The side door was propped open, and workers were hauling tools in from an enormous truck parked next to the house. Maggie had to wait while one crew maneuvered a long ladder around a corner and into the kitchen. She couldn't see what was going on there, but a moment later she heard the sharp crack of breaking glass and then a workman swearing. She wondered if it was a window or the glass front of one of the antique cabinets which was no more.
The swearing hadn't stopped yet when another man said, "The boss told us to gut the place, so what difference does it make?"
Maggie winced at the painfully vivid image.
"He told me the cabinets are already spoken for," the first man was saying as she went out the door. "So take it easy—somebody's going to pay a pretty penny for these."
If there's anything left of them, Maggie thought.
The sunlight was warm, but under the trees the air was still chilly. Tripp wanted to run, but Maggie refused to let him off the leash as she sometimes did; there was far too much going on. But after pulling him back a couple of times, to his obvious annoyance, she decided to compromise. If she jogged for a while, Tripp would get his exercise and maybe she'd work off some of her frustration.
She was deep into the woods, on the path that led down to the lake, before she stopped for a breath. She sank down on a fallen tree to rest, and Tripp flung himself at her feet, panting.
Maggie tried to listen to the sounds of nature; the call of birds and the rustle of leaves always had the power to soothe her. But today, all she could hear was the chainsaw. In fact, she could hear it every bit as clearly here as she had from her window this morning.
That, of course, was clearly impossible; she must be five hundred yards away. She sat up and listened, and realized that she was hearing a chorus of saws—for when one stopped, there was another, more distant one still assaulting the airwaves.
She closed her eyes and remembered the long curving row of townhouses Karr had built in Eagleton, with their pocket-sized back gardens and tiny patches of grass in front. There was scarcely a tree in the whole row, and the few that did exist were mere saplings.
If Karr was going to build in a similar pattern here, he'd have to clear-cut the heart of Eagle's Landing. From the sounds of it that was exactly what he was doing. And the work wasn't going to be finished anytime soon.
Maggie bit her lip. It was going to be extremely difficult to concentrate with all that noise going on; if Karr was intending to drive her out, he'd chosen a fiendishly effective way to start his campaign.
The walk back to the house was considerably slower. Tripp padded along at her heels instead of darting ahead, and Maggie didn't even attempt to hurry him. She was no more eager to return to the melee than he was.
She wasn't surprised when she came round the last bend of the drive and saw a black Mercedes parked behind the house, but her heart started to beat a little faster in anticipation.
Karr was on the steps by the side entrance. He was wearing jeans and a dark green T-shirt—so he could help with the demolition, Maggie supposed. Just now he was supervising as the first white-painted kitchen cabinet was carried out and loaded into a truck. Once it was safely stowed, he put both hands on his hips, tipped his head to one side, and surveyed Maggie.
She knew she must look a fright, warm and flushed from her run, with her hair starting to fall out of a careless ponytail. Nevertheless, there was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel tiny and very feminine.
But all he said was, "You don't exactly look like sunshine this morning. Did we wake you up too early?"
As if he understood the words, Tripp made a half-hearted dash at Karr and growled a little. But the dog's heart obviously wasn't in it, and finally he stopped growling and flopped at Maggie's feet, panting.
"And the toupee looks positively moth-eaten," Karr went on.
It was a temptation to let go of Tripp's leash and see what he'd do. Instead, Maggie tightened her grip and said coolly, "Oh, I'm fine. We're both quite happy, in fact. We've just been out for a good run."
"I see. You know, I can't figure out why you have a dog at all."
"Spend a lot of time worrying about it, do you?"
"Oh, no, it's just minor curiosity. If you had a big dog I could understand it, because he'd be protection. Or I could see you having a cat, for companionship. But to tie yourself down to an animal with the size and personality of a dust mop…"
"Do you often get bitten by dust mops?" She waved a hand toward the truck, where the men were loading a second cabinet. "I don't remember that door being broken last time I was in the kitchen."
"We had a little accident."
"That's too bad. Salvagers will pay a lot more if the glass is intact, I understand."
"Glass can be replaced."
"Maybe you should just wait a while till you can get some professional crews in here to do the work, instead of taking the chance of your guys damaging things."
"In about three weeks, I suppose you mean?"
Maggie smiled. "Isn't that amazing? You seem to have read my mind. I'll bet they'd work so much faster they'd make up the time, anyway. And if you ended up with less breakage, you'd be money ahead in the long run."
"I'll take my chances. I brought coffee out for the crew. Would you like some?"
Maggie shrugged, deliberately casual. "Might as well." There was no point in letting him guess how welcome a solid dose of caffeine would be right now—or that she felt like stirring aspirin into it instead of sugar.
There was not only a coffee set up on a folding table in the biggest drawing room, but a huge box of fresh doughnuts as well. Tripp perked up at the aroma and sat down at her feet, head erect and one paw held out in a plea for her to share. Maggie broke off a bit of her glazed doughnut and dropped it to him.
"I meant what I told you last night, Karr," she said. "And psychological warfare is certainly not going to change my mind about suing you."
