by Nita Wick
“Mulligan. I remember that home. Were you satisfied with Flannery’s work?”
“Pardon?” Haley had trouble concentrating on the man’s words. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. My home is wonderful. It’s exactly what I wanted. I couldn’t be more pleased. Michael is a talented architect.”
“High praise coming from you. You’re not just saying that because he’s your boyfriend, are you?”
“No. Not at all. If I’d been dissatisfied with any of it, you would have heard. I paid good money for the service. I expected no less than I received.”
He nodded, his stance softening. “Good. Speaking of money…” He gestured to the drawings. “What are we going to do about this?”
Haley stared at the drawings. A part of her rejoiced to know she could still produce work of this quality. Another part withered and retreated all over again. The reemergence of her confidence and creativity had cost her Michael. It wasn’t worth it. “You can have them. As long as it’s understood that Michael is not responsible for my actions.”
“No, I can’t use these without paying.” He shook and frowned, his gaze on her designs. “They’re damn, good. Any chance of putting the price tag within my budget? Your usual rates are exorbitant.”
Haley pushed aside the emotions drowning her to defend her business practices. “Mr. Miller, my fees were justified and quite reasonable for the services provided. HLP Design supplied not only original interior design plans but also a team of trained professionals for the implementation of those designs. I supervised every project from start to finish. My clients received hundreds of hours of skilled labor as well as superior designs.”
“I see your point.” He rubbed his chin and moved closer to the drawings, examining each one. “I have my own team. I think they can handle it with your direction. How much for the design and consultation?”
Haley considered the question. She certainly didn’t need the money. “Do you know that house next to the children’s hospital where they allow parents and families of the sick children to stay?”
“Hospitality House?”
“Yes. On the way over, I heard on the radio they’re in need of donations. Make a contribution to them in my name. Fair enough?” Haley held her breath. She wanted out of this room, out of the building.
“Would seventy-five hundred be acceptable?”
“Fine. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your generosity.” She reached for her purse, relief coursing through her.
“How long will it take you to finish the details? And when will you be available for consultation? ”
Haley’s breath caught. Any escape would only be temporary. This sketch was far too rough. She’d have to provide a complete proposal and be available to answer any questions the team might have. A quality design lay in the details—the very details that were too vague or even missing in these drawings. “Limited consultation only. I’ll have completed drawings to you by next Monday. Then I’ll meet with your team on site for a couple of hours once they’ve had time to study the design. After that I’ll be available by phone. Agreed?”
Mr. Miller offered his hand. “A pleasure doing business with you, Miss Preston.”
Haley shook his hand. “I’ll need to take the architect’s rendering with me.” She picked up the floor plan and sketches. “And my drawing.” She tore the page from the sketchpad and hurried to the door. A heartbreaking thought crossed her mind just as she reached it.
She looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Miller, if your architect prefers not to work with me, please don’t force him. Any consultation I provide will not require his assistance.”
Not waiting for an answer, she left the office, her attention focused on finding the exit, praying she’d make her getaway without having to speak to anyone else. If the people in this firm were like those of the other architectural and design companies she’d visited, they’d all want the opportunity to meet The Haley Preston. Dear God, please let me out of here.
Haley didn’t breathe until the door closed behind her. She found her car, jammed the keys in the ignition, and sped away. A red light gave her the first real, undistracted opportunity to reflect. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. Cowardice had caused her to lose the only good thing that had happened to her in months. Haley Preston was a spineless chicken who couldn’t face the world.
And she certainly couldn’t face Michael right now.
Chapter Ten
Michael stared out his office window. Describing his outburst as a loss of temper was an understatement of monstrous proportions. He still couldn’t believe he’d said that to her. He rubbed the back of his neck. Even Keith probably wouldn’t have stooped that low.
A knock sounded behind him. Mr. Miller stood in the open door. “I owe you an apology.”
“No, sir. I—”
“Don’t argue with me. Last I checked, I’m still the boss around here.” He smiled. “And you’re the best damned architect I’ve ever worked with. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
Michael looked past his employer into the hall. “Where’s Haley?”
Mr. Miller stuffed his hands in his pants pockets. “She left.”
Stifling a groan, he titled his head back. “Great. She didn’t even let me apologize.”
“She didn’t think you’d want to speak to her. In fact, the last thing she said was that I shouldn’t force you to work with her on the project.”
“Work with her? You’re going to use her design?”
The older man smiled. “Yeah. Maynor is going to love it.”
“That’s a given. It’s wonderful.” Michael shook his head in amazement. “You should have seen her working. It was like watching a story unfold, or no…like a ballet. It was incredible. It only took a few moments for me to realize that she was the famous designer, but I was so shocked it took me several minutes to remember that she’d lied to me. She completely stunned and awed me by how quickly she worked. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to stop her. Do you know she did all that in about ten, maybe twelve minutes?”
