If I wasn’t in love with Clayton—if I was an ordinary business owner who’d contracted the man’s services and paid a retainer, would I call him? Well, of course I would!
Yes it was late on a Saturday night. But Clayton also owned his own business and Blair knew, after their nearly two-and-a-half-years-long relationship, that he often worked weekends and late into the night.
Just like me. We are really so very perfect for each other!
Blair had Clayton’s cell phone number. Calling him was something Blair had done sparingly, but had done in the past. A call now wouldn’t be too out of character, and certainly wouldn’t raise any eyebrows—just in case Clayton was still under surveillance.
At worst, Clayton might have his cell phone turned off. At best, he’d answer.
It seemed like forever since Blair had heard his voice. There was so much Blair wanted to tell Clayton. Like him, Blair could work from anywhere—and was, in fact, tying up some loose ends in order to join him in Texas. The moment he asked, Blair would be ready.
Or maybe—better yet—Blair could just show up and surprise him! Maybe the first move didn’t have to be Clayton’s, after all. Blair didn’t have to be so old fashioned, not in these modern times!
I just need to find out exactly where he is. Blair knew a techno-geek who would, for a price, trace an IP address. Blair had been considering just such a step but had been hesitant. But maybe it was time to do just that. Maybe the time had come to invest the money, locate the man, and then show up on his doorstep. Enough of this fancy footwork they’d both been doing! It was time to act.
So stop stalling. You have to have the courage to reach for what you want. After the personal risk that Clayton undertook, killing his wife just so the two of you could be together, why are you even hesitating over something so simple as a phone call?
He wouldn’t have moved to Texas if he were still under suspicion. The authorities wouldn’t have allowed him to leave the country.
Nodding firmly, having won the self-debate and garnered some much-needed courage, Blair picked up the cell phone, and hit speed dial number one.
* * * *
Gord Jessop’s house was completely unexpected. Situated on a large parcel of land outside the town, it was secluded from the road by a stand of live oaks. Tasha gasped when the gleaming glass and stone structure came into view.
“Dad had it built for Mom, because she’d confessed to him one day that she’d had visions of a manor-like house since she’d been a kid.” Gord opened the front door and extended his hand for her to enter first.
“It’s magnificent.”
“Damn near swallowed my tongue the first time I saw it,” Clay said.
The inside of the house was as impressive as the exterior. No expense had been spared in the materials used to create Joan Jessop’s dream home. The entranceway boasted marble flooring, and a richly colored mahogany framed the doorways. A small parlor opened on the left of the entrance hall, but to the right a great room, complete with fireplace and skylights and beautiful, wide windows, beckoned.
“Oh, Gord, this is lovely!”
“Thank you. The upstairs spreads only over the back half of the house. Downstairs here, there’s a library, a fitness room, and a room that used to be Dad’s office, as well as the usual kitchen, dining room bathroom and den. I keep my office right at the garage, in the new section I built onto the place, shortly after Dad retired and I took over, so I haven’t utilized the one here. Upstairs are all of the bedrooms and the rest of the bathrooms.”
Tasha already knew that Gord’s parents had been killed in a car accident several years before while on vacation in California. She also knew he’d moved back into his family home afterward. But those simple known facts seemed to pale in comparison to the reality. Then his words penetrated.
“All of the bedrooms and the rest of the bathrooms?” Tasha had never asked, but she’d assumed that Gord, being a bachelor gentleman, and having been an only child, would live in a house meant for a…well, a small family, if not for a bachelor.
She had in fact pictured him in the kind of house that Carol Ashwood had moved into when she’d relocated to Lusty last year. Carol had loved her little “dollhouse.” Tasha had visited her there several times before her friend had finally moved in with her paramedics.
Gord blushed. “Mom and Dad had dreams of a large family, but it never happened for them. Aside from the master suite, there’re four other bedrooms—all of which also have their own bathrooms.”
“Can I have the nickel tour?”
“It’s a bit chilly out tonight. Why don’t I get a fire going while you show her around?” Clay nodded toward the fireplace. “Then I’ll go into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on.”
“Thanks, Clay. We won’t be long.” Gord grinned at Tasha, and gestured her forward. “After you, my dear.”
Tasha fell in love with the library. There were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three of the four walls. The fourth wall featured another fireplace made of polished granite, and it was flanked by two very big picture windows.
“It’s a pretty view when the Indian blankets and the bluebonnets bloom,” Gord said.
“It’s a pretty view inside.” Tasha had a serious, lifelong love affair going on with books.
“You’re a reader, too? The three of us have that in common, then.” Gord looked around at a room that must have been so familiar to him.
Tasha could only salivate at the sight of the volumes sitting so prettily on the shelves, just waiting to be plucked and read.
“You’ll find works of every sort here. Mother collected them, as well as read them.”
“It’s amazing.”
He stopped and showed her an empty room that had once been his father’s office. “I just never saw the need to move my office back here. I’ll send the odd spreadsheet to my computer in the den, but mostly I work at work.”
“Well, if you don’t normally work from home, then in a way, you’d just be keeping yourself at work after hours with an office here.”
“That’s what I figured.”
