Husband for Hire (6 page)

“Hungry?” he asked. “Sandwiches are ready.”

Hungry? “Starved,” she said, standing, feeling a little light-headed then finding her bearings again.

“You look better,” he said later, after they'd eaten.

She nodded. She felt better, too. Energized and aroused—an invigorating combination. “I'm ready to get to work.”

Hours later they called in an order for pizza, plopped onto the couch and surveyed her living room. As soon as they recycled the magazines and other papers they'd stacked by her front door, there would be little left to take up space.

“I knew I didn't have much furniture,” she said. “But I thought I had more than this.”

“Do you have anything in storage somewhere?”

“This is all of it. I've always traveled light. I also gave away most of my old pieces when I moved in here, wanting to start fresh.”

“Do you have ideas about furnishing the rooms?”

“I'd like it to look good. A place I could bring not just friends but business associates to, but I'm so bad at decorating, Gavin. I have no vision for the big picture.”

“How about the little picture?”

“What do you mean?”

Gavin walked into the guest room and came out with a box. “I came across these today. Something from your childhood, I imagine.”

She peered into the box as he held the lid open, but she didn't take anything out. She knew what was inside—about fifty figurines of dogs made of all
different kinds of materials, from ceramic to plastic to metal. Breeds of all kinds, too. From three inches tall to a half inch.

“Would you want these displayed?” he asked.

“I can't see them fitting the decor.”

“Does it matter? If they're special, they'll fit.”

“No. They're kid stuff.”

“Yet you've kept them.”

“They're from my past. I don't need them displayed.”
Or the memories associated with them.
She knew she was being abrupt and evasive, but she couldn't talk about it with him.

He was quiet a long time. “My sister Shana is pretty good at decorating, apparently. If you want, I can get her involved.”

“You are the gift that keeps on giving,” Becca said with a sigh, relieved he'd stopped pushing. “Yes. By all means, yes.” She would say anything at this point to end his questions.

He pulled out his phone, searched for a number.

“You don't have to take care of it right this second,” she said, feeling guilty for turning over the task to him and his sister, but also wishing he would just rest for a few minutes. He'd been teaching her how to do that, yet couldn't always do the same himself.

Sometimes he seemed…well,
haunted,
for lack of a better word. He retreated into himself, not talking, emptying boxes as if on autopilot.

“We can't delay, Becca. This'll take a few days, and I don't know what kind of time she has available.”
He held up a finger. “Hey, Shana…. Good, how about you?…And Emma?” He laughed. “Careful what you wish for. She'll be running before you know it, and you'll never catch up with her. Hey, what's your work schedule this week?…Because I've got a decorating job for you, if you're interested. A big job. Actually a
fast
job. It needs to be done by Saturday morning…. Yes, the client from the agency….”

He tipped the phone down a little. “What style?”

“Comfortable contemporary, I guess. Not a lot of knickknacks.”

“Did you hear that, Shana?” He finished up the conversation then set down the phone.

The doorbell rang. Becca beat him to the door, paid for the pizza then inhaled the scent as she carried it to the kitchen counter.

“I bought beer,” Gavin said. “Want one?”

“Thanks. I take it your sister is free tomorrow?”

“
Only
tomorrow, so we'll be hauling through town trying to find the right items. Plus Shana is as picky about price as she is about quality. You'll get bargains.”

Becca stared at the countertop, her throat aching. “Nobody's ever done anything like this before. I mean, my brothers did things for me, overdid things, but it wasn't the same. I don't know how to describe it.”

“Probably more accurately—you've never let any
one. I'd wager your friend Suki offered to help you with this place.”

“Many times.” They sat at the counter, each grabbing a slice of a combo pizza.

“Why haven't you accepted?” he asked.

She tried to keep it light. “I'm sure your alter ego, Freud, would know. Avoidance, probably, but I don't know of what.”

“It
is
a way of avoiding personal relationships,” he said, thoughtfully. “If your home is a disaster, you don't invite anyone over. You don't let dates pick you up or bring you home.”

He was watching her for a reaction. “There might be some truth to that. Plus the fact I'm busy.”

“Which is a choice you made.”

“Well, aren't you Mr. Insight?”

“Tell me this, Becca. What excuse will you have when our ‘marriage' has ended and your home is acceptable for company?”

He was relentless, and she was annoyed. “That's enough, Gavin.”

