by Rita Herron
Maddie dropped her purse on the floor of the porch, then planted her small hands on hips encased in a black stretch skirt that hugged her curves, sending his body into arousal again. A dark purple T-shirt molded over her breasts, leading his mind astray with wicked thoughts. He couldn't keep his eye off those long, slender legs. But the sound of her clunky high heels clicking on the wooden slats of the porch brought him back to the moment and the mess they were in.
"I'm sorry I worried you, guys, but I did call and leave a message that I was sleeping over at a friend's."
The three of them simply glared at her.
"I'm a grown woman now, not a little girl, and I can go and do whatever I please."
"The hell—"
"Shut up and listen, Lance."
Chase slowed the swing at the sound of Maddie's husky, angry tone.
"I know you guys care about me, but you're smothering me to death. You don't tell me every time you go off with a woman for the night."
Chase's stomach rolled.
Reid cursed.
Lance's face paled. "You spent the weekend with a guy?"
"I didn't say that!"
Reid and Lance exchanged hopeful looks. "Then who were you with?" Reid asked.
Chase could have sworn he saw steam coming from Maddie's mouth. "That's none of your business. What's important here is that I need some space."
Two male mouths opened to argue but Maddie's quick shush snapped them shut. "I'm not sixteen anymore, I live alone, I make my own money, I'm on my own. I don't have to ask your permission to go out."
"But overnight!" Lance said.
"Without even calling again Saturday," Reid mumbled.
Maddie hitched out her hip and shook her head. "You're impossible."
"We're your brothers!" Lance shouted.
"And we care about you," Reid added.
Maddie's temper faded slightly, but her resolve didn't budge. "Okay, let's set some rules here, boys." She shot Chase a venomous look as if to say he was intruding, but he'd better listen, too. He remembered his comment about her being like a kid sister and figured he deserved her scorn, but he didn't like it any more than Lance. No one had to point out the fact that he wasn't family; the knowledge that no one had wanted him, not even his own mother, had been burned in his brain with his mother's searing parting words. But Maddie and her brothers had always treated him as such and being a part of The Terrible Three had saved his sorry butt more times than he could count. The very reason he had to control his male hormones around Maddie.
Sometimes being a responsible adult sucked.
"I promise to let you know if I'm going out of town again, but you have to promise not to call or drop by unexpectedly and check on me every day like you've been doing the past week. What if I'm entertaining?"
"Just what kind of entertaining do you plan to do?" Lance snapped.
"Yeah, you planning on having a naked orgy?" Reid asked.
Maddie's eyes widened, and Chase's stomach dropped to his toes. Reid was going to give them away.
"That's none of your business," Maddie said in a strained tone.
Reid leaned forward as if to stand. "But—"
"No buts. You're driving me crazy, you can't call every day. And if I do decide to have a naked orgy, I'll have one."
Chase moved to stand. "The—"
Maddie slashed her hand across the air. "Stay out of it, Chase."
Chase's mouth closed into a tight line.
"I am not your little sister at all, Chase, and I'm not your little sister anymore, Lance—"
"You'll always be our little sister," Lance muttered.
Maddie pounded her fist over her chest. "Maybe so, but I'm also a grown woman with a right to make my own decisions, to go out with whomever I please, whenever I please, and I intend to do so, no questions asked." Maddie paused to grab a much-needed breath. "Do you understand?"
Lance and Reid simply glared at her.
Maddie's voice rose an octave. "I said do you understand?"
"Yes," Lance mumbled.
"But we don't like it," Reid added.
"I didn't say you have to like my rules, but you will abide by them." With a stern glare, Maddie shifted sideways to unlock her front door. "So you're just going to have to learn to live with them." With one last determined look, she swung open the door, sauntered inside and left the three of them sitting on the porch.
Lance and Reid immediately turned to Chase. "This is worse than we thought," Lance said.
Reid stood. "Yeah, man, you have to do something."
A splinter jabbed Chase's palm as his hands tightened around the wooden arms of the swing. He'd already gotten in over his head by committing to babysit Maddie on the job. What in the world did they want him to do now? Tag along on her dates?
