Please turn this page for an excerpt from Kelley St. John's next s.e.xy novel,

The Trouble with Men

available in ma.s.s market November 2008.

Chapter 1.

Throughout her thirty-three years, Babette Robinson had sported eight hair colors (red, blond, brunette, platinum, strawberry-blond, auburn, black, and pink), obtained four college degrees (Accounting, Business Administration, Computer Information Systems, and Photography), and held a total of twenty-two part-time jobs (way too many to list). However, in none of those positions could she ever recall getting hit on by an eighty-two-year-old in a wheelchair.

"Mr. Wiggins!" she scolded, turning to view his sneaky little grin, nearly hidden in a sea of wrinkles, and two wiggling wiry silver eyebrows.

"Got your attention, didn't I?" he asked, holding up the thumb and forefinger that had just pinched her behind.

"Yes, you got my attention. But trust me, that's that's not the way you want to get my attention." She lowered her voice. "I fight dirty." not the way you want to get my attention." She lowered her voice. "I fight dirty."

Another eyebrow wiggle. "Tell me more."

"In other words, I know where they keep the poppy seed container in the kitchen," she continued smartly.

He brought a weathered hand to his cheek and obviously recalled his lunch two days ago, when a poppy seed had ended up between his gums and his dentures. "Ouch. You didn't do that, did you?"

"No, but you didn't pinch my b.u.t.t that morning either." Babette smiled and squatted at eye level with him in the wheelchair. "We understand each other?"

He straightened in his seat and leaned forward, then blatantly attempted to peer down the front of her camisole.

She slapped a hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to hold the fabric close. Have mercy, if he was that eager to take a peek at her tiny excuses for b.o.o.bs, then he really was in sad shape. "Mr. Wiggins, you're playing with fire here."

"Any chance of me getting burned?" he asked. "You know, your grandmother said you were originally a redhead." He indicated her hair, currently straight and blond. "Redheads are known for fire, aren't they?"

"Ethel, we still have plenty of poppy seed in the kitchen, right?" she called to one of the a.s.sisted living center's cooks, currently leaning against the door frame and shaking her head at Lambert Wiggins.

Ethel answered loudly. "Yes, we do, and I ain't afraid to use it, Lambert."

He stuck his tongue out at the cook, then turned back to Babette. "Oh, all right, I give, and I'm going to have to agree with the other old farts around here. You're more like her."

Babette followed his gaze to see her grandmother, currently engrossed in a game of Canasta with three of the women who resided at Shady Pines. Gertrude Robinson didn't live here, but she visited regularly, partly because she liked the socializing, but mostly because she and her partner Maud were the reigning Canasta champs. Consequently, she'd gotten Babette this new job, a part-time deal where she simply made sure all of the residents had some type of activity that they could partic.i.p.ate in during their free time. She was kind of like a cruise director, without the ship, and with a bunch of pa.s.sengers who no longer had their teeth.

But Babette enjoyed the job and had already been employed at the center for a whopping two weeks. If she made it six more, she'd break her all-time employment record. "Are you talking about Granny Gert?"

"Yep, and the guys were right. You're more like her. I met the other one, your sister. She comes here every now and then with the kids. Folks round here love little kids. The guys"-he pointed to the group of men gathered in the television area of the recreation room watching Wheel of Fortune Wheel of Fortune-"they said she was the sweet one, and that you were the feisty one, like Gertrude."

Babette swallowed, then nodded. The story of her life. Clarise was the sweet child; she was the h.e.l.lion. Clarise was the stable one, the one who went to college-once-got the degree, made a career choice, and stuck with it. Then she found the perfect guy-and again, it only took once to find the right one-settled down, and had a beautiful set of twins. And now Clarise was visiting the a.s.sisted living center on her own time, without having to get paid for it, and earning the admiration of the older crowd, including Lambert Wiggins.

Meanwhile, Lambert Wiggins was pinching Babette's bottom.

Something that she appreciated even less now.

"Hey, wait," he said, his tone shifting gears faster than her beat-up CRX, and that sucker could fly. He held up his palms defensively. "I didn't mean anything bad by that. Shoot, I like feisty better, myself." He grinned again, then looked toward the women now fussing over who had played what during the last hand of cards. "Being like Gertrude isn't a bad thing," he continued. "Not bad at all."

