Finding Harmony (3 page)

The scooter was a dot in the distance as he finally got
into his rental. The sales girl had asked him to join her for dinner, which he’d
declined.
Never dip your pen in the company ink,
his father always said.
Well, Tammy didn’t work for Chapman Financial, but the advice was still worth
something. Funny two of his father’s ex-wives had worked for him before they
worked under him.

He raked his fingers through his hair as he glanced in the
rearview mirror. Hell, where had these waves come from? Damn humidity. He
started the SUV and turned the AC on full, earning a blast of hot air in his
face. He turned the wheel and steered the vehicle away from Cypress Corners and
toward the beach. And temporary freedom.

He’d think about nothing but sun, surf and specs on the
conservation development. Damn the weed. Damn the Institute.

And damn the hot little tree-hugger at the center of it
all.

***

He sat in his hotel suite that night, his back to the ocean
view. Even forty miles away from her, he was unable to get the plant babe out
of his mind. She was the cause of all this, with her little notebook and her
ugly plant. She probably had the director of the Institute in the back pocket
of her snug little shorts. He pictured her again, as she’d been out at the site
and across the street this afternoon. His body tightened.

He drained his beer bottle and began to peel the foil label
into strips. Stopping, he laughed softly. Wasn’t that a sign of sexual
frustration? Well, he had that. Every time he pictured the little tree-hugger. He
hadn’t had such raging hormonal urges since high school. Maybe her frustrating
his business plan was screwing around with the rest of him.

Sex was usually pretty easy for him, with no strings
attached. He only got involved with women who had the same expectations. He
suspected the plant girl wasn’t like those women. Strings? Oh, yeah. Well, he
wouldn’t be the one getting tangled. Just look at the mess his father was in
now.

Bill married Tiffany three months ago, and almost since the
ceremony she’d been trying to get Rick into bed. Leaving suggestive messages on
his voice mail, stopping by his office at Chapman for a quick chat about
nothing. Low-cut blouse and high-cut skirt, blond hair as genuine as the
tanning-bed cast to her skin. Tiffany was a bitch, but that was none of his
business. Let the old man deal with her.

He stood, crossed to the mini-bar, and took out another
five dollar bottle of beer. His cell rang as he twisted off the cap. Taking a long
drag on the bottle, he grabbed the cell and held it to his ear. His father’s
voice came through clearly.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Chapman,” his father said. “I spoke to our guys in Legal
and you have to get back to Cypress Corners.”

He took another sip and settled onto the couch. “I plan to.
The director of the Institute couldn’t meet with me today, so I thought I’d
give them a call in the morning and arrange a meet.”

“No. Get back there and keep on those tree-huggers.”

He stiffened. “Look, I can work just fine from here.”

“You didn’t work with them on the restaurant last year,
Rick. You came in after I laid the groundwork. I made it easy for you.”

His lips tightened as his father went on about how it was
his conviction and balls that got the big job done last year. The café was just
another step toward the next big project in the development, the lakeside
recreation center. Bill wanted it and Rick had to make sure it happened. His
mother’s words came back to him.
You’re as good as Bill Chapman, Ricky. You
have to make him see that.

“Okay,” he said, cutting his father off in mid- diatribe. “I’ll
go back tomorrow.”

“And check out of that hotel.”

“What?” He sat up straight. “Why?”

“I want you to stay on the property. That girl in the
office, Tammy, said she has the perfect place for you.”

He blew out a breath. “Where?”

“A house for lease in the village. You can keep an eye on
the Institute, maybe schmooze the Cypress Execs. Act like one of them. I didn’t
pay for all that schooling to let it go to waste.”

He ignored the barb as usual. He had to hand it to Bill
Chapman. The idea made sense. “All right, Dad. I’ll get out there first thing.”

“Good.”