* * *
Monday morning Maddie was still shaken from her confrontation with her brothers—the next thing she knew they'd be tagging along on her dates. She patted herself on the back for not giving in to temptation and revealing any details about her side trip with Sophie. Although she had a nagging suspicion Chase and Lance and Reid were the three men who'd sneaked into the resort and been thrown out. They'd looked so damn guilty the whole time she'd lectured them. Plus, Lance had scratched himself silly and Chase's eye patch, his little accident, was all too coincidental.
Even if they had been there, they had no idea what she'd been up to. She laughed wickedly.
Let them all wonder what really happened.
She loved her brothers dearly, but she had to assert herself, or they'd suffocate her. Just the thought of Chase Holloway sitting there on her porch with that patronizing attitude infuriated her. Why, they'd probably all three had dates and sex Friday night while they expected her to play the good girl. And that patch—fantasies of Chase wearing nothing but that patch, making love to her had haunted her all night.
Damn man.
It wasn't fair Chase saw her as a kid sister when she'd been lusting after him all weekend. Dreaming of him naked and hot and irresistibly aroused. And bigger than both those Italians put together.
Determined to banish Chase from her mind until she was forced to meet him later to discuss the designs for the model homes, she steered her new decorating van into the subdivision on Skidaway Island to meet her first client, mentally ticking off the questions she needed to ask. Armed with carpet, flooring, tile and fabric samples, along with dozens of catalogs of furniture styles, accessories, window treatments and her laptop, which virtually allowed her access to any and everything a customer could possibly want, she felt prepared to deal with whatever arose.
Until she met Nora Ledbetter; her three-year-old terror, Jake; and their Saint Bernard, Lulu.
Three hours later, she exhaled in exasperation, determined to make a sale no matter the consequences. Noisy Nora, she dubbed her because she had on so many bracelets she clanged and banged every time she moved, had the attention span of a gnat. Maddie settled herself on the corner of the brick hearth. She'd been trying to discern the woman's tastes so she could steer her into a few decisions today, but so far the only decision Nora had made was that she was undecided on everything. She didn't even know what color scheme she wanted to use.
Which virtually affected every decision they needed to make.
"Look, I'm Jake the Snake!" The redheaded little boy plopped onto the floor of the half-finished den and slithered through the array of fabric swatches Maddie had so carefully displayed. Lulu lay her head on Maddie's lap and drooled. Maddie pushed Lulu's head away, swiped at the wet spot on her skirt and tried to grab the swatches before Jake smeared them with his jelly-crusted hands. She salvaged most of them but Jake scooped a red velvet one in his mouth as if he meant to eat it.
Maddie strove for a calm voice and reached out as if to pet the pretend snake that was Jake. "Jake, honey, give me the material."
Jake wobbled his head back and forth. "I slither and slither and..." He raised his head and stuck out his tongue,
dropping the soggy material to the floor. "And hiss." A loud hissing sound punctuated the air. Lulu barked like mad and tried to crawl under Maddie's legs to hide, nearly knocking her off the hearth. Maddie shot Nora a pleading look, but Nora seemed engrossed in a corner of the room that housed the floor-to-ceiling fireplace.
"I just don't know about this place." Nora rubbed her hands up and down her arras. "It feels cold in here."
"I gotta go potty," the little boy yelled.
"I wonder if someone died on this property," Nora said, once again ignoring Jake.
"No, no one died here," Maddie said. Lulu howled and started to run in circles as Jake bounced up and down. "And I'm sorry, Jake, the plumber brought the wrong toilets so they had to be returned. Can you go outside?"
"Not by himself," Nora said. "There might be snakes in the woods."
Maddie nodded.
The little boy grabbed his crotch, crossed his legs and rocked himself back and forth. "I gotta go bad."
"Mrs. Ledbetter, maybe we'd better—"
Nora waved her off. "He'll be fine. I'll take him in a minute. Now, one thing I do want is a canopy around the bed, you know with lots of fringe." She opened a catalog and pointed to a collection of French furniture. "And I want the lamps to have fringe also."
