got closer that he saw that she wasn’t so much a
girl as she was a woman, probably in her late twenties, maybe about four or
five years younger than he was.  And she was tall.  Well, for a woman.  The top
of her head was just shy of his earlobe and he was six foot three.

And her eyes, so like those of a
cat, were practically cutting him to shreds.  With her high cheekbones, long
nose and tanned skin she looked like a Native American princess.  But it was
those eyes, like green shards of glass fringed with incredibly long lashes,
that had him staring like a dumbstruck fool.

“What?  Cat got your tongue?”

It took that sarcastic remark to
snap him out of his daze.  He scowled.  He wasn’t used to being on the
receiving end of such biting remarks, least of all from a woman.  Most of the
women he knew would be falling over themselves to impress him.  At least, the
ones who knew who he was.

He didn’t bother to respond.  He
could see that this was a feisty one and he wasn’t in the mood for a shouting
match.  Instead, he held out his driver’s license.  “Here’s my information,” he
said, his voice all business.  “You can make a note while I grab my insurance
papers.”  When she didn’t take the card from his hand he rested it on the hood
of his car then walked around to the passenger’s side of the Maserati where he
flipped open the glove compartment and grabbed his documents.

When he went back to the front of
his car Miss Brave and Bold was bending over, examining the damage to her back
bumper, giving him a pretty good view of her taut derriere.  Nice. 

As he got closer she straightened. 
"Not too bad.  The bang sounded a lot worse than it looks.”  She gave him
a bold stare then held out her driver’s license to him.  “Here.  I’ll go write
your stuff down while you do mine.”  She dropped the card into his palm and
stepped over to where he’d left his driver’s license, her movements smooth and
lithe like an athlete’s.

Stone stared after her but she paid
him no mind.  Strange.  His stares were known to set the ladies tittering.  But
not this one.  It was obvious that she was not easily impressed or intimidated.

She picked up the card and stared
at it for a couple of seconds.  Then she lifted it closer to her face and a
chuckle escaped her lips.  Then it turned into an all-out laugh.

Stone scowled.  It wasn’t his best
picture but, come on, it wasn’t that bad.  He stepped closer and stared at his
driver’s license in her long, lean fingers.  “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Your…your name,” she said, in
between laughs.  She turned her eyes on him and this time, instead of cutting
anger, they were filled with dancing mirth.  “Is your name really…” more
laughter, “…Gladstone?  You don’t look like a Gladstone to me.”  And more
laughter tumbled from her lips as she staggered back and leaned against the hood,
clutching her chest in a fake laughter-induced heart attack.

His face grew as dark as his mood. 
The woman was laughing at him.  “It’s Stone,” he said, his voice cold and
hard.  “Stone Hudson.”  No-one called him by his first name.  Absolutely
no-one.  They knew better.  Until this woman came along…

Still laughing, she nodded.  “Okay,
Gladstone...Stone, I got you.”  Then, still chuckling, she pushed up and off
the hood and headed for her SUV, the card still in her hand.

Stone stayed where he was, still
simmering, and as he watched her through the back glass he saw her pick up a
pen and pull a small notepad from the bag on the passenger’s seat.  She began
to write.  And she was still chuckling.

Stone glared at the back of her
head, feeling like he could happily wring her neck but, of course, he could
not.  Frustrated, he growled deep in his throat then looked down at the card in
his hand.  “Indiana Moon Lane”, it read.  And, like him, she had a Burlington
address.  Twenty-nine years old with a birthday coming up in a month.  So he
was right.  She was four years his junior.  And, like most driver's licenses,
the picture didn’t do her any justice.  In the photo her hair was much longer,
falling in a black curtain to her shoulders and her face looked thin.  But
those eyes could never be hidden.  They jumped out at you, sharp as daggers,
and that determined set of her mouth told anyone looking that she was a force
to be reckoned with.

“Got everything you need?”

He looked up to see her standing
beside him.  How the heck had she done that?  He hadn’t heard a sound but there
she was, right by his elbow.

“Just a sec.”  He reached through
the window of his car and grabbed the novel he’d bought in the airport. 
Quickly, he copied her particulars into the back of the book and when she
handed him her insurance papers he recorded that information as well.  He
turned around to hand them back to her but she had her back to him, her cell
phone positioned as she took photos of her car.

“For the record,” she said and gave
him a smile that wasn’t mocking or sarcastic but wide and genuine and
beautiful, a smile that so transformed her face that he couldn’t help but
stare.  Again.

For a moment they both stood there
– he, staring at her and she, smiling at him.  She almost looked like she
wanted to say something else, probably even strike up a real conversation,
nothing to do with cars or accidents.  He certainly did.

But then, just as he was about to
speak, she took the papers from him then stepped back and lifted her hand in a
little wave.  “Well, I’ve got to run,” she said.  “Got things to do and people
to see.  In fact,” she glanced away and a look of concern flitted across her
face, “I'd better get cracking on my next assignment, as crazy as it is.”

Crazy assignment?  That piqued his
interest but he got no chance to ask questions.  She was already walking back
to her SUV.

Indiana Moon Lane slid into the
driver’s seat, started the vehicle, and without a backward glance she merged
into the slow-moving traffic and was gone.

Stone, half bewildered, half
intrigued, stared after her.  This woman, so fearless and direct, was a world
apart from the hothouse flowers he was used to.  In fact, she looked like she’d
be happier on the wide open plains of the wild west or the jungles of South
America than stuck in the middle of traffic on a Canadian highway.

Then a thought came to him, a crazy
thought, but he couldn’t shake it.  What if she was the one he’d been looking
for all along?