The call cut out and he was left holding nothing but air. Again.
He had to go back, then. The plant girl was in tight at the Institute. She was
the one who could turn this whole thing around, if he played this just right. He
was smooth, thanks to the polish he’d gotten at the pricey schools Bill had
paid for. He was smart, thanks to Harvard Business School. He was charming, if
his success with the women in Boston was any indication.

He’d have to make up some ground. He’d been a clod out
there at the site. No wonder she’d taken such an instant dislike to him. He’d
acted like an ass.

He thought of how she’d eased his fire-ant bites, her
delicate hands on his skin, her gorgeous eyes showing her concern and
compassion. She was strong and gentle at the same time. A contradiction as well
as a complication. The most compelling woman he’d met in years.

He smiled. Maybe staying in Cypress Corners wouldn’t be
such a hardship after all.

The next morning Rick checked out of the hotel and headed
back to Cypress Corners. He made a quick stop at the Sales Office. Tammy
pressed a key into his hand and her breasts against his arm, but he ignored the
calculated move. He wasn’t going there. He thanked her and drove to the address
she gave him.

All the houses in the development were charming and
old-fashioned-looking, but he knew they were state-of-the-art modern at their
guts. His temporary nest was a two-story deal, smooth stucco painted a soft
gray and trimmed with white. A deep covered porch stretched across the front of
the house, with two white rattan rockers sitting at the ready. It was all so
neat and comfortable and Rick didn’t really care for it. But it wasn’t far from
the golf course, and after he spoke to his father last night he’d called the Welcome Center and arranged a round with some of the Cypress executives.

He parked the SUV in the garage at the back of the house
and carried his luggage and briefcase through the kitchen door. More hominess met
him here. The interior was decorated with a country feel but without the flowers
and baskets he’d expected. He found clean-lined furniture and buffed wood
floors, leather couches and a widescreen TV. Cool.

A large basket filled with fruit, cheese and crackers sat
on the kitchen counter. He read the card. A special welcome, signed by Tammy. Her
cell phone number was hand-written below. He shook his head and took an apple
from the basket, his mind on his coming meeting with the execs.

Yeah, they’d play golf. But more was at stake than strokes.

***

Harmony stepped out of the Institute later that morning. She’d
taken plenty of pictures of the wild scrub buckwheat and uploaded them to the
Institute’s database, and now had nothing to do but think. Dr. Robbins had
stunned her with his simple words of faith. He trusted her to keep the habitat
secure. She was the one to keep Chapman’s field man from infringing on the site.
Well, she’d given her word. Her parents taught her to say only the things you
feel are true. Pity that didn’t always work both ways. That kind of honesty
could leave you open to manipulation from those less truthful.

Ariel and Max Brooks had raised her among tofu and organic
fruit, crystals and incense. Their small circle of friends were all the
exposure she’d had to outsiders until she’d gone away to college. Everyone
she’d known before was honest and upfront, which was the big reason Adam had so
easily snowed both her and her parents.

He’d promised them a string of organic food stores to expand
their own little shop, confusing them with investment-to-earnings and requests
from fake investors. In a few short months their savings were gone and their
dream dead and buried.

She still felt sick when she thought of what her parents went
through because of her. Adam left her with nothing but guilt for getting her
parents mixed up with such a snake. Oh, Adam had been more dangerous than a
cottonmouth. The guy from Chapman probably hid the same slithery scales.

Well, she knew Dr. Robbins was authentic. He’d hired her
while she was still in grad school and she wouldn’t do anything to make him
regret it. The position paid well and she’d make sure she earned every penny
she owed her parents. If she had to go head to head with the guy from Chapman,
she would. She’d protect the buckwheat and her job. She had to.

She turned and found him standing beside her scooter,
dressed casually but looking just as starched in a navy golf shirt and khaki
shorts. He did have nice legs. She’d seen that as she’d tended his ant bites.

She brought her gaze higher. His hair was curled from the
humidity and made him look less menacing than he had at the work site yesterday.
He smiled and her insides flipped.

“Hello,” he said.

She nodded. “Hello.”

He stepped toward her. “I want to apologize for yesterday. I
was out of line.”

