“You’re overanalyzing. He’s a great-looking guy and he seems to be hot to trot for you. And it’s not like he hasn’t had plenty of other opportunities. I heard Arlene came right out and propositioned him at the Daily Grind in front of the morning-coffee crowd.”
“Oh Lordy,” Bertie groaned.
“Miss Sue Percy told me that Arlene marched over wearing that leopard jumpsuit with the gold zipper pulled way down, showing too much cleavage. And she backed Keith into a corner and literally purred at him like a big jungle cat—if jungle cats wore lacy pink push-up bras and spiked heels.”
“Oh no.” Bertie pressed her hands into her face.
“And she said something like she was a hot cupcake looking for a stud muffin—”
“No! Stop. You can’t be serious.” Bertie snickered, picturing Arlene poured into that outfit.
Gary laughed too. “I couldn’t make this up if I tried. Apparently, Morgan lit out of there as if his ass were on fire and didn’t even pick up his coffee or his change.”
“That poor man. No wonder he wants out. Who can blame him? He thinks he’s living in the land of Looney Tunes.”
“Yeah, so maybe you should hook up with him to show him we’re not so bad. Think of it is as your civic duty—saving Harmony’s image.”
“Really? And you think by sleeping with him, it’ll change his views of Harmony? I’ve lived here my whole life. It will take more than a romp in my bed for anyone to change their take on Harmony.”
“Maybe. But it’s worth a try. Besides, you’ve got nothing to lose and maybe even something to gain…like some great sex. When was the last time that happened?” Gary gave Bertie his all-knowing look, which meant he knew the answer to his own question better than she did. “Loser married architect from Raleigh doesn’t count.”
“Well, if I’m not counting loser married guy, then I’d have to say…geez, I don’t even remember.”
Sad but true. Which had to explain her out-of-character behavior with Keith. She was no better than Jo Ellen or Arlene. She reached for her glass on the bookshelf and choked down some sweet iced tea. Harmony was turning her into a small-town old maid gone wild, ready for her own reality TV show. Only a few more weeks. She could last that long without becoming the town trollop. Right? Bertie chugged more tea, wishing it was laced with alcohol.
“Drinking all that tea and wishing it was spiked is not going to help your problem.” Gary smirked.
Bertie slammed the glass back down and sent Gary a lethal glare. Sometimes, she hated the fact that he could read her mind. “Have you gotten those orders signed and approved for the cabinet hardware?” Bertie tried for irritated-boss mode, hoping to instill some fear into Gary—not that it ever worked in the past, but she gave it a shot.
Gary stopped loading a plastic container and peered at Bertie. “They were delivered with a note attached—”
“I need them signed ASAP—”
“Look, Miss I-need-to-get-laid”—Gary jabbed a finger at Bertie’s face—“don’t get your thong all in a twist. The Prince hasn’t been around. So I left a folder of orders his Highness needs to sign with instructions for him to return them today at the latest…to you.” Gary checked his stainless steel watch. “It’s a little after three. He’ll be here.”
Great. She didn’t need Keith showing up with orders and that toe-tingling, sexy smile. “Here? You told him to come here?”
“This is your office, isn’t it?” Gary said with a touch of annoyance.
“Dammit. What are you now? Yenta, the famous gay matchmaker?” Bertie planted her fists on her hips. “In case you’ve been unaware, I’ve been doing an excellent job of avoiding him for weeks. And as you can see, it’s been working.” Bertie jerked her head. “Look at all this work we’ve gotten done. We are down to the wire. I…we don’t need any more distractions.” She reached for an overflowing folder on her desk and shoved it into Gary’s hands. “This needs to go to the workroom along with the fabric. And you’re going to be here when Mr. Perfect Prince shows up with those papers.”
Gary laughed as he filed the folder in the container for the workroom. “As much as I’d like to be here for the booty call…uh, I don’t think so. Unless you think Morgan would be interested in a threesome.”
Bertie threw a pillow form at his head. “Spare me. That ain’t never gonna happen. Not with me, anyway.”
