Читать книгу Daddy's Choice - Doreen Malek Owens - Страница 8

Carol turned abruptly and saw Tay Kirkland standing at her elbow. His tie was off, his jacket over his arm, and his open collar exposed a matte expanse of brown throat. When she looked startled at his remark, he smiled slightly and she realized that he was joking.

“I thought you’d be taking off with John,” he added.

“No, he was going home and I didn’t want to intrude. But I started to feel a little shaky when I got into my car and thought I’d better come over here for dinner.”

“Didn’t eat today?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Too upset about the big bad construction crew invading your domain?” he asked archly.

Carol gazed at him in exasperation. “You may think my concern is ridiculous, Mr. Kirkland, but if you’ve ever tried to study with hammering and drilling surrounding you in stereophonic sound, you would know that it’s not.”

“Please call me Tay. And I’ve never been big on studying, but I can imagine that the kind of noise my outfit makes doesn’t exactly aid concentration.”

Carol said nothing. It was nice of him to be understanding now that he was getting what he wanted.

“I’d like to explain myself better than I did in John’s office if you’ll give me a chance. Do you mind if I join you for a minute?” he asked.

Carol hesitated, and he saw it.

“Never mind,” he said quietly, and turned to go.

Before she knew what she was doing, Carol had leaned forward and placed her hand on his wrist. He froze and looked down at her inquiringly.

“Please stay,” she said, then regretted her impulse when his eyes locked with hers, searching and very blue. His candid examination made her feel coltish, uncertain, and she was relieved when he pulled out a chair for himself at her table.

“Okay to sit?” he asked.

She nodded.

He settled in across from her and folded his arms in front of him. With his height and broad shoulders he dominated the small round table as if he were sitting in a child’s playhouse.

“I wanted to explain to you why I took such a hard line with your contract,” he said.

“I think you already did that.”

“Not completely. When I first started this business ten years ago, I got burned by quite a few people who backed out of their deals after I had ordered all the materials and hired the men for the jobs.”

“So you’ve said,” Carol observed impatiently. Why was he cornering her like this just to repeat himself?

He shook his head, holding up his hand. “Let me finish, there’s more. I have to think about my future business. In my industry, if you get a reputation for caving in when the client changes his mind, you’re in trouble. You have all sorts of people ordering up work and then backing out when they decide to pay for their daughter’s shotgun wedding or Junior’s braces or a trip to the Bahamas instead.”

“I didn’t order the work. My father did.”

“I understand that, but from my perspective it’s the same thing. I have to enforce my contracts or the accumulated costs, over time, will drive me out of business. I’m growing, but I’m not that big a company yet and I can’t afford to absorb the losses the way a national outfit could. It’s simple economics.”

Carol said nothing.

“Do you see my point at all?” he asked wearily, a slight note of pleading in his voice making her look at him more closely.

“Do business with a national outfit?” she suggested, and he grinned, breaking the tension.

“They like to enforce their contracts, too, and they can afford to hire people like you to make sure they do.”

“Nobody’s going to be hiring me unless I pass the bar,” Carol muttered.

“You will.”

She glanced at him, one eyebrow arched. “You’re a soothsayer?”

“I recognize determination when I see it,” he replied. “I’d hate to be one of the bar examiners if they turn you down.”

Carol smiled.

“So are we okay? No snits, no pouts, no grudges?”

“I never pout,” she said.

“I don’t imagine you do. An Uzi would be more your style.”

“You make me sound quite formidable, Mr. Kirkland.”

“I asked you to call me Tay.”

“All right, Tay. No snits and no pouts, I promise.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Carol studied him as he sat across from her. Was it possible he was really concerned that she would be angry with him? Or was he merely worried that she might interfere further with his renovations if he didn’t placate her now?

“I’ll do a great job and your place will be worth a fortune when I’m finished,” he added, and Carol had to smile again.

Kirkland might be quiet, as John had said, but she had to be careful of the man facing her across the snowy restaurant tablecloth.

He was just too attractive to have on the premises every day.

As if reading her thoughts, Kirkland pushed back his chair and stood.

“I guess I’ll be going,” he said.

