by Delia Latham
She chortled—that unladylike burst of derisive laughter he remembered from the day they first met. “Help me? You wanted to help me? That’s why I owe you every penny I earn? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing I have you to answer to should I ever default on that loan?” Her voice broke, and he could almost see her choking back the tears she was too stubborn to let fall.
His own anger dissipated in an instant. “You’re not going to default, Destiny. Solomon’s Gate is doing incredibly well considering the short time you’ve been in operation. I have no doubt about your success. I never did. If I had, I wouldn’t have provided the money for it.”
She sniffed. “Yeah, right. It was just an investment.”
“Well, yeah. Actually, it was.”
In the ensuing silence, he found himself wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and kiss away her worries. “Look, I know you’re upset, but can we talk about this? I’m truly sorry I went behind your back, but I knew you wouldn’t take the money from me if I offered it.”
“How perceptive of you.”
Sarcasm could be a good thing. At least she was speaking.
“OK, so it’s settled. I’m a thoughtless, interfering jerk. Now will you meet me for lunch? Please?” She hesitated, and he hurried on. “Just think, if we’re face to face, you can pour your soda over my head or something.”
This time her laughter was genuine, if a bit acidic. “Well, you finally made an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll see you at Gianelli’s in an hour.”
The click of the phone preceded the hollow silence of an empty line.
OK, then. Gianelli’s it is.
****
It took Destiny a little over an hour to get there, but her tardiness was the result of deliberate obstinacy. Let him cool his heels for a bit.
To her chagrin, however, Clay didn’t appear in the least put out by her late arrival. As she approached the table where he waited, he sent her that never-to-be-forgotten lopsided grin, then stood while she took a seat.
“I hope you don’t mind, I ordered for you.” At her surprised glance, he hurried on. “I also ordered you two sodas—one to drink, one to dump in my lap.”
She couldn’t help smiling, despite the tension that still roiled in her mind. I only agreed to meet so we could talk. I’m still mad! “Good thinking,” she replied. “Now I can get it over with right up front.”
Clay’s low laughter triggered an irritating upheaval somewhere in the vicinity of her fickle heart.
“Come on, Destiny, don’t be mad at me. Surely you know my intentions—however misdirected—were only to help you.”
She did know that. Somewhere in the deepest part of her heart and mind, she believed Clay Gallagher incapable of malicious dishonesty. On the other hand, the thought of him having any involvement with Solomon’s Gate, knowing how he felt about its purpose, rubbed her entirely the wrong way.
“I didn’t ask for your help, Clay, and I didn’t want it.”
He cocked his head, eyeing her curiously. “You do know that you wouldn’t have been able to get a loan? Would you just think about it for a minute? You’d been out of the work force for five years, and the small salary you received from the County for taking care of your mother ended when she died. You had no income, no second job to back you up. You couldn’t have found financing anywhere.”
“Then you should have let me find that out for myself. Or—imagine this—you could have simply offered me the loan and allowed me to turn you down with my dignity still intact.”
She watched as he pulled in a large chunk of the restaurant’s air, laden with the delicious aromas of Italian spices, and then blew it back out. “Yeah, I could have. I should have. But—oh, tar and feathers, Destiny! You were so excited about the idea. I just wanted you to have your chance.”
She opened her mouth to make a tart reply, but he held up his hand. “Let me finish. Yeah, I had some personal reservations about the industry as a whole—I still do, I won’t lie to you. A lot of misguided souls get fleeced and eventually hurt by the charlatans who operate similar ventures. But I’ve been around enough to know it’s a thriving part of today’s business world. And I knew that if anyone could make a success of it, you could.”
He seemed so sincere. And she desperately wanted to believe him. Still, though his longing for her to do so could almost be felt, she refused to look at him.
“So stone me already.” His frustrated voice revealed a little stubbornness of his own. “I blew it. But the plans I had were to prosper you, and not to harm you.” His tongue-in-cheek paraphrase of the scripture made her smile despite herself.
