by JoAnn Ross
“I’m sure I’m going to love it here at Bachelor Arms,” Lily said. It was mostly true. Anything was better than returning to Connecticut, where, as hard as she’d tried, for Junior’s sake, she had never felt at home.
“I do feel a little guilty about Gage,” she admitted as the three women headed up the brick walk. “If I hadn’t put him on the spot that way, asking him to take my case, he probably wouldn’t have felt obliged to hire me.”
Gage had offered her a job answering his phone and typing up reports. Until he returned from Florida and found some place to live, his calls would be transferred to Lily’s number.
“Don’t be a dope. He needed the help,” Cait insisted.
“I can vouch for that,” Blythe agreed. “I can’t count the times I’ve had to leave messages on his answering machine. Or his beeper.”
After promising Lily that he’d begin investigating the Van Cortlandts as soon as he returned, Gage had left Los Angeles late last night. Blythe told herself that she wouldn’t miss him and wondered when she’d become such a liar.
“Jill said the apartment she had in mind for you is on the first floor,” Cait announced as they entered the pink building. “You’re going to love it; it has the most darling little garden in back. I can just see the baby, lying in her buggy in the sunshine.”
The image was a pleasant one. Oh yes, Lily thought with a burst of optimism, things were definitely looking up.
They stopped by Jill’s office. The sexy blond interior designer, whose knockout curves and highlighted blond hair reminded Lily of Linda Evans from her “Dynasty” days, greeted her prospective tenant with genuine warmth.
“I know how difficult it is to start over,” she said as she retrieved the key from a Queen Anne desk in her living room. “I don’t know if Cait’s filled you in on everyone, but I recently moved here after my divorce.” Her smile was bright and friendly. “You’re going to discover that L.A. is a perfect place to reinvent yourself.”
Her words struck a responsive chord deep inside Lily. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
During her soul-searching walk on the beach the other day, she’d belatedly realized she’d been drifting for months. Since before her pregnancy. Before Junior’s death. It was time to regain control. Time to make a new life. For herself, as well as her baby.
“There was a bit of earthquake damage,” Jill revealed. “And unfortunately, Ken—he’s the man who takes care of the building—is out of town.”
“How much damage was there?” Cait asked, suddenly concerned about her own apartment.
“Don’t worry, your place is fine,” Jill assured her quickly. “In fact, we were pretty lucky. Most of the units managed to escape unscathed. Your apartment,” she said to Lily, “has a cracked window that needs replacing and some bookshelves came unfastened from the wall. But I’ve hired a temporary handyman to fill in while Ken’s away.”
“That was fast work.” Even having figured out that Jill was incredibly motivated and organized, Cait was still impressed with the speed with which she’d located a replacement.
“Actually, I was out of town yesterday,” Jill revealed. “I didn’t get back until this morning.”
“Then who—”
“Brenda found him. He’s another new tenant.”
“Brenda?” Cait arched a brow. Brenda Muir was bubbly, beautiful and enthusiastic. And terribly naive.
“I know.” Jill’s laughter revealed Cait was not alone in her concern for what type of handyman the would-be actress may have hired. “I was worried, too. But I gave him the tour, and from what I could tell, he knows his way around a hammer.”
She handed Lily the key. “After Cait called about you needing a place to stay, I told him to start with your apartment.”
The arched door was ajar. As Lily approached with Blythe and Cait, they heard a rich baritone belting out a rendition of Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman.”
“He certainly has a nice voice,” Blythe offered.
“He’s enthusiastic anyway,” Cait allowed. “I hope he can hammer as well as he sings.” Despite Jill’s assurance, she still didn’t quite trust Brenda’s hiring acumen.
The first thing Lily saw as she entered the apartment was a man clad solely in a pair of faded, raggedy cutoff shorts and a pair of sneakers. Even as she told herself that such an instantaneous sexual response was unseemly in a woman only two short months away from motherhood, the sight of those sinewy muscles rippling in the man’s bare back as he pounded nails into the wall nearly took her breath away.
