by Viragh, Brea
“I’ll be right over.”
Hanging up, I felt happier than I had a right to be. I glanced down at my outfit, the well-worn capris and tank top I wore when cutting hair. Years of dye stained the shirt and pants, and tenacious scraps of hair put me in mind of a rug. No, this was not good for going out in public.
Finding an appropriate outfit was a job I hadn’t prepared for and took a long time. The jumpsuit was a tad too tight on the hips but showed the rest of me off to great lengths, including a terrific set of legs. In a show of confidence, I threw off the bra, not needing the padding.
I nodded at my reflection before splashing on a second coat of mascara. The woman in the mirror looked determined. She had a soft mouth and strong eyes. Inside, butterflies beat against my ribcage.
I told my heart to slow and my foot to stop pressing so hard on the gas pedal. The day was balmy, the sun obscured by a fine mist of clouds, with heat rising from the sidewalks. The moment I stepped out of the car, sweat beaded along my underarms, the heat like a weight pressing down on me. Today had been a scorcher.
My fingers kneaded the purse knocking against my hip. Nervous tension. And the damnable tingle set my blood ablaze before I’d even seen the man. I swung around the corner and caught a glimpse of the single stoplight blinking red. Only in Heartwood...
The insurance building boasted a great view of the courthouse, including a bronze statue of one of the town’s founding fathers. With a small salute in their direction, I took hold of the brass handle and stepped inside.
“Anybody home?” I called out, breathy like I imagined how a heroine from an old black and white movie would sound, and gaze flicking around toward Duncan’s office.
“I’m back here.”
The moment he came into view, I found I couldn’t stop the hand rising to my heart. I ogled him for all I was worth. He was dressed to kill in trendy bowtie, blazer and slacks, which was all well and good until I took stock of the shoulders. Wide as a house and close to popping through the seams. Casual Duncan had been replaced by a charming dandy from olden days.
I was too close to being lost in those eyes, and made a stronger effort to force my gaze from his, looking around the cluttered office. “I see you haven’t changed a thing since our last visit.”
“Sadly, the ducks and brass anchors remain on the wall.” Duncan pointed across the desk. “Have a seat. Candy?”
“Thank you, but I’ll pass.” I lowered myself into the chair and stared at the latte already waiting. “It must be bad. You’re trying to butter me up.”
“I feel it’s best to be prepared going into these situations. Some companies are unwilling to lose their clients and want to make a big stink when they switch. Usually all it takes is a phone call to get them off their idea about last-minute fines.” Duncan sat as well, raking me from head to toe with a single dark look. “You look good enough to eat today, Miss Cox. Just beautiful.”
I shot him a sideways glance filled with heat. “You always know what to say. It must be pretty bad if you’re resorting to compliments and candy.”
“Leave it to me and I’ll make sure you leave this office happy,” he said.
I had no reason to doubt his ability.
Fingertips shot across the keyboard as he pulled up the rest of my account details. “Some companies think they can get away with charging extra for cancellation, never mind giving back the pro-rated rest of the annual premium which you have already paid. It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve dealt with a few of these over the years.”
“There’s no reason for me to be nervous. Right?”
“No, definitely not. We’ll get it straightened out today.”
I watched him work, struggling for things to say. The last time we’d gotten together our dialog had been effortless. To the point where I wondered if my internal censor and self-preservation mechanisms had gone off on a holiday together. Now I feared the ease had been a fluke and I was fooling myself by being excited to see him. Maybe I’d built up our connection in my head.
“So,” Duncan began, and I was jolted at the sound of his voice in the silence, his baritone filling the space. “I know we talked about you being a baker the last time we chatted. How you wanted to open up your own specialty cupcake shop.”
“We talked about quite a few things, and yes, I’ve been filling some custom orders for my salon clients this week.” I angled forward. “I’m rather good at what I do in the kitchen, and word of mouth means I need to be consistent. Lately I’ve been experimenting with different combinations from my garden, a little of this and a pinch of that until I have something unique and delicious.”
“You garden, too.” Duncan shook his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t sail a boat,” I replied.
There came the smile once more. “I’ve tried to sail once before. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” His fingers continued to tap along the keys. “I would rather be on the other end of sailing, where someone else is taking care of the grunge work and I’m relaxing on the deck with a drink in my hand.”
“Sounds wonderful. I could use a day on the water.”
“Ditto. What are some of your favorite combinations? Or are they secret and not ready for public knowledge?”
I should pose the same question to him. Looking at him, Superman in a suit jacket, I was sure he’d have a different answer. “I’m experimenting with carrot. Trying to make a cupcake beyond the normal flavors you would expect. No walnuts and spice for this girl.”
Duncan pointed to his chest. “If you ever need a victim—I mean, a taste tester—then look no farther. I am able and willing to help you out in any way you need.”
“Hmm, I’m sure I can figure something out to have your taste buds zinging.”
“Have you taken the steps toward mass marketing your cucpakes?”
