What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel)

by Fennell, Judi

She did. She couldn’t not.

  “I have to go. My brothers will be waiting and I have a lot of things I need to discuss with them. But when I get back, we’ll talk, okay?”

  She licked her dry lips. “Okay.”

  And this is why you get your heart broken every time. You believe in people, and they always let you down.

  Sean wouldn’t.

  Uh huh.

  He wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of a guy. He wouldn’t leave someone he cared about. He wouldn’t betray their trust, dash their dreams, mess with their life. Sean was a good guy.

  And maybe, after their talk tonight, he’d be her guy.

  MANY more hours later than he’d planned, Sean let himself in the kitchen door—after he’d checked the ones to the salon. Thankfully, they were still jimmied shut from the inside so the barnyard animals were where they were supposed to be. Good. He wasn’t up for dealing with them tonight.

  He looked at his cell. Actually, it was this morning. He hadn’t planned to stay out so late, but his brothers had drilled him on what he was planning to do all the while taking his money in the poker game, and while it hadn’t been fun, at least they were now all on the same page. Though Bry did think he was nuts for giving up his dream for a woman.

  “And you’re not even married to her,” he’d said.

  Funny he should say that . . .

  Sean glanced at the counter. The thought of Livvy there, like she’d been before Sher and Kerry had interrupted . . .

  They would think he was completely out of his mind if they knew what he was thinking. But why not? Why couldn’t Livvy be The One? He wasn’t talking immediate proposal, but down the line? She made him smile, she made him laugh; she certainly made him horny. Livvy was a go-getter who didn’t let the world beat her down. He admired that about her. He liked her sunny spirit, her strong work ethic, and her fierce loyalty to those she cared about, be they two-legged or four. She had a soft, caring heart, a willingness to give, and the way she blushed . . .

  Yeah, he could definitely see forever after with Livvy.

  He walked into the foyer and checked the salon. No Livvy, thankfully.

  Sadly, there were also no dogs—because they were in his bed. Livvy was there, too, along with one of the goats—looked like Digger—leaving very little room for him.

  Sean had to chuckle. He’d stopped at a drugstore on his way home, never imagining he’d be put out of his bed by dogs.

  And he wouldn’t tonight.

  He pulled off his shirt and shorts, then nudged Paula and Georgia over. They grumbled, but moved. A few inches.

  He slid between the sheets and faced Livvy. The moonlight filtered through the blinds onto her face, and he wanted to trace her profile. To touch her. Show her that what he felt for her was not fleeting and shallow. He didn’t, though; no sense waking her up with a menagerie between them.

  He did, however, capture a few of her curls, loving the silky feel of them between his fingertips. And on his abdomen. His thighs . . .

  Sean sighed and tried to settle into a more comfortable position, but Mike growled at him from the foot of the bed.

  Oh, well. He’d just have to make the best of it and prayed he got a few hours’ sleep.

  Then “Sonofabitch” wafted from the bureau in the far corner.

  Great. Damn bird talked in his sleep. Between that, the dogs, and the box of condoms mocking him from the bedside table, it was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  WHO’S been sleeping in my bed? Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Time to get up.”

  Livvy peeled one eye open.

  Sean was propped up on an elbow, his chest bare, and he was running some of her curls through his fingers.

  “You’ve got your fairy tales mixed up,” she grumbled. She hadn’t slept well, trying to stay awake for when he’d arrived home so they could have their discussion, but entertaining her troops so they wouldn’t do a number on another room in the place had worn her out. Looked like that ten-minute “nap” she’d decided to take had turned into a ten-hour one.

  “I was never big on the whole dragon-fighting scenario anyway.” He reached out to pet not her, unfortunately, but Digger. “Hey, little guy. What sort of chaos got you to bed down in here?”

  “He kept crying when Davy and I were leaving the barn last night. I figured he’d fall asleep and I could put him back. But the dogs were climbing all over us on the sofa, so I came up here. You can see how well that worked. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. My brothers and I had a lot to discuss.”

  “Did you get everything done that you needed to?”

  “Not quite, but enough.” He sat up—practically naked. Man, if the animals weren’t in here with her . . . “So are we back to safe-cracking or did you come up with the combo last night?”

  “Sadly, it’s back to safe-cracking.”

  “You don’t need me for that, right? I’ve been neglecting my duties around here.”

  “I was planning to get to the salon.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You take care of the safe and I’ll do the room.”

  IT was a decision he questioned over the next four and a half hours as he hauled the damaged furniture out to his truck. Some of it was probably beyond repair, but he had to at least try. Now that he was going to buy this place at a higher price, he wouldn’t have the capital to invest in some of the improvements he’d planned on, so what was here had to work.

  “Sonofabitch!” Orwell had squawked his catchphrase throughout the house until Sean had brought him into the salon in the hopes of getting him to shut up.

  He should have known it wouldn’t work.

  “Sonofabitch!”

