“I’m afraid not,” Trixie said.
A swirling, sinking whirlpool of dread formed in Bev's stomach. “I am not on a hook. And that’s not what I told—”
Gail put down her wine glass with a thump and caught Trixie’s eye. “Ever since she was little, Bev wanted a different family. I think it’s why she chose to work with children.” She returned her gaze to Bev. “With me and Ellen here, you can go back to where you belong with a clear conscience.”
Not now, Bev thought, shoving a forkful of lasagna into her mouth, frantically trying to think of how to extract herself and her mother from the table.
But Gail went on. “Now, Kate—Fite would be perfect for you. You're at a perfect point to start a new career.” She slipped the fork into her mouth and shook her head. “My, this is delicious.”
“I belong here,” Bev said. “At Fite. Here. All of it.”
“Really, Bev,” her mother replied.
Teeth clenched, Bev looked around the table at the curious faces hanging on the exchange. Mark seemed unhappy and confused. Trixie was busy keeping the plates moving around the table, trying to communicate something to Liam, who had stopped pretending to eat and sat with both arms crossed over his chest.
“Leave me out of it,” Kate said. “I've decided to work with dogs.”
Gail reached over and squeezed her hand. “But you could do both. Oh—I've got it! Fite doesn't have a pet line yet, does it?”
“No, and there never will be,” Liam said.
Gail turned and gave him an icy stare. “That’s up to the owners to decide.”
“No, it’s up to the market,” he said. “Dog clothes would ruin us.”
“Management is going to have to think outside the box for a change,” Gail said.
“Management is going to do a lot of things, none of them involving domesticated animals.”
Kate tapped Bev on the shoulder. “By the way, I think Ball might be sick. Right before I came over here I noticed her spitting up her dinner.”
Torn between concern for her elderly cat and the hostilities unfolding at the table, Bev nodded at her sister and tried to catch her mother’s eye.
Gail was too busy staring at Liam to notice. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste. That kind of old thinking has led the company into bankruptcy.” Then she seemed to remember where she was, turning to Trixie with an apologetic smile. “So sorry to talk business. I’m sure we can continue this conversation at the office on Monday.”
Bev’s hands closed into fists. “At the office?”
“And who is Ball, honey?” Trixie asked, passing the green beans. “Some kind of pet?”
“My cat,” Bev said, the whirlpool in her stomach churning faster. Her mother wanted to get involved with Fite. With Ellen. And swap Bev for Kate. But worse, her mother was insulting Liam and his work at Fite, a company she had loathed and avoided her entire life—in front of his own family.
Liam. He was arrogant and difficult and pig-headed and domineering, but—
She stood up so quickly the chair tipped over and clattered against the sideboard. Everyone, even the little dog, turned their heads to stare. “Leave Liam alone. He's the best thing Fite's got.”
Trixie’s eyes got wide, watching her. Then slowly she reached for the pepper grinder. “Liam, do go get us another bottle of the Shiraz. We've run dry.”
“And while I'm glad you're talking to Ellen,” Bev went on, eyes fixed on her mother, “know that I'll do everything in my power to see to it she never sets foot at Fite again. We’ve just started to clean up the mess she left behind. And have you forgotten why Kate had to drive up here? I didn't sleep for two days after she broke into the house—”
“Really, Bev!” Gail gaped at her, not used to having Bev ever argue with her, let alone at a dinner table with strangers. “Sit down.”
Liam caught Bev's gaze and held it, an intense look in his eyes she couldn’t read. She wished she could touch him, have him touch her, make everyone else go away.
“Come help me pick out the wine.” He pushed back his chair and stood up.
“You’d better take Norma back with you.” Trixie pointed a finger at the handful of fur in Kate's lap. “Sorry, honey. People food gives her a rash.”
Bev watched Liam pick up the dog and stride away, feeling the unsatisfied anger swirling in her gut. Without an apology to the table, she got up and strode after him.
He was in the walled in porch off the back of the kitchen, surrounded by the little animals, bending over and petting palm-sized beige heads. Her heart clenched, seeing his everyday gentleness, but her temper was still flying high from the scene behind her.
“I could get used to this hero complex of yours,” she said, “but it’s probably too late. I’ve already spoiled the meal and I’ll have to find a way to make it up to your mother somehow.”
Before she could brace herself, he turned around and grabbed her. “I wasn’t being a hero.”
His mouth came down on hers, hungry and demanding, surprising her out of her anger. Heat flared in her body, already worked up from the tension at the table, and she met his kiss with fierce, urgent need of her own. He leaned back against the wall and her body stretched up against his, shoulder to belly to thigh, each inch where they touched coming alive.
“I’m the best thing, huh?” His voice was low and rough in her ear. His hand came up her back and around her waist to cup her breast. “Is that your professional opinion?” he asked, teasing her nipple into a hard point, “or just your hormones talking?”
She licked her way down his throat to his collarbone, worked his shirt apart with her teeth, kissing lower. “Purely professional, of course.”
He groaned. “Oh, God. Keep doing that.”