“I knew it,” Cait muttered darkly as she came up behind Lily. “Brenda’s gone and hired a Chippendale dancer as a handyman.”
The scathing tone captured his attention. He turned toward them, looking ridiculously macho with that large, wood-handled hammer in his hand and the leather tool belt slung low on his hip.
“Well, well,” he drawled as his gaze went directly to Lily’s startled face. “If it isn’t the pregnant mermaid. Talk about your small worlds.”
Lily couldn’t believe her eyes. “Mac?”
Cait’s surprised gaze went from Connor’s handsome face to Lily’s astonished one and back again. “Mac?” Good Lord, she thought, no wonder Lily was so willing to stay in California! “You’re Lily’s white knight?”
Lily’s soft unpainted, utterly kissable mouth had parted in an appealing O of surprise. Even as he told himself that the woman he’d pulled out of the surf represented more complications than any sane man would want, Connor was drawn to the soft color that was drifting into her cheeks. “That’s me. In the flesh.”
And so much flesh, Lily considered weakly. His chest was tanned to the color of the Honduras mahogany breakfront that her great-great-grandmother Padgett had insisted on hauling along in that covered wagon from Vermont to Iowa so many years ago. The same one each generation of Padgetts had cherished, the one that she’d inherited when her parents had died, the one that Junior had refused to have in their house. The one currently in a Lock-and-Store in Hastings.
A light sheen of perspiration glistened on that muscular chest, drawing her attention to the arrowing of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his faded cutoffs.
A flurry of emotions—none of them safe or comfortable—rushed through her. “I thought you said you’d come to town on business,” she said, when she finally found her voice.
“I did.” That was the absolute truth.
Lily had learned the hard way not to trust a smooth smile and dancing eyes. “And now you’re a handyman?” Her arched brow echoed her skeptical tone.
Having already lied to her about his name, Connor hedged. “Don’t tell me you have something against honest work.”
“Of course not.” There was something wrong here. Something Lily couldn’t put her finger on. “It’s just that most rich men of my acquaintance don’t earn their living hanging up shelving.”
Having been personally acquainted with one particular rich man Lily Van Cortlandt had known too well, Connor didn’t blame her for her distrust. “You’re the one who said I was rich,” he reminded her with a negligent shrug that drew her unwilling attention to his broad shoulders.
The part of her that wanted to believe him considered that he was too fit, too tan, for a man who spent his days behind a desk in some high-rise office tower. Another more cynical part she’d developed after her marriage found him too smooth, too comfortable with himself to be a mere carpenter.
“You didn’t correct me,” she said.
“I didn’t get the chance. You closed the door on me before I could effectively argue my case.”
He didn’t talk like any handyman Lily had ever met, either. She turned back to Cait and Blythe.
“We need to talk.” If Mac Sullivan was going to be working at Bachelor Arms, there was no way she could live here.
He was too attractive.
Too tempting.
Too male.
“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Cait sai
d. “We could go next door to Flynn’s.”
“Anywhere is fine with me.” Without giving Connor a second glance, Lily turned and walked out of the apartment.
“What in the world was that all about?” Jill asked.
Cait had a feeling she knew exactly what was bothering Lily. “Hormones,” she said instead. “You know how temperamental pregnant women are.”
Obviously unconvinced, Jill glanced over at Connor, who only gave her a bland, innocent look in response. “Well, is she going to take the apartment or not? With so many buildings being damaged in the quake, a lot of people are going to be looking for new places to live. I can’t hold it forever.”
“She’ll take it,” Cait said quickly.
Now that she’d seen Mac Sullivan, and discovered he’d be living here as well, Cait was more determined than ever to have Lily move into Bachelor Arms.
As a cop, Cait prided herself on her instincts. Often her life depended on her well-honed intuition. And although she shared Lily’s obvious suspicion that this was not the man’s usual line of work, she also sensed that he was a good man. A decent man. Not to mention being about the sexiest thing—not counting Sloan, of course—that she’d seen in ages.
