Penny Sue Got Lucky Read online

  So this was Penny Sue Paine? Guardian to Lucky, the multi-millionaire dog?

  She stared at Vic with huge, chocolate-brown eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes. Her features were almost too perfect. Small, tip-tilted nose. Full luscious lips. Oval face. Flawless olive complexion. And a mane of dark, auburn-brown hair that flowed around her slender shoulders.

  And her body. Holy hell. The body was to-die-for. No more than five-four, with an hourglass shape. Tiny waist, rounded hips and high, full breasts.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Noble?” she asked.

  “Uh…yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Then perhaps we should get started. What would you like to do first?” Penny Sue asked.

  What would he like to do first?

  I’d like to make love to you, Miss Penny Sue. That’s what I’d like to do.

  Dear Reader,

  Like my heroine, Penny Sue Paine, I was born into a fairly typical Southern family, with predecessors ranging from highly respected doctors and wealthy landowners to a notorious outlaw who died on the gallows. And like Penny Sue, I am blessed with a group of marvelously eccentric relatives, a writer’s treasure trove of unique characters.

  Did I draw from real life to create Penny Sue and her family? You bet I did. Is any one character based on a real person? No, of course not. Doesn’t everyone have kinfolk who’ve squabbled over a sizable (and even a not-so-sizable) inheritance? I think most of us have relatives that we both love and hate, that we’re sometimes ashamed of and occasionally frustrated and angry with, but when push comes to shove, we stand by them when they need us. For a lot of us Southerners, that Scots-Irish clan mentality is an inherited trait. Without a doubt, there is a little bit of Penny Sue in me and many of my female cousins. From childhood, we were taught good manners, good taste and a strong sense of responsibility. We steel magnolias take care of our own.

  Warmest regards,

  Beverly Barton

  BEVERLY BARTON

  Penny Sue Got Lucky

  Books by Beverly Barton

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  This Side of Heaven #453

  Paladin’s Woman #515

  Lover and Deceiver #557

  The Outcast #614

  *Defending His Own #670

  *Guarding Jeannie #688

  *Blackwood’s Woman #707

  *Roarke’s Wife #807

  *A Man Like Morgan Kane #819

  *Gabriel Hawk’s Lady #830

  Emily and the Stranger #860

  Lone Wolf’s Lady #877

  *Keeping Annie Safe #937

  *Murdock’s Last Stand #979

  *Egan Cassidy’s Kid #1015

  Her Secret Weapon #1034

  *Navajo’s Woman #1063

  *Whitelaw’s Wedding #1075

  *Jack’s Christmas Mission #1113

  *The Princess’s Bodyguard #1177

  *Downright Dangerous #1273

  *Ramirez’s Woman #1375

  *Penny Sue Got Lucky #1399

  Silhouette Desire

  Yankee Lover #580

  Lucky in Love #628

  Out of Danger #662

  Sugar Hill #687

  Talk of the Town #711

  The Wanderer #766

  Cameron #796

  The Mother of My Child #831

  Nothing but Trouble #881

  The Tender Trap #1047

  A Child of Her Own #1077

  †His Secret Child #1203

  †His Woman, His Child #1209

  †Having His Baby #1216

  *Keeping Baby Safe #1574

  *Laying His Claim #1598

  Silhouette Books

  36 Hours

  Nine Months

  The Fortunes of Texas

  In the Arms of a Hero

  3, 2, 1…Married!

  “Getting Personal”

  Lone Star Country Club: The Debutantes

  “Jenna’s Wild Ride”

  Lone Star Country Club:

  The Rebel’s Return

  Family Secrets

  Check Mate

  BEVERLY BARTON

  has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, Beverly wrote her first book at the age of nine. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, Beverly chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer. The author of over thirty-five books, Beverly is a member of Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. She has won numerous awards and has made the Waldenbooks and USA TODAY bestseller lists.

  To my cousins, Sue Elkins and Penny Von Boeckman.

  There is a little bit of Penny Sue in both of you, in me and in so many of our other female relatives, steel magnolias every one. Here’s to all true Southern belles, past, present and future. Sometimes gentleness is the greatest strength of all.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Did you ever want to disown your entire family? I mean every last one of them. Or at the very least trade them in for another family? It’s not as if I don’t love them, although lately they’ve tried my patience almost to the breaking point. And I’m not an impatient person. Just ask anyone who knows me. Even my worst enemy—if I had one—would tell you that Penny Sue Paine has the patience of a saint. But I swear a saint would lose patience with this bunch. Of course, I’m not a saint, not by any stretch of the imagination. I am, however, a good person. I always— and I mean always—send thank-you notes. I give blood on a regular basis. I teach a Sunday-school class for preschoolers. I never wear white shoes after Labor Day or before Easter. I would not be caught dead in public without my makeup on and my hair fixed. I don’t curse. Unless you count saying “Lord have mercy!” as cursing. I never destroy anything of worth when I’m finally pushed to my limit and start breaking things. Except once—I accidently shoved my hand through the glass front door at Grandmother Paine’s house. Of course I was only three at the time and hadn’t learned to control my temper. And I do not throw hissy fits in public, which is no small feat, let me tell you, because the Paine women are known throughout the county for their royal hissy fits. Well, there was that one time when the Country Kettle was out of glazed carrots and I got a tad upset. After all, who ever heard of a restaurant that specializes in vegetable plates running out of carrots before the dinner crowd arrives? But I’m getting off the subject, aren’t I? I was explaining why I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with my family, wasn’t I? Aunt Lottie always said digression was one of my weaknesses.

