Tough Enough to Tango

by Barbara Barrett

  A frisson of worry cut into her reverie. “What about the housekeeper?”

  “Day off. I lied.”

  “You’re a bad boy, Ned,” she whispered against his neck.

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, ma’am. I do bad very well.”

  “Show me.”

  He slid them both to the floor and rolled on top of her, ripped off her upper garments, his shirt. “I told myself this wouldn’t happen again, but I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

  “Same for me,” she moaned. She arched her back as his hands and mouth claimed her.

  His music had taken her to new sensations in sound. His ministrations now sent her to a different plane, one based on touch and taste and smell. The composer was now the conductor, who drew from her body notes it had never sung before.

  Some sensual operating system deep inside her seized control from her brain. Her body reacted and initiated of its own accord. All her brain could do was sail along, surrender to the overpowering stimuli.

  Though he’d begun gently, he quickly increased the pace. The tempo of the piece increased as well, as it built to a final throbbing, breathtaking finale as it matched Ned’s thrusts. She opened her eyes to note he’d left her, gone to his own place of ecstasy. She’d done that to him. Other women in the past may have sent him the same direction, but for now, he was hers.

  Spent, they fell back on the floor to catch their breath. Gradually, their surroundings came back into focus. She reclined in his arms, savored the moment, and gave in to the utter comfort and security his embrace brought her. At least for this brief sliver of time. She felt so languorous, satiated. “Oh, Ned. That was—”

  “Better than before? Yeah. For me, too.” He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.

  “We’re fools.”

  “Because we couldn’t resist each other?”

  She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes before she gazed back at him. “This is such a wrong move while this project is underway. But it’s, you’re, all I can think of.” Dammit, Shae. Why did you have to go there? She’d ruined it.

  She steeled herself for his cool reaction. But he surprised her.

  “Me, too.” The words tumbled out before he thought them through, but once uttered, he knew he meant them. They weren’t just something a guy said to a woman after sex. Stupid move, but hell, there it was. He wanted her more than any other woman he’d ever known.

  “Don’t worry. I know there’s no commitment. But I enjoyed the moment immensely,” she told him.

  He placed a tender kiss on her cheek. “I can’t see beyond right now, either. This is so…good.”

  “Play your concerto one more time. I want to savor it here in your arms. Just like this.”

  “Babe, my body’s not ready to go where the music goes yet. Give me a few minutes.”

  “No, play it again now. We got caught up in the drama of the piece, but there were slower, more tender parts as well.”

  Give the lady what she wanted. She’d certainly given him her all. He left her long enough to play back the piece and returned to embrace her, kissed her again, slower with feeling, as he now concentrated on the more adagio parts of the music.

  The alluring, seductive tone of the melody swept over him. He’d been more focused on the optimistic carol of the land and hadn’t paid much attention to this section. It had slipped into the music on its own. Had Shae been in his thoughts as this part came to him?

  Whatever the motivation, the music and Shae did things to him now despite the need to let his guys rest. Condom removed and replaced, he nuzzled her neck, while his arm drew her closer. He laid her on the floor and rose over her. “Can’t stop myself,” he said as he entered her again.

  Sometime later, Shae unwound from the protective cocoon of his arms and legs. “Italian opera has nothing on you, Jake Bonneville, aka Ned Collier. This is the new go-to piece for lovemaking.” She quickly added, “Or should I say, for sex? I know the difference. I’m fine with it.”

  He’d heard that chestnut before, once or a hundred times, and regretted every time he’d been unwise enough to believe it. Unlike those times, though, he hadn’t experienced the strong emotional need for the woman, like he felt for Shae. Scared him more than her words. “You don’t expect anything more than, uh, sex?”

  She nodded, although her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

  He wasn’t convinced. “Not even dating?”

  “Definitely not that. I don’t want my dad or any of the crew to know about us. It’s, uh, well, unprofessional. I shouldn’t have given in to it now, but—”

  “I know. We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

  “What do we do about it?”

  Did she want him to commit anyhow, or did she just seek a way they could both live with this overwhelming urge to get it on with each other? “Unprofessional or not, we have to keep this as professional as possible.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So, the project site is off limits.” Although he didn’t write off Mike’s RV.

  “And since my dad has moved back home, his house will no longer work, either.”

  He raised a brow. “Where besides one of our vehicles? The gear shift in mine could be mighty dangerous.” A joke, but other than one of their cars or a motel, their options were pretty limited.

  “How about the rest of this mansion? There have to be a zillion more rooms.”

  “Good thought, but you said you could only spare an hour to hear my music. We’ve already used all of that and more.”

  She returned a coquettish smile. “Funny thing. My schedule just cleared up for another hour. Or two.”

  They threw on their clothes but didn’t button or zip anything, as they went off to discover more venues.

  Shae grabbed his arm. “Just so we’re clear, this doesn’t negate our clashes about expenses or what you can or cannot do as project manager.”

  Surely she didn’t think he’d set this up to get past her? That was so behind them. Now was not the time to quibble. “Foiled. Saw through my ploy, huh?”

