Читать книгу The Honeymoon House - Patty Salier - Страница 9
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In the shower at his cottage, Paul washed the tomatoes out of his hair. He wondered if Danielle was soaping the red juice from her skin.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her lying on top of him on the supermarket floor. The turquoise of her eyes. The sweet smell of her hair. Her firm breasts against his chest. Her soft body pressed against his manhood.
His loins ached.
What a glutton for punishment you are, he thought. He turned off the shower. Can’t you remember what your relationship to Danielle Ford really is?
He dried his aching, naked body with the bath towel. Danielle was the architect who stood between his success or failure with Mr. Harrington. If she made one mistake on the honeymoon house that he didn’t catch, goodbye partnership.
He hurried into his bedroom, zipped up his jeans and put on a clean white shirt. He glanced at the clock.
Who am I kidding? he thought. He couldn’t wait to be with Danielle again. That’s what scared him. He knew he wasn’t destined to have a permanent relationship with her. A female friend, sure. But how could he be platonic friends with a woman as sensitive and sensual as Danielle Ford?
The doorbell rang. He buttoned his shirt and opened the door to his construction supervisor.
“Butch, you have lousy timing,” he said with a grin as he shook his hand.
“I try to,” Butch replied as he sauntered inside. He wore a gold earring and black motorcycle jacket and carried a helmet. He was divorced twice, with no kids and no responsibilities except to himself, and was an old-timer at building houses.
“Man, I just heard the horrendous news,” Butch began. “Danielle Ford’s gonna be the architect on Harrington’s honeymoon house. Remember the Tilden house catastrophe? She’s major bad luck for us, man.”
To his surprise, Paul felt a jolt of protectiveness toward Danielle. A feeling he’d never had for a woman before.
“Don’t sweat it, Butch. The honeymoon house will go up smooth as velvet.”
Butch leaned on one leg and stared at him. “What’s with the change in attitude toward Danielle Ford?”
Paul avoided his gaze. “What change?”
“After the Tilden mess, didn’t you say you’d quit contracting before ever working with the woman’s plans again?”
Paul hedged. “Yeah.”
“I don’t get it,” Butch said, confused. “Are you glad she’ll be working with us?”
“I didn’t hire her,” Paul quickly replied. “Mr. Harrington did, and I’ve got to make it work.”
Butch shook his head. “I still don’t like the idea.”
Paul glanced at his watch. Seeing that it was getting late, he grabbed the bottle of Chianti off the counter, which he’d picked up on his way home.
“Hey, man, who’s the hot date?” Butch asked, taking in the red wine.
Paul reached for his keys from the coffee table. “You never met her.” He wasn’t lying. Butch never had met Danielle.
“Falling in love, are we?” Butch added with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “I recognize that gushy feeling when a special woman turns you on.”
Paul opened the cottage door. “She’s just a friend.”
“Cow dung.”
Paul nudged Butch out of the cottage. “Finish up the last-minute stuff on the Barry house. Then start the grading on Mr. Harrington’s property and get the site prepared for construction.”
Paul locked the door with an unsteady hand. Butch had hit a sensitive chord. He did have a gushy feeling about Danielle. He’d better curb it fast if he was planning on a platonic relationship with her.
In the kitchen of her apartment, Danielle tasted the tomato sauce in the pot, wanting it to be perfectly spiced. Would Paul Richards like it with more oregano or garlic?
She cut her thoughts short. What was she doing? She was making an Italian dinner for Lisa, not Paul. Yet he’d permeated her mind ever since she’d met him in Mr. Harrington’s office.
She glanced at the small, magnetized photo of her parents on the refrigerator door. Mom, Dad, I’m one yard closer to making my promise to you come true, she happily thought.
That’s why she couldn’t let her attraction to Paul Richards interfere with her ultimate goal—the children’s library.
Just then, Lisa walked into their apartment.
“Lee, I hope you’re starved,” Danielle said excitedly.
Lisa didn’t answer. She set down her briefcase, plopped into a chair and nervously fiddled with the breadbasket on the table.
