Full House

  "I avoid the outdoors because I can't risk having the sun on my face. I'd rather bake my face in a 350-degree oven than lie in the sun. As for the kitchen, I try to stay as far away from food as possible. The only time I allow myself near one is to pour a cup of coffee." She looked at the dog and shuddered. "Does it shed?"

  Billie limped into the living room. "I brush her every day. I've always had a dog. When I was a kid I had a big old collie."

  "Was its name Lassie?"

  "Nope. Her name was Annie. She used to sleep at the foot of my bed. Hardly left any room for me."

  "Does Buffy sleep at the foot of your bed like Annie used to?"

  Billie shook her head no. "Buffy sleeps with my ten-year-old daughter, Christie. And Spot, the cat, belongs to my eight-year-old son, Joel."

  "You have a cat, too? Oh, I hope my allergies don't start acting up. There's not a face concealer on the market that will hide a red nose."

  Billie made a note to stop brushing the cat, then immediately felt guilty.

  "Nick said your kids were at Disney World. Boy, I love Disney World. I've been there seven times. I always wear a hat, of course. And plenty of sunscreen."

  "I've never been to Disney World. I'm not much of a traveler. I guess I'm a homebody."

  Deedee looked at her seriously. "I think it's cute that you're a homebody. I bet you're a great mother."

  Billie smiled. It was the first nice thing Deedee had said. "Thanks. I try to be, but sometimes it's hard when you're on your own. I keep thinking to myself, if I'm such a great mother, then why don't my kids have a great father?"

  "Gee, that's deep. How long have you been divorced?"

  "Four years."

  "Four years! Honey, what are you waiting for?" she cried. "I've gone through three husbands in the past four years. A woman can't afford to wait around forever, you know. One day you'll wake up, and find your butt sagging to your ankles. You need to get moving, honey, before gravity takes over."

  Billie slumped in a chair. She felt the beginnings of a headache and considered taking another pain pill. She almost preferred being knocked out to spending the rest of the day listening to Deedee. Two weeks suddenly sounded like a life sentence.

  "Hey, I know," Deedee said. "I could help you find a husband. I'm good at that sort of thing. I just have trouble hanging on to them. That's why I absolutely refuse to sign a prenuptial agreement. Trust me, I live quite well on alimony checks."

  Billie almost laughed out loud at the thought of Deedee's husbands trying to buy their sanity back during divorce negotiations. And she could only imagine the kind of man Deedee would choose for her. "It's nice of you to offer, but I think I'd rather find my own husband. It's, um, personal, you know?"

  "How do you plan to meet a man if you're a homebody? Mr. Perfect isn't going to come knocking at your door and sweep you off your feet, you know? And I'm very discreet at this sort of thing."

  Billie suspected Deedee was about as discreet as a runaway train. "I have my own idea of what I want in a man," Billie said, wondering how she would worm her way out of Deedee's matchmaking scheme, but the woman wore a look of sheer determination that told Billie it wouldn't be easy. "And to tell you the truth, I'm kinda, sorta interested in a man already." She thought of the chemistry teacher who was about as interesting as a week-old newspaper. She could always play him up.

  Deedee rolled her eyes. "Tell me it's not Nick."

  Billie stared at her. "Nick?" She hadn't thought of using Nick as a way out.

  "Like I said, all the women are hot for him. You should see how his students simper when he passes by. It's downright disgusting the way they carry on."

  Billie pondered it. Deedee had just given her the answer she needed. Nick Kaharchek was the perfect man to fend off any unwanted matchmaking on Deedee's part. Besides, what man in his right mind would go up against one of Loudoun County's wealthiest and most successful citizens? Not to mention Nick's looks. And Nick would never have to know.

  Besides, he owed her.

  Billie pressed her hand against her forehead and gave a dramatic sigh. "I must tell you the truth, Deedee," she said, "although I trust you'll keep this in the strictest confidence. I'm no better than the other women who lust after Nick. I can't help myself."

