Free Trouble in High Heels by Leanne Banks Page A

martyred-widow speech.
    “I was married to your father for twenty years. I took you as my son.”
    To his eternal regret.
    “I bore him a daughter.”
    Charlene had moaned and groaned through the entire nine months.
    “We loved each other dearly.”
    She’d loved his
title
dearly.
    “I’m not going to marry some woman I’ve never met and live in Texas. You may as well be sending me to hell,” he said. “Besides, she probably wouldn’t find me her type.”
    “I’ve already thought of that,” she said with unflattering speed. “I’ve made an appointment with my hairstylist for you. I’ve also arranged a facial for you. Those circles under your eyes are dreadful. We can’t do much about your body on short notice, but we can probably make you look a little more firm with a few hours at the gym and some new clothes. Then all you have to do is try to be charming, which I realize will be a stretch, darling, but I have some reading material for you to peruse between now and Tuesday.”
    Geoffrey didn’t think she could have horrified him more, but he’d underestimated her. “You’ve lost your mind. I don’t know who this woman is. I don’t even know her name, what she looks like. She could be a descendant of Attila the Hun for all we know.”
    “You’ll find out who she is when you arrive in Dallas. The important things that you need to know are that she wants to get married and she’s loaded. Your job is to be charming.”
    Geoffrey put his foot down. “I’m not doing this, Charlene. And don’t try shoving any more guilt trips down my throat, because it won’t work. This would be the same as prostitution. I will not do it. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”
    She met his gaze and sighed. “All right, I’ll give you a choice. Find a way to get Danielle’s tuition by Tuesday, or you’re getting on the plane to Dallas. Otherwise…”
    Her voice drifted off and she gave his piano a longing, sinister glance. She slid her fingers along the wood lightly.
    His gut clenched. “You wouldn’t,” he said.
    “It would never be my first choice,” she said. “But oh, yes, Geoffrey, I would.” She met his gaze again. “Much luck on eBay.”
    Jackson was going insane.
    Lori’s sisters had stayed longer than two days. It was up to four, and he’d culled five prospects from a long list. He’d put a shrink at the top of the list. If ever a woman could use one, he’d say Lori Jean Granger could. Late at night, she preyed on his mind. He was starting to wonder if she was a witch. Or a fairy.
    “No fairy,” he said, shaking his head and splitting a piece of grass in half as he sat on his back porch with a beer. She just
thought
she was a fairy. She thought she was the Miss Fix-It Fairy with unlimited dough, and he was the heartbreaker who had to inform her of the sad truth that she was mortal like the rest of us.
    He remembered how her face had paled when he’d told her he knew about the payments she was sending to the three women hiding from their abusive husbands. Jackson thought of his own mother and how she continued to hang in there with his father, despite his father’s verbal abuse. No matter how many times his father left, his mother took him back. He remembered begging her to change the locks, move away, but she would do neither.
    He felt a slice of envy that Lori had been able to help women who were strangers when he hadn’t been able to get through to his own mother. He wondered how she’d done it-what kind of magic she possessed to help a beat-up person find the courage to follow through and make a new life.
    Of course, nearly unlimited money didn’t hurt, he thought cynically and crushed his beer can against his chair.
    Jackson was still torn about Lori. The rate at which she disposed of her fortune gave him hives. At the same time, he was starting to see how serious she was about trying to make a difference. Finding out about those women touched a sore point inside