  “Hi, Orwell.” Sean tapped the cage for the twelfth time, and for the twelfth time, Orwell broke into song. So far, they’d been through Journey, The Police, some Tom Petty, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, and Michael Bublé. He’d have to ask Livvy where that came from. The bird had quite the repertoire.

  “You want some lunch?” Livvy stuck her gorgeous face in the room.

  “No luck with the safe?”

  Her curls bounced when she shook her head. “I’m now trying birth dates of every English monarch. So far, no luck. I’ll start on the Plantagenets after I eat something.”

  IT was close to dinner before Sean heard another peep out of Livvy. Though it was more of a shriek.

  He tossed the last thirty-foot length of really heavy fabric that passed for a curtain that he’d had to remove from the rod thanks to the pig snout impression on the lower panels, and went running into the study. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  She looked up from the sofa and twirled a locket around her finger. “I got the safe open. Here’s the next clue!”

  “You figured it out?” What were the odds?

  “I actually called Dafna and asked if there were any numbers or dates special to my grandmother.” Livvy took a deep breath—which was very nice when she was wearing a camisole. “The combination is October 7.”

  “Three digits? That’s it?”

  “No, eight. She chose the date that I . . .” Livvy cleared her throat. “The day she bought me from my mother.”

  “You mean when she adopted you.”

  “Same difference.”

  Sean didn’t know how to respond to that, other than to ask if she was okay.

  “I’m fine.”

  Uh huh. That’s why her voice went up an octave and she answered him before he’d barely finished the question. “Livvy.”

  “All right; I will be fine.” She shoved her hair behind her ears. “It’s just a date after all. She probably chose it so I wouldn’t ever forget that she deigned to own up to her son’s responsibility and bring me into the fold. For all the good it’s done me.”

  He wanted to hug her, to reach b
eneath that so-tough exterior to the woman inside who’d been dismissed by her grandmother and her entire family her whole life. “But, Livvy, she’s giving you the family legacy. She’s entrusting you to carry on the name, something she prized beyond everything else.”

  “Even her own flesh and blood.”

  “Exactly. She’s giving you the keys to the castle. Literally and figuratively. From what we know about Merriweather and how she felt about the family name, this is huge. She’s giving you everything.”

  “That’s only because she has no choice. If she hadn’t gotten sick, I wouldn’t be here now. With all her options of what to do with this place, I was probably the lesser of all the evils. But I guarantee you, she’s got a plan B in case I fail. Perhaps it’s a little less attractive to her than keeping the estate in the family, but she’s got another plan.”

  Yes, Merriweather did. He was Plan B.

  HEY, you did a great job in here.” Livvy flopped into one of the few remaining chairs in the straightened-and-cleaned salon in front of the fireplace Sean had started a fire in.

  “Thanks. How’d you make out?”

  She opened the locket for the umpteenth time, staring at the pictures of her parents as she never remembered seeing them. Side by side. Together. That’d never happened when they’d been alive.

  Illusion, all of it.

  “Look how young and happy they were. So different from what I remember.” Mom had been bitter and angry and scared. Dad—Larry—well, he’d been a good-time Charlie for all of his short-lived life, and Livvy’s one recollection was of him smiling and laughing a little too loudly when he’d been around that one week she’d come here. He hadn’t done any “dad-like” things with her and he definitely hadn’t picked her up to hold her. That, she did remember.

  “They were kids, Livvy.”

  “I guess.” She closed the locket and slipped it into her pocket.

  “Did you figure out what the clue meant?”

  “No and my brain is fried. You want to give it a shot?” She handed him the paper that’d been inside the locket like a fortune cookie.

  He took her hand instead. “I’m fried, too. Let’s sleep on it. We have some time, and as your alpaca’s namesake said, tomorrow is another day.”

  Except tomorrow ended up being a long and frustrating day.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  TOMORROW was also a lost day. The rep from Livvy’s biggest client had called and needed an order of specialty desserts for the next day, and Livvy couldn’t afford to tell him no. Especially with the last clue escaping them. If she failed, she was going to need that client more than ever.

  Another round of baking ensued—though this time without a repeat counter incident. Pies were more involved than scones and when she started in with the soufflés, Sean was afraid to breathe for fear of deflating them, let alone anything else.

  They loaded up his flatbed and Sean drove like a little old lady on a summer Sunday to deliver the order.

  He drove like a bat out of hell on the way back, though. “We’ve still got a few hours left to search for that clue.”

  “It doesn’t make any more sense to me now than it did last night.” She climbed out of the cab before he could get around to her. She leaned against the closed door, and stared at the house.

  Sean joined her. “It’ll be okay, Livvy. We’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We will. Come on, let’s go in.”

  She followed him down the path, avoiding the bricks the dogs had dug up on their little jailbreak/peacock episode.

  “I’ll fix that tomorrow,” he said as he held the kitchen door open for her.

  “Don’t bother. If I can’t figure out the clue, it’s pointless. The new owners can do it.”

  She stared at the kitchen with a bleak look on her face.

  What he wouldn’t give for one of her blushes. “Come on. It’s not over yet. You can’t give up. Read the clue to me again.”