  She tugged his arm harder, her demeanor had gone way more serious. “I mean it, Ned. I don’t think you’ve told me everything about your finances yet. Just enough to keep me quiet. I’ll respect your need for secrecy, unless you go overboard with something else.”

  A chill ran through him. You don’t want to know anything more, Shae. Give me a chance to make this right, and you’ll never have to know.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Four days into framing, Irv Farley called in his favor. “A little birdie told me your first houses are going up.”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s right.”

  “Then congratulations are in order for both of us, because I’ve just opened my own business in the area.”

  Ned swallowed as deeply as he could without irritating his throat. His stomach churned like a washing machine in high agitation cycle. How could he get out of this? Farley wanted his pound of flesh, and Ned’s skin couldn’t afford it. “No kidding? Thought you’d focused on Southern California.”

  “That, uh, market seems to be drying up. You called it right. Much more opportunity in the Midwest right now. So I now own a heavy equipment company not too far from your site.”

  Heavy equipment, like in cranes? The spin cycle in his gut kicked up a notch. As soon as the walls were up, the roofs came next. Cranes were used to lift the trusses supporting the roofs. Surely Farley didn’t expect him to cancel the sub they’d already scheduled? Get real, man. Of course, he does. “Good for you.”

  “Good for you as well, because I plan to make the best of my fleet available to you. Say day after tomorrow? I’ll have a crane there just in time for roofing.”

  The guy must have spies planted in the crew. No surprise. That’s how Farley worked.

  He’d promised Shae no more surprises. If he explained how his friend wanted their business, would she go along with this last-minute change? As loyal as she was to their subs, she’
d want to know who this friend was and why they had to alter their plans now, so late in the process. If he revealed anything about Farley, she’d question him repeatedly until she learned he was the backer. From there, she was bound to figure out this backer had something on him. It wouldn’t take much imagination for her to realize his finances were in more trouble than he’d let on.

  He’d already gone to great lengths to keep the media, his fans, Mike, and his mother from learning he was nearly out of money. Shae had been affected by those extreme measures. She’d ranted at first, but once he let her in on some of his difficulties, she’d helped him keep the project afloat.

  He’d come to respect and admire her. He really didn’t want to break his promise. It wouldn’t be fair to make her go against her better judgment. Truth be told, he didn’t want her to know what poor decisions he’d made. But there didn’t seem to be any other way to deflect Farley.

  Still, he could try. “That’s mighty neighborly of you, Irv. Thing is, we’ve already got that business lined up. Maybe we could—”

  “Cancel it. I told you I’d be back with a request. This is it. For starters.”

  For starters? Surely the guy didn’t think he could pull more of this crap? “Why don’t we postpone the services of your company until the next phase?”

  The other end of the line went silent for a bit, as if Farley wanted that absurdity to hang in the air, draw out the humiliation. “Time for bargaining is over, Bonneville. My folks’ll be there bright and early two days from now.”

  “But Irv—”

  “You’ve had some pretty tough knocks to contend with lately, pal. Some of your critics have even suggested your career is over. It would be a cryin’ shame if word got around you were also a poor businessman. One who’s not only out of money to fund his project but one who also goes back on his word.”

  What a shi…

  Mike had warned him. He himself had known this deal was a risky proposition. But he’d been desperate. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. Ned didn’t like this one bit, but at the moment, he didn’t appear to have any other recourse than to go along with the guy.

  “Okay, Irv. I’ll expect your crane on the site first thing Wednesday morning.” He didn’t wait for the creep to hang up.

  He had to find a way to get Farley’s crane on-site without anyone being the wiser to the substitution. Not an easy task, since something so critical to the project—and that large—couldn’t be ignored. While the walls continued to go up, he returned to the mansion. He thought best as he composed.

  After an hour or so at the keyboard, he had a plan. Of sorts. If Triggs could try to postpone things, the crane operator could just as easily attempt the same maneuver. With his help. That way his promise to Shae could be sidestepped. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t good enough. He could rationalize his action every which way, but in the end, he’d be doing the one thing that had angered and disappointed her the most, left her out of the picture.

  But it was the best he could do with so little time. It all depended on his ability to call in some of his own favors and time the execution of his plan perfectly. He placed a call to one of the local television stations. Time to schmooze. “Hello. Cora, isn’t it? Jake Bonneville.”

  “Bonneville? As in the Jake Bonneville, the singer?” the woman’s voice on the other end asked. “We’ve tried to interview you for weeks. Have you decided you’re ready to go public about your voice?”

  “My voice is recovering nicely. Have to put off concert appearances a little while longer, but I’ve kept busy in the meantime. In fact, that’s why I called.” He briefly described Sullivan’s Creek and his grandfather’s dreams for it.

  “Sounds interesting. We’d like to do a story about it when you’re further along.”

  “Actually, Cora, I’d like to publicize the project now and play up some of the locals who are involved.” He suggested she start with a certain crane operator. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d go out there day after tomorrow.

  “Doable,” she agreed.

  “Here’s a thought, why not stage some sort of competition for the crew? They’ll probably have to call off other work for the day, but what a great opportunity to showcase their business.”

  “Great idea, Jake, although I’m not sure they’ll be able to pull off something so ambitious in just two days.”

