by Rita Herron
* * *
Lance rubbed a calloused hand over his forehead, still reeling from the day's problems as he settled into the armchair in his bedroom to rest. Why the hell couldn't something go right on this project?
Today the real-estate agent manning the front office had quit, he'd discovered low-quality materials had been sent in place of the expensive wood he'd ordered, and two of the near-completed houses had suffered water damage from hot-water heaters that had burst in the night. The carpet, which had just been laid the day before, would all have to be replaced as well as the wallpaper Maddie had just had hung. And his company would eat the money. It seemed they were either jinxed or doomed to miss their deadlines, and the tour was creeping up on them. Could their problems be a fluke or was something else happening? Sophie's talk of ghosts flitted through his head. Maybe the project was haunted.
Really, he must be losing it.
His hand fell on the wooden box he'd found in his father's things, and he grimaced, deciding he might as well open it and see what he had to deal with. When Maddie had moved into her own apartment, she'd plowed through the attic of their old home, searching for some old folk art for her new apartment. The pieces she'd selected were so garish, no wonder he doubted her judgment as a decorator. While helping her search through their parents' belongings, he'd discovered some interesting things as well. Things that had shocked him. The letters from Maria. The catalog. And this box. The box he'd avoided opening until now.
With sweating fingers, he jammed the key inside the lock and slowly lifted the lid. His eyes widened at the sight inside. An assortment of Playboy magazines. No big surprise. His dad had been a healthy male, albeit a respectable doctor. But he'd been young once.
Bottles of body gel in fluorescent colors. Scented, edible undies?
Sweat pooled on his forehead and rolled down his jaw.
A black silk mask. Feathers. A red silk jock strap with a picture of a devil on the crotch. A book of naughty sex games. A video entitled Deep Throat and Peter the Pumpkin-Eater.
Jesus, what was his father doing with all this... this stuff? Had he been into weird, kinky sex with this woman Maria?
The phone rang, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. He slammed the box lid and stared at it guiltily.
The noise trilled again, and he contemplated letting it ring. But he remembered all his problems at work and reached for the handset, knowing if something had gone wrong that required his immediate attention, he couldn't ignore it. "Hello."
"Hey, there."
Sophie Lane's sultry voice spilled over the line. What the hell did she want? He dropped the box on the floor, shuddering when the top flew off and a vibrator rolled across the floor. He jerked up the plastic dildo, locked it in the box and quickly shoved the offensive treasure chest out of sight, unable to imagine his father with the sex toys.
"Lance?"
"Yeah?"
"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"
No, he was just holding a long plastic penis. And she sounded so innocent. "It's been a long day."
"Problems at work?"
How would she know about his problems? "Sort of."
He raised up, trying to think of a reason, a connection, but couldn't come up with anything to link Sophie to his bad luck. Unless the show was doing some kind of Candid Camera thing...
"Lance, if I'm disturbing you, I can call back."
"No, what made you ask if I had problems?"
"The sound of your voice." She paused, her tone mellow, her breathing like a soft, feathery whisper over the line. "You sound tired, like you've had a long day."
"Building requires long hours," he said curtly.
"Well, then I won't bother you."
Curiosity got the best of him. Or maybe it was her sexy voice. And the fact that she sounded slightly hurt at his dismissal. "No, it's okay. What can I do for you?"
"I wanted us to get together to discuss the renovations for my house."
"Oh, yeah." He grabbed a pencil and looked at his calendar. "What day did you have in mind?" A month from now? No, a year would be better. When this whole project was over and he'd figured out what to do about his family life. And when he'd demolished that damn box.
"How about tomorrow night over dinner?" Sophie asked.
"Why not tonight?" Lance said, wanting to find out what she was up to.
Light laughter tinkled back. "I can't tonight. I'm already ready for bed."
Lance groaned. Why did she have to go and tell him that? Now, he'd lie awake imagining what kind of nightgown she wore to bed. Or if she wore one at all...
