Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  He edged forward. Studied the plans. “We could put an addition on the rear of the house,” he said, leaning down, Maddie on one side, Sadie on the other. He tapped his finger on the kitchen door. “Move this to the west wall—”

  “Yeah,” Maddie said, “but that means pouring a foundation and a huge added cost—which Neil won’t mind, but to maintain the integrity of the design of the house, we’ll have to make it the full three stories.”

  Three stories...

  “I have an idea,” he murmured. “Follow me.”

  He rolled up the prints, and they walked into the kitchen and up the back staircase to the second floor, then over to the main stairway up to the third floor.

  “Are you sure about this?” Maddie asked.

  Bare bulbs hanging from the rafters along with the evening sun streaming through the dozen windows illuminated the attic space, making it bright and cheerful. It was huge, one large room that ran the length and width of the main stories. Empty space, since Neil had hired a cleaning crew to haul out the dozens of boxes that had been left up here when the previous owners moved. They’d discussed the possibility of converting the space into even more guest rooms in the future, but this...this was an even better idea.

  “It’s perfect,” Sadie said.

  And she smiled at him.

  The air locked in his lungs and he looked away.

  Just once he’d like to be able to breathe freely when she was around.

  “It could work,” Maddie said hesitantly, walking farther into the space, her steps echoing in the emptiness. She tipped her head up. “The ceiling’s high enough, and there’s plenty of natural light....” She turned to James. “What are you thinking?”

  He slowly walked around the entire space, checked the view from every window. “Keep it simple. Open floor plan to maximize the space. Family room...here,” he said, standing in front of the stairs, “opening into an eat-in kitchen on the right.” He moved to the left of the stairs, stood in front of the window on the far side of the wall at the front of the house. “A bedroom here for the boys with a bathroom between it and the kitchen. Fay’s bedroom on the other wall, her bathroom in between the bedrooms.”

  “What about a launderette off the kitchen,” Sadie said, “along this windowless wall? That way Fay won’t have to haul her laundry downstairs.”

  He could picture it. “That’ll work.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Maddie said.

  “Do you think Neil will go for it?” James asked.

  “He’ll do anything for Fay. And, as much as I hate to admit it, this makes sense. Fay would be close to the guests, but she and the boys would have their own personal space. His main concern when he bought the house was to get it finished as quickly as possible to give her a purpose. But her psychiatrist thinks it’s best if she has more time to adjust to her life without Shane now that he’s filed for divorce. She’s worried that too much stress or change will stall Fay’s recovery. So...” Maddie exhaled. “Yeah. I think he’ll agree.”

  “What about Fay?” James asked. “Will she have any problem with moving?”

  “I’m not sure. Ever since the—” she glanced at Sadie “—incident...Elijah’s been having nightmares. Fay might be glad to get out of that house, live somewhere new where there aren’t so many memories.”

  “Plus, if Fay decides running the B and B isn’t for her, a third-floor suite would be an enticement to bring in another innkeeper,” Sadie offered.

  “Not everyone switches jobs at the drop of a hat,” James said.

  She shrugged. “It’s nice to have options.”

  Options. That was what she wanted, what was important to her. The option of walking away whenever she was bored or failed at something.

  “I’ll draw up some sketches,” he told Maddie, “so you can give Neil and Fay an idea of what we’re talking about.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They walked down the stairs, Maddie in the lead.

  In the hallway on the second floor, Sadie leaned close to James. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t have to ask what she was thanking him for. He knew. She was grateful he’d heard her out, had taken her suggestion seriously and not blown her off because he was pissed with her.

  He’d wanted to, he realized. He’d wanted to ignore what had been a reasonable, workable suggestion because it came from her. That was also the reason he hadn’t been able to. Because it was Sadie. The girl who’d had his heart since he was ten years old.

  The woman he was afraid had it still.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “IT’S A GOOD idea,” James said gruffly, standing close to Sadie. He smelled of fresh air and clean sweat, the combination intoxicating to her.

  She backed up, bumping into the wall with a dull thud. “I sense a but in there,” she said, inwardly cursing how breathless she sounded.

  “But...as Maddie and I mentioned, we still have to get Neil and Fay’s okay.” His mouth flattened. “And run it by Dad.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that a problem? It is his company, after all.”

  James’s glance was so hot, so angry, she was surprised it didn’t fry her on the spot. “That’s right. His company. His say. On everything.”

  He brushed past her to walk down the stairs.

  She followed. Stepping into the kitchen, she heard the sound of Maddie’s truck engine start and the vehicle pull away. Sadie glanced outside, but didn’t see James. She went through the dining room, found him in the reception hall.

  “Are you still mad about your father hiring me?”

  He checked that the front door was locked, not even bothering to face her. “No.”

  “Are you sure? Because things have seemed awful...tense...between you two at the shop in the mornings this week,” she said, hurrying after him as he retraced the way they’d come.