“Yes, you were.”

His smile widened, surprising her with the effect it had on
his features. He looked much younger with that grin.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

She felt her own lips curve. “All right. Say what you want
to say.”

“I’m sorry… ”  He raised his brows in question.

“Harmony,” she said. “Harmony Brooks.”

“Harmony? Pretty name.”

She liked the way his lovely mouth shaped the sounds. Her
cheeks flushed hot. “Thank you. My parents are a little eccentric.”

He chuckled and held out his hand. “Rick Chapman.”

She took his hand. It was big and strong, the grip firm. Just
as she’d expected. This was the hand of a man who went after what he wanted and
usually got it.

“Nice to meet you, Rick. Wait.” She withdrew her hand. “Chapman?”

He stared at her evenly. “Yeah. Of Chapman Financial.”

“Oh, hell.” She covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean… ”

He waved a hand. “It’s all right. My father owns the
company. I’m just the lackey who makes sure the money comes in on time.”

The words were flip but she heard something odd in his tone.
Maybe resignation, maybe resentment.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rick.”

“Likewise.” He tilted his head toward the Institute. “I’m
meeting with the director of the Institute this afternoon, but do you want to
grab a bite to eat tonight?”

Her heartbeat skittered. Dinner? With him? He’d been so
forceful yesterday, and taken with the attraction she felt today? No way. “I’m
pretty busy.”

“Oh, come on. Let me make it up to you.” His gray eyes sparkled
silver, like sunlight dancing across the lake. “I owe you for saving me from
those ants. Twice.”

She blinked. There was the charm to go along with those
looks. It was an amazing thing to be the recipient of his attention. She
thought for a moment, Hettie’s words coming back to her. There were other
things than plants to occupy her time, and where was the harm in one dinner? “Okay.”

He smiled again. “You know this place. You pick the
restaurant and I’ll meet you in front of the Welcome Center. Seven o’clock
okay?”

She nodded and watched as he turned and walked back toward
the golf club. So she’d agreed to have dinner with him. Because of Hettie’s
comment? No, that wasn’t the only reason. It was because he was the first guy
to pique her interest in years. When he’d pinned her with those
I-know-what-I-want eyes she couldn’t resist. He was all charm and magnetism and
determination.

Oh, she was still weak where his type was concerned. All
she had to do was remember Adam to bring that point home. But this was only
dinner. She’d keep her guard up and do her best to see to the task at hand. Staying
informed of Chapman’s plans could only help her keep her promise to the
director.  

She got on her scooter and thought for a moment. He wanted
her to pick the restaurant, huh? She knew just the place to show Mr. Rick
Chapman just what Cypress was about. The Boathouse.

Hettie waved from her usual table as she rode past,
dropping a wink. That woman didn’t miss a trick.

She smiled as she thought of The Boathouse. Mr. Charming
Chapman would learn more about Cypress Corners than he bargained for.

***

That evening Rick drove his SUV to the Welcome Center. His golf game hadn’t yielded any help with the Institute, but he’d managed to
shave a couple of strokes off his game. At least he had learned something from
his meeting with the director.
Through a special agreement, the Cypress developers couldn’t infringe on any lands deemed protected. That included the café
site right now, and the recreation center next year.

He had to get
Harmony Brooks on his side. It was obvious the director held her in high
esteem, if the glowing words he’d used to describe her knowledge and persistence
was any indication. Rick could guess she had more power in those delicate hands
than even she realized.

Keeping her close
would give him information he couldn’t get any other way, especially if the
tree-huggers dragged their feet on the matter. Any delays could put their stake
in the development in jeopardy. If it turned out that Chapman had to find another
spot before the deadline, he could sure use her help. His father’s words struck
him. Time was money, all right. That was the only “time” Bill ever had for his
kids.