"Lance, is tomorrow all right? It'll be my treat."
Her treat? "Fine. What time?"
"Why don't you come by my place at seven?"
"I'll be there." Lance hung up and stared at the phone, his head beginning to pound from the day's revelations. First the work problems, then the box, now an invitation for dinner with Sophie Lane. He guessed he should make some reservations someplace. Not too fancy of a place though—if the classy talk-show host wanted to dine with him, she'd have to make do on his budget. No, she'd said her treat.
The gall—as if he couldn't afford to entertain a woman like her.
Just what was she up to now anyway? Could she possibly have found out about his father's clandestine meetings with Maria?
* * *
The Boar's Back was filled with patrons drinking and enjoying themselves, but Chase and Reid had met to commiserate over the day's problems. The waitress deposited steaming bowls of gumbo, a platter of raw oysters, and a stack of hush puppies on the table, along with a pitcher of beer. Chase attacked his gumbo while Reid filled him in on the day's events, listing snag after snag with the sites.
"I keep wondering why all this is happening," Chase said, chasing a spicy bite of the thick soup down with a sip of beer.
Reid finally lay down his pen and bit into a thick crab cake. "Yeah, me, too. Seems like someone doesn't want us to succeed."
Chase had been thinking the same thing. "You financed the company with Waterbyrd, right?"
Reid leaned back in his chair, half gazing off to the side. Chase had the sneaking suspicion Reid was avoiding answering him. "Right?"
Reid's wary gaze finally cut back to Chase. "Partly. But we had to turn to the Savings and Loan for help, too."
"You mean Oglethorpe had a hand in this?"
Reid shook his head. "Not exactly. Middlemyer runs the company—we only dealt with him. It's all on paper, legit, not one of those personal loans. We didn't want to put Maddie in a compromising spot."
All sorts of possibilities raced through Chase's mind. "Hasn't it occurred to you that Oglethorpe might be a little pissed at being dumped on TV and decided to take his animosity out on you?" He groaned, suddenly remembering the way the two brothers had gone after Oglethorpe the night of the TV debacle. "Especially after you two scared the shit out of him."
Reid's chair thunked down on the wooden floor. "There's no way that could happen. We dealt strictly with Middlemyer. Oglethorpe couldn't possibly benefit by messing with us."
"Maybe not financially. But if you can't make your note, he'll sure as hell enjoy watching you fail."
Reid's jaw tightened. "Oglethorpe wouldn't do that, Chase. I know you don't like him, and he's not my pick either, but he's a stand-up business guy. He has to uphold his family's reputation."
"But he can undermine—"
"He won't." Reid shook his head emphatically. "He's still interested in getting back with Maddie. He won't jeopardize his chances."
A knot of gumbo suddenly stuck in Chase's throat. "He told you he wants to get back with Maddie?"
Reid turned up his mug and took a swallow. "Yeah."
Chase's eyebrows climbed his head. "Even if she keeps her business?"
Reid laughed. "It seems he's changed his mind. Now he thinks a successful businesswoman would be an asset for him."
Great, Chase thought sourly. So, Oglethorpe had be
en sending her all those damn flowers to woo her.
Why couldn't he think to do something like that?
Because you're not that romancy type. You're a glorified construction worker who likes football and old cars and hot women... well, lately he'd only liked one hot woman, but hell.
Suddenly nauseous and angry with his best friends and himself and the wuss, Chase pushed his bowl away, disgusted that their company was even remotely associated with Jeff Oglethorpe. And even more frustrated at the thought of Reid supporting the man. On some level, he realized it was illogical for him to care so much. Business was business. And Maddie could do whatever the hell she wanted with her personal life. But if he wanted to prove to anyone in the town he could be successful, Oglethorpe was one person he wanted to show more than anybody.
He refused to examine the reason.
But he'd die before he'd let his friends' company go down in front of the man. And Maddie, well, hell. She deserved a real man, someone better than that pansy-sending weasel....
