Fighting Fate

by Louise Clark

  He pondered this behavior as he investigated her fridge to see if she had stashed a bottle of beer inside as compensation for abandoned dates while she hid away in the bathroom prettying herself up.

  There was no beer, but he did find a bottle of designer water. He decided that would have to do, but when he went searching for a glass, he discovered a bottle of merlot beside some wineglasses. Now this was more like it. He put the water back in the fridge.

  Very orderly, he thought, as he took down a glass and the bottle of wine. It tallied with his idea of Faith Hamilton. But it didn’t fit the charming bundle of nerves who was now in the bathroom primping.

  He leaned against the counter as he sipped the wine, speculating. Her kitchen was neat, the counters clean, the table clear. Again, the sort of thing he would expect of her.

  Faith’s kitchen was nothing like the disaster area that was his kitchen. His kitchen was cluttered, the table piled high with—stuff. He liked his kitchen. It faced west and so got a generous share of afternoon sun. Because of the light, because he liked light, he did a lot of his work at his kitchen table. The result was that it was covered with papers, books, pens, pencils, paper clips, a computer he was repairing, and anything else that caught his interest.

  His laptop sat at one end and when he needed the table for a meal, on those odd occasions when he actually ate in, he closed down the laptop and used the small clear space it left behind for his plate. When he finished eating he returned the computer to the spot. As an effective use of limited space he felt it was a system that worked remarkably well.

  This big kitchen, with not an article out of place, was a resounding statement about the woman who lived here. It said she was tidy and organized and liked it that way. It asked—no demanded!—to know why he even thought dating her would be a good idea.

  He drank some more merlot.

  Since the day when she’d come up to his office he’d been thinking about Faith Hamilton. Strike that. He’d been more than thinking of her. He’d been fantasizing about her curvy body and those beautiful gray-green eyes of hers. He’d teased her into losing her temper and watched those eyes flash with a passion that had nothing to do with work. Faith Hamilton might like to have everything done correctly, but he’d proven she had limits and she could be pushed to them and past them with remarkable ease.

  As if his thoughts of her had brought her to him in the flesh, Faith bounded into the kitchen, her gray-green eyes wide and anxious. She’d added shoes, sensible ones with low heels, and she’d twisted her hair up into some sort of knot in the back, much to his disappointment. She peered around the room carefully, looking at him and around him. “Is everything okay? Nothing to worry about?”

  Cody glanced around the tidy room. What was there to worry about in a room that was so neat and scrubbed that he couldn’t see any need to clean it again for the next year and a half? Still Faith seemed to be so concerned he decided to tease her a bit to see what she would do. He pointed to a corner near the sink. “There’s a spider web over by the window.”

  He expected her to shriek and demand to be rescued from the danger of the spider the way his ex-wife used to. Or to haul out the broom and have a go at eliminating the spider web right now, before they left for the evening.

  Instead she shrugged. “It’s an old house. I get lots of spiders.”

  Now Cody was intrigued. As he watched her take a deep breath to calm her agitation, he wondered with considerable satisfaction if being with him had shaken her so much that she was showing another side to her personality. He rather hoped that was what was happening.

  He downed the merlot in the glass and set it on the counter. “I raided your cupboards,” he said, waving at the bottle and the now empty glass.

  A smile lit up Faith’s lovely heart-shaped face. “I’m glad you did. Sorry I ran out on you like that. I planned to be ready by seven but…” She didn’t bother to state the obvious. Instead her smile turned enticing and she held out her hand. “I’m ready now. Shall we go?”

  The prospect of catching her hand in his was enough to get Cody moving. He levered himself away from the counter and took what she offered. Her hand was warm in his, the skin smooth and supple.

  As soon as his fingers had closed around hers, she tugged, hard.

  “Good, we’re off. Don’t worry about the lights. I always leave them on. I like to come home to a brightly lit house.” She dragged him through the hall, pausing briefly to peer into the living room, before she grabbed her purse from the hall table.

