“Could you please tell Becka I can’t make it for lunch? I have to take a couple ladies into town for their medical appointments. When I get back, I’ll call her and we can talk then.”
He wouldn’t have believed it, but apparently there was a plug somewhere in the chest, and she’d just uncorked it. A cool disappointment dribbled into his stomach. “Sure, I’ll let her know.”
“Thank you.” And she hung up.
His mom’s head appeared around the corner. “Twila,” he said, disconnecting from the call. “She has to take some ladies to their appointments. She can’t make it for lunch. She’ll call you later.” He got up. “Think I’ll finish laying the tiles in your patio.”
He didn’t want to look at his mother. She had the weird ability to sense his emotions, and he didn’t particularly want to see the expression which he knew would be pinned on her. He was thirty-five-fucking-years old, and he felt like he’d just been dumped by his prom date.
Brick by brick, he filled in the new patio and set his mind on his business, but something, or someone lingered at the edge of his thoughts.
Chapter Five
Drake heard the rumble of Heather’s Corvette as it parked in the driveway and gave his mother a shrewd glance. She had a deadly tongue and it could slice and dice with accuracy. He opened the front door with half a hope Heather had to cancel because of a modeling shoot.
“Baby,” Heather squealed as she stretched her long legs from the car. She ran into his arms and planted a long, sexy kiss on him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
Heather’s low-cut, leather top and skirt, wrapped her ultra-thin body like a second skin. He leaned away and gazed into her heavily shadowed eyes. Long fake lashes blinked at him. Not a hair was out of place, and it rained down like a sheet of black silk.
“I’ve missed you, baby. Why don’t you take me in to say hello and then we can get outta here. My parents are in Miami. The mansion’s empty. We can have a pool party for two,” she said, running a long fingernail across his jaw.
He backed away from her. “Maybe later,” he said. “Mom’s going crazy in the kitchen cooking up a storm and Dad’s got a list a mile long to get done before tonight.”
Heather’s head tilted. “Why doesn’t she cater the party? I could call someone.”
Heather pulled her phone, but he stayed her hand. “Because Mom likes cooking, and she’s good at it.”
Heather rolled her eyes and shook her mane of hair. “Not me. I firmly believe in hired help.” She gripped his hand. “I hope you still love me even if I’m not Martha Stewart?”
Heather hadn’t done a day’s hard work in her life. She spent most of her time shopping, primping herself, or sun bathing. When she modeled, others did the primping for her.
“I’m sure your parents won’t mind if I steal you for a while. I haven’t seen you in a week.” She leaned into his ear. “I need you inside me, Drake. I’m dripping wet.”
“Drake!”
His mother called from the front door. Relieved by the intervention because Heather had a way of talking his cock into action, he drew back.
“Becka,” Heather gushed. “Happy birthday. We’re so excited to celebrate today with you.” Heather slipped her arm through his and plastered herself to his side.
His mother coiled a cool smile on her lips. “Thank you, dear. I’m afraid we’re all very busy right now. The guests are coming in a few hours. Lots of work to be done yet.”
“I wanted to steal your son for a while. We haven’t seen each other in two weeks.”
His mother’s face broke into a huge smile, and he pondered that for a split second until he realized what had turned his mother’s frown into elation.
“Twila,” his mom called warmly.
Twila wandered up the driveway. A tropical blue dress with a hem just above her knees swayed as she walked in a pair of sensible shoes. Beautiful dark curls toppled from a loose bunching on her head, and she wore a pair of simple pearl studs. In her arms, she carried a large pot with a healthy green plant sprouting out of it. He couldn’t believe she’d lugged the thing all the way from her place.
“Hi, Becka. This was one of Mom’s. I thought you might like it.”
“That is so thoughtful, thank you,” his mother said, greeting her with a warm hug.
He could see Twila’s arms straining to hold the pot and so did his mother.
“Drake, could you help Twila, please?”
“Who’s that?” Heather asked tightly.
He forgot to answer, instead his feet moved toward Twila without pause.