  She was sure she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed it, either. Not if the exchanged glances between Maddie and Eddie and their coworkers were any indication. James only spoke to Frank when absolutely necessary, didn’t offer any input on any of his father’s suggestions, concerns or questions and had even been late, not once, but twice. Leaving Frank to assign the workers to their jobs.

  “I don’t want to be the cause of problems between you two,” she said firmly.

  “Believe it or not,” he said, stopping in the dining room to roll up the blueprints, “not everything I do, say or think has to do with you.”

  “Good.” It was better than good, it was exactly what she wanted. She could go on her way with a clear conscience. His issues were just that: his. They weren’t friends anymore. She didn’t have any reason to be concerned about what was bothering him. No reason to want to try to help him get through it.

  She picked up the folder of papers she’d brought for Frank. “I guess I’ll run these over to your parents’ house. Leave them there for your dad.”

  “I’ll take them,” he said, holding out his hand. “Since I’ll have to talk to him about renovating the attic anyway.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” she said, handing him the folder as they walked into the kitchen. “Seeing as how your mother hates me and all.”

  She winced, wished the words back, but it was too late. They were out there, floating in the air, making James scowl.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She shrugged, tried to brush it off. “It’s no big deal. And it won’t affect my work performance,” she assured him.

  Sadie had tried to ignore it—after all, it was hard to believe—but she couldn’t dispute the facts. Well, she could, and often did, but not when they were laid out so clearly in front of her, big as life and screaming at her.

  Rose Montesano did not like her.

  James stared at
her as if she’d said the Pope had declared her persona non grata. “I thought everyone liked you.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Me, too. I am a ray of sunshine after all.”

  Nothing. Not the slightest hint of humor entered his eyes.

  “You’re imagining things,” he said. “You have to be.”

  “Maybe,” she said as he went out to put the blueprints and folder in the truck.

  But she doubted it. She’d suspected something before now, especially when Rose had been so cold toward her at James’s party, and this past week, Rose had made it clear that, though she’d put up with Sadie temporarily working for Montesano Construction, she wasn’t happy about it. Even though it meant freeing up more time for Rose.

  Oh, she showed Sadie how the computer program worked, taught her how to do the payroll, but she was standoffish, short and, at times, downright snide. Luckily, Sadie had quickly gotten the hang of how she ran the office so they wouldn’t have to deal with each other too much more.

  “Did you tell her?” Sadie blurted when he came back. “About...you know. What happened between us?”

  “Yes, Sadie. I always tell my mother when I have sex with a woman. Because that’s perfectly normal and not weird at all.”

  “I was just asking. Maybe Maddie said something—”

  “She wouldn’t.”

  “Oh.” Which meant Rose simply didn’t like her.

  How fun.

  In the doorway, he picked up the end of the plywood ramp, his faded jeans molding to his firm ass, the muscles of his thighs. She blinked, her mouth falling open as he straightened, the work gloves in his back pocket flopping. He lifted the ramp and pushed it onto the back of the flatbed, the muscles in his upper back and arms contracting and flexing. His hair was mussed, the tendrils at his nape damp and curling, the skin of his neck a deep golden brown.

  She wanted to press her nose there, against that sun-warmed skin, breathe in his scent, taste the salt of his sweat. Swallowing, she lifted a hand to her throat, felt the erratic pounding of her pulse. Awareness flowed through her, tugged low in her belly, settled there, warm and insistence. Demanding.

  She exhaled shakily. And met his dark eyes, his gaze heated and so hungry she had to look away.

  Oh, God.

  When she looked up again, he was walking toward her, his stride easy, his expression clear, as if the moment had never been.

  And for some stupid reason, that made her want to cry.

  “You need anything else?” he asked, his voice rough. Impatient. “Because I have stuff to do.”

  Irritation spiked, fast and furious. It was so much better, made so much more sense than those damn tears, that she grabbed on to it with both hands. Held on tight.

  “In a hurry to get away from me?” she asked, walking out so he could lock up. “Oh, wait. I forgot. Not every thought, et cetera, et cetera, has to do with me. I’m sure you’re just busy. What’re your Friday night plans? Washing your hair? Giving the dog a bath?”

  Pocketing the key, James studied her, inscrutable. Implacable. “I have a date.”

  Sadie went deaf for a moment. It was if all the sound in the world ceased to exist only to come rushing back with a roar. She shook her head, but her ears still rang. “What did you say?”

  “I have a date.”

  “A date. You have a date. With a woman?”

  “Seemed like the logical choice given my species and sexual orientation.”

  “Who...who...” She couldn’t even complete the sentence. “Not Charlotte?”

  Oh, please, God, don’t let it be with Charlotte.

  His expression darkened. “No. Anne.”

  “Anne.”

  “Yes. Anne. She works for Kloss Painting.”

  Sadie knew who Anne was. Hadn’t she met Anne the other day when she’d come in for a work order? Hadn’t Sadie smiled and been superpolite to the tall, gorgeous brunette even after she’d recognized her as the woman James had walked to her car at his party? The one who’d flirted with him and given him her number?

