Damn, what now?
“Your home?” He frowned. “You don’t have to call anyone. Let me explain what I’m doing here. I have a business card in my wallet.” He slipped a hand into his pocket.
Katrina swung again, thinking he was about to produce a knife or gun. A loud thud sounded when the wood connected with his shoulder and stung her hands.
A small white card fell from his hand as he grabbed his shoulder. His lips clamped together, a groan rumbled from his throat, and his eyes closed tight.
Seeing him in pain, she stupidly let down her guard, lowering the wood from its striking pose.
He quickly reached out and grabbed the driftwood. They struggled to win control of her weapon, but in the end, his strength won over hers. He freed the wood from her grip and tucked the weapon behind his back. With a quick move, he wrapped a hand around her ankle, dragging her down to the floor beside him.
The drop to the floor stung her behind, and a sharp gasp raged from her mouth. Katrina kicked his legs and pounded his chest with her fists until he captured both her wrists, holding them tight. Her self-defense training kicked in, and she found the strength to lift her knee sharply, knowing where to connect. In a split second, she was freed, but his recovery was fast.
He loomed over her, forcing her flat against the floor with his body.
She struggled beneath him, panting for a breath of air.
The man shifted his weight.
Suddenly, the air cooled around her. For the first time since she spied him in her home, Katrina stared face-to-face at her intruder. Past the pain, she saw a strong jaw line and a chin framed by the shadow of a goatee, or as they say in Paris, a French beard. A perfect set of lips held a thin moustache and his brown layered hair fell just above his chin. Dark brown eyes kept her gaze captivated. Johnny Depp has broken into my house.
His face didn’t belong to someone who made a living from breaking-and-entering. This face belonged to a refined and hard-working man. She could tell there was more to the story behind those eyes, but the instant she stared at his lips, her thoughts turned to mush.
He stumbled to stand, leaning on the wall for support. Johnny Depp kicked the wood, sending it rolling to the other side of the room.
Katrina, now believing he meant no harm, accepted the hand he offered to help her from the floor. She ignored the tingling sensation running up her arm, knowing the fuss couldn’t be from the strong hand holding hers.
He inhaled a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head instead. Frowning, he pointed a finger toward the card on the floor and limped to the exit, slamming the door behind him.
She bent to pick up the card, which read, Donaldson and Porter, Architecture and Contracting, Nick Porter. Her shoulders dropped. “Damn!”
Katrina now had less than twenty-four hours to master the art of groveling.
****
Nick limped to his truck, his body aching. As he backed the truck out of the driveway, he saw his attacker standing in the living room, illuminated by the lantern he had left inside.
She pulled her black dressing gown tightly around her waist, which had come loose during their fight.
When he had heard the floor boards squeak behind him, he only had a split-second to take in her exquisite beauty before she lunged with what he thought at the moment was a baseball bat. He quickly assumed she hadn’t broken into the house. Someone hoping to rob a house wouldn’t be so scantily clad. The thought she might be a concerned neighbor crossed his mind, but the closest house was quite a distance and the mature trees between properties blocked the view of a nosey neighbor.
She had meant business, poised for a fight and declaring him an intruder in her home. Her screaming voice triggered a memory of an alluring accent, and he had looked into those dark brown eyes before, just not belonging to such a beautiful young woman. She had to be related to the assertive older woman, Faith Witherspoon.
What the heck is Katrina Witherspoon doing here?
Nick should have gone home after leaving a job site. Instead, he decided to check out the house these crazy women were harassing him about. He had no intention of taking on the renovation, and no one would be the wiser if he were to stop by the house to satisfy his curiosity.
Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be rolling around the floor with the owner. Her long bangs, sweeping over her beautiful makeup-free face, captured his breath, and he fought the urge to run his fingers through the light brown hair cascading over her shoulders. This stunning woman sure could swing a piece of driftwood.
