by Beverly Farr
He smiled, a slow, lazy smile, making her wait for the answer. “I want a piece of cake.”
#
“I think it should have a bustle, don’t you?” Lucy said. “Lift your arms, Ginny.”
Ginny stood still as three gray haired women taped loops of toilet paper to her clothes. She was amused by the energy Miranda’s friends put into the festivities. A week before, Ginny’s own friends had taken her to a sedate luncheon at The Retreat, one of downtown Dallas’ most elaborate hotels, and tonight, women fifteen to forty years their senior, were making her a mock wedding dress out of toilet paper.
Her suit jacket lay draped over a chair. Perhaps now her mother would agree that the white blouse was a better choice, she thought, because it matched the toilet paper.
Miranda gleefully took pictures of the process with her digital camera. “I’m saving these for blackmail.”
“Suitable for publication,” someone said, and several women laughed. It was common knowledge that Miranda managed to get her name in the local papers or magazines multiple times a year.
Within a few minutes, the toilet paper “gown” was finished. It had puffed sleeves, a bodice wrapped around her chest mummy style, and a skirt of streamers that looked like a white hula skirt. Ginny pirouetted before the crowd, determined to be a good sport. But her thoughts kept straying to the man next door.
Derek Landon was in Dallas, practically on her mother’s doorstep. The situation would require serious damage control if she wanted to keep her past private. Derek would enjoy embarrassing her.
“You never looked lovelier,” one of the women teased.
“What would Phillip think if he could see you now?”
“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.”
“Is he coming tonight, Ginny?”
Yes, she started to say, and then realized they were talking about her fiancé – not Derek. Phillip had wanted to come. He thought it would be a good opportunity to meet Miranda’s social circle, but at the last minute, work had prevented him. “No, sorry. He had a meeting.”
Ginny fingered the fragile skirt and changed the subject. “It’s too bad this won’t last. I could have saved a fortune on the wedding dress.”
“One more picture,” her mother urged, motioning for the women to stand close together. “And I want you in it, too, Lucy.”
Later they ate refreshments, and then it was time to open the presents. Ginny normally felt awkward opening presents, disliking being the center of attention, but she comforted herself with the thought that most of the guests were looking at the presents rather than her. She sat on a couch in Lucy’s den, surrounded by a mountain of gift bags and brightly wrapped boxes.
Everyone oohed and ahhed as she opened a package with a crock-pot, some silver serving dishes, and half a dozen place settings of her new china pattern. Then there were two nightgowns with robes, a set of bath towels and a large crystal vase. Ginny smiled and thanked each giver individually.
Finally it was time to open the last gift -- her mother’s gift. As she unwrapped the silver tissue paper, she saw that the box contained a scanty red satin teddy with black lace.
“Hold it up!”
“Let us see it.”
“Try it on!” someone suggested.
Gamely, Ginny stood and held it against herself, over her white blouse, turning around so everyone could admire it.
Lucy said, “Phillip will love it.”
“Phillip’s a lucky man,” a male voice drawled.
The husky timber of his voice felt like sandpaper on her skin, reminding her of whispers in the dark. Ginny love, are you awake? Ginny shivered at the forgotten pleasure and looked over to see Derek standing in Lucy’s kitchen. How long had he been there, watching her make a fool of herself? He smiled with satisfaction as if he could sense her all too physical reaction.
She’d never needed lingerie to get his blood pumping.
But she wasn’t going to think about that.
Everyone turned to look at him. “I knocked, but no one answered, so I let myself in,” he said with charm. “Someone promised me a piece of cake.”
Ginny quickly wadded the teddy into a ball, and stuffed it back in its box.
Lucy made the introductions. “I don’t know if all you ladies have met our newest neighbor Derek Landon. He just bought the Wilson’s house.”
Ginny noticed that he had cleaned up, shaved, and changed into a red polo shirt and neatly pressed khakis. He looked perfectly at ease at Lucy’s side.
“Landon? Of Midas?” one of the women asked.
He nodded.
Ginny frowned, not recognizing the connection.
“Midas Online Auctions,” someone whispered. “He’s the president.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “Midas is your company?” Midas was one of the top Internet auction companies. She knew that they had recently moved their corporate offices to Dallas, but she had never seen his name connected with the company. He must keep a low profile.
Her shock amused him. “Guilty as charged.”
She watched as the other women gathered around him, and Lucy guided him to the refreshment table. Derek always drew a crowd, even years ago. He had that high energy and charisma that made people want to hang on his every word. At one time she had been no different, mesmerized like everyone else.
Ginny held back, not wanting to be part of the admiring throng, and busied herself with making sure each gift had the appropriate gift card. If anyone asked what she was doing, she’d say she wanted to be able to write the proper thank you notes later, but in reality, she wanted something to keep her hands busy, while she figured out what to do.
One of the guests giggled, and Ginny stole a glance at Derek, drawn to him like a magnet, then told herself not to be foolish.
