“Run this by me again, kid.” Clay sat forward, giving Dana his full attention. “You’re going to turn the old Britton family mansion in town into a museum? Restore it and add a main level gift shop?”
“In the back rooms, yes. The front parlor, dining, and living room will be restored, as well as the main foyer and staircase. The den will make a great gift shop. Local artisans will be invited to show their work on consignment. That way the stock in the shop will always be different. Upstairs, I figured we could turn the master bedroom back to its original design with the nursery off to the side. The rest of the bedrooms would be turned into conference and meeting rooms.”
“I think it’s about time the old mansion got a loving hand. It’s a shame to watch it disintegrate before us. There is so much Britton family history there. Count me in, Dana. I’ll help any way I can,” Lisa added.
“That’s great, because I had you in mind to help me with a few fundraisers over the next few years.”
“Few years?” Clay asked.
“Of course, it will take at least five years before the place is ready to open. That’s my major plan, barring unforeseen problems. Did I mention the greenhouse will be repaired? With a little luck, we’ll be able to grow all the flowers we’ll use for decorating and displays. And the ballroom turned back to the original design, I can’t wait to start in there. It can be rented out for parties and weddings. I’ve checked and the original hardwood floors can be sanded and refinished.” Dana looked at each of the three faces that sat around her. “What?”
“Five years is a long time to work on a project,” Jeff said.
“If it gets done before that, great. But there are too many unknowns, especially with the permits and fundraising. My time frame takes the stress off of having to hurry the quality of the workmanship. I plan on doing this once, not every few years,” she teased.
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Clay mumbled.
“Are you against refurbishing the old place, Clay?”
“No. I had no idea that was what you came home to do.”
“I came home to live here. This is where I belong.”
Adam fussed in his sleep, his bassinet in the shaded overhang of the veranda. Dana went to him, settling him back to sleep with her hand and a light voice. When she returned to the table, she refilled everyone’s glasses before sitting back.
“Well, no feedback?”
“My only fear is the planning commission and the permit processes,” Jeff finally told her. “Maybe Clay can pull some strings for you. Linda sits on the zoning board, doesn’t she?”
If Clay Hollister could have crawled away, he would have. He knew Jeff didn’t realize what he had said. How could he, since the last three years his life revolved around Lisa and the farm, and now his new son. It was just another reinforcement to Clay that Jeff was totally unaware of his feelings for Dana and, more importantly, how he and Dana experimented sexually. It wasn’t as if they could discuss the situation at the club or over a drink. What could he say? Oh, by the way, I’m in love with your baby sister. Thought you should know my goal is to have her! Clay grimaced at the thought.
Jeff looked around the table at his companions, oblivious to what he had said. Clay noted Dana was giving him her “You’re so stupid” look and Lisa was giving him her “I’ll explain later” look that only a husband and wife could share. Clay refused to look him in the eye. Finally, Dana got them gracefully away from the subject.
“Jeff, I don’t think Linda is going to want to give out any favors to me. I annoy her simply because I exist.” A look exchanged between Dana and Lisa, one Clay didn’t want to analyze at the moment.
“I’d prefer to do this on my own terms.” She took a deep breath. “Not that I wouldn’t come crying and whining to you all when things go wrong, but it’s my project. I’ll see it through. Just be here for me to vent my anger occasionally, okay?” Her tone implied the conversation was over. To complete her thought, she started to clear the table, and Lisa joined in.
“Coffee and dessert in half an hour, guys,” she called back to them as she carried a tray into the house.
Jeff sat across from Clay, accepting the thin cigar he was offered. “Want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“I think Dana summed it up. Linda will probably be a thorn in her side.”
“And that’s because?” Clay watched his best friend’s face for a few minutes, saying nothing. Slowly, he handed Jeff the unlit cigar he was holding, mumbling under his breath as he got up.
“Dense, Jeff. Sometimes it amazes me you survived this long.”
“What did I do?” he called out, but Clay was already nearing the house.
“What did I do?” Clay mimicked out of frustration. For the rest of the afternoon, he tried to watch what was going on around him. Nothing seemed out of sync, but he still couldn’t relax.
Lisa served coffee with fresh strawberries and cream for dessert. By then, Clay had calmed down, and the women had nonverbally decided to ignore the earlier embarrassing moments. Still, neither Dana nor Clay knew Lisa had witnessed their kiss in the nursery. They still didn’t know Linda had either.
“I’ve been trying to tell her to stay in the main house, but she wants to move to the pool quarters.”
“Please, Jeff. It’s across the lawn. If you and Lisa want to fight, I’ll still be able to hear you,” she teased.
“But this is your home, too, Dana. It always will be.”
“I know that. But somehow the guest house just feels right for me at this time in my life.”
“You’ve made up your mind. I don’t have the energy to fight you.” Jeff reached out to take Lisa’s hand, holding it lightly. Dana knew the first time she met Lisa she was the woman for Jeff. She didn’t back down when his gruff exterior surfaced, rather she challenged him. For a few years while she was still in school, Dana remembered the endless parade of women Jeff courted. From Gwen to Barb, she had been thankful Lisa had become her sister-in-law.