  “I’d, uh, consider it a favor to me if you can make it happen. Talk to your general manager. Get her to help. Might even be an exclusive with me if you can do it.” He’d navigated the media waters for years and knew exactly what buttons to press to get her cooperation. He even got her to wait an hour to call the crane company owner, so he could get back to the site and station himself near Dave when the inevitable call came.

  Before he left for the site, though, he placed one more call. To Jesse Swink, owner of the Swink Crane Company. “Seems we’ve double-booked, Jesse. We won’t need you folks this week after all.”

  “Too bad, Bonneville. We’ll be glad to take the day off, but we’ll have to charge you folks, just the same.”

  “Well now, let’s talk about that, Jesse. How ’bout instead of pay you, we send you more publicity than you’ve ever had? Publicity that not only advertises your business but also makes you and your crew look like good guys in the community. You can’t pay for that kind of promotion.”

  Swink didn’t reply at once, hopefully to consider the proposition. “What’re you suggesting?”

  Ned went through the same ideas he’d suggested to Cora at the TV station. “I can have them call within the hour, if you’re interested.”

  “You guarantee this’ll run on TV?”

  “All I can guarantee is they’ll show up. You and your crew have to give them something they can use. Something entertaining. C’mon, you don’t want to deny your wife and family the chance to appear on TV, do you?”

  That clinched the deal. He hung up and raced to Sullivan’s Creek.

  “What’d’ya mean you have to postpone?” Dave asked the party on the other end. “Yeah, I suppose we could hold off another day for the trusses, but this isn’t like you. In the past, you’ve always given us at least three days’ notice to find an alternate. This really puts us in a bind.”

  Dave listened to an apparent explanation on the other end of the line. “Yeah, well, gimme a while to find someone else. If I can’t, I’ll call you back.”

  He clicked off. “Damn!” Apparently his typical response to sub problems.

  Conveniently near, Ned asked, “What’s up?”

  Dave stared at him, apparently debated how much to say. “Just a delay. Only a day, but I know how much that irritates you. We’ll try to find someone else to do the job.”

  “What job?” Ned asked. He kept his tone innocent.

  Dave went over the highlights of his phone conversation, attempted to bring him up to speed.

  Ned appeared to consider Dave’s dilemma. “You’ve probably got a few other companies in mind that you use on occasion, but by pure coincidence, a friend of mine just started up his own small crane operation not too far from here. I’d, uh, appreciate it if you’d give him the business.”

  A long time ago, he learned when a hopeful smile accompanied a seemingly innocuous request, it achieved more mileage than a heavy demand. Dave seemed to need encouragement to do right by the client rather than trust his own instincts, which probably shouted, “Tell him to get off your case.”

  After considerable deliberation, Dave asked, “Who do I call?”

  ****

  The day the crane was to appear, Ned beat everyone else to the site. So far, so good. Everything was on the up and up with Shae, because Dave made the call to Farley’s people, not him. How could she fault him? Who was he kidding? He’d still maneuvered things to happen. He’d just have to live with what he’d done. If this substitution worked, the means would justify the end. Sure. His stomach hadn’t settled since the guy’s call two days earlier.

  D
ave arrived a few minutes later. As soon as he spotted Ned, he trudged over. “I don’t see a crane yet. Should’ve been here by now.”

  “It’s early. I’m sure it’ll show up any minute.” He almost hoped he was wrong. He’d rather wait a day for the other company. Then he could tell Farley his people hadn’t shown up. Like Farley would allow such a thing to happen. Unfortunately, further speculation was unnecessary, because within minutes, the crane drove in and came to a stop in front of the site of what was to be his mother’s house.

  Dave went to talk to the driver, who seemed hesitant to discuss much of anything. When that proved futile, Dave left the guy and circled the rig. He scratched his chin every so often, then glanced toward the top of the boom.

  Dave apparently sensed something wasn’t right. Had the crane operator spilled the beans?

  Ned drifted to them as nonchalantly as his leaden feet would allow. “What’s up?”

  “Not sure.”

  Shae joined them. “Not sure about what, Dave?”

  “It’s SOP for the crane operator to check out his equipment before it’s brought in as well as once it arrives. This guy says he’s done that. But something doesn’t look right.”

  “Tell me what’s got you bothered,” she said.

  Tiny hammers whacked away at Ned’s brains. What had Farley done?

  Dave pointed to the rigging near the top of the crane. “See that wire rope? That’s all part of the sling that holds the trusses and hoists them to the roof so the crew can move them into place. My eyesight’s not as good as it used to be, but things don’t look right.”

  Shae shielded her eyes with her hand in the morning sun to see for herself what concerned Dave. “Nothing seems out of the ordinary from here. What doesn’t look right?”

  “Can’t say for sure. Those wires just look funny.”

  Usually, Ned appreciated Dave’s overly cautious nature, since it only served to improve the quality of the work. But he didn’t need Dave’s vigilance today. The sooner those trusses and the others slated for today were put in place, the sooner Farley’s crew could be on their way. “Sure your eyes haven’t played tricks on you, Dave? I don’t see anything that looks wonky.”