Miller’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? Damn. Our whole I.D. department couldn’t have done that in an hour. Hell, they’ve been working on it for almost two weeks and haven’t come up with anything half that good. No wonder she gets paid the big bucks.”
Michael gave a nod. “So it cost you a pretty penny, huh?”
“No. She wouldn’t accept payment. We agreed on a donation to Hospitality House instead.”
“Sounds like something she’d do.” He sighed. “She’s got a heart of gold, but after her last relationship, she has trust issues.”
“If the rumors are true, she has good reason. I heard something about pictures of her fiancé in bed with a friend of hers.”
Michael spoke through clenched teeth. “They’re true. She was devastated. Why didn’t I hear about it?”
“It’s hard to believe you didn’t.” Mr. Miller snapped his fingers. “Wait. I think it happened last fall. Weren’t you on vacation around Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah. Meg and I took Mom to Ireland for a month. I guess when you’re out of the country, you miss all the gossip.”
His boss grunted. “Shortly after the scandal, she sold HLP Designs.”
Michael nodded. “I think this design is the first she’s done since all that happened.”
“Well, she hasn’t lost her touch.”
“That’s just it.” Michael rubbed the back of his neck again, the tension there unwilling to release its grip. “I think she believed she had lost it. I remember her saying something about how she couldn’t work. It all makes sense now. That’s probably why she didn’t tell me who she was.”
Mr. Miller agreed. “She said as much when we talked.”
He wiped a hand over his face. “She got a nasty glimpse of my temper. She may never speak to me again.”
His boss took a step toward the door. “My first glimpse, too. You’re downright scary when you’re angry. She seemed pretty u
pset, but I got the feeling she blamed herself more than you. Oh…By the way, she said she was pleased with her house.”
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“Mulligan’s mystery owner.”
Shock overwhelmed him for the second time today. “That was Haley?”
Mr. Miller chuckled. “Take the rest of the day off, Flannery. You look a little pale.” He waved and left Michael’s office.
It took him a moment to recover. Circling the desk, he pulled his cell phone pocket. He punched redial and waited. Four rings and Haley’s voice mail answered. He cursed and tried again.
“Michael?” Carla stood at the door holding Haley’s sweater. “Miss Preston must have left her sweater in my office.” She laughed when the musical tone sounded. “It’s ringing.”
Closing his phone, he muttered a string of curse words as he crossed the room. “Thank you.” He took the sweater from her.
Carla hesitated. “I can’t believe I actually got to watch Haley Preston work. She’s amazing.”
Michael stared at the pink sweater. “Yes. She is.”
His colleague frowned. “Don’t you think you were a little hard on her?”
“No.” Before Carla could respond, he added, “I was an ass.”
She laughed. “I’ll second that.”
* * * *
Michael’s fist landed with a solid thud against the exercise bag.
“Geez, man. Take it easy. You ’bout knocked me down with that one,” Brad complained.
Michael sent him a smirking glare and hit the bag again.
“He still hasn’t found her yet, huh?” Jack quipped as he joined them.
Another heavy punch knocked Brad off balance. “Glad you’re here. You hold this thing for a while.”
Jack took Brad’s place and grunted as Michael landed another blow. “Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up over a woman before.”
Michael ignored the statement and continued pummeling the bag.
Brad grimaced. “Hey, man. You don’t really want her back anyway, do you? She lied to you.”
Michael paused. “She hid the truth. She didn’t really lie.”
“Same difference,” Jack muttered.
Michael shrugged. “Maybe, but I know why she did it. And the truth doesn’t change anything.” Grabbing his workout towel from the bench, he wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
Jack stepped around the bag. “If it doesn’t change anything, why are you still pissed about?”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not.”
Brad rubbed his chest. “Like hell you’re not. I’ve got bruises to prove it.”
“Oh, I’m pissed. Mad as hell and getting madder by the minute.” He flung the towel back to the bench and returned to the punching bag.
“Because you can’t find her.” Jack resumed his potion and groaned as Michael began beating the bag again.
Michael nodded. “It’s been four days. Four fucking days!” A rock-hard blow elicited a grunt from Jack. Michael glanced up at him. “She hasn’t called. She hasn’t been to her apartment, and she hasn’t been here at the gym—I checked with management. The contractor building her house hasn’t seen or heard from her either. She could be dead for all I know!” He hit the bag so hard it sent a wave of pain through his hand and up his arm.
“Ah. You’re not mad. You’re worried,” Jack quipped.
Michael opened and closed his fist to relieve the sting. “I’m mad because she’s making me worry. Damn it!”
“The spoiled little rich girl is probably lying on a beach somewhere,” Brad grumbled.
“No,” Michael argued. “She’s promised Miller the design on Monday. She doesn’t have time for that.”
“You don’t think she went back to New York, do you?” Jack asked.
Michael raked his hands through his hair. “No. Nothing there for her. She said she sold everything.”
Brad’s brows furrowed. “I don’t get it. Why is she hiding from you?”
