No, not so simple. She had to work with him.
She practically groaned. Yesterday, her life had been easy, moving along its intended course. Today, she didn’t know what the next minute was going to bring.
Lisa drove down the tree-lined street of the old neighborhood, pulling up in front of a Victorian that had been divided into two apartments, one downstairs and one upstairs. She had the upper apartment. The rent was modest. Her kitchen linoleum had a crack, and she really should paint her bedroom. There was a stain on the ceiling from when the roof had leaked before she moved in. The grandmotherly lady who owned the property insisted the roof had definitely been fixed. The house brought in income for her, and her grandkids helped with the repairs. The past couple of weekends, Lisa had found a few furnishings and wall decorations at a public sale and at an antique fair. But she still had a way to go and she wasn’t keen on Alan seeing the apartment the way it was now.
What did it matter?
She hadn’t wanted to impress a man since she’d met Thad Preston during her senior year in high school. He’d been the football team’s quarterback, headed for the NFL. She’d learned the hard way that he’d intended to let nothing get in the way of that dream.
When she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d insisted she have an abortion. She could never have done that. And knowing that Aunt Edna would probably kick her out when she learned of the pregnancy, Lisa had saved her the trouble. She’d never wanted to live in Seattle, anyway…never liked Seattle. Portland was where she’d grown up, with parents who’d loved her. So that’s where she’d returned. She’d gotten a job waitressing, but her morning sickness had soon turned into all-day sickness, forcing her to cut back her hours. Working less, she couldn’t afford the room she’d rented. She was out on the streets. Craig, who had managed a local deli, often slipped food to her and her friend Ariel, who’d camped out in vacant buildings with her. He’d also supplied food while they were sleeping at the homeless shelter. But then one day, Lisa had passed out on the street, Ariel had called 911 and she’d been taken to the hospital. The Children’s Connection had gotten involved, and that had led to Carrie and Brian.
So who was sending her a threatening note?
Trying to clear her head so she could deal with Alan Barrett, she exited her car and motioned toward the back of the house. “Sorry, but I live upstairs. There’s a summer kitchen in the back. You could just unload everything in there.”
“And what? You’ll carry it up in the morning?”
“It’s just end tables and a coffee table, odds and ends.”
“You don’t like to let anyone do anything for you.” He sounded curious more than annoyed.
“If I can do something on my own, why should I ask for help?”
“You’re not the damsel in distress type?”
“Not if I can help it.”
At that, he laughed and, unfortunately, she liked the sound of it. His laughter was deep and rich, just like his voice. She might as well get this over with, and then he could be on his way, she decided.
They almost had a tug-of-war over the coffee table, the heaviest piece. But Alan was bigger and stronger. When he’d wrestled it from her, he smiled. “Give in, Lisa. Let me take the heavier pieces.”
Hands on her hips, she glared up at him. “Are you going to be difficult to work with on the golf resort project, too, Mr. Barrett?”
Holding the coffee table as if it weighed no more than his Stetson, he smiled at her. “It’s Alan. And as far as being difficult to work with, that depends on whether you let me have my way or not.”
“And I suppose you’re used to getting your own way?” she challenged.
“Not many people cross me.”
“Then maybe you’ve met your match.”
He eyed her thoroughly. “Maybe. Or maybe because we’re both determined and because we both know how to get the job done, we could work very well together.”
With a sigh and a shake of her head, she gave in. “Take the coffee table upstairs. I’ll grab one of the end tables.”
“Why don’t you just grab the magazine rack or the flower stand?”
“One thing you’re going to learn about me, Mr.—” At the lift of his brow, she stopped. “Alan…is that I pull my own weight.”
“Then go ahead and pull your own weight up there, and unlock the door. You can do that better if you’re not carrying anything too heavy.”
If she smiled, he’d know he’d won. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Instead of the magazine rack or the flower stand, she picked up a floor lamp and hoisted it over her shoulder, then quickly moved ahead of him and hurried toward her apartment. She had to get rid of him. She had to stop reacting to his grin. She had to forget that his eyes were as blue as any sky she’d ever seen.
After several more trips, Lisa quickly positioned everything where she wanted it.
Alan glanced around appreciatively after it was all in place. “You have an eye for arranging furniture.”
“I just know where I want it.”
His gaze fell on the striped salmon-and-turquoise sofa, the Boston rocker, the mahogany tables and the Tiffany lamp. “You’re missing something.”
“I know. I need to get an area rug.”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant. You’re missing a big old recliner where someone could be really comfortable.”
She assessed him thoughtfully. “Do you have one of those?”
“Back in Texas I do. Here, none of the furniture’s quite broken in yet. The recliner has to be five years old to be comfortable.”
She couldn’t help but move closer to him. She couldn’t help but study his expression carefully. “A man like you keeps a five-year-old recliner?”
“I hold on to things I’m fond of. Just because I can buy anything I want, doesn’t mean I’d rather have new than aged. Sort of like that necklace you keep fingering. It doesn’t look brand-new, but it seems to mean a lot to you.”
She knew whenever she was nervous or uncertain, her locket was a talisman she touched to stay grounded. But she didn’t want Alan asking too many questions about it. She certainly wouldn’t open it for him.
“This was a gift from Carrie and it means a lot to me. It’s an antique. I guess I keep touching it to make sure its still there.”
“You’re a contradiction.”
“And that means…?”
“That means you like to act tough, but I think you’ve got a softer side.”
“You don’t know me.” She was sure if he did, he would want nothing to do with her.
“We’ll be remedying that soon. Working out of town and traveling together has a way of taking off the veneer pretty fast.”
The apartment had a quaint older-house smell, part plaster, part polished furniture, part lavender potpourri. But she was standing close enough to Alan to catch the scent of his cologne, to see the interest in his eyes, to feel a pull toward him that made her feel trembly inside.
“Do you live alone at your ranch in Texas?” She wondered what to expect when they got there.
“No, my brother lives there, and I have a housekeeper.”
“Does the ranch have a name?” If she didn’t keep talking, if she didn’t keep words between them, she was afraid something would happen that she’d