Dinner with her wouldn’t be a hardship. He bet she cleaned
up nice, not that she wasn’t fabulous flushed and rumpled from the heat, her
hair wild as it escaped that ponytail. Harmony. The name was a little flaky but
somehow it fit her. She seemed to blend right in with the nature around her out
at the building site—her clothes, her skin, her hair. All green, tan and gold.

As he parked he saw her scooter sat out front and she stood
waiting beside it. She wore shorts again, he was happy to see, with those
little hiking boots, dressed up with a gauzy top. And her hair… It was loose
and flowed down her back in silky curls. He shut off the engine and got out.

“Hello,” he said as he walked over to her.

“Hello.”

She lowered her eyes and he saw her lashes were thick and
long. Was she blushing? No, she was probably just sun-kissed on her nose and cheeks.
Man, her skin looked smooth.

“So where are we headed?” he asked.

She glanced up at him again. Now her eyes sparkled and she
looked like she was holding back a laugh. “There’s a great little restaurant on
the other side of the lake, Mr. Chapman.”

“Rick,” he corrected.

She blinked those long lashes for a moment. “Rick,” she
said with a nod. “You can sample some of the local cuisine.”

He deliberately ran his eyes over her. Oh, he’d like to
sample something and soon. He tamped down his libido and held the passenger
door open for her. She climbed up to settle on the wide leather seat and he
stared at the curve of her leg for a moment before closing the door. She was a
pretty tempting package, but he was always the one in control. No woman tempted
him to do anything he didn’t want them to, even if he let them believe it was
their idea. He’d just focus on the game if he was to see to Chapman’s concerns.

He got in, started the engine and headed toward the
perimeter road. “Where to?”

“Just follow this road around the lake, Rick.”

Damn but he liked the way she said his name. Clear like a
bell with a touch of huskiness. He shifted in his seat. Suddenly the supple
leather upholstery wasn’t so comfortable. Jeez, they were only talking and his
body reacted. He could smell her. A subtle blend of citrus and flowers, either
perfume or the soap she’d used.   The scent was light but potent. Man.

After about ten minutes she pointed out a turn-off to the
right. They followed a winding road which led through the woody growth toward
what looked like little more than a sprawling shack by the lakeside.

He stopped the SUV next to a rusty beat-up truck and turned
to her. “Here?”

She nodded. “This is The Boathouse.”

He eyed the building and its surroundings. A restaurant
with a name like that in Boston would be pricey and surrounded by expensive
yachts. This one boasted a lone dock to the rear with a few small boats
tethered to it. But lights shone inside the shack and he could hear music on
the warm air as he stepped out of the car. Before he could reach Harmony’s door
she opened it and jumped out. He waved her in front of him and locked the SUV
with a click of his key chain while he followed her. Walking behind her wasn’t
a hardship, either. She had a sweet behind he could look at all night.

The Boathouse was loud and crowded and filled with wooden
picnic tables. The hostess showed them to one near the wide screened windows
and he sat on the bench across from Harmony. It felt like they were still
outside; the chirps and croaks of whatever lived in the woods were loud through
the screen and the air was still thick. The fans above did little to cool the
place. A waitress stopped by the table and handed Harmony a menu.

Harmony paused and glanced at him. “Trust me?”

He felt a stab of guilt at her simple question. Yeah, he
knew she had an agenda. But at least hers wasn’t a hidden one like his. “Sure.”

She smiled, a sly expression that did amazing things to her
mouth. “We’ll start with two of the specials,” she told the waitress.

The waitress nodded. “And to drink?”

“A beer.” Harmony raised her brows and looked at him.

He grinned. “Make that two.”

She didn’t say much as they waited for their food. Their
beer was soon served, cold and frosty in the bottle, and he drank deeply. He
didn’t know what the special was, but the aromas filling the place made his
stomach growl. Spices and salt and the smells of frying grease made his mouth
water. Well that, and the girl sitting across from him.

“Do you come here a lot?” he asked.

“That sounds like a line.”

He tilted his head. “A lame one.”

She laughed softly. “Yes, I do. You haven’t been here
before?”