This time, Babette's brows lifted. "You want to hook up with my grandmother, don't you?"

"Nope, I tried that already. You think I'd have wasted this much time before asking a pistol like her out? Shoot, I gave it a go the day I moved in here. She turned me down flat. Would've hurt my ego, if I was a normal man."

"A normal man?"

"Ask her what she calls me," he instructed. "It should bother me, but I like it." He winked and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "It suits me."

As if knowing she was the main topic of this conversation, Granny Gert waved at them. "Babette," she called. "Come here, honey." She curled hot-pink-tipped fingers urgently, which sent her mult.i.tude of charm bracelets clanging, and Babette heeded the instruction.

"I'll talk to you later, Mr. Wiggins, and you'd better learn to keep those hands to yourself." She walked away, but could hear him laughing behind her.

"Honestly, what are we going to do with him?" Granny Gert said to the other women at the table. "He just pinched my granddaughter's b.u.t.t." She looked up at Babette. "Didn't he? I saw it, out of the corner of my eye, and I swear that's why I botched that last hand."

"Oh, stow it, Gert," Flora Halliday said, then she motioned toward her cards on the table. "We beat you, fair and square, and you're just looking for excuses. Admit it."

"Now, you know me better than that, Flora," Granny said. "I'll admit no such thing."

Babette pulled up a chair and sat at the table while Flora, still grinning smugly from her victory, shuffled the cards for another round.

"You needed me, Granny?" Babette couldn't deny that Lambert had pegged Granny Gert correctly; she was definitely feisty, from the way she spoke to the way she dressed. Today's apparel was perfect for the July weather, a hot pink silk dress with a shiny white collar and cuffs. She looked as if she belonged on the cover of AARP AARP magazine. Babette aspired to look that good when she hit retirement status. Then again, would "retire" be the right word, since at her current rate, she'd never be at one job long enough to warrant retirement? Granny smiled, plumping up her cheeks, embellished a little too brightly with pink glitter blush, the exact same hue as her glossed lips. magazine. Babette aspired to look that good when she hit retirement status. Then again, would "retire" be the right word, since at her current rate, she'd never be at one job long enough to warrant retirement? Granny smiled, plumping up her cheeks, embellished a little too brightly with pink glitter blush, the exact same hue as her glossed lips.

"Actually, Flora wanted to ask you something," she said.

Flora's silver brows puckered and she pursed her lips. "I did?"

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Maud Lovette, Granny Gert's Canasta partner, spouted. "Come on, Flora. You just said you wanted to hear how she hitched up those two." She pointed to the other side of the room, where an elderly couple Babette recognized as Sara Tolleson and Jed Lackey sat cozily near the window. They were holding hands and chatting, the picture of young love, even if they were both well past seventy.

"That's right, I did," Flora said. "Gertrude said you're good at matchmaking, that you helped Sara hook up with Jed. She's been trying to get the nerve to talk to him for a year, and now they're all settled in over there, flirting even. And Gert said you made it happen. Is that right?" She shuffled the cards wildly as she spoke and wasn't disguising her interest in Babette's matchmaking abilities. "Well, is it? Did you do that?"

Babette, along with the rest of the women at the table, watched Jed tenderly stroke a hand down Sara's cheek, while she promptly blushed. "He wanted to meet her, too," Babette said. "They just needed someone to set the wheels in motion. That's all I did."

"Uh-huh," Flora said. "Well, we've needed somebody like you around here for quite some time, a very long time, in fact." She smacked the deck of cards on the table and pointed a finger at Babette. "I'm next."

"Next?"

Flora nodded. "Fix me up with Hosea. I've tried everything known to man to get him to look my way, and nothing works. I've been signing up for two beauty shop days every week, I've kept my nails painted-but then again, I always did that."

"Yep, you're real good with your nails," Maud said, leaning over to inspect Flora's latest color, a dusty rose, not nearly as bright as Granny's polish, but then again, none of the women at the center wore anything nearly as bright as Granny Gert.