I wished I had better news for him. “I have a business plan and dreams. But those cover the extent of what I’m able to do at this time. The bulk of my money comes from my hair salon, with a few extra hundred a month from occasional local catering events and custom orders. I spoke to Essie about working in her bakery but I’m not sure she’s willing to hire me.”
“Why wouldn’t she want to hire you?” he asked.
“Competition, I’d imagine. We spoke a bit about expanding her menu and working with the community to bring in different local produce from farms around the county. She thinks I’m trying to weasel into a partnership or steal her secrets or something.” I crossed my legs in the chair, tension slipping away. “I have some great ideas for her and I could use the experience.”
“This Essie...” Those long fingers continued to type, although his attention was centered on me. “Does she seem like the sort to change her mind? To help you become a better businesswoman?”
I didn’t have to think about it. “I need to hope so,” I answered. “She’s almost too sweet to be a professional. I’m still torn on how to proceed from here. I want to make my dreams a reality.”
“Sounds like an amazing opportunity to gather experience and I wouldn’t let it pass you by. I’m sure you would do a wonderful job for her. Now she just needs to be shown.” Duncan crinkled his nose and grinned.
Ducking to hide my pleasure, I said to him, “I’m not good at making people do what I want them to do, especially once they tell me no. I know it takes more than a paltry skill at cooking to make a real go out of starting an in-home small business, which means I’ll have to suck it up and work on Essie. Be more organized in my attack.”
“You’re more organized than you think.” Duncan gestured toward the screen. “Most people don’t keep their papers from the last three years, let alone remember the answers to their security questions. Which you’d think they would. Give yourself credit, Leda.”
“Whatever you say,” I purred. A girl could get used to the compliments. No doubt about it.
“None of the shortcuts are working.” Duncan picked up the phone re
ceiver, twirling the cord with one finger and punching in numbers with the other. “I thought we could bypass the system and settle it online, but no. Time to talk to a real person.”
I sat back, watching the confident man navigate the channels with the assurance of a riverboat captain. There was something about his demeanor, the way he handled the problem with such promptness. The combination got my motor running. It would be improper to throw the contents of the desk to the floor and pounce on him. Right?
“You didn’t need me for this at all,” I chided the moment he disconnected the call. “You handled it well. I’m sure the person on the other line kowtowed to your wishes.”
Pleased, I settled in the seat and took him in, all his glorious breadth and muscle.
Duncan shrugged, a single roll of one shoulder. “It makes my job easier if the client is available to answer questions. Plus, I wasn’t sure it would go as smoothly as it did.”
I clapped my hands. “Thank you, Mr. Almighty Saver of Money.”
“I aim to please. You are much too nice a lady and you deserve a good policy. One where they don’t try to take advantage of you.” He stood enough to swing the chair around, straddling the seat and using the back to rest his arms.
“I appreciate your concern. Not a lot of men would be quite as helpful, let alone call me into the office to make sure I’m up to date on my information. You’re a doll.”
“I hope I didn’t disturb you,” Duncan said. “I’d hate to think you were in the middle of something and I interrupted.”
“My last client of the day had left, going home to surprise her husband without the twelve inches of hair I hacked off.” I chuckled. “I can imagine the look on his face when she comes around the corner.”
Duncan’s eyes were the same color as his desk, I noted, the honeyed chocolate-brown of real wood.
“I doubt he’ll have an issue with anything you’ve done,” Duncan responded. “And since you have such an eye for beauty, take a look at this.” He bent to retrieve a paint chip from his bottom desk drawer, holding it out for my inspection. “How about you offer me some advice on my décor choice?”
“This is what you picked out?” I took the rectangle from him and turned it around to see the color in different lights. The ick factor didn’t change.
“You hate it, don’t you?”
“I think ‘hate’ is too mild for what I feel looking at this color.”
It was a dark green reminiscent of mold found at the bottom of a barrel. Along with the aged linoleum floor, I doubted the paint would be any sort of improvement. It would cover the ducks if he chose to keep them, but at what cost?
Duncan glanced over at my comment and grinned. He did that smile-with-only-one-side-of-his-mouth quirk I’d seen our first evening together at the restaurant. It was part of what had charmed me about him. I wished he would stop while I still had functioning brain cells.
“I don’t have an eye for color. Clothes I can do, but anything with four walls and I am out of my element.”
“I can see.” I flipped the chip over for the name of the paint. Juniper. Man, were the distributors trying to sway their customers or what? This was about as far from natural piney beauty as one could get. What on earth had persuaded him to choose this?
“You need to take the sample and throw it out. If you want help with paint, let me know a time and place. We can go shopping.”
“Sounds wonderful. Now,” Duncan rose from his swivel chair in one slow, smooth move, “what do you say to eating out?”
I raised a single brow. Yes, please, right here. Sure Isabel won’t mind? Probably not, she’s no doubt out with August as we speak. Was he aware of the naughty connotation? “Two times in one week?”
“I don’t have a kitchen to cook, so...”
Ah, yes, they were still living in the hotel. Somewhere along the line I’d forgotten that fact.