She and Blythe had been hoping for something to take Lily’s mind off her troubles. And providentially, here he was.
“Consider it leased,” Blythe said, exchanging a look with Cait that said she was thinking the same thing. She took out her checkbook and a gold filigree pen, then wrote a check which she handed to Jill. “I assume this will cover the deposit?”
“And the first and last month’s rent,” Jill agreed. She smiled, obviously pleased to have that little matter taken care of. “We’re having a resident’s earthquake survival party tonight,” she informed Cait. “I hope you and Lily can come.”
Cait turned toward Connor, who, satisfied that things had turned out the way he wanted, had gone back to hanging the bookshelves. “Are you going to be there?”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Since I’m a resident now, yeah, I suppose I’ll show up,” he said with studied casualness. Actually, he had no intention of missing it. Not if Lily was going to come.
Terrific. “We’ll be there,” Cait assured Jill. “With bells on.”
6
FLYNN’S SERVED as a community watering hole, a place to sit and talk and share what had happened that day with neighbors. Named in honor of Errol Flynn and established as a tribute to all the swinging bachelors who’d supposedly lived in Bachelor Arms—many of whom were depicted in the black-and-white photographs hanging on the walls—its decor tended to brass railings, dark wood and the black-and-white art deco style tile so in vogue during Hollywood’s glamour days.
The three friends claimed the single empty booth along the wall. Ten minutes after their drinks and a huge platter of nachos had been served, Lily and Cait were still arguing.
“I’m sorry,” Lily repeated for the umpteenth time, “but I can’t stay in that building.”
Blythe, who’d been sipping on a glass of iced tea, had remained silent, watching the pair go back and forth, as they had so many times during their college days.
“Can’t?” Cait challenged. “Or won’t?” When Lily didn’t answer, she exhaled a frustrated sigh that ruffled her fiery bangs. “I can’t believe you’re willing to give up a super apartment, at a bargain price, just because some guy who just happens to have turned out to be the building’s fill-in handyman asked you out to dinner.”
When put that way, her objections sounded ridiculous. Knowing that her reasons were valid, albeit inexplicable, Lily lifted her chin a fraction. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be,” Blythe suggested mildly, entering the conversation for the first time.
“What does that mean?” Lily challenged in a way that had Blythe and Cait exchanging surreptitious, satisfied glances. When she’d first arrived in Los Angeles, Lily had been depressed and lost. It was good to see her regain a bit of her old spunk.
Blythe decided that if Mac Sullivan had anything to do with Lily’s renewed spirit, she was more than a little grateful for his appearance.
“Jill already said he was only filling in for Mr. Amberson,” Blythe reminded Lily. “As soon as Amberson returns home, your white knight won’t have a job any longer.”
“He’s not my white knight.” The emotional turmoil stirred up by Mac Sullivan’s unexpected reappearance in her life had her baby kicking up a storm.
“Point taken,” Blythe agreed easily. “But the fact remains that he’ll probably be on his way back to the Bay area any day.”
“One can only hope,” Lily muttered.
She already knew what it was like to live with the pain that came with falling in love. It started out, deep in the bone, and spread and throbbed until it consumed every ounce of your mind, your body. Your soul.
Although what she felt for Mac Sullivan was a long, long way from love, Lily had no doubt that it could hurt just the same. Even worse, having already suffered so deeply, she suspected she was even more vulnerable than she’d been when she allowed herself to be swept off her feet by James Carter Van Cortlandt.
“Blythe’s right,” Cait said. “The man will undoubtedly be gone before you know it.” Having seen the gleam in Mac Sullivan’s eyes as he’d looked at Lily, Cait didn’t believe it for a moment.
“Talk about the devil,” Blythe murmured, glancing over Cait’s shoulder toward the door.
