by Erica Penrod
“I still can’t believe our winner was just a half hour away from Portland,” Blake said, causing Tori to turn around. He tucked his hands in his front pockets. “I thought we might actually get to travel.”
“I’m sorry.” Tori shrugged her shoulders. Secretly, she was relieved that the winner had been close, because she didn’t need the travel expenses. Her parents weren’t too far off the mark—her savings account was depleting fast. But that was the point of this whole contest: to attract more viewers and get bigger sponsors. “Maybe next time.”
“But you’ve got to admit this does seem strange,” Blake said as Tori swung back around to face the front door. “What are the chances that out of all the people all over the country that watch your show, your contest winner would be here? That’s got to be fate or something.”
Tori pressed the doorbell. She glanced back over her shoulder at Blake. “I’m sure it’s fate.” She grinned at her handsome cameraman. “It’s got to be, right?”
But when fate opened the door and appeared to be the most beautiful man Tori had ever seen, her heart dropped and her mouth went dry. He was tall, with rich mocha-colored skin and dark, deep-set eyes. His gaze was intense like the sharp angle of his nose, while his lips were the complete opposite, full and warm-looking. She swallowed back the lump in her throat as little shock waves rode up and down her extremities. The attraction—and maybe that wasn’t the right word for this insane heat rising through her body—shook her. One look at him, and he knocked her off her axis, sending her spiraling into a world she’d never known before. Blake’s words played in the back of her mind, something about fate. Tori drew in a breath as she wondered if he was right. Why else would she find herself so drawn to someone at just a glance?
“H-h-hi, I’m Tori.” She offered her hand. For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to accept her gesture, but then he clasped her hand. His clasp was firm but quick and gone before she realized she was still standing there with her hand in the air. “We’re here for Marcela.” She whipped her arm down.
“Yeah, I know.” He wasn’t rude, but he didn’t get out the welcome mat. He folded his arms across his chest.
Tori noticed the smooth definition in his forearms. What was she doing? She was here to congratulate her winner, not get all gooey-eyed over whoever this was.
“I’m Kael Santos, and Marcela is my daughter. Before you come in, you should know that I had no idea she entered your contest and I’m not sure that I want any part of this.”
Chapter Two
Design Tip
Be open to new ideas.
You might discover a style you never knew you liked.
“But I agreed to talk to you for my daughter’s sake.” The disdain in his voice hovered in the air around them. Tori’s stomach rolled as Kael looked her up and down. His name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall why.
If this was fate, he was certainly gorgeous, and the joke was on her. He was married and had an attitude, none of which she looked for in a man. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and see him for what he was … off-limits.
She was ready to take a step back when Tori felt Blake’s hand on the small of her back. Strengthened by his touch, she exhaled. “May I meet Marcela?” She looked up at Kael, this time ignoring his physical traits and focusing on the task at hand. “And would it be possible to meet Mrs. Santos?” Tori wondered if she might do well to speak to the girl’s mother instead of this barricade of unpleasantness.
The door swung wide open behind him, sending him off-balance, and Tori had to stifle a laugh by the look of surprise on Kael Santos’s face. A cute girl with the most intriguing hazel eyes greeted her.
“Oh my gosh! I can’t believe you’re here.” She bounded past her father and wrapped her arms around Tori. She smelled like vanilla lotion.
“I take it you’re Marcela.” Tori smiled, grateful that at least someone was happy to see her.
“Yup.” She grinned, and Tori noticed she had the same full lips as her father, along with his covetous skin tone. “I still can’t believe I won.”
“Well, believe it. I’m Tori and this is Blake.” She motioned to her side. “We’re thrilled to be here, but I want to make sure this is okay with your parents.” Tori’s eyes darted to Kael and then back down to his daughter.
“Okay.” Marcela tugged on her dad’s arm. “Come in.”
That seemed to remind Kael of his manners. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Come in.” He moved back, pressed against the door.
“My mom doesn’t live here cuz they’re divorced, so my dad just has to say it’s okay.” Marcela stepped into the room, and Tori followed. She wished she didn’t recognize that little jump in her gut as a spark when Marcela said that her father wasn’t married.
Tori saw Blake and Kael shake hands before Kael closed the door and they walked inside the living room. There was a couch and a love seat in beige microfiber set across from each other with a nondescript coffee table in the room. The carpet matched the furniture, and the walls were an eggshell white over a heavy texture. The mantel over the brick fireplace held several 5x7 framed pictures of Marcela.
Tori couldn’t help herself and walked over to take a look. “This is you?” She picked up the first frame and looked over at Marcela, who nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful baby.”
Marcela’s cheeks flushed. “That’s what my dad says.”
Tori glanced over at Kael, whose rough exterior melted the instant he saw the photograph in her hands. His dark eyes looked like deep wells full of emotions he tried to keep hidden beneath the surface. Tori’s heart skipped a beat as she saw how proud he was of his daughter.
To regain her composure, she looked back down at the baby picture. The miniature Marcela was more doll-like than human. Her angelic features were flawless, from her creamy cocoa skin and chubby cheeks to her captivating eyes that weren’t yet hazel but hinted at the possibility. She wore a pink dress with a bow in her hair, and that was the crazy thing. She couldn’t have been more than two months old, but her hair was long and thick.
