Sunny Chandler's Return
He recovered from his surprise. “I know that your track record with women is impressive. But it ain’t gonna happen this time.”
“What makes you think so?”
“From what I hear, Sunny is a real ball-breaker. She doesn’t have anything whatsoever to do with men. Turns ’em to stone like that gal in Greek mythology.”
Rather than deterring the man, that piece of information only served to pique his curiosity more. He always welcomed a challenge. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at her.
His cohort recognized that speculative look. “I know what you’re thinking. But you can’t thaw that one out.”
“Are you losing confidence in me?”
“Where Sunny Chandler is concerned I am.”
The sly grin was slow in coming. “What do you want to bet?”
“You mean it?” He got an affirmative nod. The man absently tugged on his earlobe as he contemplated the wager. “I had a hankering for a new fly-casting rod, but Wanda cracked a crown and had to get a new one. What dentists charge for those things these days—”
“A new fly-casting rod it is. And you know how I like Wild Turkey. Shall we say a case of Wild Turkey against a new fly-casting rod?”
They shook hands solemnly. “She’ll hightail it back to New Orleans as soon as this wedding is over. You don’t have much time. One week from tonight.”
“I don’t need much time.” He moved away.
“Wait,” the other man said, detaining him a second time. “How’ll I know if you pull it off?”
“By the smile on her face.”
His smile had all the cunning of a fox and all the honesty of a Boy Scout. Piratical mischief and angelic sincerity exuded from that smile. That self-confident grin could either make you melt or shiver, depending upon your point of view. Sunny did a little of both when she met it seconds later.
At the tap on her shoulder, she turned around, confronting a red necktie with thin blue stripes resting against a dove-gray shirt. She followed the necktie up to that devastating smile.
Her heart skipped a beat or two. Her stomach seemed to free-fall for a long time before crash landing. Her mouth went as dry as the Sahara. But she kept her features cool and remote as she took in the streaked blond hair, Nordic blue eyes, suntanned face, and tall, muscular frame. She recognized him as the man who had laughed out loud so rudely.
His packaging was prettier than most. So? She knew the type. She recognized that kind of smile. He was all but licking his chops, thinking that he’d spotted a tasty morsel. Well, he’d find out soon enough that she was more vinegar than honey.
“I like the way you eat strawberries.”
That wasn’t exactly the opening line Sunny had expected. At least she gave him credit for originality. Cerebrally she could acknowledge his cleverness and pass it off. Physically it wasn’t so easy to dismiss.
Her tummy fluttered and slipped a little lower. That leading line of so few words told her several things at once. That he’d been watching her for some time. That he liked what he saw. That he was interested enough to take a closer look.
Flattering? Yes. Had she been any other woman, it might have worked for him. Instead she only stared back at him with a hauteur that would have discouraged a less determined man.
His sapphire gaze moved down to her mouth. “What else are you good at?”
“Fending off unwelcomed passes.”
He laughed. “And making witty comebacks.”
“Thank you.”
“Dance?”
“No, thank you.”
She tried to turn her back on him, but he touched her elbow. “Please?”
“No. Thank you.” She enunciated the words so that he couldn’t mistake the resolve behind them.