Clay headed out just after six o’clock. He was surprised when he found Dana waiting for him beside the truck. Approaching her slowly, he took one look at her and felt himself harden. Standing beside the old, red pickup, she wore a one-piece, tank-style bathing suit that wasn’t really revealing, especially with the floral skirt she had pulled on over it. The sheer skirt emphasized her legs, though Clay knew it was meant to cover instead.
“What’s up, kid?”
“I wanted to apologize for Jeff’s comments about Linda. I don’t want or need you to intercede on my behalf.” Dana reached down, pulling up a blade of grass with her fingers. Her bare feet with red painted toenails were driving him crazy with a new lust.
“No problem. Linda and I aren’t as close as Jeff seems to think.”
“Or as Linda would prefer?”
“It’s my choice, I’ve made it.” There was never a choice, Dana, he wanted to yell at her. Linda never entered his mind on a personal level.
“All right. I just wanted you to understand this is important to me. It’s something I have to do on my own.”
Clay wanted to toss her into the cab of the truck and drive her away. He couldn’t, of course, but the idea was appealing. Instead, he chose to make light of it.
“All right, kid. I’ll stay clear of your project.”
Dana started to protest, but he put his hands on her shoulders, changing her attention. “Dana, if you need help, let me know. If you want to vent, I’ll be around.” With that, he picked her up by the shoulders and placed her on the ground a few feet from the truck.
“Just because you’re bigger than me, Clay Hollister, doesn’t mean you can manhandle me whenever you want.” Her bottom lip pushed out, her hand went to her hip.
“Manhandle? Kid, someday, I’ll show you what handling really is.” With that, he jumped in the truck, started it, and began to pull away.
“Show me what it really is?” Dana repeated clearly as she started walking back to the house. Clay’s t
ruck reversed as she started to walk away. Seeing it, she waited until he pulled up next to her.
“Did you remember another way to taunt me?” she asked. He held back a laugh watching her temper rise around the edges.
Clay killed the engine, leaning over to open the passenger door. “Get in.”
“No. Why?” she challenged.
“Dana, get in the truck, please?” His patience was wearing thin, and he pulled back his angst. Slowly she climbed up into the cab, staring straight ahead. “Is there someone in your life?”
“What do you mean, Clay?” She watched him flex his hands on the steering wheel several times. Turning, she brought her legs up under her, twisting to face him in her seat. “I’m asking a simple question. Is there a man in your life, now, right now?” No answer. Great, he thought, no wonder she was so aloof.
“Clay, I haven’t…no. Not the way you’re thinking.”
“No one is going to drop by for a visit, trying to win back your heart?” Anger flashed in Dana’s eyes. Clay was glad, at least there was some emotion left inside her.
“Is that what you think?” she asked quietly. “That I ran home because of a broken heart?” Her laugh saddened him. “No man is worth giving up my life for. If I had wanted to stay in New York, I would have, man or no man. Understand?” She looked at him full-on, challenging him to continue. She seemed a little disappointed when he didn’t.
“Good,” was all he said, then he added, “Get out.”
“What? This is crazy. First you order me in, now you think you can order me out?” Whatever else she would have said was lost by the surprise she felt as he pulled her across the bench seat. Her face just inches from his, he studied her eyes carefully. It was as if he was trying to will her to see his emotions, the feelings for her he couldn’t verbalize. Finally, he released her.
“Get out, kid. It’s time I went home.” Leaning across her, he opened the passenger door a second time, and then started the engine as if to punctuate his order. Dana left quietly. He understood her refusal to give him the satisfaction of looking back was a power play of sorts.
Lisa stood at the front window in Adam’s room, watching this all unfold in front of her. She smiled to herself, knowing there were rocky times ahead for Dana and Clay, and she was smart enough to know only they could decide how to work them out.
Somehow that was the one episode that stuck with Dana the rest of the day. What bothered her more was that she couldn’t quite get a handle on how she wanted him to handle her. One thing she did know was she did want him to handle her. The realization struck her. “Oh, God,” she mumbled, “I do want him.” But will he still want me when he finds out about my sexual preferences? For the hundredth time she thought to let her desires go, but she knew without her particular kinds of foreplay, her body wouldn’t orgasm. Why have sex if it’s only to please another person? And there was her quandary. If she let anyone know about her likes, they might use it against her. That was her one biggest regret in life. She’d chosen the wrong man to share her sex secrets with, and he’d threatened to blackmail her with it when she ended their relationship.
Frustrated, she went about hanging her clothes in the closet of the guesthouse, her house, she corrected to herself. This was where she would live, until? That was her greatest unknown. Until what?
Clay parked in front of the main house and then slowly wandered around the back. Dana stood at the kitchen island chopping vegetables. Her wet hair hung down her back, and he couldn’t help but notice her almost bare back. This time she was wearing the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen with a white, tank-style cropped top. She was barefoot as usual, he knew without actually seeing. On the ride over, he had thought to turn back several times, knowing each time he made up his mind to turn, somehow the motorcycle kept heading toward her. Kenny Rogers was blaring from somewhere in the house, Dana swaying in time to the music. Watching her through the window made him feel cheap. Before he could change his mind again, he stepped up and knocked at the back door.
