The Accidental Encore (5 page)

Mark had zoned in on a sore spot and Craig hadn’t been able
to shake his mood ever since. So what if he didn’t date? What was the point? He
wasn’t looking for a relationship, and whenever he needed sex, he always had
his hand if a willing woman couldn’t be found. He’d found quite a few willing
women in the last couple of years.

He’d spent too much time with Mark and Leah, thinking of the
three of them as a unit, a family. He’d known for a while that Mark and Carolyn
were getting serious. At first, when Mark had asked Craig to watch Leah while
he went out of town for the weekend, he hadn’t mentioned a woman. But Mark,
being Mark, couldn’t keep a secret for long. He’d met someone. She lived in
Chicago. They were seeing each other. Their no strings, no expectations
weekends together went beyond serious when Mark proposed.

Craig was envious of his brother, for more reasons than just
because he was moving on. Mark had grieved for Becca because he could. He knew
what they’d had, what he’d lost. He could mourn for the wife who’d loved him
and given him his child. If only Craig could’ve had that chance.

He shook off his mood when Davis Hollingsworth walked in,
his Italian loafers popping like dry wood on the unfinished floor. He stood at
the threshold between the kitchen and the newly opened room with his hands on
his hips.

“Wow, that really opens things up in here,” Davis said. “I’m
glad I let you talk me into this.” He walked around the studded wall and waved
his hand at the electrical wires running between them. “What are you going to
do with all this stuff?”

What do you think I’m going to do with it? Craig wanted to
say, but he bit his tongue and said, “Reroute it through the ceiling and the
adjacent walls.”

Davis spun around and took in the bottom floor. “I gotta
tell you, man, I hope you can put this bitch back together.”

“Rehab work is ugly at first. Trust me, you’ll be happy with
the finished product.”

“I damn well better.” The words were said with a cocky smile
and Craig didn’t take it personally. Davis had taken a chance on him, and if
the nervous tapping of his foot didn’t give away his second thoughts, the constant
hair flipping would have done it. “Jimmy knows I’ll kick his ass if you screw
this up.”

“Jimmy’ll kick my ass if I screw this up,” Craig said and
pulled another hunk of sheetrock out from between the studs. “But he won’t have
to. My work’s as good as my word.” Craig tossed the sheetrock into the growing
pile in the corner by the window. “Did you come by for a reason or did you just
want to see how she’s coming?”

“A little of both. Stacy had some ideas for the kitchen she
wanted me to run by you.”

“Okay.” Craig dropped the hammer and clapped some of the
dust off as he walked to the kitchen.

“She wants an island, like we talked about, but we went to
some friends’ lake house last weekend and they have this huge island with
stools and a sink. Her eyes bugged out, and then she winked at me. All I’ve
heard about since is the island.”

“Okay,” Craig said with a nod. He knew Stacy would be a
problem from the moment he met the perky brunette. “We’ve only got so much room
to deal with here.”

Davis held up his palms. “Trust me, Craig, I explained that
to her. She’s got her mind set, so we’re going to have to figure this out.”

“You said you wanted to maintain the original structure in
here. If you really want a large island, you’re looking at ripping all this out
and starting over. It’s going to cost you.”

“Doesn’t it always?” Davis slapped him on the back. “Can you
work up some of those computer drawings like you did before? Big island with
seating, plus she wants one of those range top stoves with the warming drawer.”

All good information to have had before. A redesign of the
kitchen would set him back a few weeks. “I’ll work something up tonight.”

“I appreciate it.” Davis looked at his watch, a flashy Tag
Heuer, and flipped his hair. “I’ve got to get going. Keep up the good work.”

“I’ll send the designs over as soon as possible. We’ll need
to get this finalized soon so I can get the orders in.”

After a handshake and a slap on the shoulder, Davis was
gone. Craig put his hands on his hips and looked around the kitchen. He was
pleased when Davis and Stacy wanted to keep the integrity of the house in tact
while updating to modern conveniences. Stacy’s kitchen ideas were blowing that
right out of the water. “Not your business,” he reminded himself. “Do what the
customer wants.”

That had been the hardest thing for Craig since getting back
in the business, but on a much smaller scale. Smaller, hell, he mused. Compared
to the Goliath Archer Construction, his new venture was David. Fortunately,
they weren’t in competition. They weren’t even on the same playing field.
Making all the decisions, being the one responsible for the success or failure
of a project was something he was happy to concede.

He wanted to get worked up about having to redesign the
kitchen, but knew the extra work would keep his mind focused while Leah’s
sneaky piano teacher was at the house.

Chapter 7

Allie sat in the drive of Leah’s house and grinned as she
ended her conversation with Detective Reynolds. Ha, she thought. She knew the
detective hadn’t called Craig yet and she wondered if she wanted to break the
news to him or let him hear it from the police. He probably wouldn’t believe it
from anyone but the authorities.

She got out of her rental, retrieved her bag from back seat,
and walked up the path to the front door. She heard the dog announcing her
approach.

Leah opened the door in a less than enthusiastic way. “Hi,
Ms. Allie.”

“Hi, Leah.” She stepped inside and held out her hand for the
dog. He didn’t look so dangerous now, with his tail wagging and his ears pinned
back against his head. He licked her fingers in greeting. Craig descended the
stairs wearing jeans and blue t-shirt that brought out his eyes. Damn him.
“Hello.”

He peeked around her shoulder before Leah closed the door.
“I see you made it here in one piece. Did you kill anyone along the way?”

Oh, she was going to enjoy this. “I don’t suppose you’ve
spoken to Detective Reynolds yet, have you?”

“Who?”