Beaten by a woman was where bad decisions got him. Nick wouldn’t be so foolish again. He couldn’t afford to be tempted by her beauty. Katrina Witherspoon was a dangerous woman.
****
Katrina approached the front door of the main house and retrieved the keys from her handbag. Holding her breath, she slowly turned the handle. After last night’s encounter with Nick Porter, she hoped this morning’s visit would be less eventful.
She walked around the first level of the house. Everything was gone, the appliances, furniture…everything. A heavy weight pressed upon her chest. The loss, of what was once here, overwhelmed her heart. Though empty, she could remember exactly how the house once looked. The memories returned quite easily. Closing her eyes, she imagined her mother singing while preparing dinner in the kitchen. This meant her father would be home from work very soon. She’d then call for Katrina to make sure her homework was completed and to wash before dinner.
“Katrina?”
The memory seemed so real and, for a brief moment, she went to the past. She hoped and longed for her mother’s voice to be calling her name, but the harshness of reality crushed her daydream.
“Katrina, are you in there?” a voice called out again.
She returned to the living room to find her childhood girlfriend standing in the front entry. Briefly, she closed her eyes and then quickly opened them, thankful the vision was real and not a figment of her imagination.
As a teenager, she would have run to the door to greet her best friend she hadn’t seen in a week, but she wasn’t a teenager and more than a week had passed. She wanted to call Frankie last night, but knew she’d insist she stay at her house. Instead, Katrina called this morning to let her know she had arrived. She smiled and greeted Francesca Greene with a warm embrace. “Frankie, what are you doing here?”
“When I spoke to you a few days ago and heard you were coming for a visit, I didn’t think you meant you’d arrive last night.” Frankie frowned and gestured toward the house. “I wanted to be here to welcome you home.”
“How did you know I’d be here instead of a hotel? I didn’t even know until the driver was about to take the hotel exit.”
Frankie winked. “I guess I know you better than you know yourself.”
“You’re the best.” Katrina stepped back, and held out her best friend’s arms. “You’ve hardly changed a bit, other than the short hair and protruding belly.”
Frankie laughed and fluffed her bobbed cut. “Short hair is easier to look after. Having two children and one on the way, I need a style that’s an easy wash and go.” She rubbed her very pregnant belly. “Eight months down and one to go.” Frankie’s gaze eyed Katrina’s appearance. “You’ve come a long way from the tomboy in jeans and T-shirts of twelve years ago to now, a professional woman dressed in a designer pantsuit and high-heeled pumps. I wouldn’t recognize you if I passed you on the street. You look amazing.”
“Liar.” Katrina ran a hand through her hair. “I have jetlag and slept terribly last night.”
“You’d never know.” Her friend’s normally cheerful expression went dark with concern. “Katrina, how are you?”
“I’m okay, considering the month I’ve had.” She set her gaze on the yard, staring at nothing in particular, only wanted a moment to control her emotions.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to your grandmother’s funeral. The doctor said no flying. You know
I wanted to be there.”
“I know you did, but as I told you when we spoke, I didn’t want you travelling such a long distance while pregnant. Speaking of the baby, you shouldn’t be standing here. I’d offer you a place to sit, but—” Giving a shrug, she waved her hands around the empty house.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. When I get tired, I’ll sit.”
The two women laughed and, at Katrina’s urging, went to sit on the front step. This is exactly what I need. She had missed Frankie.
They had met on their first day of elementary school, both being very shy individuals who connected immediately and helped each other come out of their shells. They went everywhere together, liked the same clothes, music, movies, and even shared their most personal secrets with each other, just like sisters.
When Katrina had been forced to leave town, she promised her friend they’d stay close. Gram supported their friendship by sending Frankie airline tickets a few times a year. As they got older, their lives changed directions and their contact grew distant. Through the years, Frankie made a point to maintain a connection—even with the physical distance, Katrina’s business schedule, and Frankie raising a family.
