by Nan Dixon
Sighing, she stared longingly at the tiny patio off the bedroom. Could she take a minute and read a few pages of her book?
A shadow passed on the other side of the hedge. Kaden. Carrying a ladder around the back of the house.
She glared. Never had one man made her so mad. She’d made all her signature moves; placed her hand on his chest, slithered close and stood on her toes, knowing her hair would flow free. Most men thrust their fingers through it.
Kaden had pushed her away. That would not do. She tapped her lips. Within one week that man would beg to kiss her. Then she would push him away.
She shimmied the dress over her hips. Who would sew the rip? Was she going to have to throw it away? Hanging it up, she shoved it to the back of the closet. She would deal with it later.
In her suitcase, she found sparkling white shorts more appropriate for walking the beach on Martha’s Vineyard. It was that or jeans and those were as tight as the sheath that had ripped. Then she dug out a red-and-white boat shirt with elbow-length sleeves. She didn’t look in the mirror. It would have to do. She didn’t have clothes for working for her brother. And right now she didn’t have a credit card to buy more.
Back in the sitting area, she plugged in her earbuds and flipped Beyoncé onto her phone. It was a sad reminder that she’d been to her concert, not with the sweaty, drunken masses, but in a lovely suite. Would she ever get to another concert? Rocking and swaying, she tossed papers and files into the boxes Gray had put together. Once she emptied all the file cases, she spotted a bin full of blueprints. Gray would want those moved, right?
She unrolled and folded each until they fit in the boxes. It was cumbersome, slow work.
“What the hell are you doing?” Gray’s deep voice interrupted “Love Drought,” the story of her life.
“Packing your files like you asked.”
He rushed over and tugged the papers she’d folded out of her hand. “Why are you folding blueprints?”
“Because they’re too long to fit in the box.”
“I’ll move them in the blueprint stand.” He threw up his hands. “Roll them back up and make sure all the sheets for each project are together.”
“Yes, master.”
Gray glared. “I need the Rosemount warehouse files.”
She pointed at all the boxes. “I packed your files.”
“They were alphabetized. You should be able to find everything, right?”
Alphabetized? She could almost feel the blood drain out of her face. “Sure.”
“Rosemount files first, please.” He looked at the neat pile she’d made of his blueprints and rubbed his forehead.
How was she supposed to know this? Courtney popped the lid off the first box she’d packed. There was River Street. Rosemount should be behind that, right?
But the next file was Carleton House. She chewed her lip.
Ripping open box after box, she scanned file names. She should have noticed the organization. No Rosemount. Until she came to the box where she’d tossed the spilled files. Of course. She popped the lid and the first file was Rosemount Bids. Excellent.
But there weren’t any papers in the file. The next file was labeled Rosemount Project Plan. And another, Invoices. The papers had scattered and she hadn’t refiled them.
She pulled out stacks of loose paper and folders and made a semicircle around her on the floor. How she wished it were the children at the South Side library and not stupid papers.
She could do this. She wasn’t dumb.
Most of the papers had notes in Gray’s blunt handwriting. When she could decipher the contents, she set the papers on top of the proper file. After sorting, there was still a stack she couldn’t figure out.
“Where are my files?” Gray called from the other room.
“All over the floor,” she muttered, then yelled, “Coming.”
She stuffed the identified papers inside the correct files and grabbed the stack of unfiled papers. With a toss of her head, she entered Gray’s office. “They were in the box that exploded.”
She set the almost-empty Rosemount files on Gray’s desk. The stack of unfiled papers was taller than the file folders. “I couldn’t figure out what projects these papers came from.”
He flipped open the file marked Bids and picked up the single paper she’d filed. His jaw clenched. “Go through that stack and find everything from Simon Electric.”
She pulled an armchair up to his desk and started flipping. This would take forever. “Why don’t you hire a secretary?”
He tipped his head. “That’s why you’re here.”
“I thought I could—” she waved her hand around the room “—help you decorate, pick paint colors. That kind of thing.”
“I don’t need someone to do that. I need help with paperwork.”
Great. She pulled out a bill from Simon Electric and handed it to him.
“Keep looking.” He snatched it from her. “There’s more.”
Was this how she was going to spend the rest of her days? Mother needed to fix this.
Gray wrote the file name on each piece of correspondence. She refiled it. Mindless. Boring. Even the sandwiches Abby brought over didn’t ease the tension in the room.
After lunch, Gray dusted the crumbs off his hands. “Come on. Let’s walk over to the office site. The plumber should be there soon.”
“Walk?”
He nodded. “It’s not far. One of the joys of working and living in Savannah.”
“But why do I need to go there?”
“In case I need you to let in a sub.” Gray shook his head. “Come on.”
As they headed through the courtyard, the heat and humidity made her stagger. She sucked in a breath and pulled her hair off her neck. “How can you stand the temperature?”
Gray frowned. “You’ll get used to it.”
“No way.” She tried to keep up with his long strides, already sweating. Why hadn’t she worn a sleeveless top? With each step, the fringe of her Jimmy Choo sandals slapped her feet. “Can you slow down? I’m going to melt if you keep up this pace.”
