The Player - By Rhonda Nelson Page 0,26

wanted it to be just right for Garrett, the scheming bastard.

“And business is good?”

“Better than we expected,” he told her, the pride evident in his voice.

“That’s fantastic. It’s nice when hard work pays off.” She added a few strokes to her own work, then nibbled absently on the end of the brush. “Do you miss being a Ranger?”

That topic was still too raw and he didn’t have a clear-cut answer he could give to himself, much less her. “Sometimes,” he told her, for lack of anything better.

“I know what you mean.” She cocked her head, studying her work. “In a previous life I was a commodities broker.”

Now that was enough to draw him up short. Wearing what he knew had to be a dumbfounded look, Jamie paused and turned to stare at her. “You were a what?”

She chuckled at the look on his face. “A commodities broker. Had the whole Wall Street walk going on. The briefcase, the PDA, the BlackBerry.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she told him.

Jamie returned his attention to his orchid—which was beginning to finally resemble the female genitalia he’d been aiming for—and digested this newest bit of information about Audrey. He couldn’t make it fit. “So how does a Wall Street commodities broker end up in Maine running a de-stressing camp?” he asked, genuinely intrigued. That was a big damned leap.

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you,” she teased. She sidled over next to him. “What are you—” She gasped, clasped her hand to her mouth to smother a laugh. “That looks like a—” Her shocked gaze swung to his.

Jamie quirked an eyebrow.

“I mean to say, that’s…Well, that’s—” She nodded, seemingly at a loss. “That’s lovely.”

Jamie grinned and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Is there something wrong with my orchid?”

She pressed her lips together, shook her head. “Not at all.”

“I think he should hang it in a place of honor, don’t you?” Jamie asked her sweetly. “Like behind his desk or maybe in his home office. Possibly even his bedroom.”

Her cheeks pinkened adorably and she gazed at his vagina painting with something akin to humorous outrage. “I’m s-sure he’ll find a g-good home for it.”

“You look a little flushed,” Jamie commented, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked with faux concern.

Tearing her fascinated blue gaze away from his painting, she jerked her attention back to him. “Me? Oh, no. I’m fine. Look,” she said, a little too brightly. “There’s Henry with breakfast.”

If she’d been drowning, Henry would have been the lone life preserver in dangerous waters, Jamie thought, his lips curling into a grim.

“Oh, good,” he enthused. “After I eat, I think I’ll paint a picture of a couple of mountains. You know, the Colonel was right. This painting is very relaxing.”

7

* * *

“WHAT THE HELL do you think you’re doing?” Tewanda said, under her breath. She gestured disgustedly at Audrey’s clothes. “Flannel?” she asked, horrified. “Flannel, Audrey? Why on earth would you clothe yourself in the single greatest ‘do-not-touch-me’ fabric known to mankind when a hot man like that is here?”

That’s exactly why she did it, Audrey thought, shooting a careful look at Jamie from the corner of her eye. He’d finished his orchid painting—she inwardly snorted—and was presently hard at work on his interpretation of “mountains.” Despite the flannel shirt, she kept feeling his darting gaze study her breasts, then go back to work. It was enough to make a perfectly sane woman go a little crazy.

Though she’d been absolutely appalled at first, she had to admit the watercolors he was doing for her grandfather were excellent retribution for the various books and medications the Colonel had made sure were on hand for Jamie when he got here. She smiled and shook her head. Oh, but to be a fly on the wall when her grandfather opened those packages, she thought, stifling another chuckle.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tewanda snapped. “I’m not being funny. I’m serious. Stop smiling.”

Audrey made an attempt to accommodate her overwrought friend. She flattened her lips and tried to pay attention.

She failed.

Tewanda shook her head. “I don’t understand you,” she said, seemingly summoning patience from a higher power. “You’re either looking to replace the guy on Home Improvement, you’ve become a lesbian, or you’re purposely dressing like this to make yourself unattractive.” Her lips curled with knowing humor. “And my money’s on the last one.”

Then that was a good bet, Audrey thought. This morning when she’d gotten up, she’d actually agonized over what to