Читать книгу In The Stranger's Arms - Pamela Toth - Страница 8

Chapter Three

Bertie straightened her long green dress over her considerable girth. “Don’t look now,” she muttered under her breath as the front door opened and she grabbed Pauline’s arm to prevent her from turning around. “A major hottie just wandered in. Probably got lost looking for Archie’s Pub,” Bertie added in a loud whisper.

Pauline had a pretty good idea who’d just arrived. She had summoned Bertie as soon as Wade had let her know he’d finished the supply list. Ignoring Pauline’s protests, he’d insisted on picking her up here rather than meeting her at Builders’ Supply.

Even though Pauline told herself now that she had only given in to his macho demands for the sake of expediency, a knot of anticipation formed in her stomach as she extricated herself from Bertie’s loose grasp. What would he think of her little business?

“That’s no hottie, it’s my new tenant,” Pauline replied drily before she pasted on her best welcoming smile. “Hello, Wade,” she said, ignoring Bertie’s gusty sigh. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding me.”

He removed his sunglasses and hooked them into the neck of his shirt. “No problem. Downtown’s where it always was.”

His smile stirred a visceral response in Pauline. Silently she agreed with Bertie’s comment. If his rangy build and lean, angular face weren’t enough to ensure him a spot on the all-time hottie list, the contrast between his black hair and light-gray eyes certainly was.

Ruthlessly she pushed the thought aside as Bertie muffled her giggle behind her hand.

“Bertie, this is Wade Garrett, my new boarder.” She stepped aside so the other woman couldn’t duck behind her. She knew that Bertie could be extremely shy around strangers because of her size.

“Hi,” Bertie murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Instead of dismissing her with a glance, as sometimes happened, his smile widened and he stepped forward. When Bertie, who was barely five feet tall and nearly as wide, glanced back up, he held out his hand.

“Thank you for stepping in so I can borrow your boss for a couple of hours,” he told her gravely as he enfolded her hand in both of his.

Before Pauline could protest that their errand shouldn’t take that long, Bertie nodded her head like a Bobblehead doll. “She works way too hard.”

Wade leaned closer, causing her dark eyes to widen with alarm. “Maybe we can fix that,” he said in a conspiratorial tone before releasing her hand. “I invited her to lunch.”

Bertie’s answering smile transformed her round face. “That’s a good start.”

“Hey,” Pauline protested, “you don’t need to talk about me as though I weren’t standing right here.”

Wade and Bertie exchanged amused glances. “Testy,” he observed. “She definitely needs some fresh air.”

“Take as long as you want,” Bertie said. “I can manage just fine.”

Pauline knew she couldn’t win against both of them, so she grabbed her purse from behind the counter before they managed to embarrass her further.

When she noticed how intently Wade was looking around, she was tempted to ask if he was a secret stitcher, as she thought of men who hid their needlework hobby. Somehow the image of Wade working a cross-stitch pattern wouldn’t quite gel in her mind.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told Bertie, making her escape without bothering to see if he was following her.

“Feel better now that you’ve asserted yourself?” he teased as he reached around her to open the front door.

The amusement in his voice irked her further. “I’ll feel better if my garage roof gets repaired before the next storm,” she snapped as she headed outside, only to stop abruptly when she realized she had no idea where he’d parked.

“So you’re going to be in a bad mood until it’s done?” he asked cheerfully as he led the way to his car, which was parked prominently in front of Lang’s shop.

Pauline had been about to insist that she wasn’t in a bad mood, but then she took a deep breath and reconsidered.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly before getting into his car. “Could we go back and start over?”

He stared down at her, obviously surprised by her abrupt reversal. What an unpleasant woman he must have decided her to be—and who could blame him?

“If we go back, does that mean I’d have to give up this prime parking spot?” he asked.

She was about to ask what he was talking about when she saw the humor lurking in his eyes. “No, not good enough,” she said in an equally serious tone. “I’m afraid that really starting over means you have to drive back to San Francisco.”