CHAPTER
TWO

Indie pushed the supermarket
trolley down the aisle with Tessa in tow.  She reached for a head of Romaine
lettuce and threw it into the cart on top of the bag of potatoes, tray of sweet
corn and the big green watermelon that she planned to devour later.  She loved
herself some watermelon.

She was bending over to grab a bag
of navel oranges from a huge bin when Tessa grabbed her arm.

“What about that one?”  her friend
whispered fiercely.

Indie looked up and there, at the
end of the aisle, was a very tall, very handsome man, his long dark hair pulled
back with a string, his muscular arms quite visible in a sleeveless exercise
top.  He was wearing sweatpants and gym shoes and he had a carton of milk in
his shopping basket.  He was studying the label on a box of cereal.  Obviously,
a health nut.  Not that that was a bad thing.  But still…

“So?”  Tessa nudged her.  “What do
you think?”

Indie grimaced and turned her attention
back to the oranges.  “Nah.  Too pretty.”

“Too pre-”  Tessa glared up at
her.  “Will you be serious?  You asked me to help you, Indie, but you’re not
even trying.”

“I am serious.  Too pretty.”  Indie
looked down at her diminutive friend, her straight blonde hair falling past her
shoulders, her big brown eyes and full red lips giving her the appearance of a
cute little doll.  Now that was the look men craved.  Who would waste time
looking at a short-haired Amazon like her when a little princess like Tessa was
right there?  Indie sighed.  “When will you learn, Tessa?  Heartthrobs like
that aren’t looking for women like me.  I’m too big and intimidating.  Too
plain.  Now go hunt me somebody else more ordinary looking.”

Indie dropped the oranges into the
cart and moved on to the tomatoes but out of the corner of her eye she could
see Tessa standing there in the aisle, glowering at her.  Then, with a sigh of
obvious frustration, she turned and headed down the cereal aisle.

Indie could only shake her head and
smile.  Once she set her mind to something, Tessa took it very seriously. 
Indie had left straight from the attorney’s office and headed back to her car
where she’d called her best friend from her cell phone.  Once she’d shared her
dilemma with Tessa, she’d taken it on as her own personal project, telling
Indie to head straight home to Burlington so they could plan.  Tessa was
something else, always up for a challenge, especially when it involved men.

Indie left the vegetable aisle and
was on her way to the bakery section when Tessa came flying toward her, all
smiles.  “I found him, Indie, and don’t tell me you don’t like him.  I spoke to
him and he’s pleasant and smart.  He’s a high school math teacher.  And he’s
ordinary looking, just like you asked.”

Before Indie could say a word in
response Tessa grabbed the trolley and began pushing it toward aisle seven.

“Hey, wait up.”

Even with her little legs Tessa was
moving fast and Indie had to hurry to catch up.  “Listen,” she whispered loudly
to her friend’s back, “I don’t know if this is such a good idea, hunting men in
the super-”

“Phillip!  Hi.  Fancy running into
you again so quickly.”  Tessa pushed the trolley toward a man wearing dark
slacks and a light blue dress shirt.  At the sound of her voice he turned
quickly, a broad smile on his face.

“Tessa.”  He looked genuinely happy
to see her.  “I thought I had lost you.  One minute I was reaching for a box of
cornflakes and the next moment you'd disappeared.”

“Oh, I just went to get my friend,”
Tessa told him then she turned to Indie, looking as pleased as pie.  Indie
almost rolled her eyes.

“Phillip, I’d like you to meet my
friend, Indiana Lane.  Indie, this is Phillip Robertson.”  She reached out and
grabbed Indie’s hand, dragging her forward, almost making her bump into the man
whose smile suddenly went stiff then slowly began to fade.

“Oh,” he said and blinked then he
looked from Indie to Tessa then back to Indie.  Then he stuck out his hand. 
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Lane.”

Yeah, right.  Indie knew it wasn’t
her he wanted to get to know, it was Tessa.  When she’d struck up her
conversation with him he must have been flattered, thinking she was interested
in him.  And then to be thrown a serious-looking, no makeup woman who was
taller than he was?  Obviously, not what he was expecting.

“Yes, good meeting you, too,” 
Indie said and, just to be polite, she shook his hand.  “Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I still have a lot of shopping to do.”

It was almost funny to see the look
of relief that passed over the man’s face when he saw that she was leaving. 
Almost.  She was a tough bird but what woman wanted to know that a man found her
so unattractive that he was glad she was leaving?  That was what she got for
hanging out with Tessa.  Sometimes it sucked to have such a pretty little
friend hanging around.  It highlighted just how unfeminine she was, with her
tall frame, short hair and plain face.  Crap.

She was pushing the trolley toward
the frozen food section when Tessa came running after her.  “Indie, are you
insane?  Why did you go running off like that?  He was perfect.”

“Yeah,” she said with a snort. 
“With him being four inches shorter than me and bald, how could I give up such
a catch?  I must be freakin’ crazy.” 

“Hey, there’s no need to be
sarcastic.” 

Indie groaned.  “You’re right. 
That was uncalled for and I'm sorry.  But don’t you see the guy was all ga-ga
over you?  It wasn’t me he wanted.”

“If you’d just given him a chance-”

“Look,” Indie said, cutting Tessa
off before she started to lecture her on a hopeless cause, “I know you’re just
trying to help.  And I know this situation is absurd, what with that stupid
deadline.  But I don’t think picking up men in the supermarket is the answer.”

Tessa set her mouth in a pout and
folded her arms across her chest.  “So what do you suggest, Miss Smarty Pants? 
Do you have a man tucked away somewhere that I don’t know about?”

Indie rolled her eyes.  “You know I
don’t.  Unless you count that aid worker who took a shine to me in Haiti.”