Karr poured coffee into foam cups and handed her one. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"I mean all the noise and bustle you've created this morning for my benefit."
"For your benefit? Don't be ridiculous. I believe I told you once that I had crews impatiently waiting till they could start to work."
One of the workmen came in, and picked up a doughnut. "Nice to see you again, Ma'am."
"Again?" Karr asked.
Maggie said curtly, "We met—very briefly—at my window this morning."
"I see." A half-smile tugged at Karr's mouth. "No wonder everybody's been volunteering for chainsaw duty," he mused.
Maggie longed to tip her coffee over his head.
"How long do you expect that oak to take?" Karr asked the workman.
"Most of the morning. That close to the house, we'll have to drop it branch by branch and lower each one with ropes."
"You're taking down the whole tree?" Maggie protested. "Look, I know the place is yours and you can do whatever you want, Karr, but—"
"Can I have that in writing? It's the first time you've actually admitted I have any rights at all."
Maggie glared at him. "But it would be a lot nicer development in the end if you left some of the big trees. And that's a great tree, so if you're only cutting it down to annoy me—"
Karr shook his head. "I don't know where you got the idea that annoying you is all I'm thinking about these days."
"Possibly because you do it so well," Maggie said under her breath.
"Perhaps you hadn't noticed how that tree blocked the afternoon light in your apartment. I'm actually doing you a favor—"
"Surely you don't expect me to believe that."
"Well, no, since you aren't going to be there long enough to enjoy it. I'm cutting the tree because it's dangerous."
"It's stood there for a hundred years!"
"Precisely. And it's dying, and half the trunk is hollow. I can't risk having men working around it in its present condition. Besides, it's in the w
ay." He drained his cup and added, "And as long as we're on the subject, you're in the way, as well. May I remind you that your deadline is past, and you're now trespassing not only on my property but on my good nature?"
"What good nature? I tried to work out a compromise that would save us both a great deal of discomfort, and you aren't even reasonable enough to discuss it." Maggie put her chin up. "So go ahead and try to evict me. My lawyer is just waiting for the papers."
"Maybe I won't bother with papers."
She took one more sip and set her cup aside. "That is an empty threat." She wrapped Tripp's leash around her wrist and headed for the stairs. "Thanks for the coffee. It was certainly more pleasant than the conversation."
She knew Karr watched her till she was out of sight.
It was difficult to settle down to her work; even with the windows closed, Maggie could hear every change in pitch of the chain saw. Finally, thinking they must be nearly finished, she took a break and went to check the crew's progress. In two hours of work the workmen had managed to remove only the smaller, leafy branches. A pitiful skeleton remained, stark and ghostly as an Oriental drawing. She could see hollow spots here and there in the trunk, spots that had been hidden by the leaves, and it annoyed her to have to admit that Karr had been right about that, too. It was lucky a windstorm hadn't blown the tree over against the house; it could have broken out a half-dozen windows or even cracked the wall.
She left the windows open—it was impossible to shut the noise out anyway, and she hated to be cheated of the fresh air—and went to take a shower.
She'd hoped when the other tenants moved out that the water pressure might improve. It ought to have, she thought, without multiple demands on the system. But the water seemed to run at an even more leisurely pace than usual, and it took forever to rinse the shampoo from her hair. The lack of water pressure was the only thing she'd ever really disliked about living at Eagle's Landing, and this morning it was an irritation past all bearing. A really hot, hard shower might even get rid of her headache, but this sad trickle didn't deserve the name.
She wasn't really sure just when she got the notion of doing something about it. It was just there, one of those perfect ideas that seem to spring full-fledged from out of the blue, and she didn't even bother to think it over. As soon as she was dry she wrapped herself in a terry robe and went to the telephone.
There were six plumbers in the vicinity of Eagleton, and she briefly considered soliciting bids from them all for a new water system for the whole of Eagle's Landing. It ought to get Elliot the Great to sit up and take notice, she thought, if he was interrupted by half a dozen plumbers one after another, all wanting his attention and his business.
No, that would be going too far. Still, she had to call four of the firms before she found someone who was free to come that morning and take a look at the unsatisfactory pipes.
"Grand," Maggie told him. "Take a good look around, and make sure you give the estimate to Karr Elliot." And, suddenly feeling in a much better mood, she dried her hair and went back to work. Even the whine of the chain saw wasn't nearly so annoying any more—or perhaps she was just growing slightly deaf from the roar.
She'd gotten so absorbed in the story she was writing that she'd entirely forgotten both time and plumbers, and even the sound of boots on the landing outside her apartment didn't warn her, till Karr flung the door open and strode in.
Maggie sat up straight and tried to blink away her eyestrain. "What do you think you're doing? You can't come in here without knocking!"
"Try me," he growled. "Do you know anything about someone calling for a plumber, Rawlings?"
She bit her lip and for the first time noticed a man behind him, a big man wearing stained yellow coveralls and carrying an enormous toolbox. There were also a couple of Karr's workmen on the landing, she noted.
"Well," she said cautiously, "I did mention the water pressure to you. Several times, in fact. You didn't seem inclined to do anything about it, so—yes, I took it upon myself…" Her voice trailed off.