Chapter 17
Reid barely tasted his pecan pie, his absolute favorite dessert, because he was so damn nervous. The waitress delivered a pot of coffee, and he stirred creamer in his, jabbed a toothpick in his mouth and studied the private detective he'd hired, grateful Chase hadn't lingered for dessert. The beefy man spooned up a hefty bite of peach cobbler loaded with ice cream and devoured it, lapping up the double dish as if he hadn't eaten in days. Knobby Smaltz, he called himself. Sounded like something out of a cheesy porn movie to Reid.
Reid had phoned the P.I. after Chase left and told him to meet him at the River House, not wanting to take a chance on being seen with him at the Boar's Back and open himself up to questions. He hated like the dickens to keep these secrets from Maddie and Lance, but he was doing them a favor. He wished to hell he'd never opened that file and seen that stuff himself, had never unearthed this... this sordid information about their father so he wouldn't have to sneak around and hide it from them. But some things were better left in the dark, like his father's hobbies and...
If the news ever leaked out, if these... these others ever came seeking something, anything, from them, he needed to be prepared. And he couldn't help but wonder if one of them had already discovered the Summers kids, knew about their company. If one of them might be sabotaging the business for revenge.
Or maybe because they wanted in on the company.
He'd heard of corporations, slick entrepreneurs, ruining a company, then buying it up for a song and dance while the poor owners were still trying to figure out what had gone wrong.
Knobby indicated the file, the hospital name to be specific. "Anyone from this place ever contacted you?"
Although they'd been seated in the back corner, Reid angled his head to shield his face from any patrons who might wander by. "No. And I don't want them to know I'm looking."
Knobby grinned, shining a gold tooth as he scraped his bowl clean. "But you want to know if there are any other k—"
"Shh," Reid snapped. "Yes, I have to know, but keep it quiet. I need to be prepared in case any of them show up at our door." His stomach somersaulted every time he imagined innocent little Maddie's reaction. And Lance would go ballistic.
"It ain't like your folks were millionaires or anything," Knobby said in a low voice. "What could they get from you if they did show up?"
"They could mess up everything," Reid said. "Ruin my dad's reputation. Shame my mother's memory. Embarrass my brother and sister. The others might want a piece of our business." If they aren't already plotting to steal it.
Knobby bobbed his chunky head up and down and waved the waitress over for another piece of pie. Coconut cream this time. "All right, then. I'll get right on it." He picked up his fork and dug in to the rich dessert. "Just as soon as I finish this pie and order me up a dish of that chocolate mousse."
Reid paid the bill and hurried away, hoping Knobby didn't eat so much he couldn't walk away and do the job. Which proved what a sorry state he was in—he was actually depending on the man to help him protect his family. They all stood to lose so much both personally and professionally.
* * *
All week Maddie had literally shopped until she dropped, but she'd made a tremendous amount of progress toward furnishing the homes for the show, and barring a few accessories, which had yet to arrive, Chase's house was almost complete. Tonight she intended to buy him dinner and unveil the results of her first completed project.
A jittery sensation rippled through her. What if he wasn't pleased?
He'd given her full reign, and she'd run with it.
He actually trusted her decorating sense with his own personal home, a revelation that meant more to Maddie than she'd ever imagined. He hadn't just been tagging along to make sure she wouldn't screw up as she'd first suspected—something her over-protective skeptical brothers might have done. No, Chase had faith in her.
Something she wasn't sure Lance and Reid or Jeff had.
Stripping off the suit she'd worn all day, she glanced at the latest present Jeff had sent—chocolates and an expensive bottle of wine—and remembered how she was once touched by his gestures.
Had Chase ever thought about sending her flowers or candy? Or even asking her on a date?
No, because he didn't want her, not in a relationship anyway.