"I've even signed up for Bingo on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I don't even like Bingo," she said, then glanced at Hosea. "But he really seems to enjoy it. I just wish that he'd glance up from his game card every now and then to socialize. I mean, I'm sitting there hoping that sometime between B-1 and O-60, he'll notice that I'm across the table." She shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet. But then again, he really gets into the game. We play for money, you know."

"I know." Babette had sat in on the Bingo games the previous week and did agree that Hosea came to life during the game, particularly last Thursday, when he won the jackpot, a whole twenty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents.

Flora leaned around Babette to view the man in question. "He's got a whole lot of energy, and is a whole lot of fun, when he's awake."

Babette twisted around to view Hosea, his long legs crossed in front of him and his hands folded on top of his belly as he slept in one of the loungers near the television. He wore his trademark attire, old navy d.i.c.kies workpants and a matching b.u.t.ton-up shirt. He looked as if he'd been plucked out of a Norman Rockwell painting, the sleeping old man enjoying retirement to the fullest. Babette tried to remember if she'd ever seen the man awake when he wasn't playing Bingo. If she had, she couldn't recall it.

"Does he only wake up for Bingo?"

Granny Gert laughed, then stifled it when Flora shot her a look of warning. "Sorry, Flo," she said.

"He's kind of funny that way," Flora said. "He's up with the birds, like me. I usually see him in here before breakfast, and he stays awake for Bingo, naturally. But during the rest of the day, he naps a bit . . ."

"A bit?" Maud interjected, and again, Flora sent a look of elderly venom her way. "Okay, okay. I'll hush. Don't get huffy."

"Then he's up at night in time for the shows."

"The shows?" Babette asked.

"House, CSI Miami CSI Miami, CSI Las Vegas CSI Las Vegas, CSI New York CSI New York, ER ER, you know, the shows. Tonight is CSI Miami CSI Miami, you know, since it's Monday."

"Ohhh, right," Babette said. "And you want me to . . ."

"Do whatever it is you do to let him know I wouldn't mind being courted."

"Have mercy, I had no idea when I set Babette up with this job that she'd become the eHarmony of Shady Pines," Granny Gert said, but Babette was still looking at Hosea, sleeping peacefully, and Flora, smiling like a schoolgirl as she gazed at him.

"I'll do my best." Babette was also surprised that the men and women here, most in their seventies and eighties, found it difficult to simply express their feelings toward each other. She had merely mentioned to Jed that Sara found him "rather interesting" and to Sara that Jed "felt the same" and then the two were "courting," as they called it, which she found endearing.

She had no doubt that she could probably help Flora and Hosea the same way and truthfully looked forward to making it happen. It'd been a while since she'd felt really good about something she did on the job, and although matchmaking for the elderly wasn't technically part of her job description at Shady Pines, it did make her feel as though she was doing something worthwhile. True, she always felt a smidgen of pride when she viewed a Eubanks Elegant Apparel catalog and saw the photographs she'd taken gracing every page, but this was different. That work affected the company's sales, but this-this affected people's lives.

She could get used to having that kind of impact.

"Fine then," Flora said, with a sharp single nod that said she considered the matter taken care of; then she dealt the cards.

Four hours later, after waiting for CSI Miami CSI Miami to start and verifying that Hosea had heeded Babette's advice to ask Flora to sit with him for the show, Babette climbed into the pa.s.senger's seat of Granny Gert's Camry. She could have driven herself to the center, but Granny played cards here every Monday during Babette's work hours, and Granny Gert loved to drive. There weren't many of her friends still driving, so she felt rather special that her family hadn't required her to hand over the keys. And why should they? Gertrude Robinson was still sharp as a tack and had perfect vision and a perfect driving record. Plus, if they even attempted to take her keys, she'd probably fight them to the finish, and with her "gumption," as she called it, she'd probably win. to start and verifying that Hosea had heeded Babette's advice to ask Flora to sit with him for the show, Babette climbed into the pa.s.senger's seat of Granny Gert's Camry. She could have driven herself to the center, but Granny played cards here every Monday during Babette's work hours, and Granny Gert loved to drive. There weren't many of her friends still driving, so she felt rather special that her family hadn't required her to hand over the keys. And why should they? Gertrude Robinson was still sharp as a tack and had perfect vision and a perfect driving record. Plus, if they even attempted to take her keys, she'd probably fight them to the finish, and with her "gumption," as she called it, she'd probably win.