  “Get to the point,” Aunt Lottie would say. “Stop digressing.” Then she’d glance over at Aunt Dottie and say, “It’s a weakness you inherited from her, the silly goose.”

  Aunt Dottie would giggle and reply, “I’m not a silly goose. I simply have an effervescent personality. And giving all the details when telling a story is a family trait I inherited from Daddy, so it has to be a good trait, doesn’t it, since Daddy was such a good man.”

  Aunt Lottie would roll her eyes and mumble something unintelligible.

  God love ’em both. Lottie was the elder twin, born five whole minutes before Dottie. Although they were identical, no one had ever mistaken one for the other. Gra
ndmother Paine never dressed them alike, not even as toddlers, which set a precedent in their lives, allowing them to be individuals. Lottie was the brains, Dottie the beauty. Lottie was serious-minded, Dottie was frivolous. Lottie took a nice little inheritance from her parents and turned it into millions by making shrewd investments. On the other hand, what money Dottie didn’t spend on clothes, cars, fancy vacations and cosmetic surgery, she lost to a conniving swindler who stole not only her money but her heart. So, in their old age, Lottie financially supported her younger sister.

  Oh, dear me. I’m digressing again.

  Back to the current situation with my family.

  I suppose the problem began when Aunt Lottie passed away. Well, actually, the problem began when Uncle Willie—that’s Wilfred Hopkins, Aunt Lottie’s lawyer, who isn’t actually a blood relative—read the will. His wife, Aunt Pattie, is dog-tail kin to us, of course, her mother having been a first cousin to Grandmother Paine. And in case you don’t know what dog-tail kin is—it’s when you’re distantly related, enough so that if you had a mind to, you could actually marry each other. That is if one was a man and the other a woman.

  But as I said, the will is what caused the problem. We were assembled in the front parlor of Aunt Lottie’s Victorian house on First Street—Aunt Dottie, Uncle Douglas, all the cousins and me—when Uncle Willie dropped the bombshell. Even I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been. After all, I knew better than anyone how much Aunt Lottie had loved Lucky.

  You know, come to think of it, the root of the current problem actually began nearly four years ago. And I’m not digressing again. Really I’m not. To fully understand why Aunt Lottie did what she did, you have to understand things from the beginning. Well, not actually the beginning, since I wasn’t there when Lucky was born, but… Okay, I was digressing there a bit, wasn’t I?

  It all started when Topper died. Topper was Aunt Lottie’s black cocker spaniel. If you look up the term spoiled rotten in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Topper right there beside the definition. I suppose having no husband and no children would make a woman love her pets more than most people did. And from childhood, Aunt Lottie had been a dog person and Aunt Dottie a cat person. When I was a child, Skippy had ruled the roost. He was Aunt Lottie’s feisty little half feist, half Chihuahua. He went to puppy-dog heaven when I was eighteen and my father, the younger of the twins’ two brothers, had promptly purchased Topper as a Christmas gift for his grieving sister. Within days, Topper had become top dog in every way, and until his dying day, he lived a life most humans would envy. Even Daddy often said that when he died, he wanted to come back as one of Lottie’s dogs. And truth be told, on more than one occasion, I’ve wondered if maybe at least part of Daddy’s spirit hasn’t returned in Lucky. I’ve never told a living soul about that. We Paines are considered the town eccentrics as is. No need to add fuel to the flames.

  I know. I know. I’m digressing again.

  When Topper died, Aunt Lottie was inconsolable. She hadn’t carried on half as bad when Daddy had died two years before, and he was her favorite brother. She loved Uncle Douglas well enough, but she’d said it herself, “Percy can be counted on. Douglas can’t be.”

  One of my favorite charities is Animal Haven. It’s Alabaster Creek, Alabama’s equivalent to the dog pound, I suppose. Although Animal Haven shelters all sorts of animals, cats and dogs make up the bulk of their residents. I volunteer one afternoon a week at the shelter and back about four years ago, this precious little puppy, who had been abused by his previous owner, was dropped on the doorstep, the pitiful thing half-dead. The minute I told Aunt Lottie about the mongrel pup, she not only paid the vet’s bills, but after taking one look at the puppy, she adopted him that very day.

  After Doc Stone had given him a clean bill of health, Aunt Lottie had lifted the puppy into her arms, stroked his little head and said, “Well, mutt, you’re one lucky dog. I’m taking you home with me.” And that’s how Lucky got his name.

  Now, I’m not saying that Aunt Lottie loved Lucky more than any of her previous dogs, but there’s something special about Lucky. He’s not just smart, he’s super-smart. And he’s gentle and loving. Real friendly. And he adored Aunt Lottie. Actually the only flaw Lucky has is his intolerance of Puff, Aunt Dottie’s cat. But then again, nobody likes that darn cat except Aunt Dottie.

