But hell, his decision to keep things as they were hadn’t been grounded in laziness. It had been grounded in a desire to give the kids stability. To give them a sense that, although a lot of things had changed, their roots would never.
Were they old enough now to accept change?
They’d been through so much.
But maybe it was time to throw them a challenge.
Maybe, after he’d finished with the Westmore project, he’d tackle instituting some changes at home.
Bit by bit. So the changes wouldn’t come all at once and be too distressing for them.
Yeah, he decided as he followed the road that led out of town toward Rosemount, one step at a time.
That was the answer.
Kendra was out back, getting Megan’s bike from the shed, when she heard the roar of a truck coming up the drive at the front of the house.
At the same time, Megan shot out through the kitchen door. She looked fresh and sweet in an ice-blue jumpsuit.
“Got everything, honey?” Kendra asked.
“Yes.”
“And you know the way? Along the—”
“Mom, we did that yesterday!” Impatiently, Megan grabbed the bike handles. “Thanks.” She jumped on the mountain bike and took off across the white gravel chips, her tires crunching. “’Bye, Mom! See you after school!”
“’Bye, honey! Take care...”
Kendra watched till her daughter disappeared around the corner of the house. Then she turned, letting her gaze sweep up over the enormous white mansion that had stood here, on top of the hill, for more than sixty years.
The breeze riffled pleasantly through her hair and the sun kissed her cheeks. She smiled and tucked her hands into the pockets of her white shorts as she walked toward the open back door. She was glad to be home. More than glad: elated! When her grandfather had thrown her out eight years ago, she’d left her heart in Lakeview. Now she was back, she would never leave again. No matter what.
She crossed the kitchen, walked along the corridor, and paused for a moment when she reached the foyer.
Sunlight flooded down from the tall window in the stairwell, its mellow rays glowing on the Persian rug and parquet floor. Sunlight gleamed, too, on the polished mahogany furniture, and enriched the opulent color of the tapestries adorning the walls. The staircase itself was the hall’s focal point, its elegant lines and luxurious blue runner drawing the eye up to the landing.
As a child she’d never been tempted to slide down the smooth banister...but Megan seemed to find it irresistible. Kendra was well aware that despite being cautioned several times to keep off it, the child still sailed recklessly, joyfully down it when her mother wasn’t around.
An accident waiting to happen—
The front doorbell clanged.
Kendra turned and crossed the foyer, and as she did, she found herself wondering if it wouldn’t be better to postpone the kitchen project and deal with the staircase first. Yes, that’s what she would do. And as soon as it was replaced, she could stop worrying...
Content with her decision, she opened the front door.
And came face-to-face with a man she had hoped never to bump into again. He was dressed to kill and she could smell the faintest hint of a musky aftershave over the sweet scent of roses drifting from a nearby flower bed.
“Brodie Spencer!” She rammed her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘What on earth are you doing here!”
CHAPTER TWO
“A SIMPLE ‘Good morning,’” Brodie returned innocently, “would have sufficed!”
His lips twitched as he saw her gaze become even more belligerent. Boy, she sure was something else when she got mad! Sparks exploded like fireworks in her brown eyes, and her breasts quivered! Yup, quivered. Under that cobalt blue tank top, they quivered.
“I said—” her voice was icy “—what do you want?’
He cleared his throat and jerked his gaze back to her face. What did he want? Hell, she wouldn’t like his honest answer to that question. No, sirree!
“Lakeview Construction at your service, ma’am.”
She stared at him blankly for a full seven seconds... which gave him time to scrutinize her hair. It hung loose this morning, the heavy blunt-cut tips brushing her tanned shoulders, and each strand glistened as if it had been individually dipped in white gold. He felt a strong urge to reach out and run his fingers through—
She made a sound that reminded him of a piglet’s snort.
“You’re kidding,” she said scathingly. “Of course.”
“No, ma’am. I am not.” He pressed his right hand flat against his heart. And noticed it was beating just a tad faster than usual. “I’m here to discuss your...kitchen.
He saw the incredulity in her eyes.
He showed her the work order.
She scrutinised it but when she handed it back, her expression had become only marginally less hostile.
“You’d better come inside.” She made no secret of her reluctance to invite him into the house. And she flounced away, leaving him to close the door behind him. The rich, it seemed, did not always have impeccable manners!
She halted in the middle of the foyer and turned to him. She’d schooled her features into an emotionless mask.
“There’s been a change in plan,” she said. “I want to postpone work on the kitchen and start with the staircase.”
Brodie smelled coffee.
He’d been in such an all-fired rush that morning he hadn’t taken time to have his usual caffeine fix. He sure could do with it now, to set him up before he got down to the nitty-gritty of telling his client she’d be a fool to tear down her magnificent antique mahogany staircase.
“Let’s talk about that,” he said smoothly. “Over...a coffee, maybe?”
He could feel her irritation coming at him in waves. But she said, albeit stiffly, “All right.”
She took off along the corridor to the left of the foyer, and he followed like a sheep.
Except that a sheep wouldn’t have ogled her derriere the way he was doing—well, how could he not? It was sexy as hell in those skimpy white shorts—and she still walked with that tantalizing little wiggle of her hips, the way she’d done when she was a teenager!
“You can see,” she said as he entered the kitchen behind her, “why I want this room modernized.”
He glanced around and murmured in agreement. The cupboards were faced with outdated Formica, the appliances were ancient and an unfashionable olive green, the linoleum so old the pattern was worn away in places, and the lighting fixtures pathetically inadequate. Yup, he thought, it would be a pleasure to gut this place out and start from scratch!
He returned his attention to the woman walking to the countertop by the sink, and watched her reach up to a side cupboard for two mugs.
She was in front of the window, and backlit against the brilliant sunshine. All he could see of her was her shape—her slim shoulders, her hand-span waist, her curvy hips.
She had some gorgeous figure!
“How