He slowed. A little. “I thought you were in better shape.”
“I’m in great shape, but I’m wearing heels.” A Pilates instructor came to the house three times a week.
Hopefully Marcus had contacted her instructor. Father would freak if he had to pay for classes when she wasn’t even there. It would be one more lecture to endure.
“Is Father having trouble with money?” she blurted out. Everything inside her tilted like the earth’s axis had jolted.
Gray stopped in the middle of one of Savannah’s many squares. “What?”
“Is that why he’s worried about my credit card bills? Are we broke?” That would be worse than having her cards taken away for a few weeks.
He crossed his arms. “As far as I know, he’s doing quite well.”
She grabbed his arm. “Would he tell you?”
Gray rubbed his temple. “Yes.”
“Okay.” She caught her lip between her teeth, then heard Mother’s voice in her head. Don’t bite your lip. She would ask Mother tonight if they were destitute.
Gray checked his phone. “We need to hurry.”
They turned the corner. Four men blocked the sidewalk in front of a building.
“What the...?” Gray hurried toward the group.
“What’s going on, Smythe?” one of the men asked.
“Why are you all here?” Gray shook out a key and opened the door. Their work boots clomped on the building’s concrete floor.
This wasn’t an office. She turned. It was one big empty room.
The man wearing a Dorchester Electric T-shirt said, “I got a call from your secretary to be here at two.”
; She stood a little taller; she wasn’t a secretary.
“I only wanted the plumber.” Gray’s blue eyes blazed a path right to her. “Who else did you call?”
“Everyone on the list you handed me.” Her teeth chomped on her bottom lip. “You told me to call and ask them to be here this afternoon.”
“Just Walters Plumbing. Hey, Walt. Everyone, I’ll be right with you.” Gray slapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh. He grabbed Courtney’s arm and pulled her outside. “How could you get this wrong?”
“You handed me a list with a bunch of names to call.”
He exhaled. “Call the security company. They aren’t here yet. Tell him to stick to the original schedule.” He shoved a folder at her.
Her face burned as she searched through the file. “I’m...sorry.”
“Right.” He shook his head. “When you’re done, go back and finish the filing.”
She tugged her phone out of her purse. Another man walked into the building with King George Security on the pocket of his polo shirt. Yikes. No need to call him now. The phone would probably ring while the man talked to Gray. She slunk out before her brother could howl at her again.
By the time she made it back to the carriage house, her feet were doing the howling. So much for not expending energy on her first day on the job. She’d ripped a new dress, had blisters on her feet and when Gray returned he was going to yell. At her.
If this was what working was like, she didn’t want to participate. She wanted a massage.
She kicked a box. Ouch!
She’d have to pull everything out so Gray didn’t yell about the mess she’d made. Damn it. She wanted to rest. Instead, she had to alphabetize.
* * *
KADEN CHECKED “hallway paint touch-up” off his grandfather’s list. He’d also touched up paint in a bedroom, changed lightbulbs, and moved tables and chairs for an afternoon event in the ballroom. This certainly wasn’t a retirement job. He’d worked straight through lunch, trying to catch up on the small tasks necessary to keep the B and B in pristine shape. He wanted to check off enough tasks to justify planning the security system. Then he needed to make sure Abby didn’t get suspicious.
But for right now, it was time to reattach the trellis over at the Carleton carriage house. He’d already located the trellis dangling from the fascia. Vines covered with purple flowers twisted and wrapped around the wooden structure on the full two-story trellis. It sure was pretty. Granddad probably knew the name of the flowers. He didn’t.
Kaden had other skills. He could ID whether white powder was cocaine, heroin or cornstarch, and whether a baggie contained oregano or marijuana.
He picked up a tool belt, stroking the leather. It looked old enough to be the same one Granddad had worn when Kaden was a kid. Pride and sorrow weighed on his chest. He hated the idea that Granddad was aging.
He tightened the belt low on his hips, making sure it didn’t interfere with access to the gun clipped at the small of his back. He preferred a shoulder holster, but with his handyman cover and the heat, wearing a jacket wasn’t feasible. This way, his shirt covered his weapon. A little uncomfortable, but he would not face Bole and Salvez unarmed.
The trellis fix shouldn’t take long. Then he planned to map out the security-camera placements. Once that was complete, he’d check in on his grandfather.
His running shoes slipped as he climbed the ladder he’d set up earlier. The task force’s assistant was sending down his work boots and more clothes, otherwise he’d eventually have to work in dress shirts and suit pants. As he neared the second-story window, movement caught his eye.
Courtney. She danced to whatever music played through her earbuds. Papers and file boxes covered the floor. She sang “Shake It Off” and wiggled her mighty fine ass. Black curls flew around her shoulders and chest. His heart pounded as she tipped back her head and her crushable curls rained down the middle of her back.
With her flashing blue eyes and a face that could launch ships, Courtney was a fantasy. She’d flirted with him, but only because she was bored. If she was so bored, why was she in Savannah? He swallowed. She’d told him to stay away and that’s what he planned to do.