  Deedee answered with a blank look. She was obviously clueless. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm hot for him, Deedee. I'm like a volcano on the verge of erupting." Damn, she was good. "Every time I see him I can feel this fiery heat in my belly, coiling and twisting like a giant tornado, so fierce and tumultuous I fear it will spew forth like molten lava and spit fire toward the heavens."

  Deedee gaped at her. "Eeyeuuw!"

  Chapter Four

  Billie studied the inside of her freezer and wondered what frozen dinner she could microwave herself for lunch. She had a choice. Low-fat chicken and vegetables, low-fat chicken with fettuccini noodles, or fat-free chicken soup. She closed the door and leaned her head against it.

  She would have given her good foot for a juicy, medium-rare steak, seasoned fries, and a tossed green salad, swimming in thick blue-cheese dressing. And something chocolate, of course. A meal was not a meal without some sort of chocolate for dessert.

  The house was quiet. Deedee was taking her second nap of the day, this one due to a migraine brought on by Billie's confession of her feelings for Nick. Okay, so she had overdone it a bit talking about lava and spewing fire, but Deedee had gotten the message loud and clear. Billie hadn't counted on giving her a headache; she had simply tried to put the quietus on Deedee's plan to find her a man.

  Billie turned as someone tapped on the back door. She was almost relieved to see the familiar face of Raoul the bug man. She let him in. "How goes it, O Great Insect Warrior?"

  His blue-black hair was combed neatly in place, and his lime-green tank top—worn to emphasize the muscles he'd earned as a construction worker—advertised Hernandez's Pest Control Service.

  "What the heck happened to your foot?" he asked.

  "A horse stepped on it during my first polo lesson."

  "I warned you it was a dangerous sport. You planning on suing?"

  "I don't think this particular horse has any money. He's retired."

  "Very funny, Pearce. I meant the owner. I handle Nicholas Kaharchek's pest control account. You ask me, he's more interested in the women who flock to his stables wearing those tight britches than he is teaching polo. The fact you hurt yourself under his, uh, tutelage, makes him responsible."

  Billie suppressed a smile. Raoul's vocabulary was less extensive than that of her sixth-graders, but he surprised her now and then by spouting off a word that made her wonder if he picked them out randomly from a dictionary in order to impress her. "I'll be okay," she assured him. "Besides, Mr. Kaharchek took me to the hospital personally. He was very concerned."

  " 'Course he was, but you can bet he had ulterior motives. He's either trying to get into your pants or see that you don't sue his ass off."

  "Raoul!"

  "I'm just telling you the way it is."

  Billie did not want to think about whether or not Nick was using his polo classes as a way to seduce women, especially when she could still taste his kiss. He had been all business during the class; she had not witnessed any improprieties between him and the other women, but then, she'd been preoccupied with Zeke, and she had no idea what he did in his private life. Deedee talked as though he had a veritable harem. Probably, she should have smacked him harder with that spoon.

  "May I offer you something to drink?" she asked Raoul, hoping to change the subject. He could be fanatical at times, especially when it concerned her or her children. He was obviously a good husband and father to his own wife and children and resented Billie's husband for "doing them dirty" as he called it. A proud father, he thought nothing of pulling out his wallet and flashing pictures of his three children.

  "A glass of iced tea would certainly go a long way toward restoring my faith in humankind." H
e took a seat at her kitchen table.

  "Bad day, huh?" Billie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a plastic pitcher. It was not unusual for Raoul to stop by after servicing a house in the neighborhood, which he seemed to be doing a lot of these days due to a strange epidemic of spiders and other creepy-crawly things that made Billie shudder just to think about. "What happened?"

  "You know Mr. Callahan from two streets over? I found German roaches in his walls. You got any idea how hard they are to kill off? Our Defense Department isn't equipped for German roaches." He accepted the glass of tea she handed him and drank it down in one gulp.

  Billie refilled his glass and sat in the chair opposite him. Raoul took his job seriously—sometimes obsessively so—but he was a darn good pest-control professional, as he preferred calling himself. Yet, lately it seemed nothing he did worked. That didn't keep him from trying, and his customers would never think of hiring anyone else.