Twila darted a glance at him. “I’ve got it. I’ll just put it inside.”
He gently gripped her forearm. When she turned her beautiful eyes on him, he felt a little drunk staring into them. “I’ll take it.” She released her hold as he clutched the cumbersome plant, and he didn’t miss the little sigh of relief. He offered her a knowing grin, but she didn’t smile back. Instead, she looked away from him. Again.
Twila turned for the door, but Heather stepped in her way. “Hi, I’m Heather DeCourcy.” Her expression wore a smile, but her eyes were predatory as she loomed over Twila, being a tall woman.
“Twila Carlisle.”
Heather surveyed her. “You’re a little young to be retired, aren’t you?”
She backed up a pace. “I’m just helping out with Becka’s birthday.”
Heather gave her a pasty smile. “You’re the hired help. Of course.” Heather turned to Becka. “By the way, my parents send their best wishes, Becka. Oh! I almost forgot, their present is in the car. I’m sure you’ll love it, Mother’s gifts are always exquisite.”
His mother wrapped an arm around Twila and guided her toward the entrance. “Thank you, Heather, that’s kind of your parents to think of me. I have an extra apron if you’d like to lend a hand.”
Following them in, Heather said, “Oh I’d love to, but I’m going to steal Drake for lunch.” Her eyes settled on Twila’s back as his mother drew her to safety. “I found this amazing, romantic place near Vero Beach, darling.”
Drake settled the plant near the window. “I’ll take a rain check, Heather.” He wanted her the hell out before Heather turned on the heat. Guys would go to the ends of the earth to avoid a cat fight. He sensed Twila was a quiet creature compared to Heather’s billboard sized aura. Besides, whether Heather liked it or not, he was deferring to family. He hardly saw them, and every time he came, he noticed his folks aging quicker than he wanted to admit.
He drew Heather outside and angled toward her car. “I’m gonna hang with the folks. They need a hand.”
Heather had already opened her door, thinking he was coming. When he gave her the heave-ho, she slammed it shut and slowly turned toward him. Planting her hands on her hips, she glared. “Seriously? Drake, it’s been two weeks. Your mother has a servant to help her. What are you going to do, shuck peas for her?”
His hackles rose straight up his spine, but not because of her insult to him. “Twila…isn’t a servant. She’s a friend.”
“I hope when you say friend, you’re talking about your mother.”
Drake opened the car door, giving her a hint without him having to spell it out. “Yes, Mom’s friend. She and Mom became close when Twila’s mother died a few months ago. She doesn’t have any family close by.”
Heather’s expression wilted, but he sensed it was all for show. “Oh, my goodness. That’s terrible. That poor girl. I can see why she’s sucking up to your mom.”
Sucking up! He practically shoved Heather into her car and closed the door with a solid thud. “Later.”
Before he took a step, Heather grabbed his hand. “Baby, I’ve made you mad. I’m sorry. I just get a little crazy when I don’t see you for a while. Maybe we should think about changing our living arrangements then it wouldn’t be such a strain.”
Man, he hated pet names. Heather was always calling him babe or baby. What the fuck for? Never in his life had he ever had
the inclination to call a woman anything other than her real name. Heather stared up at him with an innocent, big-eyed expression. When tears brimmed in them, he felt like an ass. He was making too much out of this. He leaned over and kissed her. “We’ll talk later, Heather, okay. It’s Mom’s day, and I want to make it a good one.”
She turned the key sporting a baby-girl smile. The woman had a warehouse full of them, and she pulled the one she needed from an endless supply.
“I know. You’re such a sweetie, and sexy,” she said, winking at him. “I can’t wait until we make things more permanent between us.” She threw her arm over the seat and backed out.
He watched her go, and gave a short wave when she fluttered her fingers and blew him a kiss.
With a few long strides, he entered the house and heard two women giggling like school girls in the kitchen. He grabbed the corner and swung in for a look. They both turned to stare at him, but his eyes connected with Twila.
“You look hot, son. Twila can get you something. Won’t you, dear?” and his mother promptly left the room.
