The Executive

by Kimberley Montpetit

  Kira let that remark go for the moment. “When do you travel again?”

  “Remember those two weeks when you didn’t speak to me?”

  Kira blinked her eyes innocently. “Vaguely.”

  “Yeah, that. I was in Mexico City for most of that time, but I still get my messages. You didn’t even send me a reply.”

  “The connection must have been bad,” Kira said, even though she knew perfectly well she had ignored him after he returned the red necklace the night of the reunion.

  Caleb reached out and ran a finger along the back of her hand. When he touched her, Kira’s heart beat faster. Their eyes met for a long moment and then Caleb sat up straight and leaned forward. Softly, he touched the red necklace at the base of her neck. Kira’s breath caught at the intimate moment, her stomach jumping into her throat.

  “Because of this necklace, I fear I’ve ruined my chances with you.”

  “That’s only one aspect of it.”

  Caleb pressed his lips together in a thoughtful gesture. “If I could do it over again, I would have never gone to your Christmas concert. I would have never searched the floor and found the necklace. I thought it would lead me to you, but instead you returned to Denver and I didn’t need the necklace at all.”

  “That’s true,” Kira agreed quietly.

  “But over the years I’d look at the necklace and know you still existed somewhere. I knew you were real, not just a girl of my imagination.”

  “You make me sound so mysterious.”

  “In many ways, you are.”

  “And so are you, Caleb. You’re keeping secrets right now, and you promised at the theatre you wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, Kira, you do not want to know my secrets. If you did, you would run far, far away.”

  Kira laid a hand on his knee, knowing she shouldn’t touch him, but unable to stop herself from wanting that insane shot of goose bumps again. “Yes, I do want to know your secrets. If this goes any further, I have to know the real Caleb Davenport, weaknesses, warts, and all.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. “I can assure you I don’t have any warts.”

  Kira laughed. “I am inordinately relieved. So tell me,” she asked. “Who does the house belong to? For real?”

  “For real? Nobody at the moment.” He glanced up into her face. “Remember at the reunion when somebody—Troy, I think—mentioned that I used to flip houses?”

  She did remember, and it was another aspect of Caleb that intrigued her.

  “I began flipping houses the summer after graduation, but by the following winter I decided to join the army so I could get three regular meals a day.” He gave a funny smile. “I was in the beginning stages of my DREAMS app idea. I’d work construction during the day and stay up half the night at my computer.”

  “That’s dedication.” Kira was impressed. “Who’d you flip houses with? I mean, who was the investor?”

  “I worked for my—my uncle.”

  “Is that how an eighteen-year-old gets the capital to completely remodel an older home?” She knew that it was, but couldn’t resist giving him a hard time.

  “Well, my uncle lost his shirt in a scandal. Taking bribes. Dirty money.”

  “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Before he finally landed in jail, he taught me how to inspect a house, how to make a good deal, and how to get the best profit without taking too long to get the work done. Most house flippers will try to sell the house for double what they originally paid for it, but that’s if they’re really lucky.”

  Kira glanced up at the house again. “So is this one of your houses? One you did by yourself? I’m doubly impressed, it’s simply gorgeous.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “How can you keep redoing old homes when your company takes up all of your time?”

  “This was my last house before DREAMS sort of exploded a couple of years ago. Me and the guys pooled our money to redo the house, and another one of our investors lived in it. He moved to Seattle with another investor company who made him an offer he couldn’t refuse so the house has been unoccupied the past year.”

  “But you have a key, don’t you?”

  “Ah, yes, I have a key.”

  “Nobody would let a beautiful house like this sit empty. If you haven’t sold it already, then you must be working on keeping it yourself, right?”

  Caleb’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “Very astute, my girl. You seem to read my mind. Actually, I recently paid the house off so it’s completely mine. It’s the state property taxes that need to be negotiated and I can’t move in until the past ten years are paid up. The state of Colorado seems to think I’m rich or something.”

  “Or something,” Kira said, laughing. “So you are the owner and won’t admit it. Here, have a brownie, you idiot.” She picked up one of the iced brownies and shoved it into his mouth.

  Brownie crumbs flew, and then they were both laughing while Caleb stuffed a second brownie into Kira’s mouth. “You’re filthy rich and don’t want to admit it,” she garbled through the decadent chocolate.

  “Or something,” Caleb said, repeating her own words.

  The jug of water fell over and gurgled out into the grass. And that set them off even more.

  “It’s gone,” Kira said, her lips twitching while she suppressed a grin. “Your super fancy bottled water from Safeway. And nary a water spigot within five inches of here. Maybe ten feet though? Twenty? Can we take a bet?”

  Caleb fell back against the blanket, holding his stomach and chuckling. He took Kira’s hand again, squinting into the sun dappling the aspen overhead. Then he kissed her palm and laid it on his chest, keeping her close. And then tugging her even closer.

  “You promised to be a gentleman,” Kira whispered, gazing down at him while he lay with one hand shading his eyes, staring up at her.

  “I’m currently being a perfect gentleman. It’s my thoughts that are roaming where they shouldn’t go.”