To her surprise, a fleeting frown crossed his face before he smiled and gestured for her to get into his car. “Let’s just go on from here,” he suggested, leaning down to tuck in the edge of her skirt.

When he shut the door, it occurred to her that she had no idea what he had done in California or why he’d left. Perhaps he couldn’t return.

A string of possibilities marched through her mind. Was he on the run? A recently released ex-con, ashamed of his past? A grifter in search of his next victim? A car thief? A serial killer?

Oblivious to her dark thoughts, Wade slid behind the wheel, donned his sunglasses and started the engine.

“Which way?” he asked, glancing in his rearview mirror before pulling out.

Reminding herself that Bertie knew where she had gone and with whom, Pauline relaxed against the luxurious leather seat. The instrument panel was made from some exotic wood—real, not some phony laminate—and the carpet beneath her feet was as thick as her neighbor Mrs. O’Connelly’s brogue. “Follow Harbor Avenue up the long hill,” she directed him. “When you get to the top, you’ll see the big sign on the right. Turn into the parking lot.”

They rode slowly in silence while he braked for all the jaywalking pedestrians who stepped into the street without looking.

“So you worked construction down in California?” she asked as they drove past the marina.

“I was a partner in an investment firm,” he replied after an infinitesimal pause.

She couldn’t have been more surprised if he had told her that he used to be an astronaut. Imagining him in a silver space suit was only slightly more difficult than a dress shirt and tie.

“Do you plan to open an office here?” she asked. If a good profile was an indication of noble character, she had no worries. His was positively elegant.

Wade stopped at a red light and glanced at her, but his shades hid his expression. “Don’t people in this town invest their money?” he asked. “Or do they just bury it, like pirate booty?”

“For the most part, they work hard for it,” she cautioned. “They may not be eager to entrust it to a stranger.”

“I’m not a total stranger,” he replied. “My grandfather, Morris Garrett, worked in the mill here. When I was a kid, I came up to see him a couple of times during summer vacation.” He accelerated when the light turned green. “I’ve been seriously considering a career change, though, so it may not matter.”

“If you become a full-time handyman, you’ll have to trade your car in for a pickup truck with oversize tires and a toolbox in the back,” she teased, expecting him to deny the idea.

His expression was unreadable. “I’ve learned that giving up material goods isn’t that difficult,” he said enigmatically before slowing for the turn into Builders’ Supply. “Is this place always so busy?”

Even though his previous comment stirred her curiosity, she had no choice but to go along with the change of subject. To do otherwise would invite him to return the favor and question her about things she would rather not discuss.

“Restoring the old Victorians has gotten quite popular,” she said as they drove down the row. “Some of them sell for over a million dollars.”

“Have you ever considered selling your house?” he asked as he slid into an empty spot. “Maintaining a place like that must be a lot of work.” Perhaps he was thinking about going into real estate.

“No, I would never consider selling Mayfield Manor,” she replied, unfastening her seat belt. “Someday I hope to finish the renovation that my mother started.”

“A noble ambition,” he said as they walked together toward the entrance.

As they passed the outdoor display of plant pots and barbecues, Pauline spotted a big man with shaggy blond hair coming straight toward them.

“Hi, Steve,” she said. “I should have known you’d be hanging out here.”

“Hey, doll,” he replied with a grin and a questioning glance at Wade. “Did the tarp hold okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” She glanced back at Wade, who was hanging back. “Steve Lindstrom, Wade Garrett,” she recited with appropriate gestures.

The two men exchanged wary nods, hands remaining firmly in their pockets.

“Sorry I haven’t finished writing up your bid,” Steve told her. “Since the last storm, I’ve been slammed. The price of lumber’s shot up like a rocket, too, so I’ve had to recalculate everything.”

“Wade’s going to do the repairs for me,” she replied.

