by Vanessa Jaye
She could almost picture a tiny version of Daniel wiggling around on the floor, building empires and demolishing them. Felicity’s heart contracted, because she wanted to reach out and crush that little boy in her arms, brush his hair aside, kiss his boo-boos. She sucked in air and started coughing.
First she was fantasizing about the man, then dreaming about houses, and now she was imagining little boys who looked like him. Reality check. Emotional road-kill alert. She applied herself to the task at hand, vowing to have no more stray delusional thoughts.
“So, why didn’t you go for architecture?” she asked, still hungry for a few more details.
“I like old houses. The stability. The love apparent in the craftsmanship and the mystery in the history of the previous owners. My nan used to live in this great big house—a real storybook Victorian with gingerbread trim, a dumbwaiter, the works…” He shrugged, then dipped his roller into the paint tray and started another coat.
“I spent a lot of happy times in that house. Besides, you’re not the only one with an overbearing father.” Daniel’s mouth quirked to the side and his eyes narrowed.
“My dad spent a great deal of time instilling in me the importance of history and tradition. That’s another reason why I went into restorations and renovating.”
As he spoke, she used up the last of her paint and walked over to the cans that were stacked close by Daniel.
“Is your dad a contractor too?”
His bark of laughter was short on humor. “No. This is definitely not the family business my father had in mind for his grandiose plans.”
Felicity gave his arm a comforting squeeze. She heard the bitterness in his voice, yet she couldn’t help but wonder— “Was it really so bad to have someone want so much of you? To expect the best?”
“If it’s the best for them and not for me, yeah.” His eyes were bright and hard.
“But he loved you enough to want it,” she persisted. “I wish I’d had that.”
“If you want what’s best for you, that’s all it takes.”
Sigh. She could tell him that it took a whole lot more than just wanting what was best. “Yeah, sure.” She flicked her paintbrush in half-hearted enthusiasm, and several large splatters of paint landed on Daniel.
He looked down at himself, then looked at her. Felicity’s mouth made a wide “O” before she slapped her hand over it. A gurgle of laughter still escaped.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. It was an accident.”
He wiped his left cheek, then drew the heel of his palm over his chin where he felt another wet splotch.
“Here let me get that for you.” Before he knew it, she’d brushed the tip of his nose. Her eyes went wide with shock then shone with mirth as she took in her handiwork.
So she wants to play it like that, does she? He rubbed his nose on his forearm, his eyes narrowed.
“Looks like you got some on yourself.”
“Where?” Felicity pulled her top away from her body, searching, then she looked up and let out a little squeal. She made a run for it, but the extension handle of the roller made for easy pickings. He caught her backside with a wide swath.
“Oh, no!” She stopped, twisting to view the damage. “These are my favorite jeans. I just bought them too.”
They looked kinda worn-in to him—very nicely so—but that was the in look. Pricked by guilt, he dropped the roller and went to her.
“It’s latex paint, you can—” She tried to get him again. “Oh no you don’t.” He grasped her wrist, raising her arm above her head and away from him. Daniel looked down at Felicity, her face alight with mischievous enjoyment and a rush of happiness slid over him. This was good.
Giggling, she investigated the rips in his top with her free hand. “Holey sweatshirts, Batman.”
He twisted his body away and surprise dawned on her face. “You’re ticklish.”
“No. I’m not.”
She feinted a time or two, before moving in for the kill. Her fingers fluttered mercilessly against his side.
Their laughter mingled as he tried to escape the delicious shivers lancing through him. Finally he captured her other wrist and turned her around, crossing her arms in front of her with her hands firmly gripped in his and her back pressed tightly against him.
“Who’s your daddy now?”
“Wh-what did you just say?” She doubled over in laughter.
Daniel grimaced. What a tool. He let go of her wrists and rested his hands on her waist.
It was as easy as that.
Instantaneous. Combustion.
He slid his hands down to her hips, holding her ass snug against his groin as he felt himself rising to the occasion.
Daniel pressed forward, heard her quick intake of breath, then felt heat surge through him as she rocked back.
He swore and turned her around into his arms. Beneath the desire in her gaze, another emotion glowed in the depths, beckoning him to come closer. He did what any smart man in his situation would do. He kissed her.
Dumb move.
***
Rob swung a size 14 Kodiak up onto Daniel’s desk followed shortly thereafter by a second steel-toed boot, which he crossed at the ankles.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. Rob raised two.
“Didn’t your mother tell you to keep your feet off the furniture?”
“Her furniture, yeah.” Rob grinned unrepentantly.
Daniel shook his head, but said nothing more. The desk came with the office; he hated it, and Rob knew it. It was his dad’s choice, an oversize mahogany monument to the affluence of Mackenzie Phillips and Bassett.
Rob used his foot to nudge the rolled up blueprints. “So did you get a look at the changes?”
“Yeah, I did, looks like all systems go.” Daniel leaned back in his chair, fingers strumming on the armrest.
“I thought this was what you wanted. Why so glum chum?” Rob reached for his mug of coffee and took a healthy swallow. “What the—?” He gagged and swung his legs down from the desk. “Who the hell makes this crap?”
