The Very Thought of You (27 page)

“Hello.” Last night, he'd touched every part of her body. He'd brought her to heights she'd never experienced before or ever expected to reach. This morning, he seemed like a stranger.

He gestured toward the building. “I never imagined anything like this could happen. Not when the construction site was the target.”

“What do the police think?”

He shrugged. “They wrote it up as an accident. No one was hurt. It's a low priority.”

“Not for your tenants.”

“The police are aware of that. I'm aware of it, too.”

“Do you have any ideas how it happened … who could have … ?”

He glanced toward Duncan Serk, who'd resumed pacing and sucking on yet another cigarette. “I have one or two.”

“You think it was him?” Serk's eyes had folded into slits. A scowl furrowed the loose, jowly skin on his face. He looked as volatile as a lit fuse.

“Let's say he's a candidate.”

“Then why damage the building? Why would anyone do something to make themself homeless?”

“Maybe he didn't expect the beam to land where it did. He could have levered it to crash down through the ground floor and take most of it into the foundation. That would destabilize the walls. We would have to rebuild almost from scratch. The angle was off, though. It flipped over the side and through the apartment house wall. That wall is nothing but flimsy wood. A man couldn't have done it alone.”

“No.”

“I know how you must feel.”

“What about you?” What better time to broach the subject of compensation? The only circumstance that could make such a disaster worse was if a section of the building had collapsed and seriously hurt someone. “What do you plan to do about your tenants?”

He frowned. “I can't answer your question right now. I'll need time to work it out. It's a hell of a mess.”

Molly nodded. “It is for them. I guess you got lucky, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is what you wanted all along. They're out. Now you can tear down this old wreck and finish your project.” Anger mixed with accusation in her tone. She was tired and upset and needed to rail at someone. Last night she'd felt like a lottery winner and this morning, like she'd lost the winning ticket.

“Is that what you think? I'm happy about this situation?”

She let a few seconds pass. “I'm not sure how you feel about it.”

“I feel like shit.” He raked his hand through his hair. “What are you saying, Molly? You think I'm responsible?”

Tears built behind her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them from spilling over. Her imperfect little single-night love affair was about to combust.

It was as if he'd taken her hesitation for consent. “Do you think that after you pulled out of my garage, I jumped into my car, tore down here, and shot a steel beam into the building?”

In the time it took him to hurl the accusation at her, she managed to get better control of her emotions.

“I'm not blaming you. What does it matter? Unless they have family or friends who can take them in, your tenants will probably end up in shelters until they can be placed in temporary housing. Or,
if
there are any vacancies, some will be lucky to move into a single-room occupancy building. Do you know what it costs to rent a room that's about half the size of your trailer? Six hundred to a thousand dollars a month. That's without a kitchen or a private bath. You can't squeeze in much more than a bed, a chair and someplace to hang a few clothes. They're infested with roaches and mice … ”

“I know about SRO buildings.”

“Have you ever been inside of one?”

“No.”

“Then you have no idea how really awful they are.” When she'd worked in social services, it had sickened her every time she'd had to direct someone there.

“Molly … ” He brought his hands up and she thought he was going to touch her.

She backed away. Any contact was out of bounds if she was going to hold him responsible for his tenants' welfare. Her willpower wasn't forged from iron, after all, and she obviously didn't have much of it when it came to Nick. She'd never felt so vulnerable.

“Look, somehow I'll make it right.”

Today, “somehow” didn't work for her. “How … when?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can't do anything right now, but I'll do whatever I can as soon as I can. Only I can't put a million bucks on the table. You need to understand that. It's not by choice. It's through necessity. I won't promise what I can't deliver.”

“I'm not asking you to.”

“Fine, we're in agreement there.”

“You have to figure something out.”

He glanced around at the remaining squad cars and emergency vehicles. “This isn't a good time to talk. A city housing inspector is on the way. They should have condemned this building a long time ago. It was never earthquake proof. It's too late now. It has to come down. I'll call you … ”

“There's nothing to talk about. We've stomped this into the ground how many times? Your tenants need you to rescue them. Now more than ever.” Her strong passion for justice superseded her anger. “You told me once you were one of the good guys.”

“I am. How often do I have to prove it?”

He'd already proved he could take her safe little world and crash it down on her head.

“You don't have very much faith in me.”

Her emotions were so raw it would take very little for her to lose control. Couldn't he see anything from her point of view? Her backing his tenants didn't mean a lack of faith in him. He stepped back and started to turn away from her.

“I do, Nick. I trust you.” Her voice came out weak and shaky, without the conviction she felt.

He turned to face her. His expression held a mixture of hurt and disappointment. “No, you don't. Why should you?”

Why should she?

“Because I … love you.” She had only mouthed the words, didn't dare voice them.

Except for the twitch in his lower lip, he stood perfectly still.

A shock wave tore through Molly. Was she crazy to admit something so important to a man who, aside from taking her to bed, had in no serious way returned the sentiment? Seconds ticked by, but he still hadn't moved or worse, spoken. Okay, to be fair, she'd taken him by surprise. How much time did he need to tell her he shared her feelings? He remained mute. She shook her head. “Forget about what you think I said.”

“Forget it?”

She nodded so vigorously, her neck snapped.

“Yes.”

He gave a low, strained laugh, as if it were all a big joke. “Whatever you want.”

She felt worse than a fool. One more confession and someone might come along and cart her off to Napa. Not to Nick's house, but to the state hospital where they housed people who proved they couldn't think straight.

“I have to go.” Last night she'd stuck to him like a Velcro strip. Now she wanted the sidewalk to open up and suck her down to Hades.

“Sure.” Nick looked resigned to their parting. Did she sense a little relief there, too? “I'll be in touch, or you can call me. Whatever.” He turned and walked over to where his crew waited.