  “Do you have neighbors?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I don’t want any peeping toms using a telescope to watch you kiss me.”

  “I’m going to kiss you?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  She nodded, her face flushing, even as she knew she’d told him no kissing. “If you don’t kiss me pretty soon, I’ll pick up my picnic basket and steal your keys to that fancy Lexus and leave you eating dust.”

  He rose up on one elbow, his free hand sliding around her waist to bring her closer. “You can have my car, Kira Bancroft,” he said softly. “You can have my picnic basket. You can even have my car keys.”

  With each word, Caleb moved closer and closer until their noses were touching, their eyes locked on each other’s. He dangled the car keys in his free hand and Kira grinned, reaching up to snatch them.

  The moment she closed her fist around them, Caleb’s lips were on hers, his mouth soft and warm and perfect. Kissing her and kissing her and kissing her.

  Before she could take a breath, she was lying on her back and Caleb’s hand was cradling her head, the other gently touching her face.

  Kira was glad she was lying down because her limbs were trembling at Caleb’s touch while his lips tenderly explored her mouth. She was pretty sure she would have fallen over.

  His fresh, pomegranate scent drove her mad, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like a giant next to a guy, especially after her old boyfriend Roger who was barely her height. Caleb was all man, broad and muscled, enfolding her in his arms like a dainty five-foot two girl, instead of her actual five-foot ten height.

  She gasped when Caleb’s kiss deepened, and despite the sudden desire running up and down her body, she sat up with a start. He broke away immediately.

  “I—I can’t. Keep doing. That.” she breathed out shakily.

  “Well, I certainly could, but I won’t,” Caleb said playfully. He got to his feet and lifted
her up beside him. “You’re trembling. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Perfect.”

  “Yep, you are perfectly fine,” he agreed, brushing her hair from her face with fingers that were strong and masculine, but gentle.

  “I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” She swatted at him and he tucked her arm into his. “Would you like to see your secret now?”

  “Oh!” Kira exclaimed. “I almost forgot. Are we going to take a boat ride down the river?”

  “Maybe in the spring. There’s not enough water, we’d end up getting out of the boat and pushing it every five feet. Besides, it’s pretty cold right now.”

  “Good point. I didn’t bring my waders.”

  Caleb turned to catch her eye. “You mean you’re a fisher woman?”

  Kira shook her head. “My father used to take me and my brothers fishing when I was younger, but my last pair of waders are sized for a girl of about twelve.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go fishing.”

  Kira stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, you’ve never been fishing? You grew up in Denver with mountains and streams all around us.”

  “We’ll have to plan a fishing expedition and you can take me,” he told her.

  A moment of sadness flickered through his eyes and Kira’s heart pounded with sudden compassion. “We’ll plan a date in a few months. But you have to gut and cook your own you know?” she added, speaking the words her father used to say.

  “Right now, I have something better. A key.”

  “You mean to the house? We get to peek inside?” Kira’s voice rose excitedly. “I love looking at houses. I could explore open houses every weekend. It’s fun to dream.”

  “You don’t have to dream about this house. You could live here.”

  “Caleb,” Kira chided. “Come on. Don’t joke.”

  “I’m not—” his words cut off when Kira pressed a finger against his lips and stopped him.

  “We’re a long way from that, Mr. Davenport,” she said primly. Even so, nobody had ever kissed her the way Caleb did. She could have melted into his arms and lain there all afternoon, but there was so much more she needed to know about him.

  One step at a time. Two weeks ago, she’d vowed never to speak to him again.

  Chapter 18

  Taking her hand, Caleb led her up the stone steps to the rear of the house. A breeze rustled the leaves of the ornamental trees and a patio curved around to the double back doors, but any patio furniture had been removed for the winter.

  A fountain lay quiet and dry, and Kira could imagine it gurgling in the spring season. The eyes of six white Roman goddess statues seemed to follow Kira as she trailed after Caleb, as if she was about to explore a miniature-sized Hearst Castle.

  After unlocking the doors, Caleb ushered her into a dusky vestibule. Marble floors swept away into the dim hallway ahead. High ceilings with carved medallions held the chandeliers in place.

  Caleb brushed a hand against the drapes and switched on the overhead hanging lamps. Light flooded the wide hallway.

  Just beyond a columned breezeway was the living room with columns standing at each corner. Plush crème-colored sofas were placed in strategic conversation groups. Italian rugs of the softest wool lay on the parquet floors.

  Inlaid tables of cherry wood and lamps finished off the comfortable room. Kira pictured herself curled into one of those oversized chairs with a book, afternoon sun streaming through the overhead skylights fifteen feet above her.

  “It’s a gorgeous room,” she whispered. The house was so quiet, whispering seemed like the protocol. No voices or sound, not even the hum of a heater or refrigerator.

  “This house needs to be lived in,” Caleb stated.

  “When do you hope to move in?”

  “I have an appointment next week with the tax revenue board. My lawyer is fighting for a fair rate. The state wants to charge me triple what the property is actually worth. When they learned I was the owner of DREAMS, they assumed they could bully us into it. I’ll pay my fair share of taxes, but it’s overboard, believe me.”