"You didn't mind staying here this long?" Babette asked.

"Shoot, I enjoyed watching you in action. And to see Flora do something other than snarl for a change was worth a few hours of my time. Typically, I only see her smile when she beats me at cards, and Lord knows, that's a rare occurrence." She cranked the car and backed up, then headed out of the center. "Wanna pick up some Boston Market? I'm craving creamed spinach."

"Sure." Babette watched the woman Lambert had deemed "feisty" drive her car with her trademark air of confidence. He'd said Babette was like her. Babette would have to agree, for the most part; however, when Gertrude Robinson was Babette's age, she'd been married for a good thirteen years. Not that Babette wanted to get married or anything like that, but if they were so alike, why hadn't she at least considered the possibility?

Evidently, Babette was staring, because at the next red light, Granny turned and tilted her head. Her bold platinum curls glistened beneath the streetlamp. "Go on. Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What's on your mind, child. You're never this quiet, and you should be talking nonstop after your matchmaking went so well. Flora was absolutely beaming."

"Yeah, but Hosea looked like he could fall asleep at any moment," Babette reminded her.

Granny Gert lifted one shoulder. "Phfft, he always looks like that. Well, unless he's won a game of Bingo, but I could tell there was a twinkle in his eye. Hey, when's your next workday at the center?"

"Wednesday."

"I bet by the time you go back, they'll be officially courting, and it'll be your doing. Flora was giving it her best shot by flirting with him, but you know, after sixty, flirting just doesn't come as easy. Matter of fact, after sixty, lots of things don't come as easy," she said, smiling.

"I'm really happy things seem to be working out for Flora."

"And yet you look like something's wrong. What is it?"

What was it? Granny Gert was right; she should be feeling pretty good right now. She'd helped two couples get together at the center, and without all that much effort on her part. Now they were courting, and there were four fewer people in the world feeling alone.

Well, h.e.l.l. That That was it. Babette was feeling alone. Why? She'd had plenty of dates lately. No more than three with the same person, except for Jeff Eubanks, and that'd been, well, a while-nearly a year, in fact. But all of the guys she'd dated recently would have gone out with her on a regular basis, if that's what Babette wanted, which it wasn't. was it. Babette was feeling alone. Why? She'd had plenty of dates lately. No more than three with the same person, except for Jeff Eubanks, and that'd been, well, a while-nearly a year, in fact. But all of the guys she'd dated recently would have gone out with her on a regular basis, if that's what Babette wanted, which it wasn't.

So why did seeing all of the single people at Shady Pines bother her so much?

Simple. A part of her was starting to wonder if she'd be old and single and lonely one day, simply because she didn't feel the need or desire to connect with someone, to rely on someone, to give her heart to someone. h.e.l.l, she'd never even committed to a job for longer than eight weeks; why would her dating life be any different? And maybe she was the type that wouldn't mind going solo throughout life. She was having fun, after all. And if those folks at the a.s.sisted living center were alone, they obviously wanted to be that way.

No, not true. Flora wanted Hosea, and Sara wanted Jed. How many others at Shady Pines had met someone there whom they'd like to know better, yet were afraid to go for what they wanted? And why wouldn't someone go for the person she wanted, especially if that person was right in front of her nose?

Babette always did. When she wanted to get to know a guy better, she found a way to make it happen. It wasn't all that difficult. Again, Jeff came to mind, and again, Babette pushed him out. Now was not the time to try to figure out what had happened then.

"Babette?" Granny Gert questioned, as the light turned green and she continued toward Boston Market.

"What do you call Lambert?" Babette asked, both because she wanted to know, and because she didn't want to try to explain what she was currently thinking.

"Lambert? That's That's who's on your mind?" Her doubt was evident in her tone. who's on your mind?" Her doubt was evident in her tone.

"Yes." And Jeff Eubanks. And Jeff Eubanks. "He said that you call him something, and that it should bother him, but he likes it. What do you call him?" "He said that you call him something, and that it should bother him, but he likes it. What do you call him?"

She grinned, and even though it was dark outside, Babette could tell Gertrude Robinson's glittery cheeks were a little more rosy than usual.

"What?" Babette asked.

"I call him a player with a heart."

"A player?"