Authors: Dara Girard
“I’ll remember that next time.” She reached for the door again.
“Just hear me out. I want to offer a truce.”
“There’s no need for a truce.”
“I made you lose your promotion and I want to make it up to you.”
She stared at him curiously. “How?”
“May I come in?”
So you can laugh at my antler lamps and gray shag rug?
“No.”
“I want to offer Mrs. McQueeth an apartment at The New Day Senior Living Community.”
“She couldn’t afford it.”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He handed her an envelope. “Here. It’s all set. She can move in this week. I’ll pay for the moving costs if necessary.”
Mary looked at the glossy brochure. It was a tempting offer and she could feel herself weakening, then she looked at him. His watchful, cool grayish-brown eyes doused any flame of desire and rid her of the temptation to say yes.
“No.”
“This is what you wanted. She would get around-the-clock care, food, activities—all for free.”
“You’re being nice. That’s not like you.” She handed him back the envelope. “You want me to back off your project. This is a bribe.”
A flash of hurt entered his eyes; she chose to believe it was her imagination. “No, it is not a bribe. I won’t deny that I would like you to be more lenient with Gregory—perhaps he could do monthly reports instead of weekly ones—but this has nothing to do with that. Can I come inside?”
“No.”
He sighed, frustrated. “The offer has no strings attached.”
“With men like you there are
always
strings.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know you well enough not to trust you.”
“I apologize that I made a bad first impression, but I’m not as bad as you think. I’ve visited Mrs. McQueeth—”
Her wariness flared into outrage. “You did what?”
“And I know that our community will be perfect for her.”
“You had no right to see her.”
“And you have no right to deny her good care because you want to punish me.”
“I’m not trying to punish you. I just don’t want to owe you.”
“You’re sure we can’t discuss this inside?”
“Completely sure.”
He briefly measured her. “I could push past you.”
“Yes, and leave feet first.” She lifted the object in her hand in a menacing gesture, only to realize that it was a harmless scrub brush.
Edmund grinned. “You plan to hurt me with that?”
“There are knives in the kitchen,” she warned.
“Fine. I won’t come in. We can discuss it at Mrs. McQueeth’s place.” He turned and headed for the elevators.
“No! Edmund, come back here.” When he didn’t, Mary shouted at him. “Wait!” She disappeared inside her apartment, then reappeared with her coat and handbag. Edmund waited for her looking smug. She shot him a look of disgust. “You’re aggravating.”
He folded his arms, unconcerned. “Where are we going?”
Mary pushed the elevator button, wanting to punch it. “You’ll see.”
Moments later they sat on a bench in front of the building surrounded by the scent of roasted chicken from a local takeaway. Unfortunately, they were no closer to agreeing about his proposal than before.
Edmund sighed. “I wish you’d see reason.”
“It’s ethically wrong.”
“No one would tie it back to you and, besides, I’m offering this as a gift.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” she said sarcastically. “It shouldn’t be difficult to believe a man who’s so honest.”
“I said I was sorry.”
Mary looked at the contents of the envelope again. It was a magnificent offer and more tempting than before. He was too. Sitting on a bench had been a bad idea. He sat as though he had no concept of personal space. His arm brushed hers each time he moved, sending unwanted shivers of desire racing through her, and she had to keep reminding herself how much she disliked him. Mary tried to inch away, but he always closed the distance, and if she moved anymore she’d fall off the bench.
Mary fought hard to focus on the brochure. It showed a happy older couple and described all the services and activities that were to be provided. She would love Mrs. McQueeth to live there. It would be an answer to a prayer. “Wait—I have an idea. Do you offer discounts?”
“For what?”
“The rooms. I’ll pay a certain amount for Mrs. McQueeth’s room and that will make it even.”
“You can’t afford it.”
“Then make it affordable,” she challenged.
He looked at her with admiration, then held out his hand. “You have yourself a deal.”
She looked at his hand and shook her head. “This won’t change anything. I will still watch your program like a hawk and will have an even bigger motive to make sure it succeeds the way that it should. Are you sure you still want to do this?”
