The interior door of the lobby opened. Charity glanced in that direction as Garrett appeared.
A smile kicked up the comers of his mouth. “Your appointment is with me. Won’t you come in?”
Her lungs seized momentarily and refused to pump any oxygen to her brain, making her feel light-headed. He was wearing a jade, zipper-front sport shirt that deepened the green of his eyes; his pleated dress slacks looked like they were hand tailored, smoothing over his pelvis without any sign of strain. He looked wonderful and sexy and devastatingly handsome in a casual, man-about-town way. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed seeing him, or how much she had wanted to.
And wondered why on earth he’d had some woman call her to make an appointment.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, opening the door a little wider when she didn’t budge from her spot by the reception desk. “Why don’t we talk about it in my office?”
His suggestion propelled her forward even as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Vaguely she was aware of the receptionist’s disapproving scowl as she slid past Garrett into the hallway.
“Proposition?” she hissed. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“A business proposition, of course. What else would I be talking about?” Looking smug, he took her elbow to escort her up a flight of stairs.
She jerked it back. “I thought I was here to see your father.”
“Nope. I’m in charge of this particular project.”
“You’re working here now?”
“Temporarily. Trying to implement a few ideas of my own while I’m in between quarterbacking jobs.”
Charity had never imagined Garrett would give up his football career to work for his father. Not even temporarily. She had the oddest feeling in the pit of her stomach he was up to no good. It was the same feeling she got when Donnie was about to commit some major mischief. Her son’s eyes, she realized, twinkled in the same devilish way as Garrett’s were flashing now.
His office was on the north side of the building without much of a view and was sparsely furnished with a walnut desk, leather chair and a credenza below the window. Charity noted the absence of any books and a desktop entirely bare except for the company Christmas catalog and a stapled set of papers.
He whipped the executive chair around in front of the desk. “I haven’t gotten settled in yet,” he said, offering her the chair. He looked pleased as punch about something as he leaned against the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles.
She squirmed uneasily in the big chair. Surely he didn’t want her advice on decorating his office.
His gaze swept over her, lingering a moment on the prim collar of her cotton blouse before dipping lower to the drape of her skirt over her knees. He was undressing her. Stripping her. And her body reacted with an inner clenching she couldn’t prevent.
“What is it you want, Garrett?”
Exactly what you think I want. His eyes telegraphed the thought as clearly as if the words had been spoken.
“I want to hire you as the official Fun House Candy Company catalog photographer,” he said.
Her jaw went slack. Before she could shift mental gears—and admit she’d been reading her own mind, not Garrett’s—he handed her the Christmas catalog, last year’s edition, she realized.
“We’ve been using this guy from San Francisco. He charges us an arm and a leg, and we have to pay his lodging and meals for a week every time he comes to town to do a shoot. I figure we can save a bundle for the company by hiring local talent.”
She stared at him in amazement. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. I’ve got the contract right here. Our attorney wrote it up yesterday.”
When she got a glimpse of the dollar figure on the bottom line, she gasped. “You can’t...! I mean...does your father know?” Douglas Keeley would never agree—
“I’m authorized to sign the contract. In fact, I already have, a guaranteed three-year deal with an option clause for the next three. All we need now is your name on the dotted line.”
Stunned, she gripped the contract in one hand, the catalog in the other, myriad thoughts racing through her head.
A contract like this would stabilize her income.
She’d be able to buy Donnie the bike he’d been wanting.
And the new, automated sprinklers for the pig parlor.
She’d even be able to move out, if she wanted, leaving the farm to the newlyweds.
Jumbled among her other thoughts, to her dismay, was her secret, traitorous wish that Garrett’s proposition had been about an entirely different topic.
She shuddered, physically resisting that final thought.
“Do I have to sign now?” she asked. “Or can I take a little time to look over the terms of the agreement?”
His cocky smile dissolved, and he looked disappointed she hadn’t leaped at his proposal. “Take as much time as you need. It’s strictly a business deal.”
To her great regret, though she tried not to admit that even to herself.
She thumbed through the catalog. Still life pictures of candy weren’t that hard to photograph. It was simply a question of arrangements and lighting. Her imagination triggered, and she wondered—
“What would you think of using live models in the catalog?” she asked. “You know, grandmothers enjoying a box of chocolates, or kids finding chocolate cartoon characters in their Christmas stockings. It would humanize the whole thing and might give people some ideas about gift giving.”
His grin restored, he said, “I knew you could do the job better than that guy in San Francisco. You’ve got more talent in your little finger than he has in his whole body.”
Like a lovesick puppy, she basked in his praise until she left Garrett’s office and reached the parking lot.
Douglas Keeley confronted Charity before she reached her car. “What were you talking to my son about?”
She froze, her hands clenching into fists. “A business arrangement..”
“You and I already have an agreement. If you’ve told Garrett—”
“I haven’t said a word.” She knew Douglas Keeley would claim her farm in a heartbeat if she so much as hinted about Donnie’s paternity to Garrett. Which hadn’t stopped Garrett from doing some guessing.