“Would you like to stay and join me?” Carol asked, and she felt him measuring her expression, as if deciding whether her invitation was motivated by mere politeness.

“I hate to eat alone,” she added, and that seemed to make the decision for him.

“All right,” he said, and sat again, dropping his jacket on the chair next to him.

“Have you been here before?” Carol asked.

He nodded.

“What’s good?”

“The clam chowder is excellent, seafood’s the specialty. The swordfish and the trout almondine are usually top-notch.”

He sounded like a man who spent a lot of time in restaurants.

The waiter, who had been watching them during their earlier conversation, seemed relieved that Carol’s companion had decided to stay and materialized at Tay’s side.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked.

Tay looked at Carol. “I haven’t given you much of a chance to look at the menu,” he said.

“That’s all right, I’ll take your suggestion,” Carol replied. She turned to the waiter and said, “A bowl of the clam chowder and the grilled swordfish, please.”

He nodded, scribbling. “White or red chowder?” he said.

Carol looked at Tay.

“Red,” he advised. “And I’ll have the same. With the baby vegetables and a bottle of the house chablis.”

The waiter disappeared and Tay selected a breadstick from the basket on the table.

“Do you often forget to eat all day?” he asked Carol, biting into the stick, which snapped under the assault of his teeth.

“Not often. It’s a bad idea when you have low blood sugar. Everything tends to get a little hazy around the edges.”

“I could never forget to eat,” he said, smiling. “My stomach always reminds me.”

“It happens only when I get really preoccupied. I passed out during exams once, right after civil procedure. The instructor was mortified, he thought I had fainted because I was afraid I’d failed the test. I had to tell him that I’d been studying so hard I’d skipped breakfast and lunch.”

“I guess I should be flattered that I’m as much of a distraction as a civil procedure exam,” Tay said lazily.

Carol met his eyes, then looked away.

“What is civil procedure, anyway?”

“Torture. Sheer, maddening torture. It’s all confusing cases and decisions about who can bring a case, where it should be brought, if it has enough merit to be heard, on and on and on. It’s the Waterloo of the first year of law school and everybody dreads it.”

“I’ll bet you got an A,” he said, polishing off his breadstick.

Carol glanced at him, startled.

“Did you?” he said.

She sighed. “Yes.”

He chuckled, the low, throaty sound drifting across the table toward her as the waiter brought their appetizers.

Carol picked up her spoon and Tay watched her reaction as she tasted the soup.

“Very good,” she said.

“Not too spicy?”

“No, it’s fine.”

They ate in silence for a while, and when Carol’s bowl was almost empty he said, “Feeling better?”

“Much.”

“I think you need someone to take care of you,” he said quietly.

“I’m doing just fine,” Carol replied firmly. “Lots of people skip meals, it doesn’t mean they need a keeper.”

He let that pass, pouring them both a glass of wine when the waiter brought the bottle.

“I hope you like this, it’s actually much better than some of the big label stuff,” he said, saluting her with the glass.

Carol sipped hers obediently and nodded.

“Did you spend all your summers down here when you were a kid?” Tay asked, watching her.

“From the time my father bought the house, yes.”

“I don’t remember you,” he said, as if he should.

“A few years is an unbridgeable gulf between kids,” Carol replied.

“But not between adults,” he observed.

The busboy cleared the table and shortly afterward the waiter brought the main course. Tay speared a tiny carrot with a tine of his fork and said, “How do they get these things so small? Are they shrunken or something?”

“Beats me. They must grow that way, like Bonsai trees. The fish is delicious.”

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe this experience will encourage you to eat regularly. I can’t have you passing out on the sidewalk in front of my construction crew.”

“I shouldn’t have told you that story,” Carol muttered, and he chuckled.

Carol stared at him, riveted in spite of herself, then took another sip of her wine.

“Do you like living at the seashore all year ‘round?” she asked.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, I should think it might be dismal in the winter—gray ocean, gray skies, empty beaches.”

“Spoken like a true summer person,” he said dryly. “Actually, the beach in winter is very nice.”

“If you’re an Eskimo.”

“If you like peace and quiet, as you supposedly do.”

Carol paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. He had scored a point off her without even trying.