  As she looked into the living room Cody looked too, but he could see nothing beyond a perfectly ordinary room. He wondered if the newspapers dumped casually into a basket were the reason for her apparent concern. If so, curvy body or not, they were doomed. Any woman who cared so much about keeping her space that tidy was off his Christmas list.

  When they were out the door and in the car she sagged visibly. “Are you okay?” he asked, somewhat alarmed.

  She took a deep breath and smiled, although it seemed to him that it took considerable effort for her to relax. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I got a little flustered when I wasn’t ready on time.”

  He made some polite comment, but that really worried him. A woman who got upset because she was late was too tense for him. He was always late. Heck, some days he hardly knew where he was, let alone what time it was. In order to make it to Faith’s house on time tonight he had set the alarm on his watch to ring every half hour from five o’clock on. He had been on edge and jumpy all afternoon. Running by the clock was just not his style.

  He put the car in reverse, turning to check as he backed out of the drive. “I thought we could go to Mel’s place.” On the street he glanced at Faith. She was staring down at her watch, for heaven’s sake.

  She looked up, frowning. “Mel’s? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before.”

  It was Cody’s turn to frown. Mel’s place was one of the most popular restaurants in Boston. She must have heard of it.

  “It’s in Beacon Hill, in an old house…”

  “La Renaissance? Mel’s place is La Renaissance?”

  “Yeah.” Cody concentrated on driving. The evening was not going as he’d predicted. He worked in variables and probabilities. When the data didn’t produce the kind of results he expected, he needed to back away from the problem and ponder it until he figured out where he went wrong. Clearly he didn’t have time to do that now, but he was definitely going to have to reassess once he’d dropped Faith at her home tonight.

  “So who’s Mel?” Faith asked, considerable amusement in her voice.

  Mel Stewart had become a good friend. He was a brilliant chef, a creative genius with food. “He owns the restaurant,” Cody said. It dawned on him that he knew that, but he shouldn’t expect Faith to. He added hastily, “To me Mel Stewart is La Renaissance and I forget that other people don’t see it that way.” They stopped at a light and he took the opportunity to look over at her.

  Faith smiled that wide generous smile of hers and said, “Well, I can’t complain about being taken out to La Renaissance. Thank you, Cody.”

  Her comment shot a burst of warmth through him. He didn’t analyze it, he just went with the pleasure it brought him. He decided this was going to be a terrific evening after all. He was going to enjoy himself, even if Faith did have the tidiest house he’d seen since he moved out on his own.

  Cody Simpson was not a jerk.

  Faith ruefully admitted that to herself about a half-an-hour after they’d arrived at La Renaissance. He had a beautiful smile that made her tingle right down to the tips of her toes. His use of it had put her so at ease that she’d shoved Uncle Andrew’s visits and Ava Taylor’s ultimatums into a back recess in her mind. She was here with a very sexy guy and that was all she wanted to think about.

  Mel Stewart stopped by their table to chat. La Renaissance took up the ground floor of a wonderful old brick building on Charles Street. The owner’s front-of-the-house visits were so
mething the restaurant was known for, but the esteem with which Mel Stewart, the creative chef, held Cody Simpson, the practical computer scientist, was obvious. “How do you know Mel?” she asked when she and Cody were once more alone at their table.

  Cody was cutting into his appetizer, a chunk of Ahi tuna served with compote of red peppers and corn that had been artistically mounded beside it. A sprig of oregano adorned the top and two slender pieces of crisp bread completed the display. “I like food and I don’t cook much,” he said, before he popped some tuna and compote into his mouth.

  “Well, the food here is certainly wonderful.” Faith had a bowl of creamy soup in front of her, a combination of carrot and squash that was heavenly.

  “That’s what I thought too,” Cody said. He picked up his glass and considered the wine, a white that blended perfectly with both the fish and the soup. “So I came here a lot. Mel visited my table to chat the way he does and pretty soon he noticed that I’d become a regular. So instead of chatting about the weather, we got to talking about each other.”