“I don’t like the idea of my son having anything to do with you, do you understand?”
Her blood started to boil. It had been a hell of a long week; her level of frustration and fatigue at coping with life were at an all-time high. Or maybe she was simply sick to death of Douglas Keeley bossing her around.
“You can’t dictate my life, Mr. Keeley.” The heat of anger burned her cheeks. She’d be damned if she’d let this man push her around again. “Once you were able to take advantage of me because I was a kid, scared spitless and didn’t know where else to turn for help. I can take care of myself now, Mr. Keeley. And my son.”
“I don’t make idle threats, Charity.” His gray eyes narrowed in warning. “And I believe in enforcing every clause in the contracts I sign. I hope I’m making myself clear.”
“Perfectly. And if it’s any interest to you, I intend to bid on the school district contract and win.” She was also going to make sure every i was dotted and t crossed in her new contract with the Fun House Candy Company. That ought to grate the hell out of the president and CEO.
She whirled and marched to her car without so much as a glance over her shoulder. It was high time she took charge of her own life. Among other things, she decided her son had a right—an absolute Godgiven right—to get to know the man who had fathered him. Douglas Keeley was standing in the way of that possibility.
She was still fussing and fuming about Mr. Keeley’s arrogance when she got home and parked the car by the porch.
Opening the front door, she discovered her brother was apparently taking a lunch break from the factory with his bride. They were on the couch in the living room doing—
Groaning, Charity let the
door slam shut. Thank goodness she’d dropped Donnie off at his friend Shaun’s house for the day. This whole situation was getting to be too much. The house was no longer hers. It now belonged to Bud and his wife. Charity was always catching them somewhere, cuddling and kissing—or worse, making her envious and snarly with her own frustration. As much as she loved the farm and had sacrificed for this small parcel of land, she wanted to be somewhere else.
THAT AFTERNOON, Garrett walked the two blocks from his house to the town square to pick up some fresh-baked bread at the bakery. He’d forgotten he’d have to endure the proprietor’s daily practice session on the oboe in preparation for the summer band concerts in the park. Moe Riley’s tone on the instrument compared unfavorably with a goose suffering from a sore throat.
He’d barely escaped the bakery with his hearing intact when he spotted Charity sitting on the sparkling white glider on the lawn of the town square. She had a newspaper clutched in her hands and was reading something with great interest
Garrett approached her cautiously. He’d expected her to jump at his idea of hiring her as the Fun House resident photographer. She’d been kind of lukewarm until she’d come up with that brilliant concept of including people in the shots, not simply the candy. Garrett wondered why no one else had thought of that.
He wondered, too, why he hadn’t been able to get Charity out of his mind for the past ten days. Or why the insistent thought that he was Donnie’s father kept niggling at him. Outside of throwing the kid to the ground and taking a blood sample on his own, it seemed unlikely he would ever know for sure about the boy’s paternity. And maybe he shouldn’t concern himself.
Except he couldn’t seem to let it go—let her go.
Hell of a thing to admit for a man who’d been set to marry another woman only ten days ago. Clearly he was romantically impaired.
“Hi, there,” he said, sidling up to her. “What local gossip is so engrossing in the Gazette today?”
She collapsed the paper in a wad. “Nothing, really.”
“You sure were intense. No hatchet killings on the front page?”
She shuddered. “Don’t even think about it. Grazer’s Comers is supposed to be a safe place to live.”
Having sat down next to her, he extended his arm along the back of the glider. The park was pretty quiet at this hour. A couple of high-school jocks were wandering across the way; a dog was sniffing a bed of petunias, his owner distracted by a conversation with the town’s barber. Three youngsters had turned the park’s bandstand into a jungle gym, or maybe a spaceship.
With a shove of his foot, Garrett set the glider they were sitting on in motion. It creaked in an alternating rhythm with the flap of the flag at the top of the nearby pole.
“So if you aren’t into heinous crimes, what are you reading?” he asked.
“The Want ads.”
He frowned. “I already offered you a job. If the pay’s not enough—”
“No. I’m looking for an apartment, or more likely a small house. For Donnie and me. I need something big enough to have a darkroom, too.”
That news struck him right in the gut. “You’re leaving the farm?”
“Bud and Hailey...” Color flushed her cheeks. “They don’t need me around.”
Garrett swore under his breath. Charity’s brother was shoving her out of the house she loved, off the farm she loved, for what? For sex! he guessed. Hell, did the guy need an audience?
Impulsively—or maybe he’d planned it since the day he’d given Charity a tour of his house—he said, “Move in with me.”
Only the flapping flag snapping in the wind fifty feet above them broke the silence as Charity stared at him.
Aw, hell, Garrett thought. He’d blown it. “If you need a place, I mean. You and Donnie. Both of you. You saw my house. I’m rattling around in there by myself, it’s so huge. There’s plenty of room for your photography stuff. You could even pay rent, if you wanted. To make you feel better, I mean. I’m not asking you to—”
“Yes.”
Now it was his turn to stare at her incredulously. “You mean it?”
“On a trial basis. We’ll see how it goes.” She pulled her braid to the front of her shoulder.