“No fair, Clay. I wanted to stay mad for awhile.”
“Go ahead,” he shot back. “You’re cute as all get-out when you’re angry.”
She dipped a finger in one of the sodas in front of her—he really had ordered two of them—and flicked it at him. “Don’t get too cocky, dude. You’re still being weighed in the balance.”
His gray eyes glinted. “And found wanting, I suppose.”
“Only a little.” Relenting, she reached across and gave his hand a brief squeeze. “I hate fighting with you.”
“Well, they say there’s a fine line between love and hate. Maybe we’re spending too much time straddling the fence.”
“You want me to hate you?”
“No, of course not. But you will, if we don’t choose one side or the other fairly soon.”
Startled by his candid approach, Destiny said nothing. The waiter appeared with their plates, and neither of them spoke until he walked away again. Then Clay held out a hand. “Shall we?”
His quiet prayer of thanks for their food gave her a needed moment to compose herself. Yet she had come up with no appropriate response to his unexpected statement by the time he said “amen” and reached for his napkin.
Apparently he was finished with the discussion anyway, which was a good thing. But her relief was short-lived.
“Are you still seeing Carson?”
She speared a chunk of chicken with her fork and extracted it from the pile of noodles on the plate, wondering how to answer. Honesty was the best policy. “I saw him yesterday. We went to the fair.”
He nodded. “Sounds like fun—cotton candy and rollercoasters.” His unwitting duplication of C.J.’s description made her bite back a smile. “So how serious are you about my brother?”
Destiny choked on her fettuccini.
Clay picked up a glass of soda and held it out to her. “Careful, there.”
Gasping, she stared at him. “What on earth is wrong with you today?”
“Not a thing. Can’t a fellow ask a question?”
“You asked a pretty personal one.”
He forked a bite of pasta into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed without taking his eyes off her face. Finally he answered. “It’s a personal issue. My brother’s trying to steal my girl.”
****
Clay called me his girl! Wait. I don’t belong to anyone. Do I, Lord? Will I have a shot at marriage and babies, after all? Someone of my own to love and cherish? Her mind went to to her nephew, holding him, kissing his little cheek, imagining her own babies…dimples like Clay’s…gray eyes…
Destiny floated on a happy cloud all the way back to the office. She parked her car and nearly skipped to the door. Not that she had let on to Clay the effect his words had on her shaky emotions. She thought she’d done an admirable job of keeping her cool.
“C.J. wouldn’t do a thing like that.” She had countered his startling comment, once she caught her breath. “Not if he knew you cared about—um, about your girl. Maybe you ought to talk to him and clear the air.”
Clay looked at her as though she had two heads, but she plowed on. “After that, you should talk to your…the girl. I’m sure you’ll find you’ve blown things completely out of proportion where C.J. is concerned.”
By then, he was shaking his head. The glint in his expressive gray eyes sent delicious litt
le shivers down Destiny’s spine, as did the growl in his voice. “You’re too saucy for your own good, lady. But you know what? You’re right. I should talk to my brother. In fact, I intend to, before another day goes by.”
“And your...the girl?” She held her breath, waiting for his reply.
“Believe me, I’ll set things straight with her, too.” He made it sound like a promise. Or a threat.
She watched him take his credit card out of the folder the waiter left. He slipped it into his wallet, then stood and tossed her an impersonal smile, as if they’d been discussing nothing more meaningful than the weather. “I’m afraid I have to get back to work now. Thanks for coming to lunch and giving me a chance to apologize for caring.”
Grabbing her purse, she followed him as far as the register, where she paused long enough to thank him for lunch before hurrying out the door. For a brief moment on her way back to work, doubt plagued her. Was Clay talking about me…or not?
But only for a moment. By the time she pulled into the parking lot, a giant grin claimed her face, and she treated herself to that special chortle that Clay termed unladylike. Somewhere between her car and the door, she dropped the laughter, but the smile was still on high beam when she swung into the office.
