Heart of a Marