Page 79 of The Best of Friends

She hesitated. “It’s not homey enough. I want a regular house, not some fantasy palace. I want to know my neighbors, not be recorded on security cameras. I want a safe yard for kids and a place for a dog to run. I want grass and trees and maybe a fountain.”

“The ocean doesn’t count?”

She laughed. “Fair enough. I want a slightly smaller fountain.”

He turned her in his arms. “Then that’s what we’ll find.”

If only, she thought longingly. “You can’t buymydream house. You have to buy your own.”

“You’re influencing me. I had a meeting with Blaine yesterday. I talked to him about developing a line of high-quality, affordable jewelry. He’s excited by the idea, and we’re moving forward with the research-and-development stage.”

Her mouth fell open. “You’re kidding? You’re doing that?”

“Your point about the hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar necklace was a good one. I know how to listen.”

“But I don’t understand. You’re taking my advice?”

He nodded. “You’re more than a pretty face, and I respect that.”

It was too much for a single brain to take in. Without thinking, she raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his. As his arms came around her, he deepened the kiss. She hung on to him, being careful not to knock him in the back of the head with her cast.

It wasn’t just that he’d taken her advice or accepted part of the blame for the fight or asked her opinion on the house. It was all of it. The real David Worden had turned out to be so much more than any man she might have imagined. And that was the danger. Falling for him seemed as inevitable as breathing.

Somehow she was going to have to stop herself before it was too late. Loving him would make leaving harder, and she wasn’t about to fool herself into thinking it could work. She would have to back off.

His mouth moved against hers.

Later,she thought hazily. She would come up with a plan later.

Fourteen

REBECCA’S WORKSHOP HAD BECOME a haven. It was loud and busy. There were bursts of fire and steam as freshly poured molds were plunged into pails of tepid water. Buffers and sanders screamed, and every kind of music imaginable blasted well into the night. It wasn’t the kind of space that allowed introspection, and even if she started to miss that shithead Nigel, all she had to do was stroll past one of the welders. The whistles and the suggestions they yelled immediately made her feel better about herself.

She adjusted her magnifying glasses and studied the carving in her hand. It was the first step in a long process that would end with a beautiful gold ring embedded with diamonds. It was her second attempt, and so far she didn’t love any of it. The proportions were off, she thought as she pulled off her goggles and tossed them on the scarred worktable.

“I need to start over,” she muttered.

“Am I interrupting?”

She looked up and saw her father standing in the entrance to her alcove. Well dressed and elegant, Blaine should have looked out of place against the paint-splashed walls and dented floors. Instead, he looked perfectly at ease.

“Hey, Dad,” she said, standing and walking toward him. “What are you do—”

Reality sank in. The Rebecca her parents knew had no business being somewhere like this. But with the carving in her hand and her tools all around, it was difficult to think of a good explanation.

“What are you…” she began. “How did you… What’s going on?”

“May I?” Blaine sat on the bench across from her stool. “I wanted to talk to you about your work.”

Damn. She sank onto her stool. “Who told you?”

“I figured it out for myself, years ago. It was the first bracelet David brought me. My aunt Rose designed jewelry as well. Your pieces are a lot like hers.” He chuckled. “Maybe more sensual. Aunt Rose was a fairly prim spinster.”

“That doesn’t mean she didn’t have a good time with the gardener.”

He winced. “Let’s not go there. She was old when I knew her.”

“Want to keep her all for yourself?”