Natural Born Charmer by Susan Elizabeth Phillips Read Free Book Online Page B

when the world is your playground, right?”
    “I’m getting a cramp,” he said. “Mind if I stretch?” He didn’t wait for an answer but let his legs fall over the edge of the bed. He took histime standing up, then stretched a little, which sucked in his abs and sent his jeans low enough to reveal the top of his gray stretch End Zone boxer briefs.
    The Beav kept her eyes glued to her sketch pad.
    Maybe he’d made a tactical error bringing up Monty, but he couldn’t get over somebody with the Beav’s strength of character being attracted to such a dick. He set his hands on his hips, deliberately pushing his shirt out of the way so he could display his pecs. He was starting to feel like a stripper, but she’d finally looked up. His jeans slipped another inch lower, and her sketch pad slid to the floor. She leaned over to pick it up and banged her chin on the chair arm. Clearly, she needed a little time to adjust to the idea of letting him explore her beaver parts.
    “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said. “Wash off the road dust.”
    She pulled her sketch pad back into her lap with one hand and waved him away with the other.
     
     
     
    The bathroom door shut. Blue moaned and dropped her feet to the carpet. She should have pretended she had a migraine…or leprosy—anything to get out of coming to his room tonight. Why couldn’t a nice retired couple have stopped to help her today? Or one of those sweet, artistic guys she was so comfortable with?
    The water went on in the shower. She imagined it trickling over that billboard body. He used it like a weapon, and, since no one else was around, he had her in his sights. But men like him were meant to be lusted over from a safe distance.
    She took a deep swallow from her beer bottle. She reminded herself that Blue Bailey didn’t run. Not ever. She looked delicate, like the faintest gust of wind would blow her over, but she was strong where it counted most. Internally. That’s how she’d survived her itinerant childhood.
    What does the happiness of one little girl, no matter how beloved, mean against the lives of thousands of little girls threatened by bombs, soldiers, and land mines? It had been a miserable day, and old memories unfolded inside of her.
    “Blue, Tom and I want to talk to you.”
    Blue still remembered the sagging plaid couch in Olivia and Tom’s cramped San Francisco apartment and the way Olivia had patted the cushion next to her. Blue had been small for eight, but not small enough to still sit in Olivia’s lap, so she’d nestled next to her instead. Tom sat on her other side and rubbed Blue’s knee. Blue loved them more than anybody in the world, including the mother she hadn’t seen in nearly a year. Blue had lived with Olivia and Tom since she was seven, and she was going to live with them forever. They’d promised.
    Olivia wore her light brown hair in a braid down her back. She smelled like curry powder and patchouli, and she always gave Blue clay to play with when she threw her pots. Tom had a big soft Afro and wrote articles for the underground newspaper. He took Blue to Golden Gate Park and let her ride on his shoulders when they went out on the street. If she had a nightmare, she’d climb in their bed and fall asleep with her cheek against Tom’s warm shoulder and her fingers twined in Olivia’s long hair.
    “Do you remember, Punkin’,” Olivia said, “how we told you about the baby growing in my uterus?”
    Blue remembered. They’d shown her pictures in books.
    “The baby’s going to be born soon,” Olivia went on. “That means lots of things will be different now.”
    Blue didn’t want them to be different. She wanted them to stay exactly the same. “Is the baby going to sleep in my room?” Blue finally had her very own room, and she didn’t want to share it.
    Tom and Olivia exchanged glances before Olivia said, “No, Punkin’. Something better. You remember Norris, the lady who visited us last month, the