His eyes were the color of stainless steel, and there wasn't a trace of the dancing mischief she'd seen there so often.
He looked at her for a long moment, and then said levelly, "That does it."
Maggie was fascinated; though his teeth were gritted, every word still sounded separate and distinct.
"You're going, Rawlings. Right now. There's an apartment set aside for you."
"In that complex of yours? It looks like a prison block!"
"I don't care what you think it looks like. You don't have to look at it at all if you don't want to. As far as I'm concerned, you can stay indoors the whole four weeks—or eight or sixteen or however long it turns out to be."
Maggie said sweetly, "Does this mean the offer to move in with you isn't good any more?"
Karr ignored her and called over his shoulder, "Riley and Evans, get some boxes up here on the double. Dump tools out of them if you have to." He grabbed Maggie's briefcase and started stuffing handfuls of manuscripts into the pockets.
Maggie shrieked, seized the strap, and began pulling the papers back out. It was a losing battle, because Karr obviously didn't care whether things were wrinkled or torn. By the time the briefcase was overflowing, one of the workmen had returned with a box, and Karr used his forearm to sweep stacks of paper into it, heedless of how they landed.
"Those are valuable papers," she cried. "You can't just throw them into a greasy box!"
"Watch me," Karr snapped.
"Dammit, you're not even supposed to be in here." She hardly knew what she was saying. She caught her computer by the corner as he started to sweep it into the box, and swung it out of his reach.
"Remember? Your lease says I can enter in an emergency. And baby, this is what I call an emergency. I assume, from all your talk about your work, that this is what you most need to take with you. The next thing I'm going to do is pack an overnight bag, just enough for you to get by—"
"This isn't funny anymore!"
"Who said I was joking?"
"You can't do this," Maggie said desperately. "It's not legal!" The chainsaw had started up once more outside her window, and she had to shout to have any chance of being heard over the noise.
"Prove it."
"You'll be dealing with my attorney!"
"That's fine with me. By the time you can call him, the job will be done, and after that I don't care what happens."
The box was piled high by the time the table was bare, and Maggie looked at it in shock and disbelief. Her papers were stuffed in every which way; she'd never get any order to that mess again.
"I'm going to take this box downstairs," Karr said, "and I'll be right back. Don't lock the door or I'll kick it in. It is, after all, my door. In the meantime, if you don't want me rummaging through your undies, I'd suggest you start packing."
Maggie ran her hands through her hair. "You can't just throw me out with a box and an overnight bag. Wait till you hear what a court has to say about that!"
"I'm holding my breath in anticipation. Besides, I'm not impounding your stuff. We'll deliver it when we have time. You might be deciding where we're supposed to take it, though—does it go to the apartment complex or the dump?"
Maggie shrieked, "You—"
Karr didn't wait for the rest. Though the box was obviously heavy, he hefted it onto his shoulder and turned toward the door.
The plumber was still standing in the foyer, his mouth open. "Sorry," Maggie told him breathlessly. "It was a joke gone bad. Send me the bill for your time."
Karr said, "But don't bother to send it to Eagle's Landing, because she won't be here to get it!"
Maggie caught up with him at the top of the stairs. "Give me that," she demanded.
"Those papers are mine, and I'm not going to let you out of my sight with them!"
He shrugged off her hand as easily as he'd dislodge a fly and started down. "Your treasures are safe with me. I haven't threatened to burn
anything—yet."
Maggie made one more grab, but her hand closed on air. Thrown off balance by the motion, she felt her foot going out from under her. She reeled past Karr, clutching for him, for the rail, for the wall—and missed.
The fall seemed to last for the rest of her life as she rolled down the staircase-bumping, twisting, reaching out to protect her face, only to bang her hand against the edge of a step. She felt her leg twist, and heard something snap. She tried to hold her head up, but she couldn't, and the thump as she hit the parquet floor of the stair landing sent her into blackness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Even her eyelids hurt, and when Maggie managed to raise them, she saw that the staircase was revolving. So was Karr's face, which was bent closely over her. She shut her eyes again.
"Maggie." That husky voice had an edge to it that she'd never heard before. "Maggie, don't go away again. Hang on, sweetheart."
She blinked a little. Sweetheart? Where did he get off calling her that? It took nerve to practically push a woman down the steps and then call her sweetheart! And as for the way he was running his hands over her body… He didn't seem to be enjoying it, though, any more than she was.
His probing fingers hit a sore spot below her knee, and she jerked away from him, causing a new wave of pain to wash over her. "Would you lay off, Elliot?" she said feebly, and tried to uncurl herself from the tight little knot she'd ended up in. But she could only groan.
"What hurts?"
She wet her lips. "Everything."
"Don't try to move. Just lie still a minute, till we can sort out what works and what doesn't." He cupped his hands and massaged the length of her left arm, then carefully straightened it.
Maggie closed her eyes again. She was dizzy, but she didn't know whether that was from the bump to her head or the general pain level. She did know, however, that the sensation of Karr's hands pressing against her body was not helping matters. Not that his touch hurt, precisely—or at least it didn't most of the time.
The Only Man for Maggie Page 10