Negotiating for Love

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Martina waved her off. “Yeah, whatever.”

  Months ago, Christina had started learning a new word a day and had since tortured everyone with words that most people rarely used.

  “It’s good Davion gave us a heads up that the owner wanted the den painted first. Otherwise, it would have been a pain to cover all of his furniture and equipment.”

  “I know,” Christina agreed. “We should be able to finish everything we have to do up here before the end of the week. Hopefully, more items won’t be delivered before then.”

  “Hopefully. Are you able to start on the master bedroom and bathroom this morning? Davion mentioned that the owner would be back in town at the end of next week. Even if everything isn’t totally done by then, let’s make sure the most important spaces are completed.”

  “I agree. There’ll be three painters here today, and Ben Jr. will be here in the next couple of days to help us knock everything out. I’ll start in the master bedroom.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Martina followed her into the master suite and leaned against the doorjamb, her hands shoved into the back pockets of her dark jeans.

  “I see you’re still envisaging this place as your own,” Christina commented.

  Envisaging? Martina didn’t bother asking what it meant, not wanting to encourage her to use more of those words.

  “You have that wistful look on your face that you’ve been wearing for the last few days.”

  “Is it that noticeable?” Martina asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Every time I walk in here, I think about that large soaking tub Toni and her crew installed the other day. If I had a bathroom like that, I would never leave home. The only thing missing is a big screen TV in front of the tub.”

  Christina laughed. They all knew how much Martina loved sports. Outside of having dinner with the family on Sundays, her weekends were usually filled with sitting in front of the television watching football or basketball. Now that it was football season that’s all she thought about. Well, that and Paul.

  The constant thoughts of him weren’t plaguing her mind as much as they were a few weeks ago. But often enough. Since he had stopped calling, she felt that she had some of her control back. Though, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him just disappearing again. Part of her was glad he had moved on. Yet, there was another part of her that missed him like crazy. Had it not been for that kiss—

  “Don’t you have work to do? Or are you ruminating about all that you could be doing with the handsome Senator, who shall remain nameless since I don’t want you to go off on me.”

  Martina didn’t embarrass easily, but she felt like crap the way she verbally attacked her cousins the day Paul kissed her. She had been thrown off kilter after leaving the coffee shop and still hadn’t fully recovered when she attended Sunday brunch later that day at her grandparent’s house. Her cousins immediately assumed her behavior had something to do with Paul.

  “So?” Christina drew out the word, pulling Martina back to the present.

  “So you’re right, about me having work to do. And on that note, I’m outta here. Oh and for the record. I was daydreaming about what it would be like to live here.” It wasn’t a total lie. Living in this home would be a dream come true.

  “Uh huh,” her cousin said unconvinced. “Well, get to work, but don’t stop dreaming. This could be you one of these days.”

  “Ha! Yeah right.”

  Chapter Seven

  The following week, Martina did a quick walk through of the Mt. Adams home. After a long day, they finally finished everything. Everyone else had left, but she was waiting for Davion to conduct the final walk through.

  Martina stepped out onto the upper level back balcony, taking in the fresh air and gentle breeze that caressed her face. Her curls whipped around, and she pushed a few strands away from her eyes as she soaked in the last bit of paradise.

  “One day I’m going to have something like this,” she said quietly. All she had to do was stick to her financial plan and a home like this could be hers.

  Martina turned when she heard a sound from the first floor. So caught up in her thoughts, she temporarily forgot she was waiting for Davion.

  Martina re-entered the house and headed for the stairs, but slowed when she smelled food. The scent of barbecue eased up the staircase and had her mouth-watering with each step. She’d skipped lunch in an effort to get everything done on time, and her stomach had been growling for the past hour.

  “Hello,” she called out when she hit the bottom step but didn’t see anyone.

  She rounded the corner into the kitchen and gasped, her hand hovering over her chest.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Shock kept her rooted in place. “How did you get in?”

  “I live here.”

  Paul loomed near the front door, his wide shoulders spanning the width of the doorway. Despite the initial shock of seeing him, butterflies fluttered around in her gut. The man was built more like a football linebacker than a U.S. Senator.

  His last comment snapped her back to the issue at hand.

  I live here.

  He moved slowly toward her as she tried to process his words. Her mind conjured up every conversation she’d had with Davion throughout the project attempting to recall any clue to Paul’s claim.

  “Hello, Martina.”

  Damn that voice.

  “Don’t hello, Martina me. You own this place? You’re the friend Davion kept referring to?” She continued to stare at Paul as she tried to wrap her brain around the fact that he owned this dream house. She knew he had done well reinvesting a portion of the trust fund he had received when he turned twenty-five, but she was stunned that he purchased this gem.

  “Yes. I’m the owner.”