  Raoul was not only a great bug guy; he knew the houses well and kept an eye on them when the owners vacationed. The minor burglary that had occurred in the neighborhood the past week had him snapping pictures of anyone who looked suspicious to him. He immediately delivered them to the police station and insisted they keep them in a file.

  He would never have accepted pay for looking after her neighbors' houses, but he was not opposed to asking for souvenir ashtrays of the places they visited. He built shelves in his basement and put in special lighting to show off his collection as one would fine art. Billie thought it a bit strange, but if Raoul enjoyed it, that was good enough for her. She suspected his wife tolerated a lot.

  Raoul also insisted on making home repairs for Billie, although it didn't seem to be his area of expertise. It would have been simpler to call an expert, but Billie knew she would hurt Raoul's feelings if she did. So she allowed him to tinker with her plumbing and appliances to his heart's content, even though he never managed to get them running properly.

  "Have you tried speaking German to these roaches, Raoul?" she asked. "Maybe they don't understand English or Spanish."

  He gave her a look. "Very funny. You just better hope they don't get inside your walls."

  Billie shuddered. "That's your job. I just feed you and keep you in iced tea and coffee."

  "How's the toilet?"

  "Still making that funny noise."

  "Damn. I'm probably going to have to drain the tank and—"

  Billie shook her head. "You've already got too much to do these days what with this strange insect infestation, not to mention half the neighborhood gone on vacation. I'll call a plumber." She held her breath.

  A look of pure indignation crossed his face. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Who tuned up your van and taught you how to check the oil when you came close to burning up your engine?"

  "You did, O Great One." She wouldn't mention that it took him several days to do her tune-up when she could have taken it to a garage and had it done in a fraction of the time. In return, Billie baked cookies for his children or sent him home with a meat loaf so his wife wouldn't have to cook dinner that night.

  "Eeyeuuw!"

  Billie and Raoul jumped simultaneously at the sound. They glanced in the direction of the stairs where Deedee stood wearing a short hunter-green satin wrapper that made her fair skin look like fine alabaster.

  "What's wrong?" Billie asked.

  "Your cat jumped on my bed and got hair all over me." She hurried closer. "Are my eyes puffy? Is my nose red?"

  Billie looked closely. She was vaguely aware that Raoul was gawking at the woman. "Not that I can tell."

  "I should probably take something just in case. I have a big night tonight." She looked at Raoul, her lip curling in distaste at his shirt and tattoos. "Who are you?"

  Raoul was obviously annoyed by the look on her face. "I kill bugs."

  Deedee opened her mouth. "Ee—"

  Billie cut her off. "This is Raoul," she said quickly. "A friend of mine."

  Deedee blinked several times. "For real?"

  "And who might you be?" Raoul asked.

  "I'm Billie's new housemate."

  He glanced at Billie, eyebrows raised.

  "Deedee only moved in today."

  "Not by choice," the other woman said. "My cousin kicked me out of his place, the selfish goat."

  Billie noted the question in Raoul's eyes. "Deedee's cousin is Nick Kaharchek. She's staying with me for a couple of weeks."

  Raoul shot her a look of disbelief. "She's actually living here? Kaharchek's cousin?"

  "Just until I get married," Deedee added. "I'm marrying a wrestler. You've probably heard of him. Frankie the Assassin?"

  "You're marrying Frankie the Assassin?" Billie said, having heard the name come from her son's mouth a number of times. Raoul did not look impressed.

  "Yeah, isn't that great? Wait until you see him. He's such a hunk." Deedee lowered her voice and gave Billie a meaningful look. "I'm partial to athletes. Their bodies are always so fit, you know what I mean?"

  "I think so."

  "And he's loaded."

  Billie shifted in her chair. Deedee seemed to have forgotten that Raoul was in the room. "You don't say."

  Deedee widened her eyes. "I've got a terrific idea. You could come to the match with Frankie and me tonight. Frankie isn't wrestling. He got a concussion last week. So we're just going to watch the show. You could come with us and look the guys over and pick one out for yourself. The Greek Gods will be there, and Slimeball, and Dirty Deed Dan." Her face lit up in a smile. "Oh, I have just the man for you. Big John is wrestling tonight." Her tone grew reverent. "They call him Big John because—"

  "Raoul, would you like more iced tea?" Billie cut in.

