Always You (A Magnolia Falls Novel)

by Ruth Roberts

  ***

  Daxon looked up from his drawing at the sound of yet another moving truck arriving at the townhouse next door. After two months of renovations, he was glad the hammers and drills had stopped. It had been hard to get any work done with all the noise, and he had a deadline. A successful architect wouldn’t remain successful for long if he couldn’t deliver the plans on time for construction to begin.

  A woman’s voice broke into his concentration. He stopped drawing and set his pencil down. He got up from his drawing table and stretched. He’d been sitting for several hours in the same position. The woman’s voice was escalating. He went to the window.

  A tall woman, with dark hair falling in curls down her back, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged curves he couldn’t help but notice, stood toe to toe with a big, burly truck driver.

  The burly man raised his hand and pointed a finger in the lady’s face, yelling.

  Stupid man, hadn't his mother taught him how to treat women? Apparently not.

  Daxon grabbed a cap on his way out the door.

  “This is not my stuff. Do I really look like the kind of person who would own a monkey lamp?” She held the offending object in her hand as far away from her face as possible, and shoved it closer to the man.

  Not many women of Daxon’s acquaintance would stand up to a man that size. His new neighbor had moxie.

  “Listen, lady, my directions are to bring the truck here and unload it so that’s what I’m gonna do.” Mr. Burly’s face was getting redder as Daxon neared the scene. Neither combatant had noticed him yet.

  “No you aren’t. If all this,” she gestured sharply toward the truck, “belongs to someone else then where are my things? You need to find out.”

  “Not my job,” Burly drawled. His assistants were leaning against the truck, watching Daxon as he approached.

  “What seems to be the problem?” His new neighbor and the burly man both turned to look at him. The first thing he noticed were her stunning blue eyes. They nearly stopped him in his tracks. Seeing burly man reach for her arm propelled him forward. “Don’t lay a finger on her,” Daxon warned.

  The man glared at him, but lowered his hand and took a step back. “This ain’t none of your business, buddy.”

  “When you began yelling at a lady outside my window I made it my business.” He dismissed the man by turning his attention to the woman. “Can I be of assistance?”

  “This moving company I hired lost my things, and now they’re trying to foist this off on me.” She raised the monkey lamp in the air.

  “May I see your clipboard?” he asked Mr. Burly.

  “No can do. Client confidentiality.”

  She threw her hands up, the monkey lamp barely missing Burly. “Now he decides to be ethical.”

  The look on Burly’s face as he dodged a banana almost made Daxon laugh. Instead he reached for the lamp, removing the weapon from her hand. “I’m sure you have a dispatcher or supervisor you can call. If you can fix this before the truck carrying the lady’s belongings reaches its incorrect destination you can prevent having two unhappy customers.”

  “Alright. But its gonna take some time to track down,” he mumbled as he walked to the front of the truck.

  “Stupid man,” she said, crossing her arms. Daxon walked to the back of the truck and put the lamp back in.

  “You sure you don’t want to keep this stuff? That bright orange sofa looks comfortable,” he teased.

  “It looks like a paint store exploded in here. I’ve never seen so much yellow, orange, purple, and green together in one place.”

  “Someone’s house will be brightened up.”

  “As long as it isn’t mine. I’m Lorelei Davis, by the way.” She extended her hand.

  Daxon took her hand in his. It felt soft as silk.

  “Daxon Hayward.”

  “I know. I recognized you. Even if you hadn’t appeared in several photos and on TV with your family I would have known you are President Hayward’s son. The family resemblance is uncanny.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Daxon replied grimly.

  Burly came back. “Found the truck with your stuff. It’ll be here in an hour.”

  “Thank you,” she said sarcastically as he walked away. “Chauvinist pig.” Daxon laughed as the truck pulled away and left. “He couldn’t have done that when I asked?”

  “It could have something to do with that uncanny family resemblance,” Daxon said. “On the bright side, you won’t have to look at the monkey lamp every day. That thing was creepy. It would give anyone nightmares.” He shuddered, and she laughed a deep, melodious laugh exposing her captivating smile.

  “Yes, it was, but did you see the look on his face when I almost hit him with it?”

  “It was priceless.”

  They smiled at each other, sharing a moment of triumph. Daxon had noticed several things about her in the last few minutes. She was tough. Yet, the way she laughed showed there was also a softness simmering on the surface. Since he had refused a team of agents when his father was elected President he had learned how to read people, oftentimes his life depended on his ability to do so.

  This girl was a mystery so far, which meant he would have to spend more time with her. Almost as if reading his mind she said, “I’d invite you in but it’s full of boxes, I wouldn’t want to risk taking out the First Son by having you trip and fall over them.”

  Daxon groaned. “Please don’t call me that. Dax will do just fine.”

  She smiled, and an unexpected jolt of desire surprised him. He normally didn't react this way to pretty strangers. Although, strikingly beautiful would be a more apt description.

  “Very well, Dax it is. I’d better go inside and start moving boxes. The imbeciles who delivered the last load didn’t even put them in the right rooms, even though they are labeled.”