Gary shrugged. “Okay, so a threesome is out. You can’t blame a girl for trying. But if I were you, and believe me in this situation I wish I was”—Gary waggled his eyebrows at Bertie—“I’d be jumping that gorgeous man’s fine form and getting the best lay of my life.”
“He’s a client. I can’t sleep with a client,” Bertie explained as if she were speaking to a four-year-old.
“He won’t be in another three weeks. But you’re not going to last that long.”
Bertie opened her mouth to blast Gary, but what he said next stopped her. “Because he’s not going to last that long. Morgan needs to blow off some steam. Preferably with you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next Mrs. Keith Morgan.”
Bertie gripped the back of her desk chair. Gary didn’t understand; he seemed to think she and Keith were playing at some game. “No way. I’m not even on the short list, and I don’t want to be.” Gary flashed a dubious look. “You don’t understand. He has to marry or at least be engaged within the next three weeks or Francesca is going to take custody of Maddie.”
Gary pooh-poohed, “Francesca wouldn’t do that. She’s bluffing.”
Bertie shook her head. “I was there. I’ve never seen her so fierce. She means business. That’s why Keith is so stressed out. He goes to Raleigh a lot. He must’ve met someone there.” Bertie shoved a box of small glass tiles with her foot toward Gary to add to his load. “Keith is simply my client. And you and I would be smart to remember that. I have a lot riding on this job. I can’t screw it up.”
“You mean you can’t screw Keith, in the biblical sense.”
“Yeah, in both senses. Besides, he has a ton of baggage.”
“Like what?”
“Like his wife’s death and the fact that he married only because he got her pregnant, and he never really loved her but feels guilty about it all the same.”
“Whoa. Where did you hear that? Don’t tell me you’re listening to Harmony gossip.”
“No. I brought dinner over to Aunt Franny’s the other night and for some reason she felt compelled to spill his life story.”
Gary gave Bertie a strange look. The one where he knew something but he wouldn’t reveal what it was. “Interesting. What else did she say?”
“You’re not going to start blabbing all over town, are you? I don’t think Aunt Franny or Keith would appreciate it.”
“Dang. Give me some credit, would you?” Gary gave her another funny look. “What else did Francesca tell you?”
“She said that Keith’s dad died when he was young and that his mother was never the same. She basically dumped Keith in a boarding school and then moved to Europe. He rarely saw her and still doesn’t, which is why Aunt Franny took such a special interest in him.”
“Ah, the plot thickens,” Gary said, using his dramatic voice.
“No drama and no plot,” Bertie said as she stapled fabric cuttings to a stack of purchase orders with unnecessary force. “In three weeks, we’ll be finished with this job and Keith will be bringing a new mom home to Maddie.” Bertie accidently stapled her thumb. “Ouch! Dammit all to hell.” She shoved her thumb in her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes.
“You okay?”
Bertie nodded still sucking her thumb. “Yep. Fine.” She examined her sore thumb and concluded there’d be no amputation. But something tugged at her heart on the inside. Every time she pictured cute Maddie, she imagined her laughing and singing and baking cookies with her new mom which happened not to be Bertie
. As it should be, Bertha. She barely knew the little girl. Therefore, she shouldn’t feel any connection to her. Right? Right.
“At the end of three weeks, I get to finally move on. End of story,” Bertie said with way more conviction than she felt. She glanced at Gary. “What?” She could’ve sworn he said, “You’re kidding yourself,” under his breath.
“You’re still moving? After you finish the renovation?”
Bertie detected a sharp edge to his tone. Maybe. No. Yes. She didn’t know. Bertie avoided the question. “The electrician needs the specs on the sconces for the living room. Have the sconces been delivered?”
“Along with the track lighting, the lanterns for the dining room, and all the bathroom lights.” Gary ticked off on his fingers. “Now, stop stalling and answer my question. Don’t you think I have the right to know?” Gary crossed his arms with a stern glare.