“I only meant that the image of a deserted and windswept beach is a lonely one,” Carol said quietly.

“For landscape artists, maybe. But I like the isolation, it helps me to think. When the tourists flood in over the Memorial Day weekend I always want to head for the hills. At least Strathmere is off the beaten path, I could never stand living in one of the big towns that turn into a Mardi Gras every summer.”

“Don’t like the Ferris wheels and coin toss booths, eh?”

“I avoid all amusement parks,” he said. “Have you ever noticed that people do things on vacation they would never do at home?”

“You mean toting around the boardwalk souvenirs, the funny hats and the giant blue teddy bears?” Carol asked.

“And who are the merrymakers? Drunken teenagers in wrecked cars and middle-aged tire salesmen in hula skirts,” he said.

Carol giggled. “You don’t paint a very pretty picture of the summer visitors. I was one of them, you know.”

“I’m sure you weren’t one of the worst. You had a home here and stayed the whole season. The worst of them blow in for a week or two, stay soused the entire time, then leave a trail of litter behind on the beach and a trail of beer cans on the way out of town.”

The waiter approached and said, “Is everything all right?”

“You can take this, I’m done,” Carol said.

“Do you want anything else?” Tay asked.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Coffee, dessert?” the waiter said.

“Just coffee for me,” Carol replied.

Tay nodded in agreement. Carol felt as if she were on a date, with Tay directing the action, even though their meeting had been a coincidence.

“Do you like what you do?” Carol asked as Tay picked up the bottle and tipped it to top off her glass.

Carol covered it. “I have to drive,” she said.

He replaced the bottle in its stand. “Construction?” he said.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “I like working with my hands, and it’s very satisfying to see the completed job and know I was responsible for it. I can drive up any street in Strathmere and see how my efforts have improved or redone the old houses, in some cases even saved them from collapsing.”

“I see.”

“Do you feel that way about the law?”

She hesitated before answering. “The law is malleable. It can be a force for good, but it can also be used in negative ways.”

“I guess that means you have to be careful.”

“Yes, it does. You have to be careful about what type of law you practice and which cases you choose.”

Their coffee came, and they sipped it as Tay asked, “Does that mean you won’t be representing any Mafia dons?”

Carol smiled. “It seems unlikely.”

“Embezzling bankers?”

“They can usually afford the experienced, high-priced practitioners. That’s not me.”

“Deserting husbands, deadbeat dads, Wall Street tax evaders?” he suggested.

“I can see you have the same impression of lawyers as you do of summer visitors,” Carol said, laughing.

He shrugged. “Your profession hasn’t been getting very good press for a long time.”

“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean all lawyers are creeps.”

“You certainly don’t look like a creep,” he said mildly.

Carol glanced toward the entrance of the dining room and saw that a line had formed there. She also noticed that the waiter was hovering anxiously.

“I really have enjoyed this, Tay, but I have to go,” Carol said, putting down her cup. “Could you call for the check and then—”

“The check is mine,” he said, interrupting her firmly. “I’ll see you out to your car.”

He settled the bill and they left the restaurant, the soft evening air embracing them as they emerged into it.

“Nice night,” Tay observed, taking Carol’s arm to guide her across the street.

“I have always loved a summer dusk,” Carol replied. “Of course, it does take some of the sparkle out of it when you consider that more car accidents occur at this time of day than any other.”

Tay laughed; when she looked at him he was shaking his head.

“That’s the sort of thing a lawyer would know,” he said.

“Or an insurance adjuster. It’s something about the change in perspective, drivers have difficulty dealing with the diminishing daylight. It’s actually safer to drive in full dark.”

“I’ll bear it in mind, Ralph Nader,” he said.

They reached her car and he waited while she unlocked it and got in, starting the motor and turning on the lights.

“Thanks for letting me join you for dinner,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for the dinner.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Carol watched him walk out of the lot, saw the way his bright hair caught the light from the street lamp, noted the flexing of his muscles as he shouldered briskly into his coat. She finally dragged her eyes away.

She almost wished she had not had dinner with him. He wasn’t just her nemesis anymore, he was a person now, a person with a sense of humor and a point of view.