Cait’s head swung around and she grinned. Lily, on the other hand, pretended sudden interest in the tabletop.
“I hate to bother you ladies,” Connor said, stopping beside their table. He’d taken off the tool belt and put on a royal blue polo shirt that did nothing to decrease his sex appeal. On the contrary, with his bare chest no longer a distraction, it was impossible for Lily, who cast a quick surreptitious look upward, not to notice that the muscles in his upper arms looked as hard as rocks. “But I thought I should let you know that the work on the bookcase is all done.”
His grin was quick and too endearing for any woman’s comfort. Cait thought it was too bad, since Lily was refusing to look at him again, that it was wasted on the two women at the table who’d already agreed to marry other men.
“You can move in any time, Lily,” he said, addressing her directly.
She slowly lifted her head.
Her parents had always taught her to repay kindness with kindness. In this case, Lily chose to make an exception. “I still haven’t decided if I am going to move into Bachelor Arms.” Her voice was cool, reminding Connor of the tone an empress might use to dismiss an errant coachman.
Haughtiness didn’t suit her, he considered. Lily Van Cortlandt did not belong in a stuffy drawing room; it was much easier to picture her in some mountain meadow emblazoned with wildflowers.
Or better yet, a hayloft. As he imagined her lying on a bed of fragrant yellow hay, her lush ripe body warmed by the buttery rays of a benevolent summer sun streaming in through the open window, a raw, jagged need stirred in his gut.
“It’s very nice of you to get the work done so quickly,” Cait said.
In his idle fantasy, Connor had been skimming his lips over Lily’s body, tasting each bit of fragrant, sunwarmed flesh. Cait’s words snapped him back.
“It’s my job.” Once again his negligent shrug drew Lily’s unwilling attention to his wide, strong shoulders.
“Why don’t you join us for lunch, Mr. Sullivan?” Cait offered with a feigned innocence that proved her mother was not the only actress in the family. “Since we’re going to be neighbors, we may as well get to know one another.”
“Cait—” Lily warned.
“Thanks.” When Cait scooted over, making room for him in the booth beside her, Connor didn’t hesitate to sit down. “But it’s Mac. And I insist on getting the check.”
Before Cait could suggest that they go Dutch, or Lily could escape yet again, the bartender returne
d to the table to refill the iced tea glasses.
“Excuse me, Ms. Fielding,” he said, “I hate to interrupt, but I was wondering what you knew about the sale of Xanadu Studios.”
Cait had introduced Eddie when they’d first arrived. Blythe had found him good-looking in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way. And while she wasn’t at all surprised to learn that he, too, was trying to break into show business, she had been surprised that he was not an actor, but a budding screenwriter.
Now she stared up at him. “What sale?”
Connor bit back a curse and wondered where the leak had come from. The news wasn’t supposed to be released to the press until the end of the month.
“You didn’t know?” It was Eddie’s turn to stare. “I just figured, since you’re one of the studio’s biggest stars, you would have heard something on the grapevine.”
“Actually, I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.”
Blythe’s head was spinning as she considered the ramifications of Eddie’s news. She wasn’t overly concerned about the projects she’d agreed to star in; as far as she was concerned, she’d love to see the new owner scuttle the films that would cast her in her usual role of femme fatale.
But her Alexandra script was a different story! Walter Stern III had signed the contract; if he was no longer in charge of the studio, did she still have a deal?
“Are you certain about this?” she asked the bartender. After all, this was a town that thrived on gossip. Most of it unfounded.
“It’s in today’s Variety,” he assured her. “The cover article says that Stern sold it to some company called C. S. Mackay Enterprises, Inc.... I’ll go get the paper.” He put the pitcher of iced tea on the table and went around behind the bar.
Unlike many CEOs, Connor kept his public relations people working overtime to keep his personal life out of the press. Now, he was about two seconds away from having his cover blown. Once Lily saw the photo that would undoubtedly accompany the article, she’d know exactly who he was.