Dana heard the knock in the back of her mind but knew she was supposed to be alone. Her heart leapt to her throat and she spun around with the butcher knife still in her hand. Slowly, her empty hand went to cover her heart. In the second it took to recognize him, fear turned to excitement. That was the real reason she raised her hand to her chest, to hold back her heart from leaping out. Never would she tell him it wasn’t fright that caused it.
“Jeez, Clay. You scared the hell out of me.” She went to the screen door, opening it. “What are you doing here?” she added, hoping she sounded annoyed. Why did you have to wear the leathers? Of anything else he could have done to wear her down, showing up on the bike in his black leather pants was torture for her. The way they fit his hips and were tight against his thighs, she was getting a strange feeling inside, a warmth he seemed to generate within her, one she knew was dangerous.
“Just wanted to go over a few things with Jeff. He around?” He was watching her every move as she continued to carefully slice the peppers on the board in front of her. “Nope, you missed them. They’re off to Wilmington, a reunion supper with the rest of their Lamaze class, a chance to show off all the babies. How was your ride over?”
“Oh, I thought that was tomorrow,” he said as he leaned across the workspace, stealing a slice of red pepper from the pile. “Oh well, I just wasted an hour then, except for the ride. Nice night for it.” He glanced up, but she wouldn’t meet his look. “Does the music have to be this loud?”
That got a smile from her as she put down the knife, grabbed a kitchen towel, and wandered out of the room. She lowered the volume but did not turn it off. Returning, he was still leaning stretched across the center island where she had left him. Her immediate reaction was to palm his leather covered buttocks but she held back, her finger tingling as if she’d made contact. Dana felt a chill run through her body as she remembered how her leather bustier felt against her skin, tight and supple at the same time.
“Ruth refuse to feed you tonight?”
“No, and I’m quite capable.” A look passed between them. “Canasta tournament tonight. I hope she wins. She’ll be a bear for days if she doesn’t.” They shared a laugh, both of them familiar with her moods.
“Not a pretty sight. Remember when her team lost the bridge tournament?” Dana was surprised Clay remembered. “That had to be what, ten years ago?”
“Don’t remind me, please! I still have nightmares about it.” Dana was relieved they were on an even keel again.
“Hungry?”
“Depends, what are you planning on?”
“Just some pasta. Make yourself useful, find a bottle of wine for us.”
“Red or white?” he asked as he walked toward the butler’s pantry.
“White. Too many sulfites in the red, it gives me a headache.”
Clay returned with a bottle of white, stopping dead when he saw her crying openly. “Dana?” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she started to laugh.
“It’s just the onions, Clay. I’m not falling apart before your eyes.” That was when she did venture to look in his direction. What she saw was concern on his face. “Gonna hold that bottle all night or are you going to open it?” Turning to a drawer behind her, she pulled out a corkscrew and handed it across.
“Just for future reference, when I leave a room and you’re laughing, could we keep it that way until I get back? Lately I seem to be lost when I’m around you.”
“I know how you feel, Clay,” she whispered, hoping he hadn’t heard her.
“What?”
“Glasses, you know where the glasses are.” She turned to the sink, filling a large pot with water then transferring it to the stove. Beside it, she placed an old, cast-iron frying pan, heating it before she poured in olive oil.
Clay was beside her, handing her a glass. She accepted it with a smile then turned back, adding the chopped tomatoes to the pan, backing away from the splatter it would create. For sever
al minutes, he stayed beside her, watching as she added the peppers and onions, pulling off basil leaves from the plant on the kitchen window.
“Any chance you could set the table?” He was too close, making her nervous. She had to put some distance between them, physically.
Clay seemed to sense it, too. He went to a cabinet, pulling out dishes as if he had lived there all his life. “Patio or kitchen table?”
“Patio, I think, what about you?”
“Sounds good to me, how much time do we have?”
“Eight minutes,” she told him as she dumped the dry pasta into the boiling water.
“I’ll go wash up.” Leaving her at the stove, she was somewhat disappointed, having envisioned him turning off the burners and ravishing her on the island in the center of the old kitchen. When he returned, her thoughts were back in order, and he helped her carry out the large dish of hot pasta while she grabbed the warmed bread and butter.
“How’s the moving going?” Clay inquired in between bites.
“Actually, it’s done.” Then she laughed and blushed. “I only brought some clothes with me, the rest of my stuff was due this week. However, it seems they won’t get here until next Monday, now.”
Clay gave her a shrewd look. From the tone of her voice she knew he would figure she had something brewing in her mind.
“And?”
“And I’ve been very polite and understanding on the phone with the movers. No sense pissing them off until my stuff is safely here. Then I’ll let them call me when they get the balance check.” She paused with the fork halfway to her mouth, smiling.
“And they’ll call you because?”
“I’ve decided.” She smiled. “The contract read that my things would be here within five days from the time they picked them up. We’re at day nine now. I’m going to prorate the total fee by the number of days they’re late.”
“And you don’t think they’ll object.”
Payne, Lillith - His Unconventional Woman (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 6