She shouldn’t worry. He was eating little sandwiches and celery sticks. What harm could he do at a party, anyway? This was hardly the time for him to tell Miranda that he had briefly been her son-in-law. But she wouldn’t put it past him to make trouble for her. They had parted so bitterly, he might want to get revenge.
She took a deep breath, steeled her courage, and headed toward the refreshments. She had to mingle, or it would look odd. “Congratulations,” she said under her breath, as she reached in front of him to get a cup of punch. “Midas must be doing very well. I see your dancing penguin everywhere.”
“Do you like him?”
“It’s an effective marketing tool.”
“Thanks. Coming from you, that means something.”
“How did you get started?” one of the guests asked, and Ginny listened, interested in his answer.
“I’ve always liked garage sales and computers. It was an ideal combination.”
“How is Midas different from the other online auctions?” a second woman asked.
“Midas is more personal,” Derek explained. “Many of our items have a story, a history behind them, and that makes a human connection between the buyer and the seller.”
“If it’s not all hype,” Ginny said quietly.
Derek looked at her, but didn’t respond.
“Excuse me!” Miranda approached, carrying a little plate. “Here’s the cake I promised,” she said, interrupting the conversation and adroitly weaving herself in front of others so that she was next to Derek. She looked up at him. “I hope you like carrot cake.”
He took the plate. “This looks delicious, thank you.” He ate a large bite.
Derek had a sweet tooth. Nine years ago he could eat anything and never gain an ounce. Ginny noticed that he’d filled out a little in the past few years, matured. His chest, under the smooth cloth of his polo shirt looked broader, but still rock solid. She had a sudden memory of falling asleep, resting her head against his chest as it rose and fell with his breathing. For once in her life, she’d felt safe -- secure in the belief that his love for her would last.
But it hadn’t lasted.
Ginny blinked
away a stray tear. Enough of that. She’d managed to keep those memories locked away for years and she didn’t want to revisit them now.
She looked away quickly, so he wouldn’t catch her staring at him.
“Tell me, what do you think of Dallas?” her mother asked Derek.
“It’s big.”
Miranda laughed. “Well, you know what they say about Texas.”
Her mother was flirting with him.
Ginny gasped, half choking on the punch. She coughed and someone -- Derek? – slapped her on the back. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I must have swallowed wrong, or something.”
“Or something,” he echoed, with a mocking twist to his tone.
She glared at him, but he just smiled back innocently. He was enjoying her discomfort. He had to know that her mother didn’t know who he was.
“Maybe you should get a glass of water,” Miranda suggested.
And leave you alone with Derek? Not on your life. Ginny smiled. “No, I’m fine,” she lied and sipped her drink.
Her mother, satisfied that there was no emergency, turned to Derek again. “Tell me more about your company.”
Ginny watched her mother with growing alarm. Miranda often became kittenish and clingy around men, especially men with money. It was as natural as breathing to her. And since she didn’t know that Derek was her daughter’s ex-husband, she had no reason not to flirt with him. Of course, Derek was younger than she, but her third husband Nicholas had been five years her junior.
Ginny knew how Miranda’s mind worked. What was twenty years to a woman as well preserved as she? She might be fifty, but in the right light, she could pass for thirty-five. People often assumed that she was Ginny’s sister rather than her mother.
Ginny watched Derek, trying to gage his reaction. As a powerful, handsome man with a thriving business, he must have dealt with predatory women like her mother before.
“What do you sell on Midas?” Miranda asked.
“I don’t actually sell anything. Midas is the middleman, connecting buyers to sellers. People bid on items and the highest bidder gets the goods.”
Miranda put her hand on his arm. “It’s all so fascinating. I have a few things I’d like to sell, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”
He stepped away, presumably to get another bite-sized sandwich, but the motion also broke the connection with her hand, putting more space between them.
Nicely done.
Momentarily, his gaze met Ginny’s, and he smiled, as if reading her mind. He spoke to her mother. “Check out our web page,” he said smoothly. “We have an online tutorial that is very straight forward, and if you still have problems, you can call customer service and they’ll walk you through the process.”
Miranda pushed her lower lip out in a little pout, then smiled to show that she was joking. “I guess it would be asking too much to have Midas himself answer all my questions.”
Derek said, “I’m not Midas.”
Someone else at the table said, “Midas is the penguin, isn’t it?”
“Forgive me for talking shop,” he said to the group, and then addressed Ginny. “I don’t mean to take over your party. You’re the bride; everyone should be paying attention to you, not me.” He bowed. “So if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’ll take one more of these delicious sandwiches, check out the bridal loot, and head home.”
Ginny sensed the collective disappointment in the crowd. After an hour of women’s chatter, they had enjoyed the masculine distraction he provided.
Ginny observed the other women watch him as he withdrew. Like moths to a flame. They couldn’t help themselves.
She waited until he was standing by the kitchen door, just about to leave, then she hurried over to him. “I must talk to you,” she said in a low voice.
“Go ahead, talk.”
“Not here! Alone.”
His eyebrows rose mockingly. “What would your fiancé say?”
“Stop playing games. I just need to talk to you for a few minutes without an audience.”