Greg Pugh's bathrobe was lying across the chaise in the corner, mocking her, as if she needed a reminder of her failure to find the right guy. Greg was strange but wanted her. Jeff hadn't wanted her, and that had hurt. Now he seemed to want her back, but he didn't set her heart racing like Chase. Chase who was normal, caring, and passionate didn't want her. She wadded the robe up and decided she'd put it to some good use—she'd make a pillow out of the fabric for her cat.
After a quick shower, she dressed in a simple short, black knit dress with sandals, donning a pair of blue opals to dress up the ensemble and pulling one side of her hair up with a matching clip. T. C. swaggered in and meowed, climbing onto the foot of her bed. She paused to give him an affectionate hug. "I'll be back later, Kitty. Keep my pillow warm."
He purred contentedly and snuggled into a ball in the center of her bed as if pronouncing her entire bed his domain. Maddie laughed. "Just like a man, you'll probably demand sole possession of the remote control next."
A few minutes later, she picked up Chinese takeout and headed toward Chase's house to set things up before he arrived. Candles, a little wine, the built-in stereo system strumming soft music—they'd christen his house tonight, and tomorrow she'd show him the other three houses she'd finished.
Chase arrived about ten minutes after Maddie, just as she broke open the wine decanter and placed the crystal glasses on the wet bar. If he didn't want to keep them, he could return them. And since he wasn't moving in until after the tour, she'd have time to redo any item or area if he was displeased with her choices. Still, she found herself holding her breath as he walked toward the front door, praying for his approval.
* * *
Chase wrestled his hands out of fists into a more relaxed position as he approached the house, still agitated from his meeting with Reid. The business might be in trouble. And Oglethorpe wanted Maddie back. Hell, he was romancing her like some Romeo out of the dark ages.
Whereas he was running like a deer caught in a pair of headlights.
What else could go wrong?
He held his breath as he opened the front door of his new house, praying Maddie hadn't done something outlandish with the decorations, something to cause them another setback. For some odd reason he really wanted her to prove her brothers wrong and stick with the job. He felt disloyal for being annoyed with Lance and Reid, but they should show a little faith in their baby sister.
The polished brass doorknob felt slick to his hands. His stomach quivered as he realized that this house, this antebellum beauty was actually his. Back at Bethesda when he was little, he used to lie awake and dream of having a real house someday, of having a win
ding staircase, a fireplace, a place to call home.
He spotted Maddie standing in the foyer, the crystal chandelier dappling soft light around her russet hair. She looked incredibly beautiful, her voluptuous body molded into a short black dress that accentuated her long legs and curvy backside; a simple dress, but it radiated femininity and flattered her every feature.
God, he could get used to her greeting him every night.
Especially if she was naked.
"Chase?" She smiled, filling the room with warmth. "You want the fifty-cent tour?"
He nodded and let her lead him through the rooms. She remained silent most of the way, occasionally pointing out the reason for her choices. He thought he detected a slight quiver in her voice and twice, noticed her gnawing on her lower lip.
He'd seen the flooring, the carpet, had approved of the neutral palette she'd chosen earlier, the soft grays and blues and touches of maroon, so why should she be so nervous? Unless she'd added something wild to surprise him.
"I tried to keep it basic like you asked," she said softly when he ran his hand over the buttery soft leather of the L-shaped sofa. The den consisted of mellow heart pine and oak and quarry tile adorned the modern kitchen with a skylight, center island and breakfast bar, which opened up to a sunny screened-in porch. A bluestone floor, fieldstone fireplace and wet bar created a cozy family room, natural light spilling inside via the surrounding palladium windows.
The furnishings and accessories Maddie had chosen—the comfortable leather sofa, the wooden rocker, the collection of antique cars situated on the bookshelves, even the formal dining room set, which wasn't formal at all, but consisted of a clawfoot oak table with shaker chairs—everything seemed perfect, yet not exactly perfect. She'd coordinated everything so the areas appeared to flow from one to the other, but none of the rooms seemed stuffy or looked as if a decorator had furnished them. The house felt comfortable, homey.
The first home Chase had ever known.