Frankie, married for six years, was pregnant with her third child. Katrina’s goddaughter, Katie, was four and Benjamin was two. Between maternity leaves, her best friend was head baker at the local pastry store.
“I told Thomas this is the last one.” Frankie again smoothed her hand over her belly. “If I let him have his way, he’d have me popping one out every two years, but after this one, I’m standing my ground.”
Katrina smiled at her friend’s ferocious tone. “You look great pregnant. What do they say? Something about a glow?”
“Glowing? Me? I waddle like a penguin, and I’m as big as a balloon. I’m retaining fluid. My back and ankles ache, and these bags under my eyes are from lack of sleep because I can’t get comfortable at night.” Frankie smiled, placing one hand on her hip and the other behind her head. “Unlike you. Other than looking a little thin, you’re a page right out of Cosmo. Your hair and makeup are immaculate, and that light blue pantsuit you’re wearing is to die for. A designer’s original?”
“This old thing?” Katrina rubbed the creases out of her organic cotton pantsuit. “Designed by Donna Karan, but belongs to you, after you have the baby.”
“You tease. I’ll never fit into that outfit.” Frankie inhaled a deep breath and pushed up from the step, belly first. “Are you sure you want to stay in the dingy old cabin?”
“I’ll be fine. The cabin is actually quite comfortable.”
“The time must be near lunch. Why don’t you join us? Knowing your habits, you probably didn’t have anything to eat for breakfast, and you won’t be cooking in there.” Frankie pointed to the front door of the house.
At the mere thought of food, Katrina felt her stomach grumble. “Do you have any of your tasty blueberry pancakes left over from breakfast?”
“Thomas doesn’t believe in leftovers, but I can whip up a batch for lunch.”
Katrina ran into the cabin to get a couple of gift bags, and then followed Frankie’s car. She checked her appearance in the rearview mirror, hoping the cream she dabbed at the dark shadows under her eyes concealed the consequence of a restless night’s sleep. She fluffed her wavy hair over her shoulders, and with a finger, flicked her long bangs to one side. Giving a nod of approval, she reached to the backseat to retrieve the gift bags. Once she stood outside and had the gifts bundled in her hands, Katrina closed the car door.
Katie greeted her at the front door, hopping from foot to foot. “Hi, Auntie Katrina. Did you remember to bring my present?”
“Katie!” Frankie called from the kitchen. “Manners, please.”
Katie ignored her mother and snuck a peek behind Katrina’s back, spotting a large bag decorated in pink and purple bows.
“This might be for you.” Katrina winked, handing Katie one of the bags, and followed her into the kitchen.
Katie beamed. “Thank you, Auntie Katrina.”
“You’re very welcome. I have another one here I think might be for this handsome young man sitting at the table.” Katrina bent to kiss the cheek of Frankie’s son, Benjamin, who grinned bashfully.
Frankie lifted a spoon, dripping in pancake mix, to point at Katrina. “Katrina, you’re spoiling my children.”
“I guess you don’t want these then?” She held up the remaining bags. “I can return them because I wouldn’t want to spoil you, too.”
Grinning and eyes wide, Frankie playfully lunged for the gifts. “Don’t you dare.”
After enjoying a delicious feast of homemade blueberry pancakes, Frankie scooted the children to the living room to play with their new toys.
Katrina insisted Frankie and her husband open their gifts.
Thomas grinned from ear to ear at the bottle of Bordeaux and Cartier watch. “Thank you.”
Frankie, in a rarity of speech impairment, swooned over the Donna Karan blouse and various perfumes. Her eyes swelled in tears upon seeing the baby afghan at the bottom of the bag. “Katrina, it’s beautiful.” Frankie rubbed the soft blanket against her cheek. “You shouldn’t have done presents. You’ve spent too much.”
“I wanted to get you all something special. Besides, shopping for you guys kept my mind off Gram.” Katrina’s words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The doorbell sounded, and Thomas quickly excused himself.