Danielle looked at her, feeling worried. “What’s wrong?”
“I was talking to Mr. Harrington’s secretary on the phone today,” Lisa began hesitantly.
Danielle’s stomach tightened. “Did he change his mind about hiring me?”
“Not really.” Lisa got up, washed her hands and began cutting tomatoes for their dinner salad.
“Tell me, Lee. I’m dying inside.”
Lisa stopped chopping. “He likes your plans for his house.”
Danielle suddenly felt uneasy. “But?”
“He’s asked someone to oversee your work.”
“What do you mean?” Danielle asked, feeling queasy. “Who did he ask?”
“His name is Paul Richards.”
Danielle’s legs suddenly felt weak. “But Paul is a building contractor, not an architect.”
“I know, but Mr. Harrington’s secretary told me that Paul Richards wants to form a partnership with him,” Lisa hurriedly explained. “And Paul can’t take a chance on your screwing up on the plans.”
Danielle couldn’t breathe. “You mean, if Paul Richards is displeased with my work, he could tell Mr. Harrington and then I’m off the job?”
“I don’t know, Sis.”
She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. “I knew it was a mistake.”
“What?”
“I invited Paul Richards over for dinner tonight.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I bumped into him at the supermarket.” Bumped? Her cheeks flamed as she thought about his hard body under her on the store floor. “He had a frozen dinner in his cart. I felt sorry for him.”
Lisa’s right eyebrow shot up. “Wait a minute. Is Paul Richards single and cute?”
Danielle cleared her throat. “Well, yes, he is.”
“Wow!” Lisa exclaimed. “Now what’re you going to do?”
“Don’t worry,” Danielle said in a shaky voice. “I won’t get involved with him.”
“But you’re attracted to him, and if you work closely with him, what if—”
“I won’t let that happen, that’s all.”
If she was so sure, why was her hand trembling as she washed the lettuce in the sink? And why did she feel crushed at learning Lisa’s news about Paul?
Was it that she didn’t like Paul being her watchdog on the job? She shook the water out of the lettuce, feeling anxious and upset. Or was Paul Richards already more to her than just a co-worker?
As Paul drove his van toward Danielle’s street in Santa Monica, Butch’s words echoed in his mind: “Falling in love, are we?”
He shook his head. How could he be falling for Danielle? He’d just met her. Besides, being in love meant sharing his life, didn’t it? He had no idea how to blend his solitary existence with a woman like her.
He found himself pulling into a mini-mall at the corner of Wilshire and Barrington. He got out and walked straight into the flower shop.
Danielle Ford is the architect on the honeymoon house and that’s all, he silently reminded himself.
The elderly saleswoman came up to him. “Are you looking for a bouquet for your girlfriend or wife?”
He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “For a woman—I mean, a friend—I mean, a woman friend.”
“I understand,” she said with a knowing smile, and led him to the roses.
In her bedroom, Danielle glanced anxiously at the digital alarm clock on her bedstand. Paul was scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes.
Her stomach felt jittery as she slipped on her silk, melon-colored dress. She fluffed her hair and lined her lips with hot-pink gloss. Though she tried convincing herself that she was getting dressed up to celebrate her new job, she knew better.
No matter how hard she denied it, Paul’s coming over excited her. She knew how difficult it would be to fight her powerful attraction to him.
The telephone suddenly rang. She stared at the phone, hesitant to answer it. Was Paul canceling? She realized how disappointed she’d be if he was.
“I’ll get it!” Lisa called from the living room.
Danielle heard Lisa pick up the phone. She nervously waited for her sister to say it was for her. She heard Lisa laughing and hurried into the living room.
“Who is it?” Danielle whispered.
Lisa’s eyes were aglow as she mouthed, “It’s Manny from New York! He misses me!”
Danielle sighed with relief. Paul was still coming. Even though she was stung by the idea that he was going to monitor her plans, her hands were perspiring just at the mere thought that he’d be at her apartment any second.