  Now Sadie wished she’d gone with her first instinct and ripped every last gorgeous strand of that hair out of the woman’s head. “You’re going on a date with Anne the painter,” she said, following him to the flatbed.

  “You keep repeating everything I say.” He opened the truck door and climbed in behind the wheel. “Are you having a seizure?”

  A seizure? Was that was this was, this feeling of being unable to catch her breath, her thoughts spinning, her stomach sick? Funny, it seemed more like jealousy than any medical condition.

  And that was unacceptable.

  “I...” She had to stop and clear her throat, wrapped her hand around the door so he wouldn’t shut it. “I hadn’t realized you and...and Anne—” tall, beautiful Anne, damn her “—were seeing each other.”

  “We’re not. This is our first date.”

  “Do you...do you think it’s wise to mix business with pleasure?”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” He grabbed the door handle. “Sadie,” he said quietly, his husky voice wrapping around her name like a caress.

  She looked up, held her breath. “Yes?”

  “Let go of the door.”

  Her face flaming, she peeled her fingers from the frame and stepped back. He slammed the door shut, turned on the truck and, just like that, drove away.

  He left her.

  She had to stop herself from calling him back. From asking him not to go.

  Elvis barked, reminding her that she had things to think about, to concentrate on other than James Montesano and his social life.

  This was what she’d wanted, she reminded herself as she made her way toward her Jeep. For him to move on. She hadn’t expected him to do it quite so...quickly.

  Especially after he’d declared his lifelong love for her not two weeks ago.

  I want a family, he’d told her after that declaration. A wife. I’m tired of being alone.

  Obviously he’d decided to go find that wife. To get the life he wanted.

  Sadie had no doubt he’d succeed. He’d meet a woman who would love him back the way he deserved to be loved. Who would move into his house and talk him into adding splashes of color to offset all that brown, who would be content to go there night after night, year after year.

  Who wouldn’t balk at being told how he felt about her or get antsy to move on after a few weeks. A woman who would have his babies and spend the rest of her life by his side. Happy. Content, knowing she had a man like James Montesano as her partner. Her lover.

  Her best friend.

  A damn lucky woman.

  Sadie hated her.

  * * *

  “I THOUGHT YOU were going out to dinner,” Rose said, entering the kitchen in answer to James’s greeting when he’d walked into his parents’ house.

  He nodded at her red-and-black, short-sleeved dress. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

  “Your father and I are going to Pittsburgh with the Pettits. Dinner and a show. I don’t think they’ve had so much as a break since Fay...since she...”

  “Maddie says she’s doing better,” he reminded his mother gently.

  “I know and thank God for that. I just...it breaks my heart to think of her hurting that much. And even though Gerry and Carl are more than happy to take care of her, your father and I thought it would be nice to give them a break. At least for an evening.”

  Though Fay and her boys were back in their own house, they still spent quite a bit of time with Gerry and Carl Pettit, Fay and Neil’s adoptive parents.

  “Where are you taking Anne?” Rose asked, digging through her purse before pulling out a small mirror. “I hope it’s someplace nice.”

  “I thought we’d start off with burge
rs and fries at Mickey D’s—I might even let her order off the regular menu and not just the dollar one. Then we can head over to the Bronze Hawk for a couple of shots—I hear Friday nights it’s two-for-one. There’s a good chance one of us will even get a clean glass.”

  “I am forever astounded by how witty my children are,” she said drily as she twisted up a tube of red lipstick.

  Frank came into the kitchen in a pair of pressed dress pants and a crisp white shirt, his hair slicked back. “James,” he said with a nod, his smile warm and welcoming, as if he didn’t realize James was still pissed at him. “I hope you didn’t stop by for din—”

  “I didn’t.”

  “He has a date,” Rose said, obviously sensing the tension coming from her son.

  “You don’t have to sound so proud,” James said. “I have had dates before.”

  “Yes, but you might not get a second one with Anne if you show up in your work clothes. And it wouldn’t kill you to take a shower.”

  “I’m heading home to get cleaned up and changed,” he assured her.

  Cleaned up and changed for a date he wasn’t the least bit looking forward to. But he’d promised himself he would move on, and this was the first step. He didn’t really believe he’d find true love with Anne tonight, or possibly ever. But if he wanted to meet his future wife, he had to start searching.

  Had to stop thinking he’d found her when he was ten years old.

  “I stopped by to drop this off,” he said, tossing the folder onto the table. “Sadie showed up at Bradford House. Said you were expecting her and those papers.”

  The papers his father didn’t so much as glance at.

  A suspicion formed, niggled at the back of his brain then—looking at his father’s smug grin—formed fully. Son of a bitch.

  “I can’t help but wonder,” James continued, “why you’d tell her to meet you there at five-thirty when you knew damned well you were leaving an hour earlier.”

  Frank sat to put on his shoes. Winked. “Because I knew you’d still be there. No need to thank me,” he said.