“That’s great. Really great.” A grin started that he had no power to suppress, and he took her braid, pulled it behind her shoulder, giving it a friendly tug. What he really wanted to do was loosen that braid and have those long, silken strands draped over his naked chest. He doubted she’d be pleased with that thought.
She eyed him warily. “I’m going to pay you rent. This is strictly business. Like the catalog contract I’ve decided to sign. Okay?”
“Fine by me.” He swallowed hard and tried to remain cool, but he felt like he had the ball on the fifty-yard line, thirty seconds to play and the team was down by six points. His adrenaline whipped through his body at a million miles per hour. “When did you think you might want to move in?”
“Would this evening be too soon?”
Garrett could have jumped up and clicked his heels together—or tossed a perfect pass into the end zone—except he suspected Charity would back out of the deal in a flash if she had any idea of his ulterior motives.
But he was going to have her in his house. Donnie, too. Somehow he’d get to the bottom of the mystery of the child’s paternity. And explore his feelings for Charity in the process.
Not a bad deal, he thought. Not bad at all.
Chapter Eight
“You can’t move in with Garrett.”
Bud loomed over Charity, glowering at her as she tossed a nightgown and some underwear into her suitcase. She wouldn’t call any of her lingerie alluring. In fact, she might want to think about remedying that situation—if she got up the nerve. But one impulsive decision per day was pretty much her quota. Moving in with Garrett was the first and only step she was taking for now.
As much as she might tell herself that her move was motivated by the need to escape an awkward situation at home with Bud and his bride, Charity had to admit another, less rational reason. No matter how much she feared losing the farm, or that Garrett might find out about their son, she simply wanted to be near him.
And she chided herself for such foolish risks. “You’re making it sound like I’m doing something sinful,” she said. “I’m renting a room—rooms—for myself and my son in a house that’s too big for one person, and Garrett’s all alone, as you no doubt recall.” She cocked an eyebrow in the silent suggestion her brother was at least in part responsible for Garrett’s empty house. “What’s so awful about that?”
“What it will do to your reputation, that’s what’s so awful. I never thought when I brought Garrett here... I mean, this is a small town. There’ll be talk. If you’re going to get together with Garrett, he ought to—”
“Ought to what? I’m an unwed mother, Bud. How much worse could my reputation be?” She picked up a sweater, shook it out, then put it back in the drawer. The weather would be too warm for wool for a long time yet. She couldn’t begin to plan that far ahead.
“Nobody’s ever thought you were a tramp.”
“How kind of you to say so.”
“Aw, sis, you know what I mean. People will think that, well, that you’re sleeping with Garrett.”
“They can think whatever they want.” Maybe she would sleep with Garrett—and maybe she wouldn’t. She was tired of people like Douglas Keeley and her well-meaning brother telling her how she should live her life. She knew in the long term she didn’t have any future with Garrett, but maybe as a temporary arrangement—
“Bud, listen to me. My moving out is the best thing that could happen to you and Hailey. You’ll have a chance to really get acquainted without Donnie and me underfoot. And she can learn how to cook and handle the chores around the farm without always comparing herself to me.”
He looked stunned. “Are we the reason you’re moving out? You love the farm, Charity. You shouldn’t have to—”
She wrapped her arms around his midsection and hugged him. “Just trust me on this, Bud. I need to go. At least for a while. The reasons don’t matter.” They weren’t even entirely clear in her own mind. Or maybe she simply didn’t want to admit the depth of her feelings. Or her frustrations.
“I’m telling you, sis, if he does anything—anything —to hurt you, I’ll personally break both of his kneecaps. Permanently. Got that?”
“I love you, too, Bud.” Tears suddenly blurred her vision. So much in her life had changed in the past ten days, and yet her brother was still a constant. She knew for a fact he wouldn’t have intentionally forced her to move from the farm or made her feel uncomfortable in her own home. She had to do this for herself—and for her son. “You’re the best brother a girl ever had.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure about that. But you’re all right, sis. I just want you to be happy. Hailey does, too.” He gave her an awkward hug, then stepped back. “Whatever I’ve done, I never meant to mess up your life.”
“Don’t be too nice to me. Donnie and I might move back home faster than you’d like.” Especially if she lost her nerve—which remained a strong possibility.
He chuckled. “I still can’t figure Garrett letting you move in, I mean if you’re not sleeping with him. It’s gotta cramp his style to have a woman in the house—”
“Let’s not discuss Garrett’s love life, huh?” She hadn’t given any thought to another woman in Garrett’s life and didn’t want to consider it now. “If he had his way, he’d be picked up by an NFL team tomorrow and be at training camp by dinnertime.” Then he’d be back in his element with all the groupies who thrived on the vicarious thrill of hanging around with a celebrity. And going to bed with him, she thought with a heart-stopping rush of jealousy. “With any luck, Donnie and I will have that whole big house to ourselves.”
Bud didn’t exactly look like he’d bought her flippant response. Nor did she. She would simply have to grit her teeth and see what happened.
The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3) Page 10