  It sounded so simple. “And that’s the way the friendship started.”

  Cody took a sip and nodded. “Then one day Mel was complaining that he needed to control costs and the system he was using wasn’t giving him the data he needed. I was between jobs so I offered to write him a more efficient program.” He stopped and shrugged, then ate some more tuna.

  “And so you did.” She put her soupspoon down and smiled at him. He grinned back a little ruefully.

  “Yeah, as much as I could. You should see Mel’s kitchen. It seems chaotic if you don’t know anything about running a restaurant kitchen, but it’s pretty organized—at least that’s what Mel tells me. It looks like a disaster area to me. Mel claims my program has helped immensely.” Cody laughed. “I have to take his word for it.”

  Faith looked around the restaurant. The décor was spare and simple, with clean modern lines that utilized chrome, white linen and glass. The modern design provided an elegant contrast to the gracious proportions of the heritage construction. The servers moved through the three large rooms that made up the restaurant with a quiet efficiency. “It’s hard to believe that behind closed doors the kitchen is so totally different from the eating area.”

  Cody laughed. “Yeah, you’d have no idea looking around here, would you?” He shot her a questioning look. “It’s sort of like people. You get an idea of someone and then they go and do something totally unexpected.”

  Faith’s heart skipped a beat. “Unexpected?”

  “Sure. You know, the mild mannered guy who suddenly throws a rock through his neighbor’s window. Or the woman who lives in the suburbs bringing up the kids, but was once an exotic dancer.”

  Faith choked back a laugh. “There are a lot of those?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “So tell me about yourself, Faith. Do you have a dark underside that remains hidden from the rest of us?”

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Forcing herself to be calm, she picked up her spoon and dipped it into the soup. “What you see is what you get,” she said, keeping her eyes on the bowl.

  “Well, that looks pretty good to me,” he said.

  Faith glanced up quickly. His eyes were warm and there was a caress in them that almost covered the question that lurked beneath the friendly expression.

  Somehow she had to get rid of that question. Cody Simpson was an attractive guy, but she was here because Ava Taylor had pressured her into accepting a date. She had to remember that and remember too, that no one at work must know about her special ability.

  How did she deal with a question that couldn’t be asked and shouldn’t be answered? With a response that said nothing, but seemed to tell all. “I have to confess, Cody, that I spend way too much time at work.”

  He grimaced. “Me too.”

  She nodded in a companionable way, two workaholics commiserating. “So when I get home I usually do my chores then read for a while or watch TV. Not long ago my sister wanted to go out to a club for the evening, but I just didn’t have the energy. She thinks I’m a total loss.” She smiled then waited, sipping her soup, pretending to be perfectly calm.

  Cody nodded. “Sounds reasonable to me. I’d rather clean toilets than go solo to a club.” He stopped abruptly, a sudden, guilty look on his face.

  Faith laughed. “Is that your version of a deep, dark secret, then? That you aren’t a party animal?”

  The server came to clear their plates, replacing used cutlery with fresh and refilling their wineglasses. Cody was silent as the man moved unobtrusively around the table, but Faith was aware of Cody’s speculative looks. When the server had gone, Cody said finally, “Actually, I have to confess that I hate housekeeping and I’m lousy at it.”

  “Get a cleaning service,” Faith said. “That’s what I do.” Their entrees arrived with a flourish along with Mel trailing along to explain the special nuances of each dish. When Faith tasted her braised lamb shank she sighed with pleasure. “This is wonderful!”

  Mel beamed. “You are too kind!” He turned to Cody. “My friend, keep this one around. She has taste as well as beauty.”

  Faith could feel the blush rush into her cheeks. She would have stammered something incoherent, but Cody smiled at her, then winked. Relief flooded through her. Mel might be flowery and continental in his manner, but Cody wasn’t taking him seriously and she didn’t have to either.