Gord had some serious equipment in his workout room, and enough space to add more. An elliptical trainer stood next to a treadmill on one side of the room, and a universal gym and stationary bicycle took up space on the opposite side. An exercise ball waited in one corner, and a blue mat was rolled up and out of the way.
Tasha was delighted the room had no mirrors on the wall.
“I’m not sure about the ball or the universal gym, but the others I know how to use.”
“I decided a couple of years ago that I wanted to get in better shape.” He shrugged, his expression one of embarrassment. “I wasn’t thinking of becoming buff, or anything like that. It wasn’t vanity, it was a health thing. I just wanted to prevent myself from going to pot”—he patted his stomach—“literally.”
“I don’t know,” Tasha said. “You look pretty buff to me.” He was so damn cute when he blushed. Tasha winked at him.
“Come on, darlin’. You’re making me blush.” He lifted her hand and kissed it, then led her toward the back of the house.
The kitchen was gorgeous—all maple cabinets and sparkly granite countertops. The appliances looked new, a combination of stainless steel and black. He had a glass table in an alcove in the kitchen, tucked in by the windows. To the left of the table, stood a set of glass doors.
Gord switched on an outside light, and she could see a patio beyond the glass. The dining room, situated off the kitchen, boasted a very pretty cherry wood table, and eight chairs that Tasha could see.
“I have people over a few times a year. I enjoy cooking, and I think it makes the house happy to have more than just me in it.”
The den was a typical man-cave, with a large television mounted on the wall, a comfortable looking sofa and two very large leather chairs. By one window stood a solid wood desk, with an office chair behind it. The computer and a landline were the only items covering the wood surface. Tash
a noticed a small bar tucked into the single bookcase.
“Looks like a good place to watch the game—any game.”
Gord grinned. “Guilty. Clay and I both enjoy watching both football and basketball.”
The staircase was back toward the great room, opposite the library. An easy climb, she admired the pretty mahogany railing that ringed the stairs on three sides. Tasha expected to see the rooms divided—two on one side and three on the other of the central staircase.
Instead, she saw four doors on one side, and one—actually a double door—on the other.
“My room is here,” Gord pointed to the first of the four doors on her right. He reached in and flipped on the light. He had what looked like a queen-sized bed inside a spacious room. And, the bed was made and the room itself neat as a pin.
“Gee, I wish I was this tidy.”
Gord shrugged. “I’m not anal about it, or anything. Actually, since I was hoping to have company tonight, I did a quick cleanup earlier.”
The other three bedrooms on the right side of the staircase stood empty of furniture. They were a good size, each of them, and all of them, including Gord’s, bigger than anything she’d ever had. Each of those rooms had their own adjoining bathroom.
“Only one more room to see.”
Tasha sensed his nervousness. It didn’t take any mystical powers on her part to understand why, either.
She’d been inside enough houses in Lusty to know why there was only one bedroom on the other side of the house. This one, guarded by a set of double doors, didn’t disappoint. Gord opened the doors, pushed them wide, and then stepped back.
Tasha stepped inside the master suite. She thought it, too, might have been empty of furnishings, but it wasn’t. Though no one occupied this room, it was decorated beautifully.
Her gaze landed on the bed and she gasped in astonishment. It was hard to control her reaction when she was looking at the physical embodiment of her dream bed.
“Oh, my…” She stepped forward, her heart racing as she took it all in. Larger than a king—she knew they called it Lusty-sized, generally, but also Jessop-sized or Kendall- or Benedict-sized, depending. But this? This was more than she’d ever imagined because of the rich, black wood. “Is this ebony?”
“It is. Now, I don’t want you to think that the wood was poached. The Town Trust has property all over the world. There’re special preserves in India, Sri Lanka, and western Africa—protected lands where the trees grow uninterrupted. We don’t harvest a great deal, but selectively. My cousin, Mike—Carmichael Jones—he made this.”
After a year in this town, Tasha knew how things worked—more or less. The Town Trust was the legal entity set up more than a century before by Warren Jessop, to protect the town and her inhabitants from encroachment by self-righteous prigs who might move in and then prevent the townsfolk from living life on their own terms.
But over the years, it had grown and flourished, and under its massive umbrella, kept safe the resources of the families. All were free to make use of anything held within this protective entity, but they had to seek approval from the trust at large, first.
The canopy adorning the enormous bed, white silk, looked soft as a dream. That same material fell from the top of the tall posts. Rails running around the top of the canopy confirmed the draped material were curtains. Tasha caressed the soft fabric, and one long, beautifully sculpted post. Her thoughts tracked back to a conversation she’d had with Ari a few months before. Ari had been talking about selecting the furniture for the house she and her husbands were having built on a tract of land about five miles outside of town.
Ari had confessed that she’d never allowed herself to dream about things like furnishings or a house of her own. So they’d pored over magazines during lunch at Lusty Appetites several times.
“What about you? Do you have a dream bed?”
Tasha sighed and leaned back in her seat. She closed her eyes to see it better. “Oh, yes. A four-poster, the posts tall and sleek, white silk canopy and curtains…something that I would feel like a princess in.”