In the kitchen, she stirred the meatballs in the tomato sauce with a wooden spoon. She checked the lasagna and foil-covered garlic bread baking in the oven, wanting it to be perfect for Paul. Paul? The dinner was for Lisa, Lisa, Lisa! What was going on with her?
She boiled the water for the macaroni. You invited Paul over because it was the polite thing to do, she told herself over and over again.
Just as she put the macaroni into the pot of water, the doorbell rang. Her heart hammered. She apprehensively touched her hair and smoothed down her dress.
She glanced into the living room, hoping Lisa could greet Paul, instead of her. But Lisa was oblivious as she whispered love words to Manny into the phone.
I invited Paul over for good business, business, business! she repeated in her mind.
Danielle took a deep breath and opened her apartment door. Paul’s charcoal eyes lit up at the sight of her. He looked handsome in his snug jeans and white shirt with the top two buttons open, revealing his tanned chest.
She grew warm inside, totally forgetting her resolve. “Paul, you’re a few minutes early.”
“I couldn’t wait to see y—I mean, eat your Italian dinner.” He took in a whiff of air as she let him inside. “Ummm,” he hummed. “Your sauce smells delicious.”
His deep, gravelly voice sent a tingle across her skin as his gaze remained on her. Why did she feel he was talking about her?
She swallowed. “Make yourself at home, Paul.”
From behind him, Paul pulled out a bottle of Chianti and a vibrant bouquet of yellow roses surrounded by baby’s breath.
Her heart swelled. “For me?”
He shrugged, looking shy and slightly embarrassed. “I happened to pass a liquor store and flower shop.”
She was thrilled. “The roses are beautiful.”
She set the Chianti on the kitchen counter and slipped the sweet-scented flowers into a crystal vase.
“Paul, sit down,” she invited. “I’ll pull Lisa off the phone so you can meet her.”
As Paul sat on a kitchen chair, his eyes never left Danielle. He watched the silk of her dress cling to her bouncing breasts and shapely hips as she left the kitchen. He swallowed and nervously tapped his fingers on the edge of the already set table.
Remember the word platonic, he reminded himself. Don’t ever let it leave your brain.
Just then, Paul heard a loud sizzle. He turned to the stove. White foam was overflowing from the pot with the macaroni. He jumped up and quickly turned down the flame. He picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the macaroni in the boiling water, hoping Danielle wouldn’t mind.
He noticed the flowery wallpaper in her kitchen and the stack of food-stained recipe books piled on the side of the counter. Pot holders hung from a nail on the wall. A magnetized picture of an attractive elderly couple hugging was on the refrigerator door. He wondered if the people were Danielle’s parents.
Like home, that’s what her apartment felt to Paul. His muscles relaxed. He felt he could kick off his shoes, unbutton his shirt and let all his anxieties go.
He tasted the macaroni to see if it was ready. Not yet. He’d let it cook a few more minutes longer. His eyes caught the magnetized photo again. He pulled out a magnet from his pocket. It was in the shape of a hammer, with Richards General Contracting printed on it. He stuck his magnet on her refrigerator door.
In the living room, Danielle nudged Lisa to get off the telephone. “Paul’s here!”
She glanced anxiously toward the kitchen door. She could see Paul’s yellow roses beaming from the vase on the table. Her heart leaped: he was in the kitchen waiting for her!
“Manny, I love you!” Lisa moaned into the phone. “I love you!”
The moment Lisa hung up, Danielle whispered in her ear, “Don’t say a word about Mr. Harrington or the honeymoon house.”
Danielle knew that her sister had a tendency to open her mouth when she shouldn’t, and Danielle wanted to make sure that Lisa didn’t with Paul.
Before Lisa could respond. Paul stuck his head into the living room. “Dinner’s ready.”
“The macaroni!” Danielle rushed into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” Paul said. “Everything’s taken care of.”
Danielle’s mouth dropped open. Paul had set the steamy macaroni in a large, flowered bowl he’d found in the cabinet. He’d put out the lasagna and garlic bread on the table, too.
