by Shara Azod
Something
Deeper
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2009 Shara Azod- Dream Builder
Copyright© 2009 RaeLynn Blue- Cashmere Sky
Cover Artist: Shara Azod
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
Dream Builder
by
Shara Azod
Dedication
This is for Raquel and her lovely daughter. Thank you for encouraging us to take this step. Also Jen, you are my brain. I am your biggest fan.
A special thanks to Andrea, Rolanda and Yvonne. Love you each, keep doing you.
Chapter 1
Leland Westmorland was careful to keep all traces of absolute glee off of his face. His hands gripped the arms of the overstuffed leather to stop them from rubbing together in anticipation. He regarded his potential client with the innate breeding of the southern gentleman, from good family, which he was. The possibility of restoring an antebellum plantation house to its original glory was just too good to pass up. Even if the client hadn’t been offering him a small fortune, he would have jumped at the opportunity. Too bad the place would be wasted on a Yankee doctor. It was a shame so many of the standing plantation houses where turned into vacation homes, hunting lodges or bed and breakfast operations, mostly owned by people with no roots in Southern soil.
“Spare no expense,” Dr. Alan Thompson was saying. “I want this home to be perfect.”
Leland nodded his head absently. Of course no cost would be spared. Even if the man was a miser, Leland would sweet talk him into everything the house deserved. It was the least he could do. Georgia was more than just his home after all; her soil ran through his blood. He felt a deep responsibility to the plantation in question, although he had never before laid eyes on it. The pictures Dr. Thompson had provided sparked his imagination and fired his gut. It was perfect—or it would be once he was done with it.
“The house will be a present for my wife,” the doctor went on. “Her family once…lived on that land.”
Leland’s ears immediately perked up. His wife was a Southern Belle? Well now, that made it even more imperative that he got this perfect. He was relieved the doctor had the good sense to come to Atlanta to find an architect who knew what he was doing. He felt a new measure of respect for the man sitting in his office like he owned the place. The Yankee might be cocky and too Northern by half, but still, he had the good sense to come to Westmorland and Associates. The fact that his wife was a Georgia Peach brought out the gallantry in Leland. He would make this home perfect for the bride. It was a matter of principle.
“I have one caveat,” Dr. Thompson finally paused in his list of requirements and waited for a response.
“Yes?” Leland sat up and leaned forward. Nothing could keep him from this project. Even if the man requested some atrocious addition, he would go along with it for now and deal with it later. He was relatively positive he could talk him out of it eventually…after it was far too late to terminate the iron clad contract Leland had every intention of making the man sign.
“I want you to use a certain company for construction.”
“I don’t use construction companies I don’t know,” Leland began carefully. “The plantation is located outside of Savannah. I have plenty of contacts there to accomplish all that I need, at a lower price.”
It always came down to price ultimately. No matter if you were dealing with the nouveaux riche, or old money, or moderately well off, it always come down to the bottom line. Those who were too foolish to consider price were not good people to get into business with. They were either way too arrogant or way too foolish. He avoided them whenever possible.
“Yes, well, this particular company is owned and operated by my wife’s favorite cousin, so their base of operations is a lot closer than Savannah. They are coming out of Brunswick.”
It was a heck of a lot closer, seeing as the plantation was situated on a tiny island just south of Jekyll Island, not directly in, but close to a delta that flows into the Atlantic. Still, Leland hated working with anyone he didn’t know and trust. He had high standards, and working with family was always a no-no, especially if the good doctor’s wife was not from the proper sort of family. No amount of success could make up for breeding. The last thing he needed was a bunch of free loaders living off the largess of an extended family member. Just thinking about dealing with ignorant hicks guzzling beer all day when they should be working gave Leland a preemptive headache. Visions of the so-called “family members” made his teeth hurt.
Maybe he was a snob, but damn it, he had standards.
“I am not so sure...” Leland began only to be cut off.
“It’s not negotiable,” Dr. Thompson cut him off rising to his feet. “Take some time to think it over.”
Leland ground his teeth, knowing he was going to take this job regardless. Restoring plantation homes was his passion, as the good doctor probably knew. Hopefully, the guy he was being forced to work with would screw up right so he could get some real construction guys down there tout de suite.
“That won’t be necessary,” Leland answered smoothly, still refusing to give any outward sign of his inner turmoil. “I will have plans and a contract ready for you within two weeks.”
Dr. Thompson stopped in his tracks, raising a brow at Leland’s words. Obviously the man had expected Leland to try to push on this little snag. It was not his style. He believed in giving a man enough rope to hang himself; squabbling never did much but cement the other person’s resolve. Leland picked his battles careful, making damn sure he won the war.
“You will need to see the house before you draw up plans, of course.”
“Of course,” Leland agreed.