  Her brows drew together. “Why? Why would you—”

  “Before you say anything else … or throw something at me, let me explain.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me!” Martina headed to the door where she left her equipment. “The job is done, and I’m out of here. I don’t have time to take part in whatever game you’re running. I—”

  “Wait.” He grabbed hold of her hand just as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the tool bucket, an electric current skittering up her arm. She wasn’t surprised that his touch sent heat shooting through her body, but she ignored her body’s reaction. All she wanted to do was get the heck out of there. “Just hear me out.” Paul’s voice was low and pleading. She had to admit she was curious as to why he felt a need to hide behind Davion to get this project done.

  She noticed the insulated food carrier on a nearby table and a picnic basket in the hand that wasn’t covering hers.

  Paul set the basket on the table next to the other container. The scent of food reached her brain, and of course, her stomach chose that moment to growl.

  “Why, Paul?”

  “I know Jenkins & Sons is the best construction company in the city. And the fact that you are the best damn carpenter there is, it was a no-brainer. I had to hire your family’s company.”

  He gestured for her to take a seat in the sitting area closest to the front door. After a slight hesitation, she moved to one of the chairs.

  “I don’t like games, Paul.”

  “I know, baby. I wasn’t running a game. You left me no choice since you were avoiding my calls. It was either this,” he waved his hands in the air gesturing around the room, “or sit outside your house every day and stalk you. And besides, I didn’t want to risk you or your family declining my project.”

  “Well you clearly don’t know the Jenkins family,” she murmured and crossed her legs. “There’s no way Peyton would let a job this size slip out of the company’s hands. She might have assigned a different carpenter, but no way would she have turned it down.”

  The left corner of his lips lifted into a half smile. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “So was Peyton and Toni in
on this … this little charade or whatever you want to call it?”

  Paul shook his head and sat across from her. “No.”

  For the first time since walking down the stairs, she took a good look at him. His eyes weren’t as vibrant as usual, and the scruff on his cheek and chin were thicker than the last time she’d seen him. No doubt he was tired and knowing him, he had probably been putting in long hours, sacrificing sleep.

  She shook her head and stood abruptly. His well-being wasn’t her problem.

  He stood as well. “Martina, please don’t leave until we talk.”

  “Paul, we have nothing to talk about. Have you been in politics so long that now you’re into deceiving people? Not caring who might get hurt in the process. A regular chip off the old block, huh?”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. A heatwave of shame traveled through her body.

  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” She watched as a range of emotions flitted across his face. She couldn’t believe she’d said that to him. The last year of his father’s term in the Senate had been overshadowed by a scandal. The senior Kendricks had lied about accepting donations from a foreign country. Instead of admitting his involvement, he let his intern take the fall. It wasn’t until an investigation into the situation revealed that Paul Kendricks Sr. was behind the mess.

  “That’s even low for you,” Paul finally said and put some distance between them. From day one of his Senate term, he worked his butt off to prove to the country that he was not his father.

  “I’ll admit I probably should have tried to get your attention a different way, but I would never deceive anyone to the point of someone getting hurt.” As was the case with his father. Many people had lost their jobs.

  “I know, and I really am sorry I said that. But why’d you lie? Why go through all of this?”

  “I never lied about anything. My only deception is that I had Davion filling in for me.”

  He really hadn’t done anything wrong. Davion lied about meeting her at the house tonight and as far as she knew, he hadn’t lied about anything else.

  “You know what, Paul? Before I say something else inappropriate, I’m leaving. I don’t care why you felt a need to hide behind someone else to get your house renovated.”

  Actually, she really did care, but right now, being this close to him, she could barely think straight.

  She grabbed her jacket from a hook near the door and lifted the pail of tools. Paul followed her out the door.

  “Would you just calm down and wait?”

  Martina stored the items in the back of the van and slammed the door.

  “Wait for what? I don’t like games, Paul. So—”

  “Don’t you?” He stepped in front of her, blocking her from climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’re the queen of games. I’d think something like this would be right up your alley.”

  Fury stirred in her gut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re about to piss me off. So trust me, it’ll be best for both of us if I leave before I do something to you that I might or might not regret.”

  “Was any of it real, Martina? Or, was I just a means to satisfy your insatiable sexual appetite?”

  That stopped her. She wasn’t sure how to respond. The fury stirring inside of her only moments ago had quickly turned into something else. Frustration. Disappointment. Longing.

  How could he even ask her that? He had to know how hard it was for her to walk away from him back then, but she had to. She had to protect herself. She had to protect her heart.

  Staring at him now, she still wasn’t sure how to respond without him thinking that she wanted them to try again. Sure she could admit that he was the only man who satisfied her completely. But no way would she admit that she had done something as stupid as fall in love with him.

  She turned from the van but didn’t close the driver’s side door. “I cared about you, Paul, but we had an agreement.”

  “Oh yes, the agreement. What was it again?” He moved closer, invading her personal space. “That we would continue our secret affair with no strings attached? That we would agree not to fall in love even though we had so much in common, had the best conversations, enjoyed the same things, and had an incredible sex life? Is that the agreement you’re speaking of?”