“Oh?” Steve’s gaze sharpened as he took the other man’s measure. “I haven’t seen you around, Garrett.”

“Wade’s from California,” Pauline explained hastily. “He’s staying at the house, so we made a deal.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “I see,” he drawled knowingly.

A muscle jumped in Wade’s cheek, but he remained silent. Pauline refused to justify herself in front of an audience, but she was beginning to feel as though she should have cards printed up.

It’s just business.

“Well, let me know if you need any help,” Steve said with a nod at Wade. “Garrett.”

“Lindstrom,” Wade replied gravely.

“Thanks, Steve,” Pauline said, marveling at the male protocol, so different from that of her own sex.

“Steve’s the contractor I originally thought you worked for,” she explained once he was out of earshot.

“Oh, the contractor,” Wade echoed, snapping his fingers. “I guess his attitude had me fooled.”

“What do you mean?” she asked as she led the way into the store.

“He seemed a little territorial,” he replied. “As in, personal relationship.”

His comment caught her off guard and she didn’t even think about it being none of his business. “I’ve known him forever, but I don’t rob cradles,” she protested. “He was two years behind me in school and he dated my sister, so that makes him kind of a surrogate brother.” For some reason she didn’t fully understand, she wanted Wade to know that she wasn’t interested in Steve romantically.

“Good to know,” Wade murmured.

She didn’t bother to puzzle out his comment as she reached the door to the store manager’s office. “I’ll see about opening an account,” she said instead. “Where should I meet you?”

He glanced around. “I’ll be over in roofing.”

As Wade walked away from his landlady-slash-boss, he reminded himself that he wasn’t doing half bad after a shaky start with Wallingford and his damned lease. Wade had shelter and work to keep him occupied, while the truck with the rest of his stuff would be here this afternoon. So what was his problem?

It certainly didn’t have anything to do with meeting Pauline’s friend, Steve-o, or the fact that he’d called her “doll,” as if they had something going despite her protest to the contrary. When had Wade become afraid of a little competition when it came to a woman who interested him?

Perhaps it had begun with his castration back in Frisco. Apparently Sharon had cut off more than the obvious, but that was going to change.

By the time Pauline caught up with Wade a little while later, he’d found everything on his supply list.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I ran into a customer from the shop who was here with her husband. They were picking out paint colors for their living room and I couldn’t get away from them.”

“No problem,” he replied, amused by her obvious agitation. “I ordered everything I need to start the job. It will be delivered in the morning.”

“That’s great.” Her face lost its anxious appearance. “Where’s the invoice?”

The young clerk who had been helping Wade stepped forward. “I just printed it up for your husband, ma’ am. All I need is a signature.”

Wade took the form. “Did you want to check it over first, sweetheart?” he asked Pauline with a lecherous grin.

She batted her eyes at him coyly. “Why, yes, honey. I know how crazy you can get when it comes to remodeling projects.” She turned to the clerk, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. “You should see our garage,” she confided. “I swear the man owns every power tool on the market.”

Wade rested his hand on her shoulder possessively. “Believe me, my tools don’t compare to her antique doorknob collection. I swear I should buy stock in eBay, for all the time and money the little woman spends there.”

Pauline sent him a look that promised retribution. “I think we’ve wasted enough of this poor man’s time, sugar buns. If I could just peek at the invoice, we could all move on.”

Wondering whether she intended to question each item, Wade handed it over. Quickly she skimmed the list before signing the bottom.

“Thank you for keeping him from buying out the store,” Pauline told the young clerk. “Sometimes it’s like a sickness. He can’t seem to help himself.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was careful not to look at Wade, who was having trouble keeping a straight face. “Have a nice day, and good luck with your doorknobs.”

Wade couldn’t resist leaning closer. “Come on, baby cakes,” he murmured, breath tickling her ear. “Let’s get some lunch.”