He allowed himself a small smile when Dr. Thompson walked back to the desk and dropped the keys into his waiting hands along with a card. It was little more than the slight lifting of the right corner of his kips, but he had no doubt the other man noticed.
“Tony will show you around the place,” the doctor informed him before turning to leave once more. “I will be in Atlanta for three more weeks before we return to Chicago. I look forward to hearing from you.”
Leland contemplated the card before picking up the phone. T. Bignon Construction. Jekyll Island was settled by Christophe du Bignon in 1792 after he and his family escaped the French Revolution. Maybe Dr. Thompson’s wife’s family would be all that onerous to work with.
“We shall see,” Leland murmured to himself as he picked up the phone. “We shall see.”
Chapter 2
Toni pulled into the dock parking lot an hour early. She wanted to make sure her trawler was ready to go whenever this architect guy showed up. According to her receptionist, who was also one of her many cousins, she could expect one Leland Westmorland at ten o’clock sharp, ready to be escorted to Bignon Island, to the plantation house Alan, her cousin Desiree’s husband, had bought for her. Toni shook her head and smiled to herself at the sheer audacity of Desiree’s husband. Being a disgustingly rich white man from Chicago, he had no id
ea the ruckus he was about to cause by buying his black wife a freaking plantation. A plantation island at that! Toni was just twisted enough to enjoy the show.
It was bad enough for the racists in these parts that the Bignons of African descent managed to be extremely successful while the European branch of the family had fallen on hard times and never really got up. They blamed it on the Civil War (Toni refused to referred to it as the “War of Aggression.” Pleeeease!). Maybe it was true the Civil War had knocked the European Bignon’s down hard, maybe it wasn’t; but the damn war was over a hundred years ago. How long could a person use that sorry excuse?
The African American branch of the Bignon clan were a tight group; one that worked together so that everyone achieved their goal. After Toni had graduated from Spelman College, her aunts and uncles all chipped in to provide her tuition for graduate school. Her parents had been wiped out after paying for medical school and law school for her two older brothers, who was just beginning their careers and not making much money. Now that she had a successful construction company, she not only paid part of her younger cousin, Sookie’s (Susan, but not many knew her by that name) tuition at her alma mater, she also gave her a summer job as a receptionist. Her family didn’t believe in student loans. Being in debt from student loans was no way to start out in life.
Whistling, Toni jumped out of her 4x4 Chevy Dooley, her baby, and locked her up tight. There wasn’t a great deal of car thefts on Jekyll Island, none in fact, but she was always careful with her pride and joy. That’s why she parked close to the back of the parking lot, where few cars were. She would have liked to take up two parking spots, but she knew Jekyll Island was not a place she could get away with something like that. It had killed her to obediently obey the speed limits on the drive from her home in Brunswick, but police and troopers on the island didn’t play, especially not with those who had a dark face.
If she had been paying attention, she would have seen a tall, leanly muscled blonde leaning against a shining new BMW Z4, watching her every move behind mirrored Bvlgaris shades. But she wasn’t paying attention, she was on a mission. She walked briskly to where her trawler was docked, jumped on board and began to prepare for the short trip to the island. Toni’s Pleasure Palace was not a name she would have freely chosen for her transportation to the many tiny islands that dotted the coast of Georgia, but she had lost a bet with one of her many cousins and lead foreman, Jimmy. Shaking her head as she thought about her folly, she really thought the Nets would beat the Spurs in the 2003 Finals. Live and learn. Never again would she make any kind of bet with Jimmy—the man had an uncanny winning streak.
Shaking off her thoughts, she made her rounds checking the provisions. She double- checked to make sure there was plenty of bottled water, sodas and sports drinks in the cooler. She had even brought along lunch, seeing as how any architect worth his salt would want to investigate the entire structure. Toni was fairly confident her cousin’s husband, Alan, would hire the best. That man was crazy about his wife, nothing but the best would do.
Toni sighed as the thought crossed her mind. Desiree was her favorite and closest cousin. They were more like sisters, so Toni didn’t begrudge the love and happiness the other woman had found. It was just that at thirty, it didn’t look like that kind of love would ever come Toni’s way. The way Alan looked at Desiree…Toni could only wish that a man would look at her like that. The man would die for his wife. He was buying this house because they were expecting their first child, and Alan knew it was important for Desiree to raise her children close to her family. Never mind the fact he had lived in Chicago all his life or that his entire family, who supported his marriage and loved his bride, were there. Desiree wanted to move back home, so he was moving. He didn’t need to work, though he would be lecturing from time to time at various colleges, after the baby was old enough to travel. He would be writing textbooks and doing research, while Desiree continued her extremely successful online natural beauty product business.