“Don't you want to meet someone? Fall in love? The whole marriage-and-kids thing?”

“Do you?”

“Of course. Sometime.”

“Of course,” she repeated, going cold. “Well, not me. I don't want that at all.”

His brows went up. “Why not?”

“You're smart. You figure it out.” She couldn't keep talking about it. She flipped the lid down on
the pizza box and shoved it at him. “I think you need to go now. Please.”

It took her a good five minutes after the door shut behind him before she moved. When she did, it was to go to the bedroom to look at the photographs on her dresser.

She didn't find comfort there, but resolve. And that was enough to keep her going.

 

At midnight, Gavin was still pacing the floor of his hotel room, doubly grateful now that he'd turned down Becca's offer to stay at her place for the week. He'd needed to be away from her. Far, far away.

But sleep eluded him even more than usual.

He dragged a chair in front of the window, mesmerized by lights dotting the dark sky, whether buildings, planes or stars. The view was familiar now, his having spent several nights there, but it still captivated him.

She had no desire to be a wife and mother. The idea never would've occurred to him.

He'd been so shocked, he hadn't thought through his response. He shouldn't have questioned her. Shouldn't have boxed her into a corner about such a personal decision.

You figure it out,
she'd said, as if he could.

Hints. He needed hints. A heartbreak of some kind, obviously. Something that had set her on her current path of working too much and too hard. Of running away from something. If she stopped, she
would have to face it. And this was something she really didn't want to face. What?

The dog figurines were tied in somehow, too, he was sure of it.

He rubbed his hands over his face. The only thing he knew for sure was the fact she'd just gotten even more interesting.

E
arly the next morning Gavin drove the short distance to Becca's place. Shana pulled into a visitor parking space right next to him. After ten years of wandering the world, she'd settled down, was all grown up now. The fact she'd shown up so early said a lot about how responsible she'd become.

He'd hesitated to recommend her to Becca. Shana wasn't a trained or experienced decorator. To his knowledge she'd only helped decorate Dixie's salon and spa, and her apartment. But both had impressed him, and Becca needed someone right now.

“I hope you're hungry,” he said as they moved toward the elevator. “I brought breakfast for three.”

“I could eat, thanks. I dropped Emma off with
Aggie, but didn't have time for breakfast myself.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “So, this job turned out to be more than you originally signed up for?”

“By my choice. As you pointed out, I had nothing else to do, so I volunteered.”

“I'm glad and grateful you took the job, Gavin. Julia was thrilled, too.”

Gavin pushed the up button for the elevator. “She's interesting. Becca, I mean.”

“Apparently.”

He glanced at her in question.

“You're already wearing a wedding ring.” Her Callahan-green eyes, which all three siblings had inherited, fixed on him with curiosity and humor.

The fact that neither he nor Becca remembered to take off the rings was something the oft-referenced Freud would've had something to say about, Gavin thought.

“We both are wearing rings. Just getting used to it.” Another lie. He'd actually forgotten he had it on.

The door to the fourth floor whooshed opened. “I want details,” she said, following him down the hall.

“I'm sure you've been asked for discretion in your own jobs for At Your Service.” He looked at her in time to see her nod. “Same here. I'll let Becca decide what to tell you.”

A few seconds later they were inside the loft and
introductions made. Gavin headed directly to the kitchen to set out breakfast for everyone, grateful for the reprieve of Shana's presence. After last night's discussion, Becca seemed normal, but then, they had company.

While they ate, Becca and Shana conferred about the plan. When they were done eating, he loaded their plates into the dishwasher, listening to them discuss the budget and Shana's fee, getting that business out of the way.

“It's seven-thirty,” he said, breaking into their conversation as they moved away from the task at hand.

“Already?” Becca grabbed her briefcase and started out the door. “Shana, thank you so much for this. You have no idea the pressure you've taken off me.”

“I'm happy to do it.”

“Do you have a second, Gavin?” Becca asked, indicating he should come into the hall with her.

He followed.

“You've barely looked at me,” she said when the door shut behind them and they walked toward the elevator.

“I figured you would want to spend your time talking with Shana.”

“That's all?”

He didn't like the way her eyes probed his, search
ing for more. He punched the down button for her. “I figure you'd be sorry that you told me what you did last night.”

The elevator door opened. She stepped inside but held her hand across the door. “I'm not. And I don't want to talk about it again.”