Michael took a deep breath and considered the question.
Jack offered his theory. “You probably scared the hell out of her when you lost it the other day. Damn, you even scare me when you’re pissed.”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s possible, but I don’t think that’s it. If I’ve learned anything about her, it’s that she hates confrontation. She runs from it. She ran from the whole mess in New York, and now she’s running from me.”
Brad handed Michael a bottle of water. “Well, if you ask me, you’re better off without the bitch.”
Michael grabbed Brad’s shirt and yanked him forward, nose to nose. “Don’t you ever call Haley that again,” he warned.
The man paled and threw his hands up in surrender. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Jack laid a hand on Michael shoulder. “He didn’t mean it like that. He likes Haley. He was just trying to make you feel better, Mike. Any woman who hurts a buddy is referred to as a bitch.”
Michael released Brad and let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling. “Sorry.”
“She’s fine. Don’t worry about her. She’s holed up somewhere working on the design like you said,” Jack assured him. “You’ll see her on Monday.”
Michael prayed Jack was right. If she did show up on Monday, which would he do first? Kiss her? Or turn her over his knee? He took a swig from the water bottle and frowned. “I think I need something stronger than water. Let’s get out of here before I tear something up. I’ll buy you two a drink. Irish whiskey never fails to calm my temper.”
* * * *
Haley placed the chalk in its tray and stood up. She pressed her hands to her back and rubbed at the stiff muscles. Turning, she ran her fingers across the floor plans and picked up one of Michael’s sketches. Disappointment and sadness washed over her yet again. She’d screwed up everything. Michael would probably never speak to her again. Several times this week she’d considered calling him to apologize. Each time she’d decided against it. His hurtful words rang in her head. He’d compared her to Keith and Sheila. Maybe he was right.
She returned the sketch and looked back at her work. She’d begun the task of unpacking her supplies and rearranging the office as soon as she’d arrived at her parents’ home in Brentwood on Monday evening. Now it was Friday and she’d completed four drawings, one for each corner of the law office’s lobby. Two would have been enough, but the work had kept her busy. She’d labored from morning to night. Somehow, designing the décor for Michael’s building had made her feel closer to him. And, lord, she missed him.
She missed his dimpled smile and his laughing green eyes. She longed for his kisses. And when she finally fell into bed each night, she ached for his touch. Could she live in the house he’d designed? When she’d moved back to Tennessee, she’d decided not settle at the home where she’d grown up. There were too many memories here—too much of the past she wanted so desperately to leave behind.
Now, before she could even start that new life, she’d tarnished her future home by spoiling her friendship with its architect. How could she be happy in that home? Every room would be a reminder of the only friend she’d made since leaving New York and a constant indictment of the guilt she bore in losing that friend.
Hell. Who was she kidding? Michael had been more than just a friend. No matter how she’d fought to keep from moving too quickly, she’d begun a relationship with the man. Then she’d murdered that newborn relationship with her lies.
Haley stared out the window. Bleak, gray clouds brought spring rains for the second day in a row. The dreary scene matched her mood. She’d hoped to go running, but constant drizzle had kept her inside. She switched off the light and left the room. She’d go use the treadmill for a while then soak in bubble bath with a glass of wine. Maybe she would actually sleep tonight.
Tomorrow, she’d spend the day at the spa. Somehow she would get through Sunday. Monday she would drive back to Knoxv
ille and take the design proposal to Mr. Miller. She might see Michael. She hoped she did. Even if he spurned her, at least she could stop wondering whether he hated her or not.
* * * *
Haley pulled into the driveway of Michael’s mother’s house. A sporty red convertible sat in front of the closed garage door. “Looks like something Meg would drive,” she mumbled aloud. But surely she wasn’t back from California yet.
Grabbing an envelope from the passenger seat, Haley opened the car door and walked to the front porch. She laid the envelope in the rocking chair and turned to leave.
The front door opened. “Haley!”
Sucking in a deep breath, Haley turned and tried to smile at Meg. “Hey. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“Got back yesterday.” She reached for the envelope. “What’s this?”
“The keys and security card for my apartment. I’ve decided to stay at my parents’ place in Brentwood till the house is finished.”
Meg frowned. “So that’s where you’ve been. Why haven’t you called Michael?”
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Haley swallowed.
“Like hell he doesn’t! Haley, he’s been looking for you all week.”
Haley searched Meg’s eyes. “Really?”
Meg’s expression turned incredulous. “How could you doubt it? I told you he was crazy about you.”
“You don’t know how angry he was, Meg.”
The redhead sighed. “So you got a glimpse of his temper, huh?”
With a shrug, Haley crossed her arms. “He had good reason. I lied to him.”
“About what?”
She shook her head. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Meg grasped her arm. “No. You have to call Michael.”
“Meg—”
“I won’t let you do this to him. At least talk to him. You owe him that much.” Meg tugged Haley toward the front door. “You can use Mom’s phone.”