I'll be in touch.
The kiss of death for a woman, trumped only by
I'm very fond of you.
Would he call? Why should he when she'd just told him there was nothing to talk about?

Molly clenched her jaw and ran as fast as her wedge heels allowed back to her car. At least she'd dodged a ticket, probably the only good news she'd have for the rest of the year. She yanked open the door and slumped behind the wheel. From the start, a chasm separated her and Nick. It had eroded into a Grand Canyon-sized space now. She loved him, and he didn't love her back. What he felt for her was a sexual urge and nothing more. Sure, he wanted her, and because she wanted him so much, she'd broken her rule on casual sex. Only, for her, there was nothing casual about the sex with Nick or her feelings for him. They were the real deal.

She pulled out into traffic and another thought jammed her brain. Had last night been part of a plan, about more than just the desire to take her to bed? Had he used her, as well? What better way to get her to back off from his tenants than a night of incredible sex and a promise for more? Maybe it built from the day in Napa when she'd let him touch her just about everywhere. She'd bet her knock-off Jimmy Choo wedge heels he had an infallible instinct about women. He
knew
she wanted him. He
knew
the sex would be more than casual for her. He
knew
she'd want a lot more. Maybe the only way for her to stay in his orbit was to convince his tenants to accept his offer. She banged her fist on the steering wheel.

Tears welled in her eyes. This time she didn't hold them back. If he'd planned that all along, he'd wasted his time. Thanks to the mystery saboteur, he'd been handed exactly what he wanted: a vacant building. And it hadn't cost anywhere near a million dollars to accomplish, either.

As soon as everyone left the scene, Nick headed for his trailer. He yanked off his tie and tossed it onto his desk, then rolled up his shirtsleeves. He needed to drag his body and mind onto a plateau where he didn't feel like he'd just barreled over a cliff. The take-out coffee he'd grabbed at a Peet's on Market Street had turned sour in his stomach, and his head throbbed like hell as if he'd walked face first into a utility pole. The disaster at the apartment building had a lot to do with that, along with Molly, who'd opened her heart to him and then just as quickly slammed it shut.

Throwing something like that at him, hands down, at the worst moment of his life — had pole-axed him. His benumbed brain had barely processed her words. His mental capacity had now at least nudged beyond the fifty percent point. Still the question remained as to how much to believe of her declaration. The way she'd mouthed it was one hell of a way to convince a man she trusted him. Did she mean it? Did he want her to?

Right now he had neither the time nor the inclination to fall in love. Especially with Molly. Of all the women he'd ever known, he considered her by far the most unpredictable. Also, the most stubborn, infuriating, and unreasonable. Then again, when she turned those big sparkling brown eyes on him, he wanted to draw her close and hold her until the next millennium. As well as kiss her and touch her. So, yeah, he questioned if they could go the distance. To all her better qualities, of which he made mental notes, he added loyalty and caring. At least she proved as much with his tenants, if not to him.

He sank down in his chair and propped his feet on his desk. He had to stop thinking about her. He needed to move forward. Fast. His project was behind schedule. He had to focus on business unless he wanted to join Serk and the others in an SRO hotel. He didn't have the luxury of slacking off. It was already close to late September. He'd anticipated having at least a third of the lofts completed and a sales office open by now. There was a high demand for housing in the city — he'd expected to sell most of the units off the blueprints by this point.

First, though, he had to deal with the apartment building. It needed everything inside cleared out and everyone's personal effects stored. Until then, his crew couldn't start the demolition. He needed to keep in touch with the Department of Social Services and stay current on the situation with his tenants. He needed promos of each new unit's layout to show prospective buyers. The printer should have had them a week ago. And he had to deal with the sabotage. He'd move out of his apartment and onto the construction site in order to stop it.

Heat built inside the trailer, and he hauled himself out of the chair and flipped on the floor fan. His crew had removed the steel beam from the apartment building side wall. Now hammering sounds were coming from the site. He hoped the guys could make more than the usual progress today. He'd have to go into overtime with them. Another expense he hadn't counted on. He pulled a set of tracings out of the storage bin and laid them on the desk. Another big decision loomed: how much to price each loft unit.

He'd been hoping for a small miracle before the million dollar demands and recent declarations of love walloped him — to realize enough of a profit to pay off his bank loans and settle with his tenants at twenty-five Gs a pop. Had he been living in a bubble? A month ago, he'd thought he'd raise enough money from the sale of the condos to make an offer on a property he'd been eying — a rarely used and run-down alley close to the Old Mint. Most people avoided it but he considered it a hidden gem.

But that was before his tenants, backed by Molly, had made an impossible demand. Now they had no leverage with the building condemned. He could offer the original twenty-five grand, and they'd have to take it. Hell, he was in a position to offer them nada. That was the upside of the whole mess. Still, he'd never back off on his word. He'd made them an offer and he damn well expected to stick to it. He'd have to say
hasta la vista
to a future with Molly, though, once they accepted the twenty-five thousand. That was a downside he wasn't sure he cared to risk.

He braced his hands on the desk and leaned over it. Yeah, pretty soon he'd have to make a decision on how strongly he felt about Molly Hewitt.

• • •

Molly hooked onto the freeway. She hadn't taken a day off in months. Now she wanted to put as many miles between herself and the morning's disaster as possible. Tokyo sounded about right, although a budget buster, so she decided on home. She fished her cell phone out of her purse. Should the street reopen, she left a message for Cynthia with the excuse she came down with the flu. She needed something vile in case she decided to take off an extra day.

Her tears had dried by the time she reached home. Yet she still felt as numb as if she'd stumbled down a dark hole and only just clawed her way back up. Her energy level was at its lowest ebb. It took every effort to place one foot ahead of the other. She just wanted to fall onto her bed and stay there for a year.