Her cheeks flamed. “Paul, you’re our guest. You shouldn’t have—”
“Did I do it the way you want?” he asked, a bit worried.
“Perfect,” she replied.
The pleased smile on his face and twinkle in his eyes made her melt inside. Why did it feel so natural having him in her apartment, when she had practically just met him?
Lisa entered the kitchen. “Paul Richards?”
Her voice had a mischievous tone that immediately bothered Danielle.
“Mr. Harrington has told me so much about you.”
“Really?” Paul said, glancing at Danielle. “Exactly what did he say about me?”
“Well—” Lisa began.
“Lee, get the salad, will you?” Danielle immediately cut in, shooting her sister a warning look that she’d better not say a word about Paul’s watchdog role in her honeymoon house plans.
Paul took it all in. “From Danielle’s reaction, sounds to me like Mr. Harrington didn’t give me any gold stars.”
Danielle quickly took the salad bowl from her sister’s hands and set it on the table. “I’m starved,” she said, determined to change the subject.
Lisa gave her a secret smile and then sat at the table. “I’ve been waiting for this treat all day.”
Danielle went to the utensil drawer to get serving spoons. She didn’t want to think about Paul’s relationship with Mr. Harrington. She just wanted to enjoy being with Paul for a little while, even though she knew the feeling would end the moment they started working together.
At the kitchen counter, Danielle suddenly sensed Paul behind her.
“Danielle, did I do or say something to upset you?” he asked.
She could feel his warm breath on her hair. “No, not at all,” she nervously replied.
His eyes caught hers. “Are you sure?”
For a split second, she knew he would never hurt her, that he really cared how she felt. She wished she could forget that he would be spying on her work.
“I’m positive,” she told him as they sat down at the table. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Lisa passed Paul the lasagna, studying him. “Paul, how well do you know Mr. Harrington?”
Danielle kicked her sister under the table to shut her up.
“A few years ago, I built a house for a friend of his,” Paul explained. “Mr. Harrington liked my work and hired me on a couple of his housing projects.”
“Has he ever fired an architect you’ve worked with?” Lisa inquired.
Danielle stopped eating. Paul looked at her worriedly. She knew he knew why Lisa was asking that question.
“Just once,” Paul replied a bit uneasily. “In the middle of construction, Mr. Harrington was dissatisfied with the architect’s work and hired another architect to take over the job.”
Danielle suddenly felt ill. Was that going to happen to her when she worked with Paul?
Just then, Paul’s beeper went off. “I’m sorry,” he said as he set a slice of garlic bread on his plate. “I should’ve left my beeper in the van.” He glanced at the number on his beeper. “Can I use your phone?”
Danielle pointed to the telephone in the living room rather than the wall phone in the kitchen. “You’ll have more privacy,” she said.
“Please forgive me,” he said again.
In the living room, Paul dialed Butch’s phone number, impatiently tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. He glanced toward the kitchen door. He’d upset Danielle by telling her about Mr. Harrington’s having fired another architect. Somehow, her sister had found out that Mr. Harrington had asked him to watch over Danielle’s work.
When Paul saw the anxious look on Danielle’s face about the fate of her job, he wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her not to worry. He’d make sure she kept her job right to the very end, no matter what Mr. Harrington had requested of him.
When Butch’s upset voice came onto the phone, Paul knew it was trouble. “Man, somebody broke onto the construction site at the Barry property,” Butch said.
“Damn!” Paul muttered. “What’d they take?” He dreaded hearing. He’d wanted the Barry project to finish smoothly like all his other assignments. Why at the last moment did something horrible have to happen?
“The owners moved in half their belongings and furniture yesterday,” Butch said. “The vandals cleaned them out.”
Paul’s jaw muscles tightened. “Jeez!”
“You want me to call the Barrys?”
“I’ll tell them myself,” he replied. “You contact the insurance company. Then meet me at the Barry house.”
Paul hung up feeling as if his insides were about to explode. He’d made sure that the construction site had been fenced and locked. The owners had been very pleased with their remodeled house. They were planning to move in tomorrow.
