dead cold of winter, he found a spot under the floor near the gas furnace to stay warm. People of Vic’s acquaintance didn’t pamper dogs, didn’t treat them like they were humans. And they sure as hell didn’t leave them twenty-three million dollars.
He paused before entering Ms. Paine’s shop, a two-story structure painted pale yellow, with a bright blue awning over the entrance and two huge display windows flanking either side of the glass door, the wooden trim also a bright blue. Hanging on the brick wall at the second-story level were large bright blue wooden letters that spelled out Penny Sue’s Pretties. As he glanced into the display windows, he noted a variety of items, from an antique chair covered in a floral material to scented candles and an assortment of toiletries. Scattered throughout the other items on display was an assortment of Easter items, such as baskets, hand-painted porcelain eggs and toy bunny rabbits.
Just the thought of going inside this store made him shiver. He avoided “girlie” places like the plague. His idea of hell on earth was going shopping with a woman. Any woman. He appreciated seeing a woman in a sheer silk teddy and lying on satin sheets as much as the next man, just so long as he didn’t have to go with her to shop for her undies or her bed linens.
Drawing in a deep, you-can-do-this breath, Vic reached for the door handle. The minute he opened the door, he heard a bell tinkling. Oh, God! Looking up, he saw the little silver bell attached to the facing over the door so that any entrance to or exit from the shop would trigger the chime. After stepping into the shop overflowing with wall-to-wall “pretties,” Vic scanned the interior. There were half a dozen shoppers, each carrying a yellow straw basket approximately twelve-by-twenty inches in size. Then he saw the person he assumed was Ms. Paine standing with one of the customers, pointing out the superiority of soy candles over wax candles.
“These are a new line of candles that we just started carrying a couple of weeks ago,” Ms. Paine said. “They’re clean-burning and soot-free. You must smell this one.” She picked up a glass container, popped off the lid and held it under the customer’s nose. “Cinnamon. Isn’t it heavenly?”
Vic cleared his throat. Both women looked at him.
“Yes, sir, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Ms. Paine smiled at him.
Vic nodded, then tried his best to be as inconspicuous as possible, which wasn’t easy for a guy who stood six-four. For a couple of minutes he stared down at the wooden floor, then he hazarded a glance to the right and then to the left. In both directions, he saw women staring at him, sizing him up, whispering about the stranger in town. At least he figured that was what they were whispering about. Cutting his gaze sharply toward the ceiling, he tightened his hands into fists. He released, then tightened, then released again.
How long did it take to sell a woman a damn candle? When he glanced in Ms. Paine’s direction, he noted that she was leading the customer toward the glass counter at the front of the shop where a computerized cash register waited to ring up the sale. Ms. Paine looked older than she’d sounded on the phone. Her voice had been bubbly. And soft and slightly sexy. He’d imagined her to be in her twenties or thirties. But this lady had to be in her fifties. In her younger days, she’d probably been pretty. Even now, with short gray hair and tiny wrinkles framing her eyes and mouth, she was attractive, in a neat and orderly sort of way.
Vic headed for the checkout counter just as Ms. Paine rounded the corner and came toward him.
“Yes, sir, how may I help you?” She smiled pleasantly.
Maybe this woman wasn’t Ms. Paine. She could be an employee, couldn’t she? “Ms. Paine?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Relieved, he told himself. “I’m Vic Noble.”
She stared at him quizzically, as if she’d never heard the name before in her life. How was that possible? He had spoken to her only an hour ago.
“Vic Noble, from the Dundee agency,” he told her.
“The Dundee agency?”
“Dundee Private Security and Investigation.”
“Oh!” Her mouth formed a wide-open circle. “You must be Lucky’s bodyguard.”
“Yes, ma’am. We spoke on the phone. I called you from Huntsville.”
She laughed. “Oh, my dear young man, you didn’t speak to me. You spoke to—”
“You spoke to me, Mr. Noble.” The syrupy-sweet voice came from behind him.
He turned, took one look at the lady and felt as if he’d been pole-axed. The woman smiling at him as she came forward took his breath away. He didn’t know any other way to describe how he felt. As a rule, women either turned him on or they didn’t. This woman did a lot more than turn him on. She turned him inside out, and he sure as hell didn’t like the feeling.
She held out her small, delicate hand. “I’m Penny Sue Paine. It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Noble.”
He stared at her hand for a split second, then took it, shook it a little too hard and released it as if it were a red-hot poker. Say something, he told himself. Don’t just stand here looking at her. But his male libido told him to look all he wanted, to appreciate every lovely curve of her body, every feature of her pretty face.
So this was Penny Sue Paine? Executor of Lottie Paine’s will and guardian to Lucky, the multi-millionaire dog.
She stared at him with huge, chocolate-brown eyes, fringed with thick dark lashes. Her features were almost too perfect. Small, tip-tilted nose. Full luscious lips. Oval face. Flawless olive complexion that probably tanned easily. And a mane of dark auburn-brown hair that flowed around her slender shoulders.
And her body? Holy hell. The body was to die for. No more than five-four, with an hourglass shape. Tiny waist, rounded hips and high, full breasts.
“Are you all right, Mr. Noble?” she asked.
“Uh…yeah, I’m fine. I was just surprised there for a minute. I thought the other lady—” he inclined his head toward the older Ms. Paine.
“That’s my cousin, Eula,” Penny Sue said.
“I see.”
“Now that you’re here, we can go to Doc Stone’s so you can meet Lucky or we can go to the house so you can settle in or—have you had lunch? If not, we can go over to the Country Kettle. What would you like to do first?” Penny Sue asked.
What would he like to do first? The one and only thought that popped into Vic’s mind was I’d like to screw you, Miss Penny Sue. That’s what I’d like to do.
Chapter 2
Penny Sue walked alongside the Dundee agent she had hired to protect Lucky and wondered exactly what kind of man this Vic Noble was—other than being a devastatingly attractive male specimen. The first moment she’d seen him, she had instantly gone weak in the knees. And that wasn’t something she did all that often. It had only happened a couple of times in her entire life. The first time had been when Dylan Redley French-kissed her when she was fifteen. The second time had been when she’d met Mr. Tom Selleck in person.
“I hope you don’t mind walking,” Penny Sue said. “I