  “I can help, if you don’t mind the company. I can assure you I haven’t fallen down or tripped over anything since I was ten.”

  “That would be great. My arms are pretty sore already. Moving is tough.”

  He followed her up the steps and into her house. It was laid out exactly like his, but reversed. Their living rooms and kitchens shared a common wall, while the study and bathroom were opposite. The bedrooms were all upstairs. He already knew the balcony outside her master bedroom was very close to his own.

  The renovations were amazing. He had been itching to get in here and look at what was being done. It had been worth the wait to see it completed. The banister was beautiful. It was handmade and reminded him of the old Victorian banisters that contained secret compartments. Daxon firmly believed a banister gave a home a sense of character. Her choice impressed him.

  “The boxes are all marked. These three stacks go upstairs. The bedroom doors are marked as well.”

  She lifted a box and went up the stairs. He picked one up and followed. He quickly found the room labeled one and took his box in, setting it down. This room contained what looked to be martial art dummies, weights, and a treadmill.

  For the next half hour they would smile and exchange a few words when they passed each other, arms laden with boxes. He had just finished delivering the last box to the master bedroom and was on his way down the stairs when the doorbell rang.

  “Pizza’s here,” she said as she bounded out of the kitchen to answer the door.

  ***

  Lorelei had seen him in pictures and thought him handsome, but in-person, Daxon Hayward wasn’t merely handsome, he was gorgeous. Six-foot-four, with a muscular chest, broad shoulders and narrow hips. Black hair and green eyes that seemed to see her every secret; which was scary considering the one she was hiding from him. The show she and the other agents had put on with the moving truck had gone according to plan. She was glad otherwise she would have had to come up with another way to meet him.

  They sat at the kitchen island to eat their dinner. Lorelei had opened the French doors leading to her small backyard. Once they had each se
rved their food he said, “Tell me about yourself and your family.”

  He sure was forward, just as his father. She took a bite of pizza to give herself time to mentally review her cover story. When she had read and reread it last night it had impressed her that it stayed very close to the truth, the only variation being her current employment.

  “There isn’t a whole lot to tell. I grew up in upstate New York, went to college, then joined the NYPD soon after graduating from Yale.”

  “You’re a cop? Somehow, I am not surprised.”

  “I was a cop. Not anymore.”

  “What do you do now?”

  “I design security systems for large companies.” She paused to take a drink. Then continued. “Let me see, my family. My parents have been married forty years and are still going strong. I have two older brothers, Colin and Dylan, they're twins.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Colin is a sheriff, and Dylan is FBI.”

  He whistled low. “Impressive. An entire family in law enforcement. Was your dad a police chief or something?”

  “History professor.”

  That made him laugh. “Really? I never would have guessed. And your mom?”

  “She was the chief of police in our town. Now she is the mayor.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Looks like you come from some pretty tough females.”

  “I sure do. My mom's grandmother once robbed a bank.” She lifted her soda and took a drink.

  “No way. Now I know you’re kidding.” She smiled and reached for another slice.

  “You really aren’t going to tell me?”

  She took a bite of her pizza and chewed slowly, keeping him in suspense. Finally swallowing she said, “Story goes, it was in the roaring twenties, and she grew up in Dallas. Her parents owned a café. She befriended one of the waitresses who asked her to take her somewhere one day. They ended up at a bank where the waitress proceeded to rob it. My great-great grandmother waited in the car so she didn’t know what was going on until it came out in the paper. She never had any proof that her friend was the one who actually robbed the bank. She just knew her friend was inside when the robbery took place, and when she came out she seemed a bit excited and asked my relative if they could leave quickly.”

  “Wow. What a story. What was her friends name?”

  “Bonnie,” she said and laughed when his mouth opened, and no sound came out.

  “As in Bonnie and Clyde?” he asked in disbelief.

  She shrugged. “Like I said, there was no proof, just a theory.”

  He laughed. “You certainly have a colorful family history. After that auspicious beginning your family decided to change sides of the law?”

  “Something like that. Now it’s your turn. What’s your idea of fun?” Time to direct the conversation away from her.

  ***

  “Pizza with a beautiful woman.” He toasted her with his soda can and drank.

  “You're easy,” she said.

  “I just happen to know what I like. And at this moment," he reached over and pulled a curl of her hair that had escaped the ponytail she had put it up in. It sprung back up when he released it. “I would like chocolate cake.”

  “Sorry. I'm fresh out.”

  “I'm not. It just so happens I have some. It was left over from last night’s state dinner.” He sat back to watch her reaction. Most women would start a string of questions about his parents and living in the White House, as well as hinting for an invitation.

  “Now you’re just showing off,” she said. She took her last bite of food, drawing his attention to her full rosy lips. It had been difficult for him to concentrate on his meal, being distracted frequently by those lips. She set her fork down. “Chocolate cake is tempting though. I’ll have to think it over while I do dishes.”

  Daxon was stunned. He had given her an opening to ask about his family, and she ignored it. He picked up his plate, taking it to the sink.

  After quickly loading the dishwasher, he reached for her hand, “Let’s go.” He began pulling her toward the front door.

