Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (15 page)

Oh crap. That did it. Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms under the shapeless sweater, outlining her fantastic breasts. Keith could worship at those perfect mounds of flesh for years and never get tired.
Focus.
She was about to rip him a new one. And he deserved it.

For your information, I don’t do ‘tasteless’ interiors. I’m creative and clever, and I always give the client exactly what they want—
after
I’ve convinced them that my way is right.”

“Uh-huh.” Keith chuckled at her petulant speech. “If you say so. I’ll be looking forward to that convincing part that I already know you’re so good at.” Bertie’s mouth flew open and then she blasted him with a deep scowl. “I’m kidding. Now get moving before my kid bounces her way across town from excitement.” Keith gave Bertie a gentle shove toward the front door.

“Gary will be here in a few minutes to oversee the construction,” Bertie said in a very businesslike tone. “Maddie and I will be working at Carlson Fabric House.”

Keith opened the car door for Bertie and placed her tote in the backseat. “Good. I’ll drive over to Raleigh around noon and take you guys to lunch. How does that sound?” He peered into the front seat at Maddie who was already buckled in.

“Will we be done by then?” Maddie asked Bertie.

Bertie nodded. “We should have enough to show your dad by then.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

Bertie fiddled with the key in the ignition. Keith gave a quick wave to Maddie as Bertie backed out of the driveway. He could do this. Bertie and he could have a business relationship. He trusted her design talent and ability. She’d make his falling-down house a real home. And he had a solid, well mapped-out plan that involved marrying a sweet girl with great mothering instincts. But until then, that didn’t preclude him from enjoying Bertie’s company. Besides, Maddie was crazy about her, and Keith didn’t want to take anything away from his daughter’s happiness. Yep. He could do this. They’d work on cordial, businesslike terms…like two old friends.

Until the next time she jumped him.

Then, he would not be responsible for his actions.

Bertie smoothed the flowered sheets over the twin bed in her old bedroom. She stood and checked her surroundings: clean sheets, clean set of towels, Kleenex, night-light, tween magazines on the nightstand, and a glass for water. Bertie gave a quick nod of approval. That should do it. She checked her watch. Maddie would be arriving in fifteen minutes for their girls’ night. Since Keith had plans tonight in Raleigh, Maddie had shamelessly begged to sleep over while he was out. Bertie didn’t mind. Maddie had been delightful to work with, and they had forged a nice designer/client bond. Maddie showed a creative flare for bold patterns, which Bertie always enjoyed more. It beat the passé, tired plaids in burgundies and greens that most of her old lady clients preferred.

For the past weeks, Bertie had been busier than a one-armed paper hanger, placing orders for fabrics and furnishings for every room in the house. Except the master. She hadn’t had the courage to approach Keith about his bedroom. It felt too personal and got her all hot and bothered. She knew his king-size platform bed with the upholstered leather headboard was being trucked up from Miami. But all Bertie could think about was being his personal Sealy Posturepedic. Even though she and Keith had fallen into a companionable working relationship, despite the sizzling current that still zapped them, Bertie gave serious thought to dumping the master bedroom plan on Gary. Maybe he’d have better luck in the swooning department.

Keith had kept his word and allowed Bertie space to do her job. He’d even approved most of the fabrics and colors that Maddie had selected, but he ix-nayed a hot pink hair-on-hide for a bench at the foot of the bed and a bright lime-green accent fabric for pillows. So they compromised and settled on a great aqua-blue stripe and a subtle lavender animal print for the bench, which made Maddie happy and met Keith’s criteria.

Gary and the construction crew continued to work on the newly designed kitchen and master bath, and Keith worked right along with them, which she had to admit was hot as hell. Of course, he continued to work without a shirt, which was causing quite a stir with the single female population. Yesterday, Bertie shooed three Mrs. Morgan wannabes out of the house and posted a Do Not Disturb sign on the front door. The three-ring-circus atmosphere was slowing down their progress.

As for her unrequited lust for His Hubbaliciousness, Bertie tamped down her inner kitty meow, going days without jumping his finely formed frame. This had been no easy feat. Every time she’d been by the house to answer questions, she would catch Keith watching her with a certain look in his eyes. A look that had nothing to do with the dark walnut stain she’d selected for the wood floors or the Venetian plaster she insisted on for the walls, but a look that had everything to do with desire, tumbled sheets, and heavy panting, all directed at her. Bertie drank lots of ice water to cool her overheated parts and stuck close to Gary, avoiding Keith as much as possible.

Besides, she didn’t just fall off the cotton wagon. She knew Keith’s “appointment” tonight was code for “date.” She didn’t need to complicate matters by throwing herself at him to satisfy her craving and end her horizontal tango drought, because it was clear as a bottle of Evian that
she
was not going to become the next Mrs. Morgan.

