“What’s wrong, Ms. Westmore? Didn’t Brodie turn up?”
“Oh, yes, he turned up all right. The problem is—”
“Problem? You have a problem?”
“It’s not going to work out. He’s not going to work out. I mean...what I mean is, I can’t work with the man. I want someone else to be put in charge of the project.”
“But Brodie’s—”
“No ifs, ands, or buts. I want another—”
She heard a kerfuffle at the other end of the line. Then she heard muffled voices. In the background.
“Hello?” Exasperation made her voice shrill. “Hello? Mitzi? What’s going on?”
“Hi.”
Oh, she knew that voice. Brodie must have gone straight back to the office. Probably to complain about her attitude! Well, great. That worked both ways. He didn’t want her, she didn’t want him, either!
“Let me talk to your boss,” she fairly hissed. “Now!”
He chuckled, and anger spilled through her.
“Brodie, I’m warning you—”
“You want to talk to the boss?”
“Finally you’ve got it!”
“The boss of Lakeview Construction? The owner, manager, chairman, and president?” His words were threaded with laughter.
“Yes!” she exploded.
“You’re talkin’ to him!” All of a sudden she heard a grimness in his tone, a steely note that hadn’t been there before. “Brodie Spencer owns the company, lock, stock, and barrel. He’s the man who makes all the decisions, and he’s the man who’s going to head your project. We have a contract, you and I. A contract that’s iron-clad. You may not like it but you’re stuck with it. You may not like me—and it’s clear that you don’t—but you’re stuck with me, too. So you’d better get used to seeing me around, ma’am, because that’s the way it’s going to be!”
Kendra spent the rest of the morning cleaning out the kitchen and carting everything from there to the kitchenette.
It lay along the corridor from the kitchen, just beyond the mudroom and the swing door that separated the main part of the house from the servants’ quarters.
The servants’ quarters hadn’t been used any time in Kendra’s memory. Her grandmother had apparently been ‘delicate,’ and had required live-in help; but after his wife’s death Edward Westmore had let the housekeeper go, along with the several housemaids. From then on, he’d depended on a local woman who came in daily to cook and clean. Molly Flynn was surly and unpleasant. Kendra had disliked her intensely, so when the woman phoned Rosemount the day after Edward Westmore’s funeral to say she wouldn’t be coming in anymore, Kendra had breathed a sigh of relief that she was spared the task of firing her.
Now this morning, as she busied herself emptying the kitchen so the workmen could get started, she was alone. Alone in body, but not in mind, because as she worked, Brodie Spencer kept intruding on her thoughts, no matter how she tried to keep him at bay.
And always the image was vivid: blue-green eyes glinting with mockery; sensual lips curled tauntingly; magnificent male body exuding arrogant challenge and blatant sexual charisma from every muscle, bone, and pore.
Oh, how she hated the man!
Shoving open the swing door with her hip, she marched into the kitchenette with the very last load, and thumped the tray of dishes down on the scrubbed pine table with such force that the delicate china plates trembled.
There, that was it Finito.
Now Lakeview Construction could get on with the job.
Flinging open the window, she curled her hands around the edge of the sink and stared out over the gravelled parking area.
Bad enough, she reflected irritably, that she was going to have to endure having Brodie Spencer in her home for the next few weeks; but that wasn’t the only thing gnawing away at her. The awkward situation with his daughter and Megan had been niggling at her, too.
What if Friday rolled around and Megan hadn’t found another friend? What if she still wanted to spend Saturday afternoon with Jodi Spencer?
Perhaps, though, after this morning’s confrontation, Brodie would be as much against the looming liaison as she was. Perhaps he’d try to steer Jodi away from Megan—
And where would his wife fit into all of this?
It suddenly struck Kendra that if Jodi and Megan were in the same grade at school, they must be approximately the same age. That meant that Brodie must have become a father when he was only nineteen.
She frowned.
He’d been a hellion in those days, ripping around on his motorbike—black leather jacket, wicked grin, the whole nine yards. The clichéd “bad boy,” always in some kind of trouble. And “bad boys” didn’t turn into family men at nineteen...
Unless...yes, he probably got some girl pregnant
Probably got himself trapped.
Kendra felt a faint flicker of curiosity. What was she like, Brodie Spencer’s wife? And where did the family live? If Brodie owned Lakeview Construction, in all likelihood he’d have built himself a fancy new house. Possibly it was one of those modern mansions she’d seen north of Lakeview Road, as she’d driven into town ten days ago when she’d come home for her grandfather’s funeral...
She sighed, and hugged her arms around herself.
Her grandfather.
She could still scarcely believe he was gone. And she could still scarcely believe he had left her everything. Not only Rosemount, but all his money. She’d assumed that when he had written her out of his life, he had written her out of his will, too.
She had been mistaken.
Once she’d gotten over her shock, she’d given in her notice at the small hotel where she worked as a chef; spent the next twenty-four hours disposing of her meager household possessions; and then had driven, with Megan, to Lakeview.
She’d been glad to get out of the city.
And filled with growing joy at the prospect of bringing Megan up in the town where she had herself grown up.
She had always loved Lakeview. It had never occurred to her that once there, she’d find a fly in the ointment
Brodie Spencer!
And speak of pesky flies! she thought as a familiar red truck appeared around the side of the house and pulled up a few yards from the kitchen door. This one was back!
As Brodie jumped down from the cab, a blue van came into sight and spun to a halt, its rear wheels scattering white gravel chips into the air.
Two men emerged. Both wore checked shirts, heavy-duty jeans, workboots. Brodie himself had changed and looked more ruggedly sexy than ever in beat-up jeans, a sun-faded denim shirt, and heavy leather boots.
The two men followed Brodie as he strode to the door.
Squaring her shoulders, Kendra went to let them in. One day at a time, she told herself. Take it one day at a time.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” Megan scowled as she walked her bike over to her mother. “I know my way home!”
Kendra moved her own bike back to let some children scuffle past her through the school gates. “I just had to get out of the house! There’s such a racket, workmen tearing down cupboards and—”
“Hey,