“Maple? Oak?”
“Oh, no. Big dreams here. Black ebony, rich, smooth, soft to the touch…”
The memory had crystallized, pure as if it had just occurred. And she remembered something else, as well.
Gord and Clay had been having their lunch at the very next table.
She’d mentioned other things that day, too. The walls of this master suite had been painted a delicate rose color, the carpet under and around the bed a deep, thick plush gray.
Sensing something, she looked from Gord to the open door. Clay stood with his shoulder resting on the frame, and his gaze—like his best friend’s—intent upon her.
Without saying another word, she looked at the rest of the room. Beautiful doors, all glass, led to a softly lit balcony. A hot tub, and a pretty white breakfast table sat waiting out there.
A fireplace—yes, this house was rife with them and why hadn’t she twigged on earlier?—had been inset into the wall between the bedroom and the master bath.
She wandered toward that bathroom and found it featured another spa tub, an enormous bathtub, and the shower of her dreams.
The countertop held three sinks. She wandered over to an alcove, and peeking around the corner spotted the toilet and bidet.
The entire bathroom was white and gold and turquoise.
Tasha went back to the bedroom. The men hadn’t followed her, but Clay had come into the room and stood next to Gord. She looked from one man to the other.
“I am completely overwhelmed.”
“This…” Gord looked around, then focused on her. “This was done with you in mind, yes. But it wasn’t intended as a bribe. Just as a sign of…intent, I guess.” He looked at Clay, and Tasha felt her heart melt at the expression on both men’s faces. Gord had an endearing shyness, and she’d heard enough about him to know he’d never been married, never even been seriously involved with a woman. He was, in a lot of respects, Clay’s complete opposite. Yet they meshed, and complemented each other almost as if they’d been born, mirror images one to the other.
“You matter, Tasha. Regardless of where we go or what happens from here. We wanted you to know that you matter.”
Tasha exhaled heavily. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. But before we go any further, we’d better sit and talk.”
Chapter 5
Gord had never before experienced this clutch-in-the-belly kind of nervousness. Focused on the woman he loved, he knew the exact instant Tasha had realized they’d fixed up this master suite with her in mind.
What Clay said was exactly the truth. This was done just to show her that she—what she loved, what she wanted, what she needed—mattered to them.
The expense certainly hadn’t mattered, not to either of them. He’d grown up with a trust fund just growing and growing, and with nothing he’d wanted particularly to spend it on.
Oh, he’d set up a foundation, a memorial to his parents, that benefited all sorts of children’s charities. But that portion of his inheritance he’d considered available for use—hell, he had everything he needed from the labor of his own two hands.
Sliding a look at Clay, he recalled the day his best friend had been told about his inheritance—his portion of the Town Trust. The man had needed to sit and take it all in.
But like the Benedict he was deep down inside, it hadn’t taken Clay long to decide that his newly acquired trust could and should be used for good, and for fun, here and there. But he, too, preferred to earn his own way in life.
They followed Tasha downstairs. “Y’all go get comfortable,” he said. “That coffee should be ready by now. I’ll bring it in.” He could see that both his guests wanted to help. He’d rather they just spend a few minutes together, one-on-one. “Go on, now, git.” He smiled to soften the command.
Tasha grinned and shrugged and headed into the great room.
If Gord’s hopes and dreams came to frui
tion, this would be their house, too, soon enough. Then would be the time for working as well as living together to make this house the home it was always meant to be.
Once in the kitchen, he pulled the small serving cart out of the pantry. He only used this when he had several guests.
But Tasha was here, finally, in his house and he was so damned nervous he was afraid he’d drop a hand-carried tray.
Clay had draped his jacket over one of his kitchen chairs—something the man did every time he came over. That kind of make-yourself-at-home gesture made Gord smile. Until he’d brought his family to Lusty, he and Clay hadn’t spent a lot of time together. But they’d hit it off from the moment they first met, and had stayed in touch, at first via letters and then, as the Internet age had really exploded, online.
The coffee was indeed ready, and Gord took a moment to make sure the tray looked pristine, before loading it with mugs, cream, and sugar. He thought to put out spoons for each of them, and added a saucer for them to rest on.
He also took out the plate of cookies he’d prepared that afternoon and set in the fridge.
An unfamiliar noise drew his attention. It was coming from Clay’s jacket—his cell phone was ringing. Gord reached for the garment and quickly found the device. Call display showed a number he didn’t recognize, and he’d have let the phone ring and possibly go to Clay’s answering machine. But it might be one of the children, so of course, he answered it.
“Hello?”
Silence filled his ear for a couple of heartbeats. Then a stiff voice said, “I was calling for Clayton Dorchester.”
Business. Gord might have taken the phone to his friend but just then music came over the house’s sound system.
No, definitely no need to break the mood. Business could be politely acknowledged and asked to wait. “I’m sorry. Clay’s not available right now. May I take a message?”
“Who the hell are you?”
Gord blinked. “Why, I’m just Gord. Gord Jessop.” He answered almost automatically. “I’ll be happy to…” He stopped talking when a loud click announced the disconnection of the call.
Love Under Two Introverts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 5