Now Paul had to break the disastrous news to them. The vandalism made him feel he hadn’t done an adequate enough job for them. He should have protected the property better. But how?
He heard Danielle’s voice behind him.
“Paul, what’s wrong?”
He turned around to find her staring at him with a concerned look on her face. Her soft voice was like a peaceful drug that soothed his insides. His agitated, frustrated feelings slowly subsided.
“Danielle, I’ve got problems at a construction site,” he began. “I can’t stay for dinner. I spoiled your great Italian meal and I’m—”
“Hungry,” she finished for him. “I’ll pack you some meatballs, lasagna, garlic bread and salad. You can take it along.”
Before he could protest, she hurried into the kitchen, with him right behind.
The phone rang again, and he saw Lisa jump up from the kitchen table.
“It’s Manny!” she said excitedly. “Paul, you’re the shortest dinner guest we’ve ever had, but it was great meeting you!” Then she was out of the kitchen.
“Danielle, I didn’t mean to mess up your evening,” Paul apologized once more.
“Forget it, will you?” Danielle insisted. She packed him a scrumptious dinner in a pan with tinfoil covering. She even added a plastic spoon, fork and knife.
She handed him the hot bag. “Just like my mother used to do for me when I had late classes at architectural school.”
“You’re lucky,” he admitted. “Nobody ever packed a lunch or dinner for me.”
Danielle looked surprised. “Not even your mother?”
He felt a sudden cold void inside. “My mother died when I was a baby,” he explained. “And my stepmother—she didn’t have time for me.”
Danielle’s turquoise eyes held his, almost as though she could feel his pain.
“I’m glad to be your first time.”
He felt an instant closeness to her. “Me, too.”
Danielle walked him out of her apartment into the hallway. He held her warm package of food in his arms, wishing he didn’t have to leave.
“Danielle, I want you to know something,” he began. “You don’t have to worry about your job at the honeymoon house.”
“I don’t?” she asked in an anxious voice. “How do you know?”
“Just trust me,” he whispered.
Danielle appeared so vulnerable. Her silk-covered body was close to his. Her pink lips looked so tempting. Paul wasn’t thinking. He leaned his face to hers and covered her mouth with his. Her lips tasted sweet like honey, and he wanted more.
His tongue caressed her mouth. She parted her lips, welcoming him inside. His tongue gently danced with hers and he wanted to let her know that he was with her, not against her.
He impulsively moved his body closer to hers, aching to feel her womanly curves. But the bag of food in his arms became crushed between their bodies.
Her lips formed a smile against his. He gently released his mouth from hers.
“Your dinner is steamy hot,” Paul whispered, meaning more than her food.
Her turquoise eyes twinkled at him. Her cheeks flushed. He could still taste the honey of her lips.
“Don’t let it get cold,” she said in a shaky voice. “The meatballs, I mean.”
Being close to her, nothing felt cold on his entire body. “Danielle, I wish I didn’t have to go.” He wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her.
“Another time,” she whispered back.
He touched her cheek. “I’ll see you at work.”
“As soon as I get the honeymoon house plans approved by the building department.”
“Yeah.” He had to force himself to finally leave.
Inside her apartment, Danielle leaned against the closed door, touching her lips where Paul had kissed her. Why had she let him kiss her? Didn’t he have the power to hurt her on Mr. Harrington’s project? But Paul had said to trust him. Isn’t that what Kevin had told her?
Lisa entered the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me that Paul Richards was a hunk!” She nibbled on a slice of garlic bread. “He seems nice, too. Why don’t you forget what Mr. Harrington’s secretary told me?”
“I can’t,” Danielle said, plopping into a chair. “Why do I always pick a man whose career is entangled with mine?”
“Don’t compare Paul with Kevin,” Lisa advised. “I don’t know why, but Paul feels honest to me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “In fact, if I wasn’t going to marry Manny, I’d go after Paul Richards myself.”
“Marry Manny?” Danielle repeated. “Did he ask you to be his wife?”
Lisa nodded, bursting with joy. “Manny’s moving back to Los Angeles in a few months for our wedding!”