“The officer at the scene of the accident.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and she smiled when she heard
his cell phone ring from the kitchen. “That should be him now. You can
apologize after the lesson.” She gave Leah a scoot into the den with a smirk
she couldn’t hide. What an ass! An ass that looked great in a pair of old
jeans. Doesn’t matter, she reminded herself as she settled beside Leah on the
piano bench.

“How’s the song coming?” she asked, determined to focus on
Leah.

“Good. I’ve got the first two verses down cold, but I get a
little tripped up with the third.”

Allie flipped open her lesson book. “Let’s see what we can
do about that.”

***

Craig retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and took a long
sip before ambling out to the foyer. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched
his niece with her beautiful and devious piano teacher.

“That’s good,” she said to Leah. “Try it again, but this
time take it slower and really think about each note. Don’t worry about the
speed until you get the sequence down.”

Leah started playing the piece she’d worked on all week,
something slow and melodic that he should know the name of, but didn’t. Allie
nodded her head in time with the hand she tapped against her pants.

She was a cool one, he’d give her that much. He doubted he’d
have been able to keep her secret under wraps for ten seconds, much less thirty
minutes. He took a deep breath, and then returned to his computer in the
kitchen to work on the designs for the house.

He’d just figured out how to fit an enormous island into the
kitchen space when he realized the music had stopped and he heard someone
clearing her throat over his shoulder.

“Ready to apologize?”

He turned around and stared up at her stunning face. Damn
shame she was such a smart ass. “I’m ready for mine, also.”

She splayed those long fingers across her chest and gave a
snarky laugh that only emphasized her perfect teeth. “You think I’m going to
apologize? Dream on, mister.”

“Why should I be the only one to apologize? You said your
light was green. It was. I said my light was green; it was. So, I’d say we’re
even.”

Leah snuck her head around the corner as if hesitant to get
in the middle of another argument. “You said the female gender has issues
behind the wheel.”

Allie looked at him as if to say, “Score one for me.”

“I said that when I thought she’d run the red light. Now
that I know the city’s to blame, I might be willing to retract my statement.”

“Might be?” Allie and Leah asked in unison. Women.

“Okay, if I say I’m sorry for accusing you of being a
stereotypical bad female driver, does that make you feel better?”

“You call that an apology?” Allie asked.

He stood up and delighted when she was forced to look up at
him. “It’s the best you’re going to get.”

“I think you can do better.” She slapped her hands on her
hips and tapped her foot.

“Are you going to sue?” he asked.

“Pardon me?”

“The city. Are you going to sue? The cop seemed a little
nervous we’d sue.”

“First of all, there is no ‘we.’ And second of all, what
would be the point? They’re already paying for the damages to both of our cars.
Besides, suing the city is like suing ourselves. It would be our tax money
paying whatever damages we recovered.”

She was smarter than he’d given her credit for and certainly
a hell of a lot more logical than her looks led one to believe. “Valid points,
and conclusions I’d already reached.”

“Then why did you ask?”

He didn’t think she’d appreciate hearing because he enjoyed
watching her get riled, and he certainly couldn’t help himself from riling her
more. “Because I figured you’d want a few extra dollars to buy a pretty dress
or get your hair done.”

He watched her features change as she inhaled sharply.
“You’re a sexist ass.” She whipped that mane of blonde/brown hair around and
said, “Excuse my language, Leah. Your uncle brings out the worst in me.”

“No problem,” Leah said.

Allie turned her cat eyes back on Craig. Damn if she wasn’t
more attractive with the heat of anger in her cheeks. “I don’t have any dinner
to offer you tonight.”

“I wouldn’t stay if you did.”

“Perfect. Then I guess we’ll see you next week.”

She put on the coat Leah handed her, some ridiculously
frilly black trench, and made her way to the door. He should have been
irritated that her floral scent lingered. He shooed her hand away and opened
the door himself.

After a huffing out a breath, she asked, “When does your brother
return?”

“Not soon enough. You’ve got one more week to slobber over
my handsome face.”

“You need to wake up, Craig, and take a good hard look in
the mirror.”

“I have, sweetheart. That’s how I know you’ll be back.”

She pointed at Leah and stepped sideways when Blackjack
attempted to scoot past her to get outside. “She’s why I’m coming back.” She
slung her bag over her shoulder and fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare. “You
may as well tell your brother I’m billing him extra for having to deal with you.”

Craig barked out a laugh as she retreated down the walk.
“Ha! He’ll get a kick out of that one.”

He stood at the threshold and watched her gun the engine,
slam the car into reverse, and maneuver a hairpin turn out of the driveway. If
it hadn’t been so dark, he would probably have seen her tires smoke.

Leah walked up beside him and wrapped her arm around his
waist. “I’ve never seen Ms. Allie get mad at anyone.”

“It’s just a matter of finding the right buttons to push.”
He mussed her hair and shut the door.

“I think you pushed all of hers.” She walked over to the
piano and began straightening her music sheets. “Dad’s going to be mad at you
for making her upset.”

“Then do something crazy and don’t tell him.”

“You want me to lie?”

“Of course not,” Craig said as the phone began to ring. He
knew Mark called after her lesson on purpose. “Just don’t mention it.”

Chapter 8

Allie honked her horn and waved when the driver in the car
in front of her finally looked up from her cell phone and noticed the green
turn arrow. “Go, already,” she muttered, nervously tapping her fingers on the
wheel and then gunning the engine. She was late for her scheduled date prep
that included a hot bath, complete makeup reapplication, and hair styling. At
the rate she was going, she might have to forgo the bath for a shower.

What had ever possessed her to teach
twins—five-year-old twins—on a Friday afternoon? It was probably a
good thing Peyton and Paris had kept her mind off her upcoming date. Why had
she agreed to out with a dentist? She loved sugar and candy and sticky treats.
She’d already given up soda in an attempt to get healthy. What else would she
have to sacrifice?