Frankie reached for Katrina’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re going through a rough time. I wish I had convinced you to stay here last night, because I can tell you didn’t sleep a wink in the cabin.”
The eye cream hadn’t done its job. “Staying in the cabin didn’t hinder my sleep. Someone broke into the main house last night.”
“What?” Frankie steadied the dishes that almost fell from her hands as she cleared the table. “Someone broke in? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Did you call the police? What happened?”
“I didn’t want to upset you, and he turned out to be the contractor—” A visitor, entering the kitchen behind Thomas, caught Katrina’s attention and cut her words short. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. The man she assaulted last night stood in the doorway.
Chapter Three
“Then this crazy woman comes out of nowhere swinging a piece of driftwood. I’ve got some nasty bruises on my leg and shoulder. She was totally irrational and—”
“Crazy and irrational?”
An alluring French accent interrupted Nick.
“You break into my home and you have the nerve to call me names.”
His eyes shot wide and his jaw hung open. He was certain his shocked expression would give Ms. Witherspoon great pleasure. Her jaw drooped as wide as his. He turned to Frankie. “You know this woman?”
“You’re friends with this guy?”
Frankie shook her head at their blended questions. “Nick is a close friend of the family, ever since he did our addition several years ago. Katrina is my best friend from childhood.” Her eyebrow rose. “You two know each other?”
Nick’s pulse skipped a beat as Katrina’s brown-eyed gaze met his. Why did this beautiful woman affect him? He didn’t even like her. He returned his focus to Frankie and Thomas. “Ms. Witherspoon is looking for someone to renovate her house and contacted me a few days ago.”
“Which he outright refused,” Katrina added, a hand resting on her hip.
“You’re the crazy one if you refused the job.” Frankie closed the dishwasher door and raised her hands in the air, glaring at Nick. “You can’t afford to—”
“I didn’t break into her house.” Nick cut off Frankie. He couldn’t let her reveal his problems in front of a stranger, albeit a very beautiful stranger.
“Well, I don’t remember inviting you in.”
This Witherspoon woman was incorrigible, not giving him a minute to speak. “I had a
key, and I tried to explain last night, but we both know where that got me.”
Frankie leaned against the counter. “How about telling me, because I would really like to know what’s going on here.”
Katrina began before Nick had a chance.
“I saw a light in the main house from the cabin.” She glanced at Frankie. “You can imagine how frightened I was, alone and knowing someone was breaking into my house.”
“You didn’t appear afraid when you were belting me with the wood.” Nick challenged her.
Thomas laughed. “Katrina’s the one who gave you those bruises?”
Nick winced as Thomas nudged his bruised shoulder. He ignored his friend’s mockery and proceeded to tell his side of the story. “I received a key to the house from her attorney and thought I’d take a look to see exactly how much work had to be done.”
Frankie removed her apron and tossed it over the back of the chair. “But Katrina just said you turned down her project. Why didn’t you call her to let her know you had reconsidered?”
Nick shrugged. “I didn’t want to get up her hopes. I had no idea she was there. Luckily, I ducked when I did or I could be in the hospital right now with a concussion, or worse.” He straightened his stance.
“I apologize, Mr. Porter. You frightened me and I reacted accordingly.”
Her sweet voice tempted him.
“I should have given you the chance to explain what you were doing there. Can we get past this minor incident and renegotiate? I hope I didn’t make such a lengthy trip for nothing.”
The room went quiet, and everyone turned toward Nick.
“All forgotten,” he reluctantly said. “Unfortunately, my answer is the same. I can’t do the job. The house is a fairly large project, and I don’t have the men to spare right now.” He flashed Katrina a smug smile as he walked past her to kiss Frankie’s cheek. “Frankie, I appreciate the offer for lunch, but it’s getting late, and I have to get back to work. I’ll take a rain-check.” Nick left the room, hoping his dignity was still intact.
****
Katrina wondered if Frankie witnessed Nick’s arrogance before he departed.
Twist Of Faith Page 3