“Tastes a damn sight better than the shit you brew up.”
“That shit’ll put hair on your chest.”
“That shit’ll kill ya. Besides I already have hair on my chest. And I was hoping to have kids one day,” Daniel added for some unknown reason.
“Kids? Is one of Toronto’s most eligible bachelors thinking about settling down? Inquiring minds want to know.” Rob put his cup down on the desk and gave it an extra little push away.
“Oh yeah, I plan to take over the world one day with an army of little Mackenzies.”
Rob tsked. “You grow more like your father every day.”
“Any more talk like that and you’re out of here, buddy.”
“Something’s bugging you.” Rob stroked down both sides of his goatee with finger and thumb. “C’mon, you can tell your Uncle Rob.”
Daniel shrugged, then took up a pen and started tapping the side of his mug. He knew better than to come totally clean with Rob—but he could approach the problem from an oblique angle. “We still have the evictions to do….”
“Funny you should mention that.” Rob’s slumberous gaze turned sharp. “I thought you and Felicity were playing a bit of ‘who’s your daddy’?”
So much for the oblique approach. Not much got past Rob. Daniel flung down the pen, pushed away from his desk and walked to the bank of windows that ran the length of two walls. From the thirty-second floor of the Canadian Equity Trustco building the view of the city was spectacular and virtually unimpeded. There was nothing to block his sight lines as he scanned to the west, picking out the various landmarks.
Somewhere beyond the distinctive stone gray turrets of Casa Loma, below the dense spread of treetop foliage, was 23 Southview. Idly he wondered if Felicity was home. What she was doing? Should he call? They’d gone out again last night. Another night of torture for him. His mouth went dry. How the hell had he stopped?
Because she wants to ta
ke it slow. Because maybe he knew he didn’t deserve her, not with what he planned to do afterwards.
Because somewhere along the line Daniel realized he wanted more than her body. He wanted her trust, he wanted….a sliver of fear slid between his ribs, cutting off that train of thought.
He let loose a low mirthless laugh. Once she knew about his plans for her home, Felicity wouldn’t give him the time of day, never mind her trust…or anything else.
A low whistle sounded behind him. “I haven’t seen you this distracted by a lady in a long time. Not since the blow-up with Sandy.”
He winced as the old feeling of guilt stirred. That relationship should have never happened. They’d been too young and out to please everyone but themselves.
Daniel pressed his open palm against the glass. “This thing with Felicity is…different,” he said absently. He didn’t know the how or why of it, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. The funny hollow feeling he’d carried around in his gut since meeting her, expanded a few more centimeters.
He ran a finger under his suddenly too-tight collar. Thoughts of Felicity occupied his nights, interrupted his sleep. He’d be damned if she interfered with his daily schedule. He turned from the window just as a short knock sounded.
The door opened and his father stood at the threshold, the old man’s expression grim. Daniel took a deep breath. What now?
“Your mother wanted me to remind you about golf tomorrow.”
“She didn’t think I got her two voicemails and the email?”
“She let you off easy. Four voicemails and two more emails on the Blackberry.” His father grimaced. For a brief moment Daniel felt the shared empathy of being lovingly, but persistently harangued by his mother.
He returned to his desk and logged into his email. “I’ll let her know I haven’t forgotten,” he said, hopefully bringing the visit to an end.
“So you’ll be there?”
“I said I would.” He hit send. “Done. Now, was there anything else?” Daniel leaned back insolently in his chair.
“We need a fourth. Robert, what are you doing tomorrow? Can you join us?”
Daniel was sure his shocked expression matched Rob’s.
“Sure, Mr. Mac. I’ll be there with bells on.”
“Good.” Michael Mackenzie gave a brief nod and left.
Rob picked up his mug again and peered into it. “What the hell did you say was in this shit, again?”
***
“What’s that?” Lise pointed at the paperback in Felicity’s open knapsack.
Damn. “A friend bought it. He thought I’d enjoy it,” she mumbled, blushing.
“May I see?”
Felicity handed the book over and watched Lise’s eyebrows rise. Her stomach sank. She knew what was coming, the gentle words of discouragement, and she rushed to the defensive.
“I’ve been practicing those exercises you said to.” She rummaged through the knapsack for the dictionary Lise had given her during their first tutorial. “See? I marked each word I had a problem with and looked it up.”
Lise reached across the library table and patted Felicity’s hand. “You done good, kiddo, but we’re not quite through with the Brothers Grimm.”
Felicity heard the gentle rebuke. She riffed the dictionary pages.
“Hey.” Lise waited till she looked her in the eye. “I love romance novels. The thing is, I’d love for you to get the same enjoyment I get from them. Not struggle with every other word. Where’s the fun in that? We’re not there yet, but—” Lise squeezed her hand, “—we will be. And then I’ll have someone to swap books with. Okay?”
“Okay.” Felicity returned Lise’s encouraging smile.
“Now I do have one question…”
“Yes?”
“My husband and son give me no end of grief because I read romances. I always tell them to read one before they level any more opinions. That always shuts them up,” she said smugly.