  “Isn’t that making a big assumption about your income?”

  “Yeah,” he said briefly.

  Talking about money seemed to make him uncomfortable, but Kira was curious. She suspected Caleb was a millionaire, but just how many millions. And was that millions with a “b” instead?

  “I can see the question in your eyes,” he said, teasing her as they turned down a second hallway.

  “I’m not thinking anything!” she protested.

  “The answer to your question is yes. Yes, I am. And believe me it’s not as fun as you might think. It comes with a whole lot of trouble, actually. I have to hire a platoon of attorneys. The IRS is constantly auditing me. Just for the heck of it.”

  Kira tried not to sputter out a hundred questions. Was he serious? He WAS a freaking billionaire?

  So why wasn’t Caleb Davenport rubbing shoulders with the wealthiest models and land barons of New York City? Or jetting to Hollywood to date the rich and beautiful actresses. What in the world did he see in her?

  She tried to steady her erratic heart just as Caleb opened the doors to a room at the end of an adjoining third hallway.

  He gave Kira a gentle push from behind. “This is the secret room I’ve been dying to show you for years. Ever since our group won the bid to gut and restore the house I thought about creating a room like this.”

  He didn’t need to turn on any electric lights. It was situated on the southwest side of the house where a bank of large picture windows streamed light into the room.

  Two sofas had been placed under the windows, along with tables and lamps for reading or conversation.

  But standing in the very center of the room on a thick, enormous rug that must have been at least twenty by twenty feet, filling most of the space, was a grand piano. At least eleven feet long. Shiny black gloss.

  Reverently, Kira moved toward the magnificent instrument. The word, Steinway, was etched across the black lacquered wood above the keys. The piano wasn’t even dusty, she mused vaguely, trying to take in what she was seeing.

  “Open it up,” Caleb told her.

  She lifted the lid and felt tears in her eyes at the sight of the perfect, ivory keys.

  “I had it delivered last week after Celeste Delorios’ concert.”

  “No,” Kira whispered. The word came out hoarse as if her voice had suddenly stopped working.

  Caleb frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “I mean you shouldn’t have. You don’t play the piano.”

  “What’s a big old house without a music room? Did I get the right piano?”

  Kira laughed then. “You got the perfect piano.”

  “I want you to play it.”

  “I haven’t played in front of anyone in far too long.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to stay and make you self-conscious. I’m going to go clean up our picnic, do the dishes—remember that kitchen I was telling you about—and you can close the door and play for the rest of the afternoon.”

  Kira’s legs turned weak as she stared at the gorgeous piano sitting in front of her like a glistening summer day.

  Never in her wildest dreams did she think she’d play on a full grand Steinway again in her life. The piano for concert halls. And here it was; hers for the taking. Or borrowing. The incongruent thought made her smile.

  “I detect a bit of delight in your face,” Caleb said in her ear, standing behind her.

  “You detect most brilliantly. But I’d feel like I’m cheating playing your piano. Even being here in this beautiful, graceful old home. Especially after I was so angry at you—telling you to get out of my life. I don’t even understand why you put up with me. I’m not explaining this very well,” she added lamely.

  “You had every right to be hurt and upset, but it doesn’t matter to me. You matter. You always have. Playing my piano that’s sitting here collecting dust is a gift to
me.”

  “I haven’t played in so long. I’m not sure I can.”

  He caught her fingers with his to guide her across the room, indicating a cardboard box on the floor. “I bought a bunch of sheet music just in case. Hope I got some pieces you like. And now, I’ll get out of your way. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen or outside. But don’t feel obligated to talk to me the rest of the day.”

  “I—you’re—” Kira tried to speak, but when she turned to thank him, he was already slipping out the carved door and disappearing into the hall.

  The door shut behind him with a whisper of air.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. The piano—the house—the picnic—his astonishing thoughtfulness.

  Pushing the other doubts about Caleb from her mind, Kira tentatively sat down on the piano bench. The familiar feel of the seat was like an old friend. Her feet resting lightly on the pedals sent tingles up her legs. Emotion filled her throat when she placed her hands on the keys.

  Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, creating the perfect natural lighting. The music room was the perfect size. Not too big, not too small.

  The tall, airy ceilings showcasing the sound when she tried out the first chords of Edvard Grieg’s Concerto in A minor. It was one of the simpler concertos, but her favorite. Her mother always thought Kira was “pounding” the piano instead of playing it when she practiced this piece.

  She stopped after the first dramatic run down the piano, from the high notes to the lower bass notes. The sound reverberated dramatically.

  A long suppressed joy sprang up from her chest and she wanted to cry from the ecstasy of such a perfect instrument.

  And then the wash of homesickness for the instrument she loved swept over her and Kira was off, playing the last piece she’d memorized two years ago. She surprised herself by how much she remembered. Ignoring the sections she stumbled on, she kept moving forward to see if she could get to the end.

  She was twenty-one again, relishing every lesson with her professor, exercising her fingers until she could make them run up the piano at a fever pitch of speed, allowing the music to swirl around her and take her back to her dreams.