Twila gave a worried look over her shoulder when his mother abandoned her. He took a step into the kitchen, and she immediately opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass. She seemed nervous, and that was just—sweet. “How are the muscles?” he asked, grinning at her.
Twila hurriedly filled the glass with ice and added water. “Fine.”
Her voice had a comforting tone that matched her pretty features. It reverberated inside him with kindness not like Heather’s jarring trill. She wasn’t shy. Something else made her throw up a shroud. The idea that she didn’t want him to see her popped into his head.
“I’m going to find out what’s next on the to-do list,” she said, trying to make a quick get-away.
“I had easier Warrant Officers in the Marines. She’s gonna run us ragged, so pace yourself.”
She bit down on a little grin and left.
He picked up the water and downed it quickly, but it didn’t quench his thirst. With a little jerk of his head and refilling the glass, he felt pretty proud of himself. He’d finally coaxed a smile from her.
For the next three hours his mother had Twila, his father and him, running every which way. He took three trips to the store. Every time he returned, relief washed through him, seeing Twila still there. Twila never balked at his mother’s requests. Maybe it was her training in dealing with old folks, but she was attentive to both of them and when she smiled it came from an honest place, but she was most assuredly ignoring him.
His mother pulled a tray of something delicious from the oven and Twila carefully arranged the one-bite wonders on a colorful platter as they bantered about the residents in the park. A dishrag sat on Twila’s shoulder and a few wisps of hair had come free to tickle her nose. He grinned seeing her lift her shoulder to move them away, and his mom sweeping them behind Twila’s ear for her. Mom had never said she missed having a daughter, but she sure looked like she’d adopted Twila.
His mother whirled around, both hands slapping her cheeks. “Drake, Twila, I just remembered. Mrs. McNaughty has a couple boxes of decorations for me. Would you two be sweet enough to go get them?”
“I’ll get them,” Twila piped up.
His mother slid the dish towel from Twila’s shoulder and said, “They’re too cumbersome for you. Take Drake with you. You don’t mind do you, dear? They’re at the clubhouse in the back room where all the cleaning supplies are.”
“We’re on it, Mom.”
Twila nodded, but looked uncomfortable at the thought. Holding the car door open for her, his stomach knotted seeing her pull those legs in and arrange her dress neatly beside her. He had a thing for women with great legs, and Twila’s were about the best he’d seen. Heather’s were more like skin wrapped around bone. He liked a little flesh. Catching himself comparing the women, he gave his head a shake.
For a Saturday afternoon, there wasn’t much activity at the clubhouse. “This way,” Twila said, heading toward the back of the large auditorium the park used for weddings and funerals. He followed her down a dim hallway, and although he tried like hell not to, his eyes kept riveting themselves to the sway of her hips. Twila stopped in front of a door and then disappeared inside. Flicking a switch, a small bulb lit, but didn’t shed a lot of light.
“These say McNaughty on them.” She pointed at two boxes stuffed in the corner.
“I’ll get them.” With little room, he slid past, and his hips brushed against her ass. A quiver of excitement shot through his chest and landed squarely on his dick. She froze for an instant and then nearly vaulted from the tiny room.
“Let’s bring them into the light and see what’s inside. Maybe we don’t have to take it all,” she suggested, and disappeared from the doorway.
Twila waited in the auditorium near a folding table. “I’ll get the other box.” When he returned Twila’s hand covered her mouth, smothering a laugh.
“What is it?”
She reached in the box and pulled out a fist full of party decorations in raging pink and purple. He laughed as well. Twila must have known, like he did, his mother hated pink and the only thing she hated more than pink was purple.
“Okay, so that’s not gonna work.” Twila’s smiling eyes met his, and his heart lurched in his chest.
“Definitely not,” she said.
He closed the box. “Looks like we’re taking a drive to a party supply depot.”
He put the roof down so they could enjoy the afternoon sun. With his hand on the key, he waited until she’d buckled in before starting the car.
“We should drop by and tell Becka we’ll be back soon.”