  He stood. His lips were pressed into a grim line.

  "Nah. I've had just about as much as I can stand." He started for the door.

  "Excuse me, Deedee," Billie said, following him out. She closed the door behind her.

  Raoul picked up his gear, turned, and shook his head. "I know this is none of my business, but why would you allow that lunatic in your house?"

  Billie's mouth fell open. "Deedee is not a lunatic. She's just different."

  He shook his head as though he couldn't believe what was happening. "How long have I known you?"

  Billie thought. "A year. Maybe longer."

  "Right. And I've seen firsthand how hard you've tried to give your children a loving, secure home. I respected you for that, especially after what their old man did. Now I find out you're cozying up to the biggest shyster in town, and taking in his crazy relative who seems intent on introducing you to a man who's hung like a—"

  "Raoul!"

  "Miss Harebrained in there introduced the subject, not me." He planted his hands on his hips. "If it was money you needed—"

  "I'm not doing it for the money." She paused, hating to admit her weaknesses, even to Raoul. "I've been lonely without my children, and I can't sleep at night for hearing weird noises."

  "What weird noises?"

  "In my bushes by my bedroom window."

  "How come you didn't say anything? You know I make it my job to keep my eye out for the people in this neighborhood."

  "I didn't want to burden you. You already do too much for all of us."

  "Maybe I like doing it. If my wife and kids were alone, I would hope someone would look out for them now and then."

  Billie appreciated his sentiment. "Deedee will be long gone before the kids return from their vacation. And Nick Kaharchek has not given me any reason to believe he's a shyster, so stop worrying."

  "You really are naive, you know that?" He shook his head sadly. "I've got bugs waiting. See you later."

  Deedee was sitting at the table blowing her nose into a tissue when Billie re-entered the kitchen. "I'm sorry I wasn't very friendly to your pest control man," she said. "I always get this way when my allergies act up or I'm PMSing."

  Billie looked at her. The woman's eyes were watering and her nose w
as red. "Do you have something you can take?"

  She nodded. "I shouldn't have made such a big deal of your cat. This is your house, after all. I'll just make sure to keep my bedroom door closed."

  Nick was right, Billie thought. Deedee was actually very sweet. A little dim-witted at times, but sweet.

  "I really wish you'd go with us tonight. Looks like you could use some fun."

  Billie pointed to her foot. "I'd like to go," she lied, "but my foot is swollen, and I can't get it into a shoe."

  Deedee studied the foot. "It doesn't look nearly as swollen. I bet it will be fine by tonight."

  Billie glared at her foot. Damn. Of all times for the swelling to go down. She would almost prefer having Zeke step on it again to attending a wrestling match. "I'm not much of a wrestling fan."

  "Honey, after you see Big John in his black satin briefs you'll be a fan for life. He might be just the man to take your mind off Nick."

  Billie felt her left eye twitch. "Would you excuse me for a minute? I have to make a phone call."

  "What's wrong with this phone?" Deedee pointed to the portable on the kitchen wall.

  "I have to call my therapist."

  "You're seeing a therapist? And what's wrong with your eye?"

  "It's a nervous twitch. That's why I'm calling my therapist."

  Deedee stood. "No problem. I have to find my allergy pills." She paused and gave a sly smile. "You know, Big John could work off some of that stress."

  Twitch, twitch. Billie hurried toward her bedroom.

  She closed her bedroom door, made for her night table, and dialed Nick's stable. She felt her heart skip a beat when he answered. Get right to it, she thought, steeling herself. Lay it all in his lap. "It's me." She tried to make it sound like a warning, but her voice wavered. Shit.

  "Let me guess. Billie Pearce?"

  "You have to do something about this situation. You have to help me. This was really a crummy thing to do to me, Nicholas Kaharchek."

  "Okay, calm down. What did Deedee do? Did she explode something in your microwave? You're right, I should have warned you about that. I'll buy you a new one."