And a very distracting presence.

What she didn’t need now, she thought again as she started her car, was a distraction.

And Taylor Kirkland promised to be a powerful one.

Tay unlocked the door of his truck, realized that he was wearing his jacket again, and took it off to toss it in the back. As he inserted the key into the ignition he thought about the new summer resident on Schoolhouse Lane in Strathmere.

Carol Lansing was an unexpected and problematic development.

He liked her already; he liked her too much, and he was concerned that his compromise with her would slow his work schedule. But it was either make the deal or have her tie him up in the courts. Or raise Cain every time one of his workmen dropped a hammer. His infallible charm routine didn’t seem to work too well on her, either; at dinner she had seemed to be as smart and aware as she was pretty. He only hoped she’d stay inside the house and study, as she’d said. The last thing he needed was a curvaceous brunette in a bikini parading past his men while they were trying to work.

And while he was trying to work.

He was already having difficulty putting her out of his mind.

He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the motor.

Carol was up, showered and dressed when Kirkland Construction descended on her the next morning. As she waited for her friend Jane, who had gone to law school with her and lived nearby in Stone Harbor, to arrive for a study session, the crew muffled the windows and sealed the doors before they set to work. The effect was peculiar: instead of loud and insistent pounding filling the house, the noise now sounded like distant thunder. Carol tried to ignore it and assembled her note cards and books on the kitchen table, rising to let Jane into the house when her knock came at the front door.

“What is going on here?” Jane said breathlessly as she entered the cottage and looked around wonderingly. “Are you experimenting with plutonium? This place is sealed off like a murder scene.”

“It’s a long story,” Carol replied wearily.

“Well, you’d better tell me, I’m just bursting with curiosity,” Jane said as she dumped her backpack on a chair.

Carol related the dismal tale as she poured a cup of coffee for her friend.

“And is that towering creature with the wavy blond hair the villain of this piece?” Jane asked archly. “He nodded to me as I breezed past him, laden with my twenty pounds of books. He took them from me in silence and deposited them on the porch, then nodded again when I thanked him.”

“That’s the one. John Spencer says he doesn’t talk very much.”

“For heaven’s sake, Carol, who cares if he can talk? That’s the most gorgeous man I have ever seen! I can’t believe you were trying to get rid of him, I would have been begging him to stay.”

“I must be a little more interested in passing the bar than you are, Jane,” Carol said dryly.

“Oh, come on, the noise isn’t that bad.”

“Today it isn’t that bad. Yesterday it sounded like the anvil chorus was being performed on my roof.”

“So you had a romantic dinner with him?” Jane asked, selecting the most interesting tidbit from Carol’s previous recitation.

“I did not have a romantic dinner with him,” Carol replied in a strong voice. “We shared a meal because we both happened to be in the same place at the same time. The whole event lasted little more than an hour.”

“How could you let that opportunity pass? You should have nailed his feet to the floor for the night!”

“I was angry with him, Jane,” Carol said, beginning to get annoyed with her friend, too. “He was insisting on completing a job I didn’t want done. Don’t you get the picture?”

“I’ll bet you weren’t angry by the time dinner was over,” Jane observed slyly.

Carol shot her a look.

“So he’s staying?” Jane said, cutting to the chase.

“Obviously.”

“Well, at least I’ll have the scenery to look forward to around here, since you’re a complete grouch.”

Carol lifted a stack of three-by-five index cards and placed them on the table between them.

“May we begin with these notes on contracts?” she said, changing the subject to the work at hand.

Jane reached for them resignedly and began to read out loud.

Around noon Jane suddenly raised her head and said, “What’s that sound?”

“Blessed silence. The crew is taking a lunch break.”

Jane leapt up from the table and walked over to the front window, peering past a wad of padding to look out at the front lawn. “Oh, be still my heart! Blondie is taking off his shirt.”

Carol scrambled over to the window and yanked the shade down to the sill.

“Why did you do that?” Jane demanded, outraged.

“Do you want him to see you peering out at him like some swooning teenager?”

“Anyone is permitted to look out the window, Carol. You’re being ridiculous.”