As for Toni, most men only asked her out to hit and quit it. Partially it was her choice of professions. Working construction was not considered an acceptable job for a five foot nothing, one hundred and fifteen pound sopping wet woman. Then, there was her rather brusque manner. She just couldn’t help herself; snappy, sarcastic comments were just her nature. She had two older brothers she had idolized as a child. She wanted to play football and baseball and climb trees. And she had for a while. It was Desiree who had talked her into wearing girly clothes and going out for cheerleader in high school. She had hated every minute of it. She hated the girls Desiree insisted they hung out with, hated the mindless conversations and boy-crazy sighs. The funny thing was the more disdain she showed towards her so-called friends, the more popular she became.
It wasn’t until college that she felt free to be the person she wanted to be. She wasn’t about to become something she wasn’t, not even for a man.
“So, I guess I’ll just be happy with Mr. Happy,” she told herself, pausing her preparations to stare out toward the sea. “Which reminds me-I need to buy some batteries.”
*****
Leland had seen her as soon as she had jumped out of the cab of that monstrosity of a truck of hers, and he had no doubt by the way she parked it far from other cars then caressed it before walking away it was hers. She was a petite little thing, about five feet even if he had to guess, with a sinfully packed body. She was wearing denim shorts; not too short, but short enough to show off her perfectly toned, deep ebony legs. His eyes had started at the trim little ankles, then worked his way up slowly, pausing at the sight of the compact ass - an ass that looked firm enough to bounce a dime off of. Giving himself a mental shake, he continued his perusal past a trim little waist he could easily span his hands around, up to her spaghetti strapped white t-shirt. Even from the distance he stood he could make out the round shape of the generous globes. They were just enough to fill his hands, and he had large hands, but not too big. He licked his lips unconsciously as he contemplated the possible size of her areoles. Dime or quarter sized? His cock hardened as he explored the possibilities. It was a question that he really needed to find out the answer to.
What the hell was he thinking? Giving himself a mental shake, he looked away briefly, but found his eyes drawn back to her. She walked briskly right past him although her hands where full with paper bags. He was going to offer to help, until she jumped aboard the boat he had been watching for the owner of. Taken aback he looked again at the trawlers hull. Yep, Toni’s Pleasure Palace. That was the name the receptionist he had talked to told him. Apparently Tony Bignon had been expecting his call because the man didn’t bother to talk to him himself, just had his receptionist set up a date and time.
It must be the receptionist or the secretary bringing aboard supplies. Leland had planned on taking his time and thoroughly inspecting the structure of the house to see how much work needed to be done. He would have to have inspectors out before any work was done, but Leland wanted to see for himself what was needed so he could research original plans and try to update where he could. The entire process could take hours, so he hoped Mr. Bignon had set aside plenty of time. From the looks of those bags his secretary had carried aboard, the other man had indeed planned on a long day.
Feeling better about the man he would be working with for most of the summer, Leland locked up his car, set the alarm and made his way over to the trawler. It wasn’t new but it was well kept, showing the owner took pride in it. It was a good sign. He wasn’t supposed to be here for a few hours, but the drive from Atlanta had taken far less time than he had anticipated so he had gotten to the Jekyll Island early. He had no idea he could drive across from Brunswick, he thought he would have to take a taxi boat or trolley over. No wonder the receptionist had told him he would meet Tony here.
He was about to announce himself, but something stopped him. He found himself watching her again as she went around readying the boat for launch. She stopped suddenly an
d looked out toward the sea. Her expression called to him in some enigmatic way. There was such longing in her gaze. Leland had the urge to offer her anything and everything just to make it all better.
Where the hell had that come from? It was beyond odd that he found something irresistibly appealing about this woman. He was not generally attracted to black women, not as far as he knew anyway. It was something that just wasn’t done in his circles. He wasn’t prejudiced or anything, he had just never even considered a relationship outside his own race. It would give his mother a heart attack.
Get it together, Lee, he told himself, stepping back and taking a deep breath. He wasn’t here to have a fling. He was here to do a job, nothing more. Taking another deep breath, he prepared to announce himself again but then heard her wistful voice.
“So, I guess I’ll just be happy with Mr. Happy, which reminds me-I need to buy some batteries.”
Leland’s cock stiffened instantly. Oh, hell she didn’t say what he thought she did, did she? He had to take a step back. Never in his life had he felt such intense instant attraction. In fact, his body was reacting in a way he had never reacted to a woman before, no matter how good she looked. His eyes roved over her simple clothing, noting she wasn’t dressed provocatively at all, yet quite possibly her outfit was the sexiest thing he had ever laid eyes on.
Hopefully, she was only here to make sure the boat was stocked for the day and would leave as soon as her job was done. She had to; Leland didn’t understand what the hell he was feeling, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his mind off of her and on his job. With luck he would never have to see her again. Not many secretaries or assistants came to the job site with their bosses.