  “We can’t just go to your place. What if the truck arrives with my stuff?”

  “We will hear them. Just as right now I hear chocolate cake calling your name.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to ignore the cake and hurt its feelings.”

  ***

  The moment they stepped out she went on alert, scanning the cars parked along the curb, the windows of the homes across the street, people walking, searching for anything that didn’t look or feel right. She had managed to place herself in front of him when he opened the door, and she remained slightly in front as they walked down the four steps to the sidewalk. If she walked a little closer to him than necessary, well, she was just doing her job. He would take it as encouragement, but she would deal with that later.

  Twenty steps from her front door to his. She let out a sigh of relief when they were safely inside. She knew the two agents positioned in a vacant home across the street would keep an eye on things, and Dax’s backyard was enclosed with a security fence. The one concession he had agreed to in regard to protection, his father had informed her.

  She looked around his home. White tile in the foyer leading into the living room with a black leather sofa, glass and chrome end tables set on a black and white rug. The only color came from the abstract art on the walls. The door to his study was closed.

  “Okay, Hayward, you have me here, now where is the chocolate?”

  He chuckled. “The kitchen is this way.”

  His kitchen matched the rest of the house she had seen so far. It had black granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances, and a beautiful chocolate cake in the center of the island. “Now that is what every girl dreams of.” She sat on a black and chrome stool and pulled the whole cake to her.

  “I’m happy to fulfill your dreams.” He handed her a fork “Should we even bother with plates?”

  “Whatever for?” She scooped up a bite of the moist, five layer, chocolate cake. The moment it touched her tongue her taste buds exploded. “Mmm,” she said.

  “I see you approve,” he said, then took a bite as well. After a few moments he asked, “Why did you move to DC?”

  “No way, Hayward. It's your turn to talk about yourself.”

  “Hmm... Let's see. I'm an architect, and I spend most of my time drawing. But, it’s more than a job to me, it’s an obsession.”

  “Have you designed anything I've seen?” she asked.

  “Possibly. Most of my work is for overseas companies. Right now I'm working on a building for a company in Norway.”

  “Impressive. Can I see some of your work?”

  “Sure. Want to move into the living room where we will be more comfortable?” he asked.

  “I saw your living room walking in, and our level of comfort is debatable.” She picked up their forks.

  He grabbed the cake and headed toward the living room. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Are you criticizing my decorating choices?”

  “No, just making an observation. It’s not very cozy,” she said.

  He set the cake down on the glass coffee table. “So you want cozy.”

  He picked up a remote and pressed some buttons. The lights dimmed, and a fire came to life in the fireplace. Soft music began playing. He pulled a portfolio off a shelf and sat down on one end of the sofa and patted the seat next to him. She shook her head, and sat, pulling her legs under her. She couldn’t help it, she had to laugh.

  “I wonder how many ladies this has worked on,” she said.

  He opened his mouth, then shut it and looked at her, his gaze holding hers. Finally, he said, “Let’s not go there right now.”

  Why was she suddenly relieved he didn’t want to discuss any other woman?

  He handed her the portfolio. She laid it on her lap and opened it. “Oh wow, this is amazing. Where is this building?”

  He laid his arm behind her and leaned over to see the
picture she had opened to. “Estonia. It was the first one I designed after college. I was amazed a company picked it up.”

  The warmth of his arm across her shoulders sent tingles down her spine. “I'm not. It's beautiful. I love the pilaster at the end of each series of arches.” She was trying not to inhale to deeply because he smelled so good, like chocolate and man.

  He looked at her, surprise evident on his face. “A girl who knows architectural terms. I'm not surprised after seeing the work you had done next door.”

  Her knowledge had come from a book she'd been reading the last couple days, which was why she had noticed small details in the townhouse she was staying in. “My favorite is the banister, it's gorgeous.”

  His fingers began playing with her hair. “Yes it is," he said softly.

  She turned to look at him. His face was so close to hers. She couldn't pull her eyes away from his. Just when he began moving closer to her the rumble of a truck outside shattered the moment.

  She pulled back and set the portfolio on the coffee table. “Looks like the rest of my stuff has arrived.” She stood up.

  He stood as well. “I'll walk you back and make sure everything is okay.”

  After the almost kiss she needed time to regroup. “That isn't necessary. I've kept you from your work long enough.”

  “Yeah, deadlines are the worst." He rubbed the back of his neck. “If you're sure.”

  “Positive. Thanks for the cake.”

  Chapter Two

  Day two on the job and Lorelei was determined to keep her objectivity. She had never hit it off with someone so quickly and so easily. He’d made her feel things yesterday she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  He was a job. The most important job of her life. She needed to get a grip on her feelings and then shove them down, tie them up, and not let them see the light of day. Besides, when he discovered the truth he was not going to like her very much at all.

  Resolved to see him as nothing more than a job she picked up two cups of coffee and a box of pastries. She made the short trek to Daxon’s door and rang the bell. When he hadn’t answered after a few moments she rang again. It was ten o'clock in the morning, there was no way he was still sleeping, and Agent Ricks hadn’t alerted her of his leaving.