I stood alongside him. “You’re going to have to let me make a meal for you one day. And Isabel too. I may not be the best when it comes to savories but I can conjure up a mean devil’s food cake.”
The look on his face said how he felt about my comment. “I bet you can.”
“I would be happy to—”
“How about you let me take you out to a late lunch?” he continued before I could finish. “I had a lot of fun the other day, and I would like to continue the thread of conversation. If you aren’t busy. It’s, what?” He glanced down at his watch. “Three o’clock.”
There were zillions of items vying for my attention right then. Inner romantic threw them all out the window, gesturing toward her heart and the tingle spreading from its epicenter.
I relented faster than I should have. “I would be happy to go out to eat. Any place in mind?”
“Not particularly. Do you know of anything outside the county lines?”
“You’re getting the itch, aren’t you?” I asked. “You need a break from the single stoplight. It takes a bit of adjusting at first.”
“You read my mind.” Duncan snorted, then stood and stretched his arms high. His fingertips grazed the ceiling and I once more marveled at his physique.
No, too deep, I admonished. Get your head on straight, remember? If Nell were there she would slap me silly and come back for round two.
No one moved me in such a complete manner like Duncan did. There had been others before him, sure, several worthwhile men who were good upstanding citizens. Yet none caused the tingle, the rush of feeling blazing through every portion of my anatomy, the stirring of blood like pins and needles, where every cell burst to life and strained against their confines. I had no idea why I felt the tingle for him all of a sudden, other than complete and utter lust.
More than lust. Yearning.
“I do know a few places with great grub. Are you sure Isabel won’t mind us going out again?”
Why the hell would I mention her?
Duncan’s happy expression faded. To the untrained eye, the progression would have been nothing. I was already starting to recognize each minute change.
He didn’t want her here.
“She’ll have to be, because we are going. Besides, she’s out with a friend of her own.” He snatched the keys off of his desk. “I’ll drive.”
CHAPTER TEN
Thirty minutes later we were zipping down the main road away from Heartwood. A few hairpin turns tested the mettle of the car, and I found laughter bubbling up even when I gripped the handlebar, white-knuckled. There were several roads in the county guaranteed to make the person riding in the passenger side sick, specifically when there was gravel involved. Duncan was determined to push his speed.
“Duncan! You drive like a madman!” I exclaimed. The open window caught my words and threw them behind me.
“Do you know how exhilarating it is to feel free? Even if it’s just for an hour.” He whooped and took a curve too fast, the car tipping on two wheels. “Woohoo!”
“I’m glad you feel free, but let’s not be reckless here.” I spared a hand to reach over and pat his leg. The moment I did the brakes squealed and I was back to clutching the seat.
His frame filled the small interior of the car and I felt tiny in comparison. But, despite his crazed driving, I felt safe. Something about his presence put me at ease, although I could not pinpoint what it was.
Duncan slowed to cruising speed when we took a left on a narrow strip of road ribboning off into the urban outskirts. Trees lined each side of the road, and patches of sunlight here and there made glistening spots among the shade. The trees were still in full glory, but I knew soon enough they would have autumn’s colors seeping along their limbs.
One town over, we angled away from the city hub and into the business district, where cute shops and restaurants intermingled with other standard commerce. Bank, post office, and our burger joint. We made it to the restaurant in one piece, and by the time I was sipping my glass of water, I was relaxed again. Any earlier tightness or worry was dismissed.
> “I know better than to question your judgment,” Duncan asked before putting the menu aside. “I’ll have what you have.”
“Won’t you be bored?” I stacked mine on top of his, a lunch choice already in mind.
“This first round is to see if your favorite restaurants meet my exacting standards.” He took pleasure in the tease and pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose, narrowed his eyes in mock alarm. I found it disorienting when I intended to respond but had no ready quip to offer. “I can be difficult to please when it comes to burgers.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find the food up to par.” I pointed a finger at him. “Question my own exacting standards again and I’ll have to pop you one.”
He flipped his napkin out to place over his lap, the sunglasses flipped to the crown of his head. “Are you threatening me, Miss Cox?”
I made a show of examining my nails. “Think what you will. I was merely making a comment.”
When the woman came to take our order, two identical meals went into the kitchen line-up, but my mind wasn’t focused on food.
I was about to open my mouth for a question when Duncan moistened his lips, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Leda, I want to talk to you.” The curling of his index finger invited me to come nearer. Seemed he had no issue with being close.
I obliged, raising my eyebrows at how intimate the space felt between us. Warm as a mug of hot chocolate on a chilly afternoon.
“I’d like to discuss your relationship with August, if you don’t mind. If at any point you want to change the subject, kick me under the table, all right?”
And there went my good mood. Plummeting into the ground and burrowing down to China. “What about my relationship?” I glanced away. It was a flick of a look, making sure I hid the majority of my annoyance.
“You and August have known each other for years. What kind of person is he?”
“In what ways?”
“You know. Is he the strong but silent type? The starving artist?” Duncan pressed. “I want to get a better handle on the guy, but Isabel is close-lipped about him, despite how much time she’s been spending at his farm.”