She took a strand of chest hair in her teeth and nibbled, shocked by how she enjoyed the sound of his indrawn breath, how badly she wanted to get rough, jump him right there on the floor next to the dogs.
She pulled away. “I think I’m too angry to do this right now. I’m not myself.”
He growled and bent lower. “Take out your anger on me. I like it.” He slipped his hand down the front of her shirt and pushed it down, exposing her bra and the erect nipple beneath pressing through the nylon. “Bitchy women turn me on.”
She clutched his shoulders, dug her fingernails in to hear him growl again, gasping when he sucked hard on the aching tip of her breast. He made no effort to hurry or take it easy; he was methodical and precise, undeterred by her small acts of violence.
“I always wanted to be a bitch.” She threw her head back and forgot her mother. Now it was just him, his touch, what she wanted.
He licked his way up to her earlobe. “You have the funniest ideas about yourself. This nice girl thing. Funny.”
“I’m—a preschool teacher.” She gasped. “That’s—about as nice—as you can get.”
He breathed on the ticklish hollow under her ear. “Not a preschool teacher anymore.”
Another thrill washed over her. “No.”
He sighed and pulled her head to his chest, under his chin. “I snuck into your office and saw the Target line Jennifer has started to make for you.” He slipped his hand under her shirt and caressed her back. “Rachel had the sample sewers make up an extra pair of the shorts, just for her to keep, because she doesn’t want to wait for production.” He kissed her hair. “Even the new private label tags look pretty good.”
“Thanks.” She was melting.
“You think it’ll do the trick, don’t you?”
She lifted her head and kissed the corner of his mouth, the half that was smiling. “I do, actually.”
He looked into her eyes. “So do I.” His hand cupped his cheek. “You’re a natural, apparently. A fashion savant.”
She grinned, suffused with happiness. He leaned down, rested his forehead on hers, and caressed her lower lip with his thumb. “Now we just have to get you training for your first marathon, and you’ve won t
he prize.”
“What prize?”
His teeth flashed white in the dim porch. “That would be me, of course.”
“I inherited you, too? I didn’t see you listed in the will.”
He smiled, but fell silent. She felt his muscles tense.
“We’ve been gone too long from the table.” He gently pulled her shirt back up over her bra. “I shouldn’t have given your mother any bad ideas, but I couldn’t resist. You were sweet to defend me, but don’t do it again or people will get suspicious.”
“I said something. What was it?”
“Nothing. Sorry. We should get back.”
“The will. It’s because I mentioned the will.” All the details she’d picked up over the past weeks flooded her mind—Liam knowing where Ed’s water heater was, the extra set of keys, his unrivaled stature at the company, his mother lighting the memorial candle, his rude comments when they’d met. “You were supposed to be in the will.”
He stroked her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “We should get back.”
“My grandfather should have left you something. What did he promise you? I never knew—” She swore under her breath. “If only he hadn’t put everything into Fite, or passed some of it along to my mother, I might be able to fulfill his promise. How much—not that it matters, since I’m still broke—”
“I don’t want any money.” He took a step back and his face closed up, cold and tight. “That’s never what I wanted.”
“Was it something in the house? We kept everything, Liam. Whatever it was, it’s in storage. We can find it. I don’t care if my mom objects, I’ll—”
“Bev.” His hard voice cut through her babbling. “Enough.”
One of the dogs at his feet jerked his ears up and scurried off into a corner. Bev was hurt but didn’t want to show it. “I was just trying to help.”
“You were trying to be nice again. Don’t bother.”
“I’m the nurturing type.” She reached her hand up to his face and smiled. “Let me nurture you a little bit.”
He jerked his head away. “I’ve already got a mother.”
Her jaw dropped open. To her horror she felt her eyes get warm. Grabbing on to her anger as a lifejacket, she dug her fingernails into her palms and tried to regain her breathing. “A better one than you deserve. Find me some wine and I’ll bring it to her.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Shrugging, he pulled a bottle out of a case he didn’t bother to read and followed her back through the kitchen to the dining room.
Her mother’s face was probably disapproving, but Bev was careful not to look anywhere near it. Instead she turned all her attentions to Mark, sweet geeky Mark, and finished the meal exchanging teacher’s secret methods of mixing common ingredients to make model volcanoes explode until she could excuse herself from the party to go check on her old, vomiting cat.
Chapter 19
“Ellen is the only one who could've changed the locks,” Bev said, reclining in the couch next to Ball and eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes. She was going over the argument with her mother for the sixth time since the dinner the night before. “I know it wasn’t Liam. We discovered it together, and he was just as surprised as I was. Whoever did it had keys to the place.”
Gail and Kate were already at work on the cardio machines they’d hauled in from the rear bedroom. Neither one would eat until they had accrued a large enough calorie deficit to cover their breakfast; they’d been at it for thirty minutes so far and had another half hour to go.
“Well, Ellen was in New York with Johnny when you called me about the break-in.” Gail poked the buttons on her elliptical machine, making it hum into a new position. “That was the first thing I said to her, but she convinced me. She’s totally innocent on that. You’re just ashamed to admit this guy could have tricked you.”