But he lingered by the window. His breath came a little faster as her lithe body twisted and spun. Get a grip, Farrell. He tore his gaze away and headed to the top of the ladder. His animal attraction would not overcome his brain. He wanted more in a woman than a pretty face.
He pounded in new nails to anchor the trellis to the wooden fascia and tested his work. That shouldn’t pull free.
Before he started his descent, he checked the view from behind the trellis. Since the vines hadn’t fully covered the two-story latticework, he could hide a camera here. Someone would have to get really close to see the equipment. From this vantage point, it would cover a large portion of the gardens. Perfect.
As he moved past the window, he glanced in. Two blue eyes stared out at him. He slipped, gripping the sides of the ladder to keep from falling two stories.
She opened the window and planted her elbows on the windowsill. “What are you doing?”
He wouldn’t look down her shirt. No way. But his gaze dropped as he readjusted his hold on the ladder. He spotted a hint of two lovely breasts. His mouth went as dry as cardboard. “The trellis was loose.”
He yanked his gaze back up to where it belonged.
She raised her eyebrows over those amazing Caribbean blue eyes. Her knowing half smile drilled into his gut like a bullet through a paper target. Bull’s-eye.
“Aren’t you handy?” She shoved a mass of hair over her shoulder, and murmured, “Did you get a good look?”
“A good look?” His tongue stumbled over the words.
A knowing smile curled on her lips.
“I’m sorry.” His sweating hands slipped on the metal ladder. “That was rude.”
“I don’t mind. As long as I get to look back.”
He frowned. This was a 180-degree attitude change from last night. She was playing him like a cat with a mouse.
“I’m sorry, too.” She set a butt cheek on the window ledge. “I shouldn’t have reacted so...poorly last night. I’d just talked to my mother.”
“That’s why you were upset?”
She shrugged and her curls slipped over her shoulder. And down to her breast.
He couldn’t stop staring at the curl.
“I need to get back to work.” She hit the last word like it was an evil thing. Waving, she said, “I’ll see you around.”
“Yup.” But she’d already turned away from him.
He hurried down the ladder and heaved in deep breaths. He couldn’t waste time figuring out Courtney’s motivation.
Moving around the property, he identified locations for the surveillance cameras.
“Nathan?” he called, stepping into the half-completed, sun-lit restaurant.
“Back here.” Nathan waved him into the empty kitchen where he was gluing down trim.
A tray of sandwiches sat on one of the stainless steel counters and Kaden’s stomach growled.
Nathan laughed. “Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Abby keeps us plied with food. Go ahead.”
He took a thick ham-and-cheese sandwich. He hadn’t eaten this well—ever.
“What’s up?”
Kaden rolled out the landscape drawings he’d found in Granddad’s workshop. He’d marked the camera placements. Pointing to the northern corner of Fitzgerald House, he said, “I’ll mount cameras under the roof, keeping them hidden.”
“Good.” Nathan grabbed a sandwich, too. “Are you sure this is necessary?”
“This is a big property, and cameras will make protecting Issy easier. Heather and the people we believe she’s with are dangerous.”
&
nbsp; “I’ll clear everything with Abby.” Nathan shook his head. “I hate thinking Heather might try to take Issy away from me.”
“So let’s be prepared enough that I can put her away. I’ve already talked to my superior and the equipment is on its way.”
“I won’t mention that fact to the Fitzgeralds.”
“I just need the opportunity to place the cameras.” Kaden rolled up the plans. “I’ll tell Abby that we talked about me helping with the security.”
“Great.”
Kaden headed back to the Fitzgerald House kitchen. Abby waved as he walked in the door.
He pulled a new work slip from his grandfather’s cubbyhole. While he filled a coffee mug, he said, “Nathan and I were just talking about the security cameras you’re adding around the restaurant. Since I’ve had experience, do you mind if I help him?”
“Not at all.” Abby grinned. “Anything to make sure Nathan meets the restaurant-opening deadline.”
The kitchen door banged open. Kaden jerked, slopping hot coffee on his hand.
Gray.
Abby touched her husband’s cheek, a frown creasing her forehead. “What’s wrong?”
Gray inhaled, twice. “My sister just cost me about a thousand dollars, if I’m lucky.”
“How?”
Kaden focused on adding milk to his coffee, but couldn’t help his curiosity. What had Courtney done? When he’d been on the ladder, she’d been sorting files.
“Instead of just calling the plumber to meet me at the office space, she called all the subs. They’ll probably charge me for the wasted time.”
“It’s only her first day,” Abby said.
“Yeah.” Gray swiped Abby’s coffee cup and took a swig. “What else can she screw up?”
Abby stroked his arm. “Maybe working for her brother isn’t the best job in the world for her.”
Kaden raised an eyebrow. Why did Courtney need to work?
Gray shoved a hand through his hair. “Maybe she should work for you.”
“Doing what?” his wife asked. “Housekeeping?”
Gray rubbed his wife’s back. “Hard to imagine.”
Kaden kept his head from nodding. Courtney was a beautiful, rich, spoiled woman who probably didn’t know what to do with a sponge.