He rested his arm behind her, his hand brushing the back of her neck when he did so. “I’m always sure of what I want.”
Mary clasped her hands together, desperate not to move. “Oh.”
“Don’t move,” he said, then reached for her shoulder. When he removed his hand a butterfly lay still on his finger. “Quick, make a wish.”
“What?”
“Before it flies away.”
I wish what I was feeling wasn’t wrong.
The butterfly took flight. Edmund watched it go and Mary watched him, until he turned to look at her. She glanced away.
“I have a question for you,” he said in a low voice that sounded as sweet as honeysuckle.
She swallowed. “Yes?”
“What caused the change? Did you just turn forty or something?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m barely past thirty.”
He playfully tugged on her hair. “I know. I was just teasing. Before you looked…uh…”
“Older?”
“Yes,” he agreed, deciding to stay safe. “So why did you decide to do this…um…change?”
“It’s called a makeover.”
“Right.” He nodded as though he’d just learned a new word. “Makeover. Why did you do it?”
“Well, when you’ve been passed over for a promotion five times, thought of as the doormat project supervisor, and lost all your furniture to your ex because he owned most of it, you start taking stock of your life and decide you need a change.”
“So that’s why you won’t let me in.”
“What?”
“You don’t have any furniture left.”
“No, I have furniture now. I just didn’t want to let you in.”
“Is there any way I could get you to trust me?”
Probably.
Despite his cool grayish-brown eyes, he was easy to talk to. And if she allowed herself, she would have to admit that she enjoyed his company. Her gaze fell to his soft full lips, remembering how they felt on hers. She quickly stopped herself. He wasn’t the man she’d imagined him to be. He wasn’t friendly and kind. Or at least she didn’t think so. He had a hidden agenda. She had to remember that. “No.”
“So who is Mrs. McQueeth to you?”
“An ex-nanny. She took care of my two brothers and me while we were growing up. Then I heard she’d fallen on hard times, and I was determined to look after her as she had looked after us.”
“Why didn’t you get any money from your brothers?”
“They knew I could handle everything.”
“You probably didn’t ask them. I bet if you did, they would help.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Do you have siblings?”
“Just one. A sister.”
“Older or younger?”
“Younger.” He changed the subject. “So you’re beholden to your ex-nanny. I hope she appreciates you.”
“She does.” Mary paused, wishing he would move his arm. “Why do you do it?”
“What?”
“What you do. Why would you invest in a business like this? There must be other projects that are more exciting and more lucrative. You could invest in anything. Why this one?”
Edmund leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My sister and I were raised by our grandparents, and I saw a lot of their friends end up in nursing homes and facilities that didn’t care about them. Eventually, we had to put my grandfather in one and…” His words fell away and he shook his head, the pain of the memory evident in the tightness of his shoulders. Edmund took a deep breath and leaned back. “I vowed I’d come up with something better.”
Mary didn’t know what to say. She’d expected him to admit how much money he’d hoped to make, that he liked investing in sure things, not this poignant story of how he was raised. She sighed. Every time she managed to build up a shield against him he was able to slip through her armor. She didn’t ask him what had happened to his parents or where his sister was now. All she said was, “Oh.”
He turned to her. “Why do you say it like that?”
“I thought you were just in it for the money. There are a lot of seniors around nowadays.”
“I’m not completely mercenary.”
“Only partly?” she teased.
A grin spread on his face that made her heart do flip-flops. “Yes,” he said.
“What’s the other part?”
His gaze darkened to two smoldering pools. “Do you really want to know the answer?”
Yes.
She made a noncommittal sound.
“Mary,” he said her name softly, but it called to something deep within her. And she didn’t want to answer the call. She leaped to her feet. The light was fading and the thought of being alone with him in the dark conjured up too many possibilities. “I’d better go tell Mrs. McQueeth the great news.”