Her decision to stay single pained her, he realized. Deeply.
What drove you to choose that, Becca?

He leaned over and kissed her, as if he had no control over his actions. Maybe he didn't.

“Have a good day, honey,” he said, attempting to make her laugh, to lighten the moment.

But as the door closed, she only looked confused.

Join the club, he thought as he walked back to her unit. He found Shana sketching, a measuring tape in hand. He became her assistant, and she kindly asked no personal questions.

He didn't let on about his doubts she could handle a job this big. But more than most people, she needed someone's vote of confidence, and he needed to give it.

He hadn't spent this much time with Shana in years—for as long as he could remember, actually. Maybe ever. He'd thought their sister Dixie had gotten all the organizational skills in the family, but Shana surprised him. She came up with a plan before they left the loft, and by the end of the very long day, she'd ordered everything except a light to go over
the new dining-room table, and a few accessories. Deliveries would start the next day. She would come back Friday night to stage the rooms.

“This has been fun,” Shana said as they dropped onto the sofa to share chips and salsa at the end of the day.

“I don't know how you keep track of it all. My head's spinning.”

“I already see it finished. There's a spot right over there—” she pointed to the wall behind where the dining set would go “—that will need filling. I could pick out something, but I think she should. Maybe she has some art that would fit.”

“She has photo albums and pictures in frames.”

“It needs something colorful. A painting, maybe, but a sculptural piece with some depth is better. A touch of burnt orange would be good, too, to go with some of the other accessories. Can you take her shopping?” She set her heels on the coffee table and crossed her ankles.

“I guess.”

“A new glass-tile backsplash in the kitchen would be perfect, just along the far wall. It's a pretty small space, so it's doable,” she said, looking around. “And she really should paint the living room/dining room space, but I don't think there's time for either of those things by Saturday. It's almost impossible to line someone up that fast. I'm totally booked, or I would do it myself.”

“I could do it.”

Shana laughed.

Gavin took offense. “Why is that so funny?”

She picked up his hand and ran her fingers over it.

“Soft. Smooth. Hands that don't do manual labor.”

It was all the challenge he needed. “You pick out the paint and tile. I'll have it done by Friday at noon.”

“This I've gotta see.” She grinned. “What are we betting?”

“What do you want, if you win?”

“A tune-up for my car.”

She continued to smile but her unfrivolous request stabbed at him. She traveled a lot of miles every day, almost always commuting to Sacramento, two hours, round-trip. She should be driving something reliable, not the heap she owned. Barring that, it should at least be maintained well.

“Deal,” he said. “And if I win, you owe me a thorough cleaning of my place in the city.”

“Well, that's win-win for me,” she said. “At the very least, I'll get to spend a couple of days in San Francisco. Let's shake on it.” She stood. “And on that note, I'll take off before you fully realize your generous mistake. I'll stop by the store on my way out of town to choose the paint and the tile. If they don't deliver, maybe Becca can pick it all up at lunch tomorrow.”

She almost skipped out the door. Gavin grabbed
his cell phone and placed a call to Landon Kincaid, a licensed contractor and real-estate developer Gavin had known since high school. Kincaid and Shana had a somewhat touchy relationship. Gavin didn't know the source of the conflict, because they hadn't known each other very long, but maybe he could use it to his advantage.

“Kincaid? Hey, it's Gavin Callahan.”

“How's it going, Gavin?”

“I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a jam.

I just made a bet with Shana that I know I can't win on my own. It's your area of expertise, however. Care to help?” He explained the situation to Kincaid, who didn't answer right away.

“I can't be part of a plan to cheat her, Gavin.”

“I'm not asking you to. I'm going to tell her she was right, that I was completely incompetent and so I asked you to help. She'll win the bet, no matter what.”

“Why go to that extreme?”

“Because I want to give her something she wants. She only asked for a tune-up for her car. This way she'll win the bet, but it won't seem like charity, which we both know she wouldn't accept, even from me.”

“I'm in.”

When Becca arrived home a couple hours later, Gavin had marinated chicken breasts to grill, put together a green salad and had asparagus ready to
roast in the oven. It was a simple meal, not much of a stretch, even for him.

“Smells good,” Becca said as she made her way to the bar counter. “Chocolate-chip cookies.”

“Seriously?”

“Don't be too impressed,” he said. “It's slice and bake.”