The phone started ringing, sparing Carol a reply. When she answered it she heard a sweetly feminine voice say, “Hi, this is Madeline, Mr. Kirkland’s personal assistant. Would it be possible for me to speak to him? I have to consult him about a business matter.”

Carol put the caller on hold and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jane demanded.

“The call is for Kirkland,” Carol said shortly. Before Jane could answer, Carol was out the door and down the steps, striding across the lawn, which was now covered with a layer of fine dust and large wood chips. Kirkland looked up from his sandwich as Carol stopped in front of him.

“Help you?” he said.

“There’s a call for you inside the house,” Carol said.

He rose immediately, untying his T-shirt from his waist and slipping it over his head. He left the sandwich behind on the tailgate of his truck where he had been sitting. His men watched as he followed Carol back into the house.

“Over there,” Carol said, pointing to the phone sitting on the kitchen table. Both women left the room as he leaned against the wall and spoke into the receiver, the call box under his arm.

“I’ll bet it was a woman,” Jane muttered under her breath as she and Carol entered the living room.

“She said it was a business matter,” Carol whispered back.

“Huh. Monkey business.”

“Jane…”

“He put his shirt back on to come in here. Very gallant.”

Carol opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it as Kirkland joined them.

“Thanks,” he said to Carol.

She nodded. His attitude toward her was distant and businesslike; it was as if their shared dinner had never happened.

“The mobile phone in my truck has been on the blink for the last couple of days. All I get is static. But I’ve got them working on it, you won’t be bothered again,” he added.

“It was no bother,” Carol said.

“Hi, I’m Jane Langley. How do you do?” Jane said, stepping forward and sticking out her hand.

Kirkland shook it, glancing once at Carol and then back at Jane. “How are you?” he said to her.

“Great. Seems like you guys are making a lot of progress on the house,” she said brightly.

He nodded.

“Construction must be an interesting business,” Jane observed.

“It has its moments,” he replied shortly.

“Do you work mostly in the summer?” Jane asked, emitting a flood of pheromones.

“Outdoor jobs. In the cold weather I do plastering and flooring, that kind of thing.” He looked once more at Carol. “Well, I’d better get back out there. Thanks again.” He walked out of the house, and the front door closed behind him moments later.

“‘Construction must be an interesting business,’” Carol chirped, batting her lashes, imitating Jane. “About as interesting as watching grass grow. Really, Jane, sometimes you can be embarrassing.”

“At least I talked to him. You stood there like a floor lamp.”

“Perhaps I’m reluctant to make a fool of myself,” Carol said.

“Fine, Carol. You can play it cool if you like. I’m a human being even if you’re not, and I plan to try again.”

“Then you’re not studying here with me. I am not going to have you panting after him every time you come to this house.” Carol turned her back on Jane to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“You’re forbidding me to talk to him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what? I can ask him out?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit forward?”

“Don’t you think you’re a bit Victorian?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jane, what are we arguing about? The man is probably married.” Carol put the pot back on the warmer and picked up her cup.

“He’s not married.”

Carol whirled to face her, the cup in her hand sloshing liquid. “How do you know?”

Jane burst out laughing and leveled an accusing finger at her friend. “You are interested in him, I knew it!”

“I’m interested in him, okay?” Carol said quietly. “You’re right. It’s utterly absurd. The man undoubtedly hates me because I tried to get him thrown off this job, but there’s just something about him…”

“There certainly is, and I must say I’m relieved that you’ve noticed it. At school you were so glued to your books I wondered if you were preparing for a somewhat unusual legal career in a convent.”

Carol sighed. “Jane, this conversation is getting us nowhere. I am starving and I’m going to make lunch. You may join me if you like, if you can stop talking long enough to chew.”

Jane pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat. “I have one last thing to say.”

Carol closed her eyes. “As long as it is the last thing.”

“Now that you’ve met someone you want, go after him.”

“In my own way, Jane. Not yours.”

Jane held up her hands to indicate innocence. “I’ll be a fly on the wall,” she said meekly.

“That’ll be the day. Tuna, grilled cheese, or turkey?”

“Tuna,” Jane replied glumly, and hooked her sandaled feet in the rungs of the chair.