Doreen Malek - Daddy's Choice

“I have always loved a summer dusk,” Carol replied. “Of course, it does take some of the sparkle out of it when you consider that more car accidents occur at this time of day than any other.”

Tay laughed; when she looked at him he was shaking his head.

“That’s the sort of thing a lawyer would know,” he said.

“Or an insurance adjuster. It’s something about the change in perspective, drivers have difficulty dealing with the diminishing daylight. It’s actually safer to drive in full dark.”

“I’ll bear it in mind, Ralph Nader,” he said.

They reached her car and he waited while she unlocked it and got in, starting the motor and turning on the lights.

“Thanks for letting me join you for dinner,” he said quietly.

“Thanks for the dinner.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Carol watched him walk out of the lot, saw the way his bright hair caught the light from the street lamp, noted the flexing of his muscles as he shouldered briskly into his coat. She finally dragged her eyes away.

She almost wished she had not had dinner with him. He wasn’t just her nemesis anymore, he was a person now, a person with a sense of humor and a point of view.

And a very distracting presence.

What she didn’t need now, she thought again as she started her car, was a distraction.

And Taylor Kirkland promised to be a powerful one.

Tay unlocked the door of his truck, realized that he was wearing his jacket again, and took it off to toss it in the back. As he inserted the key into the ignition he thought about the new summer resident on Schoolhouse Lane in Strathmere.

Carol Lansing was an unexpected and problematic development.

He liked her already; he liked her too much, and he was concerned that his compromise with her would slow his work schedule. But it was either make the deal or have her tie him up in the courts. Or raise Cain every time one of his workmen dropped a hammer. His infallible charm routine didn’t seem to work too well on her, either; at dinner she had seemed to be as smart and aware as she was pretty. He only hoped she’d stay inside the house and study, as she’d said. The last thing he needed was a curvaceous brunette in a bikini parading past his men while they were trying to work.

And while he was trying to work.

He was already having difficulty putting her out of his mind.

He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the motor.

Carol was up, showered and dressed when Kirkland Construction descended on her the next morning. As she waited for her friend Jane, who had gone to law school with her and lived nearby in Stone Harbor, to arrive for a study session, the crew muffled the windows and sealed the doors before they set to work. The effect was peculiar: instead of loud and insistent pounding filling the house, the noise now sounded like distant thunder. Carol tried to ignore it and assembled her note cards and books on the kitchen table, rising to let Jane into the house when her knock came at the front door.

“What is going on here?” Jane said breathlessly as she entered the cottage and looked around wonderingly. “Are you experimenting with plutonium? This place is sealed off like a murder scene.”

“It’s a long story,” Carol replied wearily.

“Well, you’d better tell me, I’m just bursting with curiosity,” Jane said as she dumped her backpack on a chair.

Carol related the dismal tale as she poured a cup of coffee for her friend.

“And is that towering creature with the wavy blond hair the villain of this piece?” Jane asked archly. “He nodded to me as I breezed past him, laden with my twenty pounds of books. He took them from me in silence and deposited them on the porch, then nodded again when I thanked him.”

“That’s the one. John Spencer says he doesn’t talk very much.”

“For heaven’s sake, Carol, who cares if he can talk? That’s the most gorgeous man I have ever seen! I can’t believe you were trying to get rid of him, I would have been begging him to stay.”

“I must be a little more interested in passing the bar than you are, Jane,” Carol said dryly.

“Oh, come on, the noise isn’t that bad.”

“Today it isn’t that bad. Yesterday it sounded like the anvil chorus was being performed on my roof.”

“So you had a romantic dinner with him?” Jane asked, selecting the most interesting tidbit from Carol’s previous recitation.

“I did not have a romantic dinner with him,” Carol replied in a strong voice. “We shared a meal because we both happened to be in the same place at the same time. The whole event lasted little more than an hour.”

“How could you let that opportunity pass? You should have nailed his feet to the floor for the night!”

“I was angry with him, Jane,” Carol said, beginning to get annoyed with her friend, too. “He was insisting on completing a job I didn’t want done. Don’t you get the picture?”

“I’ll bet you weren’t angry by the time dinner was over,” Jane observed slyly.

Carol shot her a look.

“So he’s staying?” Jane said, cutting to the chase.

“Obviously.”

“Well, at least I’ll have the scenery to look forward to around here, since you’re a complete grouch.”

Carol lifted a stack of three-by-five index cards and placed them on the table between them.

“May we begin with these notes on contracts?” she said, changing the subject to the work at hand.

Jane reached for them resignedly and began to read out loud.

Around noon Jane suddenly raised her head and said, “What’s that sound?”

“Blessed silence. The crew is taking a lunch break.”

Jane leapt up from the table and walked over to the front window, peering past a wad of padding to look out at the front lawn. “Oh, be still my heart! Blondie is taking off his shirt.”

Carol scrambled over to the window and yanked the shade down to the sill.

“Why did you do that?” Jane demanded, outraged.

“Do you want him to see you peering out at him like some swooning teenager?”

“Anyone is permitted to look out the window, Carol. You’re being ridiculous.”

The phone started ringing, sparing Carol a reply. When she answered it she heard a sweetly feminine voice say, “Hi, this is Madeline, Mr. Kirkland’s personal assistant. Would it be possible for me to speak to him? I have to consult him about a business matter.”

Carol put the caller on hold and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Jane demanded.

“The call is for Kirkland,” Carol said shortly. Before Jane could answer, Carol was out the door and down the steps, striding across the lawn, which was now covered with a layer of fine dust and large wood chips. Kirkland looked up from his sandwich as Carol stopped in front of him.

“Help you?” he said.

“There’s a call for you inside the house,” Carol said.

He rose immediately, untying his T-shirt from his waist and slipping it over his head. He left the sandwich behind on the tailgate of his truck where he had been sitting. His men watched as he followed Carol back into the house.

“Over there,” Carol said, pointing to the phone sitting on the kitchen table. Both women left the room as he leaned against the wall and spoke into the receiver, the call box under his arm.

“I’ll bet it was a woman,” Jane muttered under her breath as she and Carol entered the living room.

“She said it was a business matter,” Carol whispered back.

“Huh. Monkey business.”

“Jane…”

“He put his shirt back on to come in here. Very gallant.”

Carol opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it as Kirkland joined them.

“Thanks,” he said to Carol.