Little Red and the Wolf

“Really?” Now that was news to Maizie.

“She left him. Vanished.”

“It happens.”

“He can buy and sell Donald Trump. The man doesn’t own a pair of shoes, belt or briefcase that wasn’t once an actual living thing. When he eats Chinese food, he does it…in China.”

“I don’t care.”

“He doesn’t wash his underwear. He just buys new ones.”

“Cherri.”

“And they’re tailored.”

“Enough.” She couldn’t keep a straight face much longer.

“Fine. How about this one? He’s also your neighbor.”

“What?” Maizie snapped her gaze to Cherri, pie in one hand, oven door in the other.

“You really didn’t google him, did you? Can’t believe it.” Cherri turned and finished sifting powdered sugar over danishes.

“Okay, okay. I stopped reading after the princess thing. Happy? Now tell me about him being my neighbor.” Maizie shoved the pie in the oven and set the timer, then took the empty stool at Cherri’s prep-table.

“Well he’s not physically your neighbor, unless he lives somewhere on that Wild Game Preserve next to your grandmother’s land.”

“The preserve?”

“Yeah. He owns it.”

Maizie always figured the preserve was some government project. She’d never seen anything remotely exotic…except for the big silver wolf. She certainly hadn’t seen any signs of a house.

“He owns it?”

“Yeah.”

So why was he trying to get Granny to sell her land?

The cowbell over the front door clanked. “Hello?”

Maizie snapped straight. She knew that radio voice. “That’s him.”

“Him, who?” Cherri leaned back, trying to see through the doorway into the showroom.

Maizie scrambled out of her apron, tossing it over the stool. She twisted the hair at her temples around her fingers. Corkscrew curls bounced back, revitalized. She groped the swirl of hair at the crown of her head. Messy bun, still messy.

A smudge of flour on the hem of her tan sleeveless dress caught her notice and she hurried to brush it away before checking her dull reflection in one of the metal pots hanging over the table. Still redheaded. Still freckled. Nothing to be done about it.

Maizie took a breath and headed through the doorway. “Stay here.”

“Okay. But him who?” Cherri said after her.

Maizie came around the display cases. “Mr. Lupo. What can I do for you?”

He looked confidently casual in reddish-brown pants, a black jersey-knit T-shirt that hugged his chest, and a lighter brown plaid jacket, worn fashionably open. He even wore sneakers, leather lace-up track shoes, probably cost an easy hundred bucks.

Maizie thought about the underwear. Tailored? And then she thought about the package inside the underwear. All natural. Her cheeks flushed hot. Thanks a lot, Cherri. She tried to think of something else.

“Ms. Hood, you look…” He exhaled. “Lovely.” He said “lovely” like it was an understatement. Nicely done. She fought her smile while his gaze traveled down her body and back again. Not the slightest bit lecherous or ogling, but very male. A quick shudder raced across her shoulders.

“If this is about my grandmother and Green Acres there’s really nothing to discuss.”

Those pale blue eyes met hers, brows tight. “Sorry?”

“Oh.” Maybe he didn’t know about the no-admittance she’d set at Green Acres. “Why are you here, Mr. Lupo?”

Judging by his tiny flinch, she must’ve sounded ruder than she’d intended. “It’s Gray. Please. Mr. Lupo sounds so… I’d be honored if you called me Gray.”

“Fine. Gray.” She waited for an answer although the way he looked at her, as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch her, it really didn’t seem so important why he was there. She was just glad he was.

No. He’s an ass.

He smiled, one of his lopsided almost-smiles that made her think he could read her mind. “Have lunch with me,” he said.

“Lunch?” Didn’t see that one coming.

“Yes.”

She’d thought he’d come to issue warnings, relay the dangers of defying a man of his considerable power and wealth. That, she could’ve handled. But this? “I can’t have lunch with you.”

“Why not? You haven’t eaten already, have you?”

“No.”

“You do eat, don’t you?”

Maizie scoffed. “Yes.” When I remember.

“Good. Then come with me.”

“It’s the middle of the day. I have a shop to run. Y’know, some of us still have to get our hands dirty in order to keep our business going. I can’t just-”

“I got it covered,” Cherri yelled from the back prep-room. “Go. Take the day off. Won’t even miss you here.”

Maizie could tell by the closeness of her voice that Cherri was leaning against the wall next to the doorway, listening. “She’s joking. I’m absolutely essential here. They can’t run the place-”

“Yes I can,” Cherri called. “Done it before. A bunch of times. Go. Have lunch. No reason to be intimidated.”

That’s it, first chance she got, she’d fire that neb-nose. And this time she’d mean it. Probably. Okay, probably not, but she’d make her think she did.

Maizie looked back to Gray in time to catch him rake one of his big guy hands through his hair. What a nice contrast, tan skin, parting through silky silver and black. The gesture hiked his jacket sleeve, showing off a muscled forearm brushed with dark hairs. So purely male.

She couldn’t help tracking his hand back to the front pocket of his pants, his thumb hooking at the corner just like the other. When he stopped moving, her gaze jumped to his.

He’d been watching her, watching him. That half grin tugging the corner of his mouth again. Maizie’s body warmed, a wash of heat rippling down to her core, readying her body for what it wanted, never mind her brain’s protests.

“Why?” she said.

His brows pinched, cocky grin fading. “Pardon?”

“Why do you want to have lunch with me?” He could date anyone. He’d dated everyone. Why her?

“I thought we could talk.”

Ah-ha! Talk. About Granny and her land, no doubt. She was right all along. Cut off from the old lady, he’d come to use those pretty eyes and that sexy voice on her.

Finally.

How many deals had he done this way? How many of those women he’d been photographed with had fallen prey to his charm and palpable sex appeal?

Would he jet her off to some exotic location? Ply her with expensive wines and three-hundred-dollar caviar? Would he buy her jewelry and a designer dress just to take her to a sold-out ballet or maybe an opera? Would he try to buy her help to turn her against Granny?

“Just talk, huh?” she asked. He was sexy as hell, but the whirlwind date wouldn’t make her forget the cruel tricks he’d played on Granny.

“Yes. Just talk. And eat.”