A golf cart rolled past at a slow pace, and he waited until it was well clear before pulling away from the edge. “Don’t think we’ll be gone long.” If he called, he’d just be getting his mother’s hopes up with visions of grandchildren dancing in her head.
Heading east on the US Highway One, he ventured a few glances her way. Twila wasn’t a talker like Heather. Often, he wondered why the woman couldn’t stand silence. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it. “Thanks for helping Mom, Twila. I know today isn’t the only day you’ve come to her rescue.” She nodded and offered an amiable smile, then put her eyes on the road. The sun struck her soft curls and they practically sparkled underneath the rays.
“I think there’s a supply store on the right a few miles ahead,” she said, never taking her eyes off the road.
“Let’s drop by a liquor store, first. I should pick up—” he stopped himself before saying he needed to get some Patron for Heather. The woman drank like a fish. She could put half his Marine buddies under the table. “I should get some of Mom’s favorite wine.”
“Good idea. The Wine Barn has everything.”
“Show me the way.”
They parked in the lot, and when she didn’t make a move to get out, he said, “Come with me.”
She shrugged and joined him. As they walked toward the entrance a couple guys in their twenties exited the store. Both of them put a bead on Twila. Drake’s brow lifted when one of the guys darted a look at him then nudged his friend who hadn’t stopped staring at Twila. It wasn’t a reaction he was prepared for, but his hand slipped to the hollow of her back. With a gentle press, he guided her through the doors. He knew damn well if he turned, those assholes would be checking out her ass. He almost cursed out loud when he cranked his head while Twila reached for the basket, oblivious to the guy’s attentions. Sure enough, both of them were ogling her, but turned quickly, being caught in the act. Men had dropped a jaw or two when he’d been with Heather, but it never bothered him, not like that display just did.
“What does she like to drink?”
“What?” His gaze whipped back to see her big, whisky eyes staring up at him. Instead of repeating herself she continued to wait for his answer. “Umm, yeah, she likes a Gayot, Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Twila slid her arm through the basket and held it against her,
reminding him of Little Red Riding Hood with her pretty features and the curls that had escaped to frame her oval face.
“Sorry, I don’t really know where that is.”
“We’ll find it, come on.”
While he browsed the Cabs, Twila stepped away and surveyed the liquor inside a locked glass case. After picking a couple of bottles, he joined her. “Anything interesting?”
She shook her head. “These prices are crazy. Who would pay that for alcohol?” she muttered more to herself.
He smiled down at her. Admitting he did, wouldn’t be wise. By the look on her face, she thought it was a terrible waste of money. Mostly, he bought it for Heather. She had Champagne tastes. No matter what she drank; it had to be the best. He loved a good scotch himself, but he really was a chip off the old block, like his dad, and a cold beer ended a long day on a good note. “I’ve got the wine. Is there anything you want?”
His pulse sped up when she turned her gaze on him. An awkward ache had him wanting to rub his chest.
“No, I’m on duty tonight.”
She turned away from him, and he wondered why she never gave him more than a fleeting glance. He never thought of himself as having a big ego, but Twila never spending any eye time on him, kinda bugged him.
Walking toward the registers, Twila suddenly veered off. He did a double take to see why she’d left his side. An elderly man with a basket and a cane shuffled down the aisle, his basket overloaded for the little strength he had left in his aging arms.
“I can give you a hand with that,” she said, reaching for the basket, and then crooked her arm for him to slip through hers for support.
The old boy gave her a grateful smile. Twila suddenly found her voice and asked him where he lived and if he had a way of getting home. A lot of the older folks still drove. They might not walk with sure steps, but they hung onto their driver’s licenses as long as possible. It was obvious the old guy loved the attention of the beautiful and warm Twila. They chatted like old friends by the time they reached the front, and Twila unloaded his basket for him.
She finally spared Drake a quick look as he slid the bottles of wine onto the cashier’s counter. “I’m going to help Mr. Grenville to his car. I’ll meet you outside.”
Twila's Tempest Page 5