Pauline had meant to insist that he take her straight back to the shop, but instead she found herself seated across from him at a small seafood place by the marina. It was barely more than a shack, but the food was good and the booths were comfortable.

After they seated themselves, he removed his sunglasses and set them on the scarred table. “What’s good here?” he asked as he turned over the laminated card that served as a menu.

Pauline didn’t bother looking at hers. “Everything,” she replied, realizing she was starved. “But my favorite is the fish chowder. It’s never the same, but it’s always delicious.”

A young waitress she didn’t recognize came over to take their orders. She was wearing a pink uniform with a short skirt and thick-soled white shoes that squeaked when she walked.

“What can I bring ya?” she asked, jaws working a wad of gum as she pulled a pencil and pad from her apron pocket. Her eyebrow was pierced with a small silver hoop and an elaborate tattoo circled one thin wrist in stark contrast to her outfit.

“I’ll have a cup of the chowder, a Caesar side salad and iced tea,” Pauline replied.

“Same here,” Wade chimed in. “But bring me a bowl of the chowder instead of a cup.”

“A doorknob collection?” Pauline demanded after the waitress had left. “Couldn’t you come up with anything a little less nerdy? Antique snuffboxes or African art maybe.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I saw a display behind you,” he said without a hint of apology. “Could have been worse.”

“Yes, I’m fortunate that we weren’t standing in the plumbing department,” she agreed as the waitress brought their iced teas.

Wade’s appreciative chuckle made her feel extremely clever.

“Speaking of tools,” he said after he’d dumped two packets of sugar into his glass and stirred it energetically, “I’m meeting the guy with my stuff in front of the Safeway store at three, so I’ll be ready to start ripping off the old material in the morning.” He drank some tea. “Oh,” he added, “I ordered a Dumpster. It’ll be delivered this afternoon.”

Pauline tore her gaze from his tanned throat. Carefully she picked the seeds from her lemon wedge before plopping it back into her glass. “Good idea. Did you rent a storage unit for your things?” He probably owned a lot of fancy furniture and sports equipment. Judging from the long, ropy muscles in his arms, he certainly didn’t look like someone who sat around playing video games on his computer and eating snack chips.

“Sure did,” he replied. “That place by the courthouse seemed reasonable, and there’s decent security.”

“So you’re planning to stay in Crescent Cove for a while?” she probed gently.

“If things work out,” he said enigmatically.

She doubted he was referring to the repairs to her roof, but she resisted the urge to ask. Experience had taught her that asking personal questions invited the same in return. He would hear the gossip soon enough.

The waitress set down their salads, returning immediately with their chowder and a basket of individually wrapped crackers. “Anything else?” she asked, chewing her gum as though she were beating eggs.

When they both shook their heads, she tore their check from her pad and slapped it down between them. “You can pay up front.”

Pauline reached for the check, but Wade beat her. “My invitation, my treat,” he said, waving it triumphantly.

“It’s not a date,” she protested, nipping it from his hand. “It’s just part of doing business.”

He tipped his head to the side as he studied her, his perusal making her uncomfortable. Perhaps she should let him pay.

“What would constitute a date in your estimation?” he asked, sprinkling pepper onto his salad.

She considered the question carefully as she leaned forward to inhale the steam from her chowder. “A date is a social occasion that normally takes place between two people who want to get to know each other better.”

Lord, she sounded as prissy as an old spinster reciting from a Victorian social guide for the corset-prone.

“Hmm.” Wearing a thoughtful expression, Wade began eating.

“What do you mean, hmm?” she demanded, unable to help herself.

He chewed and swallowed with a maddening lack of haste, his gaze never wavering from her face. Finally, feeling self-conscious, she began picking at her salad.

“Using your definition, are you dating anyone at the moment?” he asked.

The unexpected question flustered her. “That’s rather personal, don’t you think?”

Wade unwrapped a little packet of crackers. “I’m new around here, remember? I’m not prying. I’m trying to get to know the locals.”