“I’m back, Julie. Sorry I’m la—”
Her assistant peered around the man propped against her desk. The trapped expression in her blue eyes epitomized the phrase “deer in the headlights.” Her visitor, not even a little embarrassed, finished tucking a strand of hair behind Julie’s ear before turning to face the door.
“Hey, Destiny.” C.J. grinned and waved. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Destiny’s smile broadened into a burst of unbridled merriment. While C.J. and Julie watched, she laughed until tears flowed. Finally C.J. crossed the room and used his handkerchief to dry the moisture from her cheeks.
“You OK?”
“I’m f-fine.” She bit her lip, trying not to get started again.
“Well, come on then. Tell me what’s so confounded funny.”
He held out his hand. She took it and allowed him to lead her across the room. As they passed Julie’s desk, C.J. winked and tossed the girl a lopsided smile.
Destiny couldn’t help giggling at her assistant’s confused murmur.
“I see crazy people.”
Destiny's Dream
13
By the time the door opened in response to Clay’s repeated pounding, he had talked himself into defense mode and was battle-ready.
C.J. appeared, wrapped in a towel and still dripping from the shower. With the light behind him, wide-eyed and curious, wet hair standing on end, he looked like a mere boy—one who knows he’s in trouble, but isn’t sure why. Clay fought back a grin. He couldn’t afford humor right now. He needed this defensive edge if he hoped to have his little brother actually listen to him.
C.J. had no qualms about jesting. “What are you doing huffing and puffing outside my door at this hour?” He stepped back with a mischievous grin and motioned Clay inside. “Come on in. No need to blow my house down.”
Clay strode past him without speaking.
“You OK?” C.J. passed a hand through his damp hair while a slight frown tugged his eyebrows downward. “Something wrong?”
“Put some clothes on, Carson. We need to talk.”
“Oh. It’s Carson, is it?” C.J. chewed at his bottom lip while he narrowed his eyes at Clay. “I must have been a pretty bad boy, huh?”
At Clay’s low growl, he rolled his eyes and strolled toward the bedroom. “Give me a minute, bro. If I gotta take a chewing, I’d rather do it with my pants on. Be right back.”
Clay shook his head. He loved his little brother with all his heart, but the kid was incorrigible. Never took anything seriously. Everything was always a joke to him. Well, Destiny isn’t a joke. He’ll listen to me tonight, or the two of us are gonna tangle!
“Want some coffee, or do you want to get right to the lecture?” C.J. reappeared, dressed in jeans. Bare-chested, he headed straight for the kitchen. “Either way, I think I’m going to need a little punch for whatever’s coming.”
Oh, I’ll be happy to provide the punch. At the thought, Clay found himself fighting back another inappropriate grin.
“I’ll have a cup with you.” He followed his brother into the ultra-modern kitchen and plopped down on a high, backless chair beside a tall glass table. C.J. set a large mug in front of Clay and sat across from him as he sipped the hot coffee.
C.J. eyed him for a moment, then heaved a sigh, and twisted his lips into a wry half smile. “Let me guess. This has something to do with a certain little red-headed matchmaker.”
Clay set his mug down and crossed his arms on his chest. “It has everything to do with her, little brother. I want you to back off.”
“OK.”
“Shut up and listen to me. I love Destiny, and I won’t let you—what did you say?”
“I said OK.” And there was that jaunty grin again.
Clay felt his jaw drop, and snapped it back together. “That’s it? That’s all she means to you?” Anger rose inside him and threatened to spill out. “She’s not even worth a battle?”
“Whoa, whoa!” His brother set his mug on the table and held up both hands in a placating gesture. “I get a feeling I can’t win either way I answer. Don’t get me wrong, bro, Destiny’s a jewel of a girl. But she’s not my girl. She never was.”