  Now, this brings me back to when Uncle Willie read Aunt Lottie’s last will and testament, two months ago. I can still see Aunt Dottie swooning over in a dead faint. And Uncle Douglas’s face turning beet-red as he struggled for words. I’m not sure who whined the loudest or the longest, but I think it was probably Cousin Valerie. She and her hubby, Dylan Redley, were counting on inheriting a sizable chunk of Aunt Lottie’s fortune. They and their demon child, Dylan III—whom they call Trey—even moved home to Alabaster Creek two years ago so they could suck up to Aunt Lottie.

  One little thing you should know about Dylan Redley. He was my high-school sweetheart and my fiancé. Yes, he’s the one who ran off with the preacher’s wife right before our wedding. And yes, my second cousin, Valerie, was the preacher’s wife.

  I know, I know. I’m digressing again. I can almost hear Aunt Lottie saying, “Stop rattling and get to the point, Penny Sue.”

  Well, the point is that Aunt Lottie left her entire twenty-three million dollars to Lucky. That’s what I said. My aunt left her very sizable fortune to her dog. I was surprised. The other family members were shocked. Some were outraged. And the whole town of Alabaster Creek found the turn of events quite amusing. Most folks are still laughing—behind our backs—about nutty old Lottie Paine leaving millions to a dog-pound pooch.

  Now you understand, I don’t need Aunt Lottie’s money. My father, God rest him, left me well off. I’m not a multi-millionaire, not rich enough to have men beating a path to my door, but if I chose never to work another day in my life, I’ll still be financially secure. Percy Paine, like his sister, Lottie, had not squandered his inheritance. So, I suppose that was one reason Aunt Lottie made me executor of her will and Lucky’s legal guardian. That and the fact she knew I loved Lucky, that I love animals in general and dogs in particular. That’s one trait I did inherit from her.

  The other heirs complained—loud and long. They shouted that they would protest the will, to which Uncle Willie immediately replied, “No point wasting your time. At Lottie’s request, I saw to it that her will is iron-clad. No judge in the country would overturn it.”

  Now, you’d have thought that would be that, right? Oh, no. To a person, they—even Aunt Dottie—hired lawyers. Didn’t do them a darn bit of good. They should have listened to Uncle Willie and saved themselves the time and the money. All the heirs would inherit someday, of course—but only after Lucky died.

  Like I said, I love my family, at least nearly all of them. I can’t say I’ve entirely forgiven Valerie for running off with Dylan. But I don’t hate her. And seeing what a good-for-nothing Dylan turned out to be, I suppose I should be grateful to her. Every family has its faults, its idiosyncrasies, its skeletons in the closet, etc., etc., and the Paine clan is no different. But all in all, we’re good people. God-fearing, flag-waving, all-American Southerners. So just imagine how totally traumatized I was when a member of my family tried to kill Lucky. I don’t know who did it, but I’m convinced it was a disgruntled, disappointed heir who is willing to kill a poor little innocent dog for money. And in retrospect, I realize that this latest attempt might not have been the first, just the closest to successful.

  After being shot, Lucky is recovering nicely over at Doc Stone’s veterinary clinic and he’s due to be released tomorrow. Since I have been unable to convince the police that Lucky is in danger, that he needs protection—when I’m elected mayor, I’ll definitely be looking into local law-enforcement practices—I was left with only one choice. It’s what Aunt Lottie would have wanted, what she would have done herself.

  I hired a bodyguard for Lucky.

  Chapter 1
br />   Vic Noble got off the elevator on the sixth floor of the downtown Atlanta building. He had finished his most recent assignment for the Dundee Private Security and Investigation agency two days ago and had hoped for a bit more downtime before being reassigned. No such luck. Daisy Holbrook, the office manager, had phoned him this morning to tell him that the CEO, Sawyer McNamara, had contacted her from his vacation home in Hilton Head, South Carolina, with the details of Vic’s new job.

  As he approached Daisy’s desk in the heart of the Dundee agency office complex, she apparently sensed his presence. Glancing up, she offered him her usual pleasant smile. Daisy was a sweetheart. A cute, plump little brunette the staff referred to as Ms. Efficiency. Every agent thought of her as a kid sister. Even he did, and there weren’t that many people Vic took a shine to, especially women in general. Oh, women had their place in his life, but only on a temporary, mutually satisfying yet non-emotional basis. Having been a loner since childhood, he liked his solitary, uncomplicated life. He’d been involved once, maybe even in love, but the experience had been bittersweet, to stay the least.

  “Good morning, Vic,” Daisy greeted him when he stopped at her desk. “Sorry to cut your down-time short, but you’re the only available agent. We’ve been working shorthanded for quite some time, ever since Frank, Kate and J.J. all left us this past year. Mr. McNamara told me to thank you for taking this assignment.”

  “No problem,” Vic said, but a peculiar glint in Daisy’s eyes warned him that something wasn’t quite right. “Or is there a problem?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Her smile widened, going from warm and friendly to forced and phony. Not a good sign. Vic smelled trouble with a capital T.