“It's more than I've done. Thanks.” She accepted a glass of Merlot. “Careful, Gavin. I could get used to this.” Hesitancy marked her words and actions, as if she had no idea what to expect from him and didn't know how to behave.

“How was your day?” he asked, urging her toward the couch.

“Strange. Everyone asked questions without using actual words. I got a lot of raised eyebrows, followed by pauses, as if I would fill in the blanks. And Chip's not speaking to me unless absolutely necessary. And then two potentially huge clients contacted us out of the blue, which is wonderful, and which is also why I'm late. So, how did you and Shana do?”

“She's a human tornado. I never knew that about her. I could barely keep up. It means your place will be ready to go by Friday night—unless something doesn't get delivered. But I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a call or visit from Shana, should that happen.” He smiled at the image. “I remember her as this kind of loner kid who said little and stayed in her room a lot. She's become a mature, competent
woman. Becoming a mother probably had a lot to do with that.”

He angled toward Becca. “It got me looking at you through your brothers' eyes. Until they see you in action in some way, as I did with Shana, they'll always think of you as their kid sister. A girl, not a woman.”

“Maybe we could have a take-your-brothers-to-work day at the office,” she said, seeming to relax finally.

“My guess is they'd be as surprised as I was about Shana. I'd just never given it any thought. She's been frozen in time for me, I see that now.” The timer went off. He got up to take the cookies out of the oven. “Maybe it's not a matter of your brothers seeing you in action at work but the fact you'll have your house in order that'll make them realize that you're grown up. It should help, anyway.”

“I sure hope so. What did you tell Shana about us?”

“As little as possible.” He moved the cookies to wire racks to cool. “She knows we're pretending to be married. Plus, I forgot to take off the ring. You, too, I see.”

“At work they think I
am
married.”

He grabbed his wineglass and returned to the couch. “Would you like to see the schematic Shana came up with or do you want to be surprised?”

“Do you think I might not like something?”

“Far from it. We also have a homework assignment to choose a decorative piece for that wall. Maybe tomorrow after dinner?”

“Most of the galleries close at five o'clock, but I could take a long lunch, if that works for you.”

“I need to be here. The delivery window from all of the stores is from nine to five.”

Every time he looked at her, he felt guilty. She was too quiet, for one thing, and her eyes weren't sparkling as they had at times. He'd opened some kind of Pandora's box for her last night. She may be trying to ignore it, but it hadn't completely gone back into hiding yet.

When dinner was ready, they sat at the counter to eat. In silence. He couldn't figure out how to change the mood.

“Let's go for a walk,” he said after the meal ended.

“We can window-shop the galleries. Maybe you'll see the right piece for that spot on the wall.”

Becca lived in a largely residential community in a city famous for its trees and old Victorian houses. Surprisingly her contemporary high-rise building suited the long-settled location. Surrounding her building were boutiques and galleries, bars and clubs, and casual dining to please every palate and price range. The second Saturday of every month brought an art walk and thousands of people into the area.

“I can probably find the right piece if I wait for
Second Saturday,” she said as they walked out into the early-evening air, the sun just setting in hazy brushstrokes of purples and oranges. “Do you think Shana would be upset if I left it until then?”

“Upset, no. But I imagine she'll fill it with something in the meantime. She talked about needing a balance of color there.” He took Becca's hand, felt her surprise, then she seemed to relax.

They wandered for almost an hour, then came across an amazing wall sculpture in a gallery window, a copper-and-bronze stylized recreation of the Tower Bridge, one of Sacramento's landmarks. A setting sun gave the metal an orange glow.

“I hope Shana agrees it works,” Becca said, “because I love it. I could easily spend time sitting at my new dining-room table and seeing it on the wall.”

“Let's find out,” Gavin said. He pulled out his cell phone and took a picture, then emailed it to his sister. Shana replied a second later. “‘Perfect. Buy it.'”

“I'll call the store tomorrow and have the sculpture delivered,” Becca said. “Unless it's too expensive.”

They returned to her building, their assignment complete.

“I think I'll leave you here,” Gavin said as they stood at the elevator bank.

Becca's stomach clenched. Maybe they hadn't settled things, after all. “You don't want any cookies?” she asked to cover her surprise.

“Do you plan to eat them all tonight?”

“You never know.”

He laughed. “I'll take my chances. Plus, I didn't use up all the dough.” A pinging sound indicated the arrival of the elevator. “Good night, Becca.”