  Mel departed to make pleasant conversation at another table, but before Faith could explore his interesting hint about Cody’s previous relationships, Cody zoned in on the comment she’d made just as their meals arrived. “You have a cleaning service for your house?”

  “You bet. There’s a team of three. I don’t make much of a mess, so I only have them in once a month. They vacuum, dust, do the bathrooms, all the heavy stuff. I keep the place tidy and do the dishes and the ironing, that sort of thing.”

  He fiddled with the steak on his plate. “You have a big yard. Do you have a landscaping service too?”

  “Of course.” Faith laughed at the amazement on his face. “Hey, I’m much better at organizing people than I am at doing all the little bits and pieces of life. I figured out long ago that if I found the right person to do a job, the results would be much better than if I tried to do it myself.” Cody’s amazement had given way to a frown. That didn’t make sense to Faith. Her cheerful confidence slipped a notch. What if he was the kind of guy who figured that there was something faintly sinful about a woman who is not the primary cleaner of the household?

  Then he wasn’t for her. She lifted her chin. “I’ve found that what works in the office also works at home.”

  The frown disappeared and that sexy, half-smile quirked up the edge of his mouth. Despite herself, Faith responded to that look. Butterflies took flight in her stomach and a tiny, but unmistakable shiver of anticipation swept through her. She took a sip of wine, hoping it would calm her, but his eyes followed her as she brought the glass to her lips. Instead of cooling her response, his gaze added fire. The tingle became a full body flush.

  “You have no idea how empowering I find this conversation,” he said, still watching her intently as she lowered the glass.

  “Oh?” As comebacks went, this was pretty weak, but it was about all Faith was capable of at that moment.

  He nodded. His little smile grew wider. “I’m not the tidiest male in the world.”

  “And that relates to my using a cleaning service in what way?”

  “It makes you less intimidating.”

  Faith stared at him. “Intimidating? Me?”

  He laughed, his eyes warm. “You have a fearsome reputation, lady.”

  Putting her hands on either side of her plate, she leaned forward. “Let me get this straight. You find me intimidating.” He nodded, the amusement in his eyes and the rueful curl to his lips telling her that he was laughing at himself. “And that is because…?”

  The quirk broadened into a grin and he laughed
outright. “I told you. I’m not a tidy person. I file by pile, so my house—particularly my kitchen—is cluttered.”

  Understanding dawned. “And my kitchen is the exact opposite.”

  He nodded. The amusement was still warm in his eyes.

  Faith basked in that warmth as she thought for a minute. There were things going on here that she had to get a handle on. She said cautiously, “Your office wasn’t full of piles.”

  He shrugged, serious now. “Work is different. Most of my archive material is backed up onto a separate hard drive and I don’t bother to keep paper files. Sue Green does. If she thinks we need a paper track, she prints the document out and puts it in a filing cabinet somewhere.” His rueful grin flashed again. “Since she’s been off I’ve been using her office as a stacking place. If something comes in on paper I just dump it on her desk.”

  Faith stared at him in amazement. “Wow. I had no idea. Cody, do you want some help dealing with the everyday stuff?”

  He rubbed his hand over his chin. “I hadn’t thought of it. I am supposed to be doing Sue’s job, after all.”

  “No one…” Ava Taylor’s name hung between them, there but unspoken, “expects you do the clerical parts of Sue’s job. Angela is a quick worker and I like to keep her busy, particularly now that I know she’s been creating her computer problems out of boredom. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “See what I mean?”

  He was smiling at her in that warm, amused way that made her tingle from head to toe. “What?”

  “You are one formidable lady, Faith Hamilton.”

  Chapter 11

  Faith was still tingling when she danced into the office on Friday morning. Her date with Cody had been a delight. Her mood was so good she’d put on a favorite summer dress, a splash of blues and yellows that reached mid-thigh and hugged her hips. Everything had cooperated for her this morning. The day had woken with a blaze of sunshine, her drive in had been a breeze—minus its usual moments of traffic madness—and she’d found a prime parking spot in the crowded NIT lot.