Jake yanked at his OshKosh overalls. "Mommy, I gotta go!"
"So you like the Victorian designs," Maddie said, grateful they were finally getting somewhere but worried when she saw the toddler's face turning red.
"Not particularly," Nora said to Maddie, oblivious to her son's distress. "But we are in Savannah, you know, and I heard the fringe scares off evil spirits."
"I don't believe there are any ghosts here," Maddie said. "This is a new subdivision."
"They're everywhere," Nora said, shivering. "And I do think someone died here, I can feel it. A soldier, maybe from the war."
"I gotta go bad!" Jake whined.
"In a minute, Jake," Nora said, turning back to Maddie. "Besides, I have a ghost named Peter who follows me everywhere I go," Nora said. "I buy an extra copy of the newspaper every day and leave it out for him to read. He especially likes the comics." She studied the windows. "In fact, I may bring him the next time we meet and see if he likes the house."
"Mommy!"
A gust of wind suddenly blew through the open window frames.
"There is a ghost here!" Nora shrieked. The Saint Bernard tried to jump onto Maddie's lap, then covered his ears and howled. Jake screamed and promptly wet his pants.
* * *
Chase handed the set of blueprints to Lance and watched him drive away. Then he turned to examine his latest design, a reproduction of a Greek Revival mansion.
Waiting inside this first model home for Maddie, he studied the brickwork, the finished wood floors, the imported marble in the foyer. He'd been reluctant about combining innovative modern technology with traditional architecture, but the polished wooden bookcases, which housed the sound system, alarm and remote controls for heating and lighting, camouflaged all the electronic gadgets that were appreciated in the new millennium. In the end he was quite proud of how well he had managed to incorporate old-style charm with all the comforts people expected in a twenty-first century house. The wall-wide theater screen hidden behind retractable oak paneling would definitely fit the lifestyle of the modern family.
Now, he had to see what Maddie had in mind for decorating the interior.
This was the first home on the tour, the first impression the tourists would have of the development. It had to be spectacular. Lance and Reid were worried Maddie would get a wild hair and add psychedelic colors or art-deco furniture and ruin the effect they'd created. They also wanted him to babysit Maddie personally.
And not in the hands-on way he'd like. Hell, he'd spent half the night thinking of Maddie walking around naked, the other half thinking of some other man watching her walk around naked.
How the heck had he gotten himself into this mess?
A few months ago Maddie had been at school, stuck like glue to Jeff Oglethorpe, he had finally finished his degree and joined forces with Lance and Reid, they'd renewed their bachelor forever pact—life had been perfect.
Now, everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.
The sound of an engine broke into his thoughts, and he spotted a minivan with the words maddie's—made for you—designs written in bold red on the side. Made for You—the slogan gave him an uneasy feeling for some reason. Or maybe it was just Maddie that did. She opened the door of the van and slid down to the ground, gracing him with a tantalizing view of her long, shapely legs. He sucked in a harsh breath and told himself to remember her in pigtails with her two front teeth missing and mustard smeared all over her face.
It didn't work. She was still just as beautiful as he remembered.
Although as she entered the house, he did notice an odd odor clinging to her clothes, a purple stain smeared on her white blouse, something brown on her shoe and a damp spot on the front of her black skirt.
"What happened to you?" he asked as she limped inside the curved doorway.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't ask." With a weary sigh, she sidled over beside him, swung her briefcase onto the cherry desk in the foyer and dropped into a chair, her gaze scanning the interior of the home. Even rumpled and smelly, she stirred his loins. And she was studying the house, his design, as if she were scrutinizing every feature.
His breath caught in his chest. What would Maddie think of his work?
"This place is fabulous," she whispered in awe. "You are one talented man, Chase Holloway."
His chest swelled, along with the rest of him. More talented than you know.
He bit back the reply, refusing to voice the double entendre less she see it as an invitation. "Thanks. I put a lot of time into this project."