  Never mind that if she did give up, he’d win. He didn’t want his glory to be in her defeat. Not if there was some way to prevent it, which meant he wasn’t about to let her give up without trying.

  She exhaled and recited the poem from memory, a testament to how often she’d read it today.

  You’ve walked with the generations of Martinsons who’ve come before you,

  Building everything you see,

  But there is one clue left to test your sincerity.

  Your way is clear, the reward is great

  If you watch what steps you take.

  “I’ve been to every statue on the property,” she said, hiking herself up onto the barstool and plopping her chin in her palm. “Forty-seven commemorative hunks of granite, not including the lawn ornaments, testifying to the greatness of my ancestors, and not a clue on any of them. I have no idea what she means.”

  Sean didn’t either, but if the clue wasn’t outside, then it must be in.

  “We need fresh eyes.”

  Livvy peeked out from beneath the hand that was rubbing her forehead. “And how, exactly do you propose getting those? You saw how gaga Sher was with this place; if we bring him here, he’s just going to get distracted by all the antiques.”

  “You leave everything to me. I’ll take care of it.” Sean slapped the countertop. The countertop. “In the meantime, let’s go take care of the animals.”

  “They’re my animals; I’ll do it.” She slid off the barstool, fatigue etched in every droopy fall of her shoulders.

  “Hey, none of that.” Sean wrapped an arm around her and steered her toward the back door. “We’ll do it together. All of it.”

  TOGETHER had a nice ring to it . . . Until about midnight. Then nothing had a nice ring to it because Livvy was beyond tired and their inability to find the last clue was driving her nuts.

  “I quit. I can’t do this anymore.” She walked away from the stack of books in the family library. They’d decided to start there after bedding down the animals in the barn for the night, but so far, she’d only found two torn pieces of paper with numbers on them, three old pictures, and one ripped page in the family bible. “I give up. Merriweather won.”

  Sean replaced the heavy old book on the shelf above her head. “No, she hasn’t. We still have two more days.”

  “Less than forty-eight hours.”

  “We’ll do it, Livvy.”

  “How can you be so sure? What if we don’t? What if I fail? I’ll be exactly what she’s always said. Unworthy. Useless. An embarrassment.”

  “She said those words to you?”

  “Well, no, but they were implied. I mean, I was her granddaughter for Pete’s sake and she couldn’t even bother to visit. Not even once. I never got a birthday card, and forget a graduation present. I reached out to her over the years and got nothing—nothing—in return. Now all of a sudden, out of the blue, she wants to hand over the reins of a dynasty to me? I’m not buying it. She’s doing this just to rub salt in the wound.”

  Damn it, her voice hitched. She was over this. Had been for years. But two weeks in this place and the bandage she’d put over the hurt had been peeled back so slowly that she hadn’t noticed it until now. And the wound was just as raw as it’d been the first time. And the second. And the third. That’s why there’d been no fourth; she’d stopped letting Merriweather get to her. She’d stopped writing, she’d stopped phoning, and she’d stopped asking for even a shred of simple human decency and kindness, more than willing to let Merriweather rot out the rest of her life in some out-of-the-way monstrosity, clinging to ideals of the past and dead people.

  Livvy had made the conscious decision to move forward with her life, yet this treasure hunt was pulling her back into the swirling morass of her past. She wanted out. And if it meant walking away from the inheritance, well, so be it. She was done with the Martinsons. W
ell and truly done with the family. She didn’t need them.

  “Livvy? What are you thinking?” Sean brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  She nibbled her lip.

  Yup, his eyes narrowed right in on them.

  “I’m thinking I don’t want to search anymore. The one thing I have control over in this situation is how I react to it. Merriweather is dead and she needs to stay that way. She never wanted me around here in my childhood, there’s no reason for me to hang around now. This was her home; it was never mine.”

  “You don’t mean that. We’re too close.”

  “I do, Sean. I’m done. Merriweather might think she’s won, but I have. I took back my life. I make my decisions. And I’m deciding that I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  SEAN should be glad about this. He should feel elated. He could get the house without sabotaging her and she would be fine with it. Or, if not fine, she couldn’t be mad at him if she made the decision to walk away.

  But she didn’t want to. That was the thing. She wouldn’t have fought this hard to not get the house. He couldn’t let her give up now.

  “Livvy, you’re tired. That’s why you’re saying this. But you can’t give up. You can’t let her win.”

  What are you doing, Manley? You’re throwing it all away. It’s right there for you!

  He, too, was taking his life back. He wanted the estate, but not this way. She’d regret giving Merriweather this power over her someday and he couldn’t let her do that.

  He scooped her up in his arms. She shrieked and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking you to bed. Things will look better in the morning when you’re rested.”

  He made it to the second floor before she said anything. And when she did, Sean was glad she’d waited.

  “I don’t want to sleep, Sean. I want you.”

  He was also glad his room wasn’t too far down the hall. And that he had a king-sized bed. And that he’d bought condoms.

  “Livvy, you’re tired.”