Edmund slowly stood. “About that date—”
“Yes,” she said in a bright voice. “That reminds me. I have to buy a pair of earrings for my date with Derrick.”
He reached out and toyed with one of her earrings, the knuckles of his fingers touching her cheek like a caress. “I like what you’re wearing right now.”
Mary covered her ear, trying to ignore the electric sensation of his touch. “These are old. I bought them years ago.”
“They’re still beautiful.” His large hand cupped the side of her face. “Do you know what else is beautiful?” His lips touched hers before she could respond, igniting all the delicious feelings he’d elicited before. She’d expected a kiss that overpowered her like a warrior claiming his battle prize, but his mouth claimed her with passionate mastery she felt powerless to resist. Her heart hammered in her chest as her mind told her to pull away. But her body sought comfort in the warm, solid body pressed against hers, the soft caress of his mouth, and she drew closer. Soon his arms were around her, and her own hands cascaded over the muscles of his back. Her breathing grew shallow as their kiss deepened into something infinitely more dangerous.
Mary took a hasty step back. “No, we can’t do this.”
Edmund drew her close again. “Sure we can.”
She turned away from him, staring blindly at something in the distance. “No.”
He spun her to him. “Mary.”
She glanced up at the sky, unable to face him, knowing that if she did, she’d surrender again. “I’d better go.”
He reluctantly released her and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking grim. “Yes.”
She turned and hurried away.
Mrs. McQueeth was thrilled when Mary told her about the new arrangement. She was even more delighted a week later when she moved in. Edmund had selected a breathtaking one-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath, newly renovated apartment. A generous ray of light flooded the entryway through a skylight. Instead of drapes, there were simple bamboo shades, stained to echo the wood floors, and built-in shelving throughout to display many of Mrs. McQueeth’s precious family heirlooms. A beautiful rendition of a photograph of her mother and father hung over a stone fireplace. The cheery living room led to a small-size kitchen, which had all of the latest amenities and a dining area, where Mrs. McQueeth’s mother’s handmade dining table and chairs proudly took their place.
Her bedroom was twice the size of her old one and painted a soft lavender, Mrs. McQueeth’s favorite. Her furniture was dwarfed by the immense space, but Mary could see that she felt at home.
Every apartment came equipped with all the latest technology. There was a specialized shower stall with a built-in chair, and recliners and beds that could be raised and lowered for residents with bad knees and backs. Mary moved around the apartment, speechless. She was a bit worried about all the high-tech equipment but couldn’t deny that the place was lovely. This wasn’t what she’d expected.
“How do you like it?” Edmund said, appearing in the doorway.
“What have you done?” Mary whispered so that Mrs. McQueeth wouldn’t hear her.
“Don’t you like it?”
“This isn’t what we agreed to. You said ‘affordable.’”
“This
is
affordable or rather it will be.”
“She can’t stay here.”
Mrs. McQueeth came up to them with tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Mary, it’s gorgeous.” She hugged her. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Edmund said. “But there’s been a mis—” Mary kicked him before he could finish.
“You’re welcome,” Mary said. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I know I will be thanks to you.” She took Edmund’s hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
Edmund’s face softened. He looked down at the older woman with a tenderness Mary found surprising. Then he lowered his voice and said something Mary couldn’t hear, and she knew she wasn’t meant to. The words were meant for Mrs. McQueeth alone. Whatever he said filled the woman with such joy, tears started to fall down her cheeks and she hugged him. “Bless you. God bless you,” she said.
Mary expected Edmund to be embarrassed or impatient with Mrs. McQueeth’s exuberant embrace, but he wasn’t. He treated her as though he’d known her for years. Mary felt a little jealous at the ease with which he’d captured Mrs. McQueeth’s affections, but she could see that winning women over was a talent of his.
“If you have any concerns there’s a list of numbers on the fridge and on the desk,” he said.
Mrs. McQueeth wiped her tears with a handkerchief.
“So what are you going to do first?” Mary asked.
Mrs. McQueeth went over to the large picture window. “I’m going to sit and enjoy the view.”