Lise’s expression changed.
Uh-oh. Felicity knew that look.
“Sooo…”
Cheryl wore it a lot.
“…who is this treasure amongst men who buys you romance novels? Boyfriend?”
Daniel, her boyfriend? She hadn’t given too much thought to what it meant to be spending so much time with him during the last three weeks. But boyfriend had a nice sweet sound to it. A nice, sweet, safe, non-sexual sound.
“Not officially.”
Lise laughed softly. “You’re pouting. I take it you want things to be official?”
“Like with a capital ‘O’? Oh, yeah.” Felicity squeaked with embarrassment. Did she just say that to her tutor?
“Felicity, darling, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to be very insulted. I’m married, not mummified. In fact I may be able to offer some advice to bring him up to scratch.”
“I don’t think he’s a ‘bring to scratch’ type of guy.”
“Nonsense.” Lise waved dismissively. “All men are trainable. You just need to know how to go about it.”
“And how’s that?”
“Sneaky.”
Felicity laughed, not completely convinced that Daniel was trainable. She started chewing on a nail, but Lise tapped her hand away from her mouth.
“That’s a really bad habit, dear. So what do you think the problem is?”
“Me.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“No, really. The first couple of times we got close, things happened real fast. Too fast. I told him we needed to take it slow.”
“And he’s respected your wishes. He sounds like a really nice guy. His mother obviously raised him right.”
“Well I wish she had raised him just a little bit wrong.”
Lise snorted. “So now you want to speed things up again?”
Felicity nodded.
“But you don’t want to seem cheap and easy?”
She nodded again.
“Men like cheap and easy, dear,” Lise said with sigh. “But there are other ways.” She thought for a moment. “Lingerie is always effective. Black or white. Men are such simple creatures, you throw colors at them and the poor dears get all confused. They start drooling and panting, then before you know it your hair’s a mess, they’re asleep and you want to kill someone. Black and lacey is the way to go.”
“Black and lacey?”
“Trust me.”
Chapter Eight
Felicity settled her head on Daniel’s shoulder and felt his arm adjust, drawing her closer. Then his thumb resumed stroking along her bare arm. Distracting her. She wanted to pay attention to the movie’s plot, not his touch.
Even though the drive-in at The Docks waterfront entertainment complex was filled to capacity, the backseat of his truck, with its tinted side windows and cushy leather seats, could have been as far away from the other vehicles in the lot as the stars in the sky overhead.
They both reached into the popcorn at the same time and Felicity giggled up at Daniel. His responding smile did crazy things to her vital organs. “You enjoying the movie?”
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Better than the last chick film you dragged me to,” he mumbled.
She pulled away slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want to see this one?”
“Because you wanted to, and I needed to catch up on my sleep. Besides, you’d never been to a drive-in before.” He pulled her back against him, then added softly, “And I wanted to make you happy.” He dug another handful of popcorn from the bag and returned his attention to the screen.
What the? He dropped a bombshell like that——the first time he’d even come close to admitting she meant something to him——then went back to watching the movie?
Yet, there was something about his absolute stillness that told her he wasn’t taking in the action on screen anymore than she could at the moment.
Over the thundering of her heartbeat, she heard herself say, “You do. Make me happy. No one’s ever cared
about me being happy before.”
She had his full attention now, and this time she was the one who looked away. Something impelled her to go on. “My parents never seemed to have time for me. I always seemed to be in the way, or a disappointment, or a big puzzle they weren’t sure what to do with.”
She shrugged as if she could shrug away that deep seeded sense of rejection and abandonment. Even when she dropped out of school and moved out, they never tried stop her. Never came looking for her. And it was always her fault when they lost contact.
“I never had a birthday party. Oh, my mom made my favorite meal and dessert, but it wasn’t the same without friends over, and there never seemed to be any money for real presents. Just the cheap stuff from the corner store, that lasted about week before they broke.” She swallowed, but the words would not be held back.
“The first birthday that ever meant something to me was on my sixteenth birthday. I took myself to the movies. I don’t even remember the movie now, but I remember that I did something special for me.” She looked at Daniel. “I knew then that I would never have to depend on anyone else for my happiness. I could do it for myself.” Except now he was undoing all her hard work, she was becoming too addicted to feelings he stirred in her. He made her want to believe, again, in fairytales.
“But…it’s not the same.” Daniel said, his gaze searching. It was like he’d read her mind.
“No. It’s not.”
“This is all new to me too,” he said enigmatically and looked back at the screen, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair.
Felicity heard the familiar hint of frustration in his voice, and had a good idea of what he meant by newness. Then he was staring into her eyes again, and his were bright and hard.
In the semi-darkness Felicity picked out the lines of tiredness that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. She felt a stab of guilt, remembering his joke about catching up on sleep. She knew he worked long hours. Half the time she couldn’t get a hold of him on his cell because he was in some meeting or other.
But he was here now because of her. A riot of emotions blossomed inside her, crowding out the guilt. His gaze was laser sharp and full of heat, and when he spoke next he almost sounded angry.