Bertie pushed a hunk of hair behind her ear and sat in front of her computer, pretending to read a spreadsheet. “I’m not sure,” she murmured. “About moving. I haven’t spoken with the firm in Atlanta recently. We’ve only exchanged a few emails, but they haven’t confirmed whether they could still use me or not. And what about DP? They’re going to start another house with my bonus money. I’d hate to leave in the middle of that.”
“Uh-huh. You know…it’s okay. You’re allowed to change your mind. I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t want to see you leave,” he said.
Bertie swiveled in her desk chair and faced him along with her internal battle. “It probably won’t be forever, but I really think DP needs me and after Keith’s…uh, after this renovation is over, I can devote more time to helping them. Besides, the Milners want to redo their master suite. She called yesterday and said she hated the color blue. She wants everything in lavender.”
Gary shot Bertie an incredulous look. “You have got to be joking. What do you mean she hates blue? She picked blue. She said blue was her favorite color because it matched her husband’s eyes. She signed off on every blue sample we showed her. Are you sure you heard correctly?” Gary plopped down on a mound of fabric samples piled up on the only other chair in the office.
“Yep. Apparently, she and Mr. Milner are having another world war and she said she never wanted to look at the color blue again. She wants everything in lavender and pink because she knows he’ll hate it and she hopes he moves to another room.”
Gary leaned back and groaned. “How come all we seem to attract are crackpot clients?”
“Who cares? The way I see it, the wackier the better. We get to write up another proposal on a master suite, and you and I have another job to do together. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
Bertie couldn’t keep her happy smile from spreading. She had reasons to stay in Harmony, and they were good reasons. Really good ones.
Gary stretched his legs out and clasped his hands behind his head. “You know, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
“About the Milners?”
“No. About you staying in Harmony. Maybe you’ll make me an aunt one day.”
Bertie furrowed her brows. “Huh? How did we jump the track from me staying to you being an aunt?”
“Because I’ve seen Maddie Morgan in action. That ten-year-old could teach seminars on how to influence people to get what you want.” Gary grinned like a sleek panther toying with his prey.
Alarm prickled down her spine at what Gary implied. “What do you mean by that?”
“I can read her like I read Esquire magazine. That little girl wants a new mama and she wants her to be you.”
Bertie slumped in her chair. Sweet sassy molassy.
***
“What’d you think?’ Keith asked Gail as they stepped onto the sidewalk outside an old historic home converted into a restaurant and bar. He had brought Gail to downtown Raleigh for dinner and to hear a new jazz band.
“The food was great. The music will take some getting used to. I’m more of a current pop kinda girl.”
Keith tried not to flinch. Sweet, syrupy songs by Taylor Swift and stupid ballads by a teen boy band from England popped into his head. Songs that Maddie went crazy over.
“Of course, I love the oldies from the ’80s and ’90s too,” Gail said, sensing that she’d insulted him.
Oldies? God, he felt ancient. Keith squeezed her hand and smiled, trying to ease her apprehension and his feeling of doom. “I like all kinds of music. How about country?”
“Love country music!”
“You wouldn’t be a true Carolina girl if you didn’t love the twang of pick-up trucks, cornbread, and goin’ to prison.” He laughed and Gail nodded, giggling. “They seem to have lots of concerts around here. Would you like to go to one?”
“That would be totally awesome,” she gushed. Keith quirked a brow at her. “What?” she asked with bright eyes.
“Just trying to picture you in jeans and cowboy boots,” he chuckled. He hadn’t seen her in anything but khakis, tennis outfits, or exercise clothes. On date nights, she wore conservative clothing, like what she wore tonight: black slacks, blue silk blouse with a dark blazer, and pearls. Not big on the latest fashions, his Gail. Nothing about her wardrobe would entice a man. She remained neatly packaged and buttoned up, like a proper Sunday school teacher. Keith had never even glimpsed a hint of cleavage.
Bertie’s world-class cleavage jumped to the forefront in his mind as he remembered her in some drapey green top the other day. She’d bent over to pick up a stone sample at his house and that fabulous loose top did its job by falling away from her scantily clad, lace-covered breasts. Eyes had popped and jaws dropped as half the construction crew came to a complete stop to ogle her voluptuous breasts.