“But—” He shook his head, eyeing the other man like he’d grown an extra eye or two. “I thought you were dating her.”
“Well, kind of, but I knew from the first that Destiny belonged to you.”
“Then why did you even bother to see her again?”
“Hey, you didn’t seem to be moving ahead with anything. Destiny’s a fine lady. Beautiful, and lots of fun. I didn’t figure it would hurt to spend a little time in good company while you got your act together.”
Clay drooped. He’d been spoiling for a fight, and there was nothing to fight about. He couldn’t help feeling a bit cheated.
Sighing, he drained his coffee mug and glared across the table. “You know I’m serious about this, right? I mean, I’d hate to have to hurt you, C.J., but if I find you hanging around my lady again, all bets are off. I’ll turn you inside out and upside down.”
C.J. laughed. “Hey, the best man wins every time. I know when I’ve been beat.” He got up and took both mugs to the sink. After giving them a cursory rinse, he turned and leaned against the counter. “I’m not a bettin’ man, as you well know. I mean, we were raised by the same Ma and Pa, right?” He narrowed his eyes in Clay’s direction and gave him a slow nod. “But if I were, I think it’d be a pretty safe wager that my big brother’s been caught. Hook, line, and sinker.”
Clay stood. “That would be about the safest bet you could make in this lifetime.” He grinned and added, “Funny thing is, she reeled me in without half trying.”
“Well, if it makes any difference—which I’m sure it doesn’t—I’m all for it. You could look for the rest of your life and not find another woman like Destiny.” Having dealt out about as much seriousness as he was capable of in one day, C.J. punched one arm straight up into the air and emitted an excited chortle. “You da man, big bro! Now go get ‘er.”
Clay laughed. “You never change, kid. When are you gonna settle down and find someone to love?”
His query was met with a waggly eyebrow and a crooked smile. “Who says I haven’t, man? Now get outta here. I got places to go and people to see.”
****
By Friday, Destiny decided she’d either dreamed the whole lunchtime conversation, or Clay hadn’t been talking about her. If he had, surely she would have heard from him by now.
Wouldn’t she?
But the phones in both her office and Mama’s house remained ominously silent, as did her cellular. No word from Clay. C.J. didn’t call either, but she hadn’t expected him to, nor did she mind that he hadn’t. She he
ard Julie giggling into the phone a couple of times, and was fairly certain to whom the girl was speaking.
Rising from her daily prayer session, she placed the new stack of applications in her file tray for her assistant to process, and slid the pretty bottle of anointing oil back onto its mirrored base. She glanced around the room before picking up her purse and heading out the door. Everything in order, just the way she liked it. Julie had left an hour ago, so Destiny let herself out and locked the door.
As she drove home, she reflected on the unbelievable success Solomon’s Gate was enjoying. Maybe it was the newness of the whole arranged dating thing. Castle Creek had never before hosted her particular field of business. Plus she had garnered many out-of-town clients, as well. But Destiny believed the success of the venture was a direct result of obedience to God’s gentle prodding. It hadn’t been an easy decision to take the risks involved in starting a dating agency in this conservative town, but her certainty in the call buoyed her courage.
And then to have that miraculous loan come through. It still rankled that she was so indebted to Clay, but where else would she have obtained funding? Maybe God placed him in her path for a reason—maybe more than one reason. A little smile tugged at her lips as she pulled into the garage and lowered the door with the remote.
The clattery jangle of Mama’s ancient phone greeted her when she stepped into the house. She hurried across the kitchen and dropped her purse on the countertop as she plucked the receiver off the hook.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” She spoke a little louder.
“Destiny May?”
Not recognizing the caller’s voice, she frowned. Not a telemarketer, please. I’m tired and not in the mood. “Speaking.”
“You’re the one what owns that gate?”
A twinge of foreboding took root in her mind as she realized this was not a sales call. She wished it had been. “Are you referring to Solomon’s Gate?”