Bev shook her head. “If you could have seen him—”
“I did see him.” Gail raised her eyebrows. “All six feet more, blond, strapping inches of him. That’s my point. It explains a lot.”
She got up with her empty bowl and headed for the kitchen. “It wasn’t him.”
Gail bent over for her water bottle. “It doesn’t matter what you believe. Ellen is family. Don’t assume the worst.”
Kate burst out laughing. “Weak argument, Mom. This is our family we’re talking about.”
Bev asked her mother, “Does she have an alibi for when the locks were changed too?”
“Alibi! You make her sound like a criminal.”
“You were the one who wanted me to call the police.”
“After the break-in! And you should have. The police should be involved when people—even tall, good-looking people—break into our houses to frighten us,” Gail said.
“She doesn’t have an alibi.” Bev leaned closer. “It had to be her.”
Gail scowled at the treadmill screen, face flushed and shiny, then swung her head to Bev. “She was overcome with grief. That’s a fair explanation. You were a stranger to her, coming up to steal away her career and her home. Perhaps you should be grateful that was all she did.”
Bev mouth dropped open. “You knew?”
“Not then, of course not.” Gail slapped the machine, the pedals hummed and slowed, and she jumped of with a towel in her hand. “Last week she opened up about a lot of things. I admit I was suspicious of her, but that was before. I didn’t feel right violating her confidence and sharing everything with you. Especially now that the sisterly relationship is so fragile.”
Bev’s feeling of triumph was short-lived. “She confessed to changing the locks, but she not to the break-in.”
“It’s impossible, Bev. Not that you’ll ever believe me now—you are so pigheaded. I knew you’d jump to conclusions.” Her mother got up on tiptoes to read the screen display then marched off to the kitchen, wiping her forehead.
“Well?” Bev asked Kate.
She shrugged. “Who cares? Nothing’s happened since.” After a long gulp of water, she wiped her mouth on the back of her forearm and picked up her pace. “I kind of like the pet fashion idea, don’t you? Or are you taking his side on that too?”
Fite had enough trouble with human beings. “I’m taking my side. And my side doesn’t want any more family drama inside that building.”
Kate gaped. “You can’t mean me?”
“Yup.”
“I came all the way up here, and you won’t even let me in the stupid building of the family business?”
“You’ve never mentioned it before,” Bev said.
“Well, it’s not like I want to, but jeez. My grandpa too, you know?”
“You didn’t even bother to go to the funeral.”
“Not like he’d notice. Besides, Mom said I didn’t have to.”
“She told me the same thing. I went anyway,” Bev said.
“That’s because you’re always trying to be better than everybody else.”
What was it with the insults about her sincerity? “And you never think the rules apply to you because you’re so special.” Bev looked at her watch. “I’m going to work.”
“It’s Saturday!”
In less than a week she would be flying to Minneapolis with Liam. “As you pointed out, I’ve got to try to be better than everyone else.”
Kate huffed and slapped the stop button on the treadmill. “If you’re not going to let me help out at Fite, I might as well go home.”
“Don’t be that way.”
“What? If you don’t trust me to help out at Fite, why should I stay?”
“Because I’m going to convince Mom to go home tomorrow and I don’t want to be here alone. We still don’t know who broke in.”
“Please. Not that he has to break anything now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why steal it if the cow’s giving it out for free? Isn’t it obvious? Gramps was pimping you out. He probably planned it this way all along.”
Feeling a chill
settle over her shoulders, Bev lowered her voice. “Maybe you should go home. Nobody’s stopping you.”
“I mean, all he has to do to take over Fite is take over you. And you’re hardly playing hard to get. ‘Oh, Liam! You’re the best thing evah!’”
Bev’s hands shook. “I’m going to finish getting ready for work. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. If you’re serious about your threat to leave, now would be the time to follow through. Not that you follow through on anything.”
Kate pointed a finger. “Just because I see right through him.”
Gail came into the room peeling a low-fat string cheese from its wrapper. “Girls! Now don’t you start. ”
Kate gave Bev a narrow-eyed, daring, evil smile, and said nothing. “I’ve been dismissed, so I’m going home.”
Gail’s eyes went wide. “But I just got here!”
“Bev says there’s no way in hell she’ll let me work at Fite. Can you believe that?”
“Really, Bev!”
“Or you either, Mom,” Bev said. “Sorry, but if that’s why you’re here, you’d better go with Kate.”
Gail stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“Fite can’t handle more people at the top steering it in different directions. There are great people there who can bring Fite around. It’s my job to make sure they get the chance to do it.”
“Now hold on there, Beverly Moon Lewis,” Gail said, voice low. “I put up with that kind of talk last night, but no more.” She pointed at the couch. “Both of you, sit.”
“I won’t change my mind,” Bev said firmly.
“Oh, I think you will.” She wiggled her finger.
Kate flung herself on the sofa, pretending not to care, but Bev stayed on her feet.
Her mother frowned at her, pursing her lips, but continued, “First of all, I think that doggie idea is wonderful, and so does Ellen. She said it was amazing nobody had thought of it yet.”
Love Handles (A Romantic Comedy) Page 23