“Uh, well, I don’t exactly own any cowboy boots, but I could probably borrow a pair from my roommate.” Gail’s conversation brought him back to the present and his vanilla, tame world.
Keith smiled at the pink that colored her cheeks. “You scare up some jeans and boots, and I’ll provide the cowboy hats,” he said. They had reached his car in the parking garage and Keith opened her door.
Gail giggled…again. “I can’t picture you in a cowboy hat.”
“Really? Why not?”
“You look too…sophisticated, I guess.”
Keith glanced down at his designer gray cashmere sweater, worn jeans, and scuffed-up Gucci loafers and shrugged. “Next time, I’ll wear my tennis hat and sweatshirt.” He winked at Gail and headed for the driver’s side.
Keith stood outside Gail’s apartment door and peered down. Her face had a weird green cast from the cheap lights illuminating the hallway. She waited, anticipating his kiss with her lips slightly parted. A good sign. He hadn’t dared try any other moves on her, partly because he didn’t want to scare her away and partly because he hadn’t been…interested? Inspired?
Keith pecked Gail’s soft lips and pulled back. “Maybe we can take Maddie with us to the country concert. What do you think?”
Gail leaned into him and fluttered her eyelashes. “That’s a wonderful idea. I would love to get to know her better.” Then she went up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his mouth. After a couple of nibbles, she said, “We should spend more time together”—nibble, nibble—“just the three of us.”
Holy crap! Sweet, innocent Gail had turned into tangy, aggressive Gail. Keith slid his hands around to the small of her back, careful not to palm her ass. He shifted a little for a better fit, molding her slender frame against him, and latched his lips to hers. She gripped his shoulders and swirled her tongue with his. And for the first time, he heard Gail moan as if she wanted more than chaste kisses from him. Keith swallowed her moans and sucked her tongue into his mouth. She gave him an awkward shove and his back hit the door as she ran jerky hands up his chest and around his neck. She was ramping up the heat, but he got the distinct impression that this was no
t her field of expertise. He angled his head for better access, trying to get comfortable. His sweet Gail had turned tigress as she nipped at his bottom lip and gave a low growl—or maybe a clearing of her throat. Keith wasn’t sure.
Her hand skipped any foreplay of running down his chest and abdomen, and went straight for ground zero. Whoa! Keith stopped her heat-seeking, inexperienced hand in the nick of time and placed it back around his neck. As much as he needed to get laid, he didn’t really want it to be like this. Not some quickie in the darkened hallway of her apartment building. Not with Gail, the future mother of Maddie and maybe more children. He wanted their first time to be romantic and meaningful. Call him sappy or old-fashioned, but he had envisioned his first time with Gail to be on their wedding night. Not in her ridiculously clean granny apartment with her two weird roommates listening at the bedroom door.
But fooling around by the front door did hold some appeal. He skated his fingers up her back, threading them through her silky, straight hair. Gail sighed with pleasure as he scattered kisses around the edge of her mouth and cheek and eyelids. He nibbled on her lips as his mind wandered, thinking about the time and if Francesca and Maddie had made it to Virginia before dark. He should call and find out. His thoughts flicked over to the Jaycee Park and his business plan for the academy and then he remembered he needed to drop off some important papers for Bertie…shit. Keith broke away as if he were kissing a hairy tarantula. Gail gasped as she stumbled from his abrupt departure and his hand shot out to steady her. Fuck.
Keith rubbed his sweaty palms down his jeans. “Uh, it’s late…I should call…Maddie and Aunt Francesca are waiting to hear from me,” he babbled like a half-wit while Gail gulped for air. He detected a narrowing of her eyes heading straight for pissed-off land. But she ducked her head, averting her gaze, before he could be sure. She fumbled with the key in her shaky hand. He grabbed the key and shoved it in the lock. “I’ll call you, okay?” he said in a steadier voice. He cupped her chin and turned her reddened face toward him. “I had a great time tonight,” he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb in his attempt to steer them back on course. “I’m sorry. I just need to make sure everything’s okay with Maddie.”
Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) Page 23