She had no idea how that related to her dating status, but the current dry spell in her social life was no dark secret. “No, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” she replied. “What about you? Will your family be joining you?”

He shook his head. “I’m divorced, no kids.”

She waited for him to continue, but he resumed eating.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, nearly stumbling on the lie. She was surprised that her nose didn’t grow like Pinocchio’s, but she would streak downtown naked before she would admit that his single status was good news. “Was it recent?” she ventured.

His eyes seemed to ice over and a muscle twitched in his cheek, so she was surprised when he answered. “Nearly a year. Have you ever been married?”

Turnabout was fair play, and it served her right for being nosy. “Not quite,” she admitted, dismayed that the subject could still tighten a knot in her stomach well over a decade after the fact. “I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out.” What an understatement! Carter Black had changed her life.

“My turn to say sorry,” Wade said, distracting her from the past, “but I don’t think I’ll bother.”

Still pushing aside the bad memories, she wasn’t sure what he meant, but she realized it was time for a change of subject.

Before she could come up with something totally innocuous, he spoke again.

“What’s it like to grow up in a small town with the same bunch of people?” he asked. “Is it boring or comfortable?”

She took a sip of her iced tea. “A little of both, I guess,” she replied, exchanging waves with two men she knew slightly when they came into the café.

Wade glanced over his shoulder before turning back to Pauline. “Is it true that you all know everyone else’s business?”

Her smile felt forced. “People gossip, just like they do anywhere, but I don’t think it’s worse than anywhere else.” It’s only the scandals that people remember, she wanted to add, like when you catch your fiancé kissing another woman. “I take it you didn’t grow up in a small town?” she asked instead.

He set aside his empty soup bowl. “Me? No, not unless you call Sacramento a small town. We moved around when I was a kid, but always in that same area.”

“That must have been difficult,” she replied as she glanced at her watch, shocked to see how much time had passed since she’d left the shop. “Always being the new kid.”

He ran a hand over his short hair. “No kidding. I’ll bet Steve was a jock, though. What did he play, football?”

“What do you have against jocks?” she asked curiously. “You probably played sports in school.” Wade certainly looked athletic, with his rangy build and muscular arms.

To her surprise, he chuckled, a nice, masculine sound. “I was a real geek in high school,” he admitted. “Member of the math club, president of the science club. But it was always the athletes who got the babes. You know, the guys with lettermen’s jackets and no necks.”

An image flashed across Pauline’s mind of Lily and Steve on her prom night, a golden princess in a long pink dress on the arm of her broad-shouldered prince in his rented tux.

Lily, what happened? She wondered silently. You seemed to be so much in love with each other.

It sure as heck wasn’t the first time that Pauline had been totally wrong about that emotion, but she didn’t plan to make the same mistake again.

“I can’t picture you as a geek,” she blurted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Wade drawled, his smile widening. “Back then, I was skinny and uncoordinated, with a tendency to stammer whenever I tried talking to girls, which wasn’t often. How about you? I’ll bet you were in the popular crowd.”

“No, my sister was the pretty one.” Pauline fiddled with her straw. “I was a brain, a girl geek, I guess you could say.”

The intensity of his gaze made her uncomfortable. “Your sister must be something if she’s prettier than you,” he said gallantly.

She made a production of checking her watch again. “I really should get back to work.”

“Yeah, me, too. I’ve got a couple of things to do before Frank gets up here with the truck.” He slid from the booth without even trying to wrestle the check from her and donned his sunglasses. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“You all come back soon,” the waitress told Pauline after she had paid for their meal and added a generous tip. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

Wade was leaning against his car, watching an older couple casting lines off their sailboat. When Pauline approached him, her footsteps crunching on the crushed shells of the parking lot, he straightened.

“You look as though you’d like to join them,” she observed as he held open the passenger door for her. “Do you have a boat?”