“Oh, Lee, what great news!”
Danielle hugged her, remembering Lisa and Manny falling in love in college when he was still living in Los Angeles. When Manny transferred to a university in New York, their love never ended. Manny had promised to come back and marry her. He’d kept his promise.
Paul Richards flashed in her mind. Could she ever risk getting close to him, when he had the power to destroy her career?
“Danielle, will you be my maid of honor?”
Lisa cut into her thoughts. A lump formed in her throat at her sister’s request. “I can’t wait.”
“I’m calling Manny to tell him!” Lisa quickly picked up the wall phone in the kitchen.
Danielle went into their shared bedroom and closed the door to give her sister privacy. She opened the bureau drawer and pulled out her lavender nightgown.
In a few months, her sister would move out of their apartment. She’d be living alone, with no family around to share her thoughts and feelings. She loved living with her family. When her parents were killed, she’d been so thankful to still have Lisa.
You’ll get used to living alone, she told herself as she stripped off her clothes in the bathroom to take a bath. Many women enjoyed living alone. But she knew she wasn’t one of them. She was a family person, and she hoped to someday have a family of her own.
So far no man had felt like family to her. No man except Paul Richards. Having him at her apartment was so natural, almost as though he were living with her.
She caught her naked reflection in the bureau mirror. She wondered what it would feel to have Paul Richards’s strong hands caress her breasts. Her bare nipples grew hard at the thought.
Stop fantasizing about Paul, she ordered herself. Don’t repeat what happened with Kevin.
But lying in the bubbly warm bathwater, she couldn’t get Paul Richards out of her mind. She visualized him climbing into the bath with her. She could almost feel his powerful masculine body sizzling against hers. She quickly turned on the cold water to startle her body back to reality.
At the burglarized construction site, Paul held in his frustration as he showed the Barrys, a young married couple, the damage inside their remodeled house. Butch began repairing the built-in drawers in their bedroom bureau that had been yanked out, scratched and thrown to the floor.
“Mr. and Mrs. Barry,” Paul began, feeling at blame for the entire situation, “my company’s insurance will cover everything that’s been stolen. Tonight, I’ll have my men spick-and-span your home until it’s shiny clean. We’ll even repaint the nicks in the walls and have the new carpeting steam-washed. Whatever you want. You just tell me.”
When Paul saw a hopeful smile on their faces, his muscles relaxed a little. Though burglaries occasionally happened on construction sites, Paul hated seeing his customers unhappy. He guaranteed superior construction and worked on their houses as if they were his own. His goal was for his customers to move into their new or remodeled homes totally satisfied with his work.
When the owners left, Paul put on his leather tool belt and joined Butch and two laborers to make the house brand-new again.
At three o’clock in the morning, an exhausted-butsatisfied Paul finished painting and cleaning up. As he packed his tools into his van, his mind drifted to Danielle. He wished he could have stayed at her apartment longer.
Butch put on his motorcycle helmet. “Going back to your new lady’s place?”
Paul climbed into his van. His normal reaction to Butch would have been an easy no. He liked his independence. He didn’t need to feel connected to anyone. But with Danielle, he was aware of a yearning that he didn’t quite understand.
“I’m going home, Butch.” He started up the van’s engine, relieved that it didn’t sputter out.
Paul drove toward his Santa Monica apartment, knowing he needed to get some sleep, but he found himself diverting his route a few blocks and ending up on Danielle’s street.
He slowed his van as he neared her apartment building. He stopped at the curb a few yards away from her complex and turned off the engine. Her apartment on the second floor had a small balcony. The Monterey pines somewhat blocked his view.
His heart quickened when he noticed that her living room lights were still burning. Her glass balcony door was open, letting in the summer evening’s cool breeze.
He wondered how late he would have stayed at her apartment if he hadn’t been forced to leave. He felt the sudden urge to ring her doorbell and ask if he could come in for a little while.
Paul knew he was thinking crazy. He regained his senses and was just about to start up his van, when Danielle appeared at her balcony door.