Her vibrant smile lit up the room like a hundred twinkling stars lighting up an inky sky. "I'd say you succeeded."
Chase shifted, feeling his face flush uncharacteristically at her praise.
"You know, I want to tour the house, then I'm going to do some research, and I'll put together a plan."
"Sounds good."
Maddie rose and walked around the room. He watched her hips sway beneath the black form-fitting skirt and gulped, grateful when his cell phone pealed and distracted him.
"Chase, it's Lance. We've got trouble."
But Maddie was with him. Reid maybe? "What kind of trouble? Is it Reid?"
"I can't find him anywhere."
That didn't sound like Reid.
"I can't talk about it over the phone, Chase, but I'm worried. I think you'd better get over to the clubhouse right now."
Chapter 9
Trouble, trouble, trouble. Everywhere they turned.
Reid Summers only hoped he could keep the worst of it from Lance and Maddie.
He wasn't ordinarily a religious man. In fact, he'd been known to take the Lord's name in vain more times than he had turned to Him in prayer, a sin he now wished he could recall, since he needed all the help he could get on this latest development. If he hadn't been such a hellion when he was a kid, he'd try to cash in some favors, but he doubted he had a prayer to spare.
Even so, he stood at the threshold of the Trinity Methodist Church, figuring the significance of the oldest Methodist church in Savannah had to hold some special spiritual resolution. The Savannah gray brick-and-stucco finish was impressive as were the wall plaques immortalizing the pastors who died while serving the church. He felt like a peon-nothing in comparison.
He started to turn and leave, but organ music drifted through the church, beckoning him, so he shuffled in, astounded by the serenity of the building. Pausing to absorb the peace, his problems collided in his head. Not only was his company having more trouble—they'd had two contractors pull out this morning on the project—but Lance was having fits and acting abnormally tense. Probably because he shouldered most of the responsibility for the financial side of the company; Re
id tended to deal with hiring the contractors and overseeing them on a daily basis.
But other problems weighed on Reid's mind. Recently he'd found a file in some of his parents' things that had upset him immensely. A file and some other pamphlets. He and Lance and Maddie were a close bunch, but so far, he'd been able to keep the news he'd discovered from them. His older brother and younger sister thought they had had the perfect parents, the perfect family. But Reid knew differently.
They would be devastated if they learned the truth.
He shuffled down the aisle, his head bowed to avoid recognition, although only two people were sitting in the church, both several rows away. He took a seat on the fourth row from the back, keeping his head lowered as he tried his best to remember how to pray. A childhood blessing raced through his mind, although distorted. And bits and pieces of the Lord's prayer resurfaced, although he'd forgotten how it started.
At a loss, his gaze zeroed in on a Bible, and he picked it up and thumbed through the pages, hoping for some inspiration. But he got sidetracked when he noticed the structural details of the flooring. Virgin longleaf Georgia pines were hand-hewn; he'd read they'd also been used for the framing and wainscoting. The Corinthian architecture exemplified the type of quality historic work he and Lance hoped to copy. Then he noticed a wad of gum on the underside of the bench. He used to stick his gum there when he was a kid. Couldn't be the same piece of gum after all these years, could it?
A chunky man wearing a dark raincoat slid into the pew beside him, jerking him from his jumbled thoughts. Knobby Smaltz, the P.I. he'd hired. Reid glanced up and saw the man's bushy eyebrows raise. He smelled like stale cigars and Old Spice, but Reid nodded and accepted the envelope the man thrust toward him. Feeling like a spy out of some low-budget TV drama, he carefully tucked it inside his jacket. "Did you find out anything?"
"The information confirms your suspicions," the man murmured.
Where was God when he needed him?
Reid silently cursed, then cursed himself again for forgetting he was in a holy place. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong to come to church when you needed something, and he vowed to do better, then realized he was still trying to bargain his way out of his problems. He handed the man the payment they'd agreed upon and watched as he shuffled from the sanctuary. His heart pounding, Reid opened the envelope and pulled out the neatly typed information.