He considered her words for a moment, then said, “Fine, come by my house after the party.”
“Thank you.”
Lucy Broadbent saw them standing together. “Thanks for dropping by, Derek,” she called from the den. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”
“No, I have everything I need, thank you.”
He looked straight at Ginny. Was that a reference to the fact that he no longer needed her?
“It was a fine party,” he continued, but as the other women in the room turned their attention to him, he got an impish gleam in his eye. “Before I leave, am I supposed to kiss the bride?”
Ginny gasped. He wouldn’t dare, or would he? Derek had always been one to push limits.
She stepped back. “That’s at the wedding,” she said frostily. “Do you want me to send you an invitation?”
“Don’t.” For a moment, the fierce word hung like a challenge between them. Then Derek smiled and in a louder voice he added, “Nice to meet you, ladies. Good night.” With a friendly wave to the crowd, he was gone.
Ginny relaxed, letting her breath out with a wave of relief. He was gone. Finally.
That wasn’t so bad, she told herself.
After the door shut, Miranda gave a wolf whistle, long and low. “Now that’s what I call a man with possibilities.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ginny rang his doorbell after eleven that night.
Derek hesitated before opening the door. Was it wise to let her into his house after all these years? He’d been surprised to see her again, but pleased to discover that she no longer had the power to cause him pain. He’d dropped by the bridal shower out of curiosity – the same curiosity that made him agree to talk to her again.
It was his own personal test, to prove to himself that although she had broken his heart, he was completely over her. He was free.
He opened the door. “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”
There were shadows under her eyes, and her hair was wispy around her face, instead of smooth. “Miranda wouldn’t leave until everyone else had gone,” she explained wearily. “And it took nearly half an hour to get all the presents in my car.”
“Must be tough to be a bride.”
“Cut the song and dance and let me in,” she snapped. Apparently she had no patience for sarcasm. “I don’t want to stand on your doorstep all night.”
Her eyes flashed. He’d forgotten how attractive she could be when she was angry, but then, he’d always found Ginny beautiful, even when she left him. He held the door wide. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid Neighborhood Watch is going to report that you came for a midnight visit?”
Ginny glanced guiltily over her shoulder, as if she expected Lucy Broadbent to jump out of the bushes with binoculars.
He smiled. “You should have worn a trench coat and a wig.”
She stepped past him, into the foyer. “Believe me, if I had them, I would have. As it was, I drove around for a mile and came back so my mother wouldn’t wonder what I was doing.”
“Good thinking.” Miranda struck him as one who would pay attention to such details. He motioned to the empty rooms. “I’d ask you to take a seat, but there aren’t any.”
“It doesn’t matter. What I have to say won’t take but a min–”
He reached behind her and flipped the light switches that turned on the recessed and overhead lighting, illuminating the first floor. With no furniture, the house looked cavernous.
Ginny blinked in wonder at the recently painted rooms. “Wow. You’ve made a lot of changes.”
Her voice had softened; she was obviously distracted. She looked about his home with a professional eye. “The spiral staircase is new. I like it.” She looked up, smiling, the first natural smile he’d seen from her that evening. The gesture made her look younger; reminding him of the way she’d looked in Arizona, back when she thought she loved him. “And yo
u’ve raised the ceilings.”
She walked across the echoing hardwood floors. She had changed, too. Today she looked like an exquisitely wrapped present in her tailored tweed suit and silk blouse. Look, but don’t touch, was the message, which was no problem for him. The sooner she was gone, the better. He didn’t want to risk falling under her spell again.
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her in a dress before. In college, she’d worn t-shirts and jeans or shorts -- part of her rebellion against her mother. As far as he knew, she hadn’t even owned a pair of hose.
Derek saw that she still had those great long legs, looking even better with the high heels. Her soft brown hair was drawn back into some kind of twist and held with a comb. He wondered how long her hair was now, and was startled by an urge to pull the comb to find out.
Careful, Landon. Don’t be stupid. She walked out of your life once before. If you’re wise, you’ll let her walk out again.
She looked at the Palladian window, admiring the woodwork, and the fireplace. “Native stone?” she asked.
He nodded. He’d always known she’d do well as a designer. She had a love of beautiful things and the drive to succeed. She’d gone to college on a scholarship, refusing her mother’s help, wanting to pay for it herself. She was her own person, and although they’d locked horns one too many times when they were married, he still admired that quality.
He asked, “Did you see the house very often when the Wilsons owned it?”
“More when I was younger,” she said, her back toward him. She pointed. “I like the arch into the dining room. I assume that’s the dining room.”
“It will be.”
Derek watched as she ran her hand along the chair molding. Nine years ago, he’d been unable to provide for her, but now, everything had changed. Did she realize that if she had stayed with him, this house could have been hers?
Not that she would care, he thought. She had her own career and appeared to be doing well. She didn’t need him or his money.
She said, “Mrs. Wilson had a display case in here, against this wall. It was full of antique porcelain dolls. Mostly from France. But she always let me hold them if I asked.”