“Look at your hair! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby with that much hair. It almost looks like a wig.”
Marcela beamed. “That’s what everyone says.”
“We couldn’t go anywhere without people stopping to look at her.” Kael crossed the room and stood beside Tori. “And everyone commented on her hair and said the very same thing you did.”
“I believe it. You were so cute.” Tori put the picture back up on the mantel. “And you still are. Tell me about yourself so we can decide what kind of style you like and what you would like in your room.”
Kael shifted his weight, reminding Tori he still wasn’t cool with the idea yet. “Let’s sit down and hear what your plan is.” He walked over and sat down on the couch, where Marcela joined him. Tori and Blake skirted around the coffee table to the love seat.
“I have a MyHeartChannel where I help people remodel rooms in their homes. Depending on who the client is, my budget varies, and sometimes there isn’t a budget and I just go in and help people make the best of what they have. Rearrange and relocate furniture, shop from room to room. You’d be amazed what you do with what you already have and a can of spray paint.”
“So, what are you planning to do to Marcela’s room, and how much will it cost me?” Kael’s dark brows knit together, and lines appeared across his forehead. “Because you’d need more than a can of spray paint around here.”
Tori laughed, and she relaxed when Kael joined her. “It won’t cost you anything, and I’ve never held a contest, so this is a first. I asked my viewers to let me know what their favorite project was I’ve done so far, and then I entered them in a drawing. The prize was for a thousand-dollar bedroom makeover.”
“And I won!” Marcela squeezed her dad’s knee.
“That much I’ve gathered. But what does this involve, and how long will it take?”
“This will be a fi
ve-episode project, so about three weeks. With your permission, I’d like to see Marcela’s room to get measurements and have an idea of the space I’ll be working with and spend a little time with Marcela to know what she likes and what her ideas are for her room.” She looked at Marcela. “After all, this is your room, and I want you to be happy when we’re all finished. That’s the most important goal I have: to give you a bedroom you absolutely adore.”
Marcela squirmed in her seat, a huge metal-toothed smile spreading across her face. “Please, please, Dad.” She tucked her arm through his. “I’ll do anything you want if you’ll please let Tori remodel my room.”
Kael gave his daughter a slanted look. “Anything?” Tori watched as Kael’s set jaw began to soften and the serious look in his eye faded. “You’ll clean the toilets without complaining?” He pulled his daughter closer and kissed the top of her head. All of Tori’s resolve not to notice Kael as anything other than the father of a client got lost as she soaked in the way he cared for Marcela.
“Yes.” The teenager’s eyes filled with hope, like balloons ready to soar or pop depending on his decision.
“I think …”
The front door flung open and a tornado burst through the door in the form of a small woman. “You’re still here.” She breezed into the room. “I was worried I’d miss you.” Her raisin-colored eyes were small and round and focused right on Tori. “I just love your show.”
“This is my Grandma Evelyn.”
Tori stood up and Evelyn took her in her arms. “I’m so happy to meet you. Marcela and I are your biggest fans.” The tiny woman smelled like roses and laundry detergent. Evelyn’s body reminded Tori of a ripe avocado: all soft and pliable on the outside, but at the core was a tough nut. Her hair was short with dark roots and bronze-colored highlights, twisting and turning around her head like natural curl had the steering wheel. Bright red lipstick perfectly lined her lips, and a little mole punctuated the right corner of her mouth, resembling an exclamation mark when she smiled. Evelyn released Tori from the embrace but still held on to her arms, where she inspected her like a long-lost relative. “Let me look at you. Oh, you’re as pretty as you are on the screen.”
Tori relaxed and laughed. “Thank you.”
“Mamãe, give the woman some space,” Kael spoke, and Evelyn dropped her arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so thrilled to meet you and for Marcela.” She glanced at her granddaughter. “This is a dream come true. When will you start her bedroom?”
“Oh, a …” Tori’s eyes darted to Kael and then back to Evelyn. “Mr. Santos still needs to approve the project.”
“What?” Evelyn turned to Kael, put her hands on her ample hips, and rattled off a series of words in another language, but no interpretation was needed to get the gist. Tori looked over at Blake and smiled.
Kael raised his hands and surrendered. “Okay, you win.”
Evelyn straightened her shoulders and grinned at Tori before she took a seat on the couch beside Marcela, who promptly hugged her grandma. “Grandma speaks Portuguese when she’s mad at my dad.”
“A man knows when he’s outnumbered.” Kael bent forward and rested his arms on his knees and looked up at Tori. “I guess you better get started.”
* * *
Kael leaned against the wall in the hallway as everyone else congregated in Marcela’s room to take measurements and talk about color schemes. He stayed out. He knew when to step in where his daughter was concerned and when there was no ground to stand on. He didn’t know anything about decorating or design, and that was okay with him. Even if Kael did try to offer his opinion, he’d be wasting his breath. He was a grown man, but he wasn’t fooling anyone when it came to his mother. She was still the boss. Besides, he didn’t like the way the decorator unnerved him. He was all jittery inside, like the switch he’d turned off the day he signed his name on the divorce papers had suddenly been turned back on with one look at her. This was not like him, and he wanted to stay as far away from her as possible.
Blake appeared in the doorway as he tucked a tape measure in his pocket. “You don’t want to be part of the design process?”
Kael laughed. “And you think they’d listen to anything I have to say?”
“Well, I can’t say about your mom and daughter, but I know Tori would listen.”
“As long as Marcela’s happy, I guess anything is fine with me.” He gestured towards the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.” Blake nodded. “Lead the way.”
“Sorry I don’t have much to offer.” Kael stood with the door open. “Looks like I’ve got a bottle of water, some Gatorade, milk, or a Mountain Dew.”
“I’ll take a bottle of water.”
“Have a seat.” Kael took the cold bottle from the fridge and placed the water on the counter in front of Blake as he slid onto the stool. The guy was much shorter than Kael, but he was muscular. “So how long have you been working with Tori?” He grabbed a can of Mountain Dew for himself and popped the top.
Blake twisted the lid and took a drink. “About two years now. I do some graphic designing on the side, but this is my main gig. What do you do for a living?”
“I own a local sporting goods store.”
“That’s cool. I like this town.”
Kael set the can down. “Yeah, it’s nice. A great place to raise a kid.”
The girls came into the kitchen, and Tori met his gaze. There wasn’t much to her; she wasn’t a curvy girl, more like a ballerina, with long legs even though she wasn’t necessarily tall. Her blonde hair brushed her shoulders and framed her heart-shaped face, but it was her deep-set eyes that captured his attention. They were so green he wondered if she was wearing colored contacts. When she spoke, they became animated, and he found himself immersed in the action, which he found deeply disturbing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d noticed a woman. Somehow, he had to flip the switch off again.
“I’ll bring the paperwork by tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Tori stood next to Blake.
Kael stood up, very aware that his heart rate sped up. “What time?”
“Would it be possible to meet early afternoon?” Her alluring eyes taunted him even though she wasn’t intending to. How could a woman walk around with eyes like that and not be a distraction? No wonder people watched her show, never mind whether she was good or not.
“If you come by the sporting goods store.”
“Sporting goods—” Tori raised her brow.
“He owns the sporting goods store here in town,” Blake said like he was Kael’s lifelong friend.
“Oh, okay.” Tori tucked her hair behind her ears. “Can I get your number?”
Kael couldn’t remember the last time he’d given out his number to a beautiful woman. He reminded himself this wasn’t like that. Even if he was interested, which he wasn’t, he didn’t have the luxury of dating and wasn’t sure he wanted to if he did have the time. He was attracted to her and that was that, and she’d be gone from his life in three weeks. He drew in a breath and gave her his number while he silently counted all the reasons he shouldn’t want to kiss the decorator.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Tori interrupted his thoughts as she tucked her phone in her pocket.
“Okay, that sounds good.” Kael folded his arms and said a little prayer that she wasn’t a mind reader. Because right now, what he really wanted to know was if she would kiss him back.
Chapter Three
Design Tip
Don’t blow things out of proportion.
Let space size dictate furniture placement and proportion.
She couldn’t get Kael’s face out of her head, and not just because of his good looks. There was something about him that seemed so familiar, like she recognized him from somewhere. Tori dropped Blake off at his apartment and drove home, ready to be done for the day. She wanted to put Kael Santos out of her head, but she couldn’t until she did some investigating and figured out whe
re she’d seen him before.
Her house was a three-bedroom, cottage-style home. The small front porch was covered with an A-frame that jutted off the main roof and was supported by two brick pillars. The house itself was painted a slate blue with grey and white accents. There was an upper floor with one large room she’d turned into her office/studio/workplace. Anything and everything related to the show was kept up there. She had a sewing machine in one corner with an ironing board and a long folding table to the side. Pictures and magazine clippings were plastered on one wall she’d covered in corkboard. There were even bits of labels beneath pushpins. She collected anything that inspired her, whether it was the color of a napkin or the font labeling on a can. When she worked, things got messy, so she liked the idea of containing the mess to one area. A desk with her computer sat in the alcove, where she could look out the window if she ever sat down long enough.
Tori parked her car in the garage and reached for her bag. The huge tote was her saving grace, holding everything but the kitchen sink. She kept her wallet, papers, makeup, an industrial stapler, a tape measure, a glue gun with extra glue sticks, scraps of fabric, paint swatches, carpet remnants, and pieces of wood flooring. Blake said she could carry a body in there and no one would be the wiser. Maybe he was right.
Her phone rang as she unlocked the door. She managed to drop the tote on the counter, locate the phone, and press talk before the ringing stopped.
“Hey, what’s up?” Tori tapped the speaker button, and her best friend Carley’s voice filled the room. Carley and Tori met at university their freshman year. Carley was a pediatric nurse practitioner and pregnant with her first child. She’d married Tom, her high school sweetheart, and they lived on the other side of Portland.