  Martina sighed loudly. “Don’t do this.” She wasn’t admitting anything, to anyone. She vowed years ago that she wouldn’t fall into that vicious cycle that many women fell into. Meet a great guy. Have a good time. Fall in love. Get dumped. Then start all over again.

  “Come back inside with me. We need to talk about what happened. Once and for all. And if you come inside, I’ll tell you about the house… ‘cause I know you’re curious.”

  She heard the humor in his last comment, which she appreciated. No doubt the conversation wasn’t over, but she welcomed his effort to lighten the moment. They had only known each other six months before their split, but he knew her. He knew her better than most. And he knew that she had an infatuation with homes, especially a home as spectacular as this one.

  Martina pulled her bottom lip between her teeth trying to decide if sharing a meal with him was a good idea. But then her stomach betrayed her, rumbling so loud it interrupted the quietness outside.

  “Come on. I know you’re hungry after a long day of work. I made barbecue spare ribs, pasta salad, asparagus wrapped in bacon…”

  Martina stopped listening after bacon. Unfortunately, he knew there was nothing she loved more than food, except for maybe sex and football.

  “Oh and I think there are some chocolate chip walnut cookies in the basket.” He slowly reached for her hand and squeezed. “Don’t make me eat alone.”

  Between the hypnotic scent of his cologne, his gentle touch, and that smooth baritone voice that sent delicious shivers through her body at his last statement, she was about ready to follow him to the ends of the earth.

  Her stomach rumbled again.

  Paul smiled. “I assume that’s a yes?”

  “Don’t be a smartass.” She allowed him to lead her back into the house.

  So much for maintaining control.

  She shook the thought loose. She was an independent, intelligent, strong woman. Strong enough to still be in control … and have dinner with him without falling for him again.

  At least she hoped.

  Chapter Eight

  “Let’s eat at the island.”

  Paul grabbed the food containers and followed her into the kitchen unable to stop checking out her backside. Besides Martina, there wasn’t a woman alive who could make a pair of jeans look that good. He might have been tired, but the sight of her apple-shaped derriere was giving him renewed energy.

  His gaze slid lower to her work boots, and a smile pulled at his lips. Those dirty, well-worn, sexy as hell steel-toe boots still had the ability to stir something erotic in him. He especially liked when she wore them with denim shorts.

  He mentally slapped himself when a burst of lust shot through him, and he absently licked his lips. He needed to keep his head on straight. Getting her to stay for dinner was only half the battle. Now he wanted to find out what her real issue with commitment was about and convince her to give them another chance.

  But he planned to take things slow with her this time around. He wanted forever and knew he was going to have to tap into every bit of patience he had.

  “By the way, the place looks great,” Paul said when they sat at the kitchen island. The high back bar stools were perfect for the space.

  “That’s right, you haven’t seen it … or have you?”

  He hesitated. “I stopped by late one night. Maybe once we finish eating, you can give me the grand tour. I hear that you designed and built this island.”

  “Yeah and considering your deception, I should rip it out and let you sit on the floor. I should walk out that door and never look back.”

  “But you won’t. At least not until you taste th
e ribs and everything else I made especially for you.”

  He pulled dishes out of the basket and by her silence, she wasn’t going anywhere. At least not until she ate.

  “Well … you’re lucky I’m hungry. Besides, you owe me.” She accepted the paper plate of food.

  “I owe you for what?”

  “For all the extra work I did around here. I added some special touches. You’ll soon see my team and I outdid ourselves.”

  She bit into the rib. Lust swirled through his body, jumpstarting desire that had laid dormant since she walked out of his life. Watching her eat was an event in itself. Her eyes slid closed, and she groaned with pleasure. The sexy sounds soaked into his pores. It was taking everything within him not to pull her into his arms and devour her mouth.

  “Good, huh?”

  “Everything is delicious. I see you still have skills.”

  He chuckled. “And I’m glad to see you still have a healthy appetite. I love feeding you.”

  He took the fork from her, scooped up the baked beans, and held the utensil to her lips. Their gazes met, and something passed between them. Something he couldn’t quite identify. Maybe awareness. Like him, she probably recalled how sharing a meal used to be between them.

  After a long pause, Martina glanced at the fork laden with food and opened for him. The slow, sultry way her mouth slid over the fork was almost his undoing. His throat went dry, and his jeans suddenly felt a little too tight in a certain area.

  Served him right for feeding her, knowing that watching her eat was a serious turn on.

  He lowered the fork to the plate and stood.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He headed for the front door, needing some air, a chance to pull himself together. Good thing he left a small cooler of drinks in his SUV. By the time he grabbed the drinks and sucked in a few cleansing breaths, he was ready to go back inside.

  “You look exhausted,” Martina said when he stepped back into the kitchen. As if on cue, he yawned.