No need to risk losing an obscene ton of dough because she wanted Keith to ring her rusty, cracked, un-rung bell. Bertie had written her goals down and committed them to memory. One: Finish Morgan house in less than two months. Two: Collect $150,000 big ones. Three: Make $100,000 donation to Dwelling Place. Four: Get the hell out of Dodge and experience the big world of design. If she happened to meet a wonderful guy who wanted to get married and have a couple of kids along the way, she’d be open to entertaining that possibility.

Her new life hovered around the corner, where she could explore another city and reinvent herself at the same time. She stayed awake nights imagining glorious scenarios, all starring her as a fabulous designer being featured in
Veranda
magazine, standing in front of her plantation-style home with her clean-cut son and her adorable daughter in a smocked dress by her side. And her gorgeous, successful husband, wearing a sexy grin along with a tweed jacket and riding boots, looking a lot like the latest Ralph Lauren model, with his hand possessively resting on her shoulder. And the article would be chock-full of information on Bertie’s remarkable design career and glossy pictures of the interiors of her spectacular home. Two more months and she could start making that dream a reality. Okay, so maybe the male model was a bit of a stretch, but since it was her dream, she was leaving him in.

The doorbell chimed and jerked Bertie out of her daydream. She adjusted her black V-neck sweater and checked her hair in the mirror before racing down the stairs in her bejeweled flip-flops.

“Hey. You’re right on time,” Bertie said, opening the front door to Maddie and her hunky dad.
Down, hungry alley kitty.
Maddie had a pink pillow covered with fairies smashed to her chest, and Keith held her overnight bag. “Come on in.” Bertie stepped back, opening the door wider.

Maddie didn’t hesitate as she bounded over the threshold, taking in her surroundings like a happy puppy. Keith followed, but he kept his gaze on Bertie.

“Where would you like her things?” he asked.

“I’ll take those and put them in her room upstairs. Maddie, make yourself comfortable. In a minute, we’ll watch a movie and eat dinner.” Bertie reached for the small suitcase, but Keith didn’t release it.

“Show me the way, and I’ll take her bag.”

Bertie gave Keith a long, hard look. His offer had nothing to do with being chivalrous, but everything to do with checking out her home—as if she ran a house of ill repute.

“Suit yourself.” Bertie peeked her head into the living room where her flat screen TV sat on top of a painted antique chest. Maddie had already curled up on the comfy, off-white chenille sofa and was punching buttons on the remote. “Maddie, you want to see your room?” Bertie asked.

“Later. I’m checking a show on the Disney channel. You don’t mind, do you?” Maddie suddenly looked up, realizing that she’d made herself at home without being invited.

Bertie laughed. “You’re fine. I’ll be right down.”

“Maddie, stay put. I’m going to take your bag upstairs. And don’t be watching the Kardashians,” Keith said in a stern tone. Maddie gave an exaggerated eye roll but kept her mouth shut. Smart child.

“Okay, concerned dad, right this way.” Bertie led Keith up the stairs and down the hallway to her old bedroom on the left. “My old room.” She gestured with her hand. “You can put her bag on this bench, here.”

Keith moved toward the old bench with the rush seat and spindle legs that Bertie had inherited from her grandma. He studied the room as if he expected a pimp or a bunch of horny teenage boys to pop out from behind her closet or under her white wrought-iron bed with the crocheted bed skirt.

“You can check the closet and behind the chest if it’ll make you feel better.” Bertie opened the top drawer on her dresser. “No drugs or alcohol here. I did a clean sweep earlier.”

Keith crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “You think this is funny?”

“No. I think you’re being ridiculous and even insulting,” she snapped back.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t be too careful. I know what kids do these days. Hell, I did it when I was a stupid teenager.”

“Stupid adult too,” Bertie muttered under her breath as she closed the drawer and adjusted the monogrammed linen runner on top.

“Which should make me a damn expert.”

Bertie glanced in the mirror at Keith only inches behind her. She sucked in a breath, hoping he didn’t notice. He was close enough that his musky aroma clouded her head. She gripped the edge of the dresser to keep herself from swaying back and relaxing into his hard, yummy chest.

“Look, I know I’m a neurotic dad. Actually, I’m a lousy dad. I haven’t been there for my kid when I should’ve been. I guess I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Bertie whirled around, forgetting that she shouldn’t be touching him. She didn’t care. “You’re not a lousy dad. And it’s not too late.” She gave Keith’s forearms a squeeze. “Maddie adores you, and if you ask me, she seems like a pretty smart kid. Well-adjusted. Stop beating yourself up.” Keith’s dejected expression slowly vanished as he quirked his firm lips.

“Yeah? I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.”

He brushed her cheek with a kiss. Bertie froze at the soft contact. Her cheek tingled. Keith slowly pulled back and gazed down at her. Heat sparked in his dark chocolate eyes. The same heat she’d been sensing from him all week. Desire swamped Bertie, making her sway in his direction.

His cell beeped, causing Keith to jerk back and saving Bertie from doing something idiotic, like tying him up with her lace curtains and having her way with him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he pulled the phone from his pocket. Bertie ingested a howl of frustration along with a litany of curse words for being so stupid. Again! Keith texted back and glanced up as if embarrassed by their actions moments before. Right. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. He had a date to meet: possible mother to Maddie and all his future gorgeous children.

“I need to get going,” he said, crossing her yellow shag carpet to the door.

“There are more rooms up here. Sure you don’t want to check them out? For hoodlums and drug dealers?”

“I’m good. Maybe another time.” Keith bolted from the room and bounded down the steps. “Maddie, I’m off. Please behave, and don’t stay up too late.” Keith leaned down to kiss her on the head. “You gonna be okay?”

“More than okay. We’re going to learn a new dance routine and do each other’s makeup,” Maddie said.

Bertie saw Keith’s jaw stiffen at the mention of dancing and makeup. What did he think? That she’d dress Maddie up like a Vegas showgirl? Bertie spoke to Maddie but locked gazes with Keith. “Uh, we’ll see. First we’re going to have dinner, watch a movie, and maybe make ice cream sundaes.”

“Bye, Dad. Love you.” Maddie had already returned her attention to the TV.

Keith hesitated, checking his watch. Bertie wanted to smack him. “Love you too, Maddie-Poo,” he said as Bertie pulled him from the room and then pushed him toward the front door.

“Everything will be fine. Go. Have a good time with…” Bertie waved her hand. “Whoever.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks again for everything. You need anything?” he suddenly asked, as if he didn’t want to leave.

“Nope. We’re good. I just stocked up on beer and some great pot.” Bertie started at Keith’s thunderous expression. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”

“I’ll be back to pick her up at eight o’clock tomorrow. Make sure she’s ready,” he ordered, slapping his hand against the doorframe.

“Yes, sir. Now please leave.” And she closed the door in his face.

***

Liza thanked the waitress for her dirty martini as she set it on a cocktail napkin. It was Wednesday night and she was having drinks with one of her old girlfriends from high school. They had chosen a quiet bar in Raleigh in an upscale shopping village. She and Jane sat in a booth across from the bar but next to a window, where they had a good view of the front door and of people strolling outside. It felt good to get away from Harmony and her conflicting emotions about Cal. She and Cal shared a strange and strained history. And after Saturday night and every night since then, Liza had been sort of floating with a silly grin on her face. She had come to the conclusion, with some very persuasive convincing on Cal’s part that included great sex and even better orgasms, that being away all these years and working in Chicago hadn’t changed anything. She still had feelings for Cal, strong feelings, and apparently he did too.

Getting fired from her firm over a case that she’d put tons of hours into had been a real blow to her ego as well as her career. And later, discovering she’d been viciously sabotaged iced the giant cupcake. Important documents had mysteriously been withheld, and Liza knew her jilted, pissed-off, slimy ex-boyfriend who didn’t take rejection well was the culprit, but she didn’t have enough evidence to prove it. So, the prom queen of Harmony High had experienced a setback. Wake-up call. Slap in the face. Her ego had taken a huge hit, and it was sobering. Until then, she hadn’t believed bad things could happen to her. And after hours of self-examination, she’d realized that maybe she’d been climbing the ladder of success for all the wrong reasons. Life had more to offer than hostile takeovers, mergers and acquisitions, angry stockholders, and demanding boards of directors.

Liza sipped her drink while Jane chatted about her job with a local marketing firm in Raleigh. Liza missed being around her old friends, especially the high school crowd. She and Jane had been cheerleaders together and had served on the Student Council in high school.

“You still love your job? I think that’s great.” Liza smiled.

Jane flipped her straight brown hair over her shoulder. “There are days I want to shoot myself, but for the most part, I’m happy. And I like living in Raleigh. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Hmm-mm. If you say so,” Liza laughed. “Still not a whole lot of action from what I can see.”

“You get used to it. We even have a pro football team now. The Carolina Cherokees. For once, Raleigh is getting the same attention as Charlotte.” Jane checked her cell phone. “I asked a few friends from work to meet us tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Great. Should be fu—” Liza left her sentence unfinished as she peered over Jane’s shoulder at the party entering the bar. “Well, would you look at that?”

Jane glanced over her shoulder. “What? Oh. Do you know who that is?” Jane turned back to Liza with wide eyes.

“I sure do.”

Keith Morgan…on a date with a possible prospective bride—a young, cute blond. Too young. Good Lord. Did Keith want a wife or another child to take care of? What an idiot. Liza sipped her drink as Keith and his friends arranged themselves around a table tucked in a corner.

“Damn. I can’t believe it; here I am talking about our pro football team and in walks Nick Frasier. Isn’t he all that? Whew. I would
not
kick that man out of bed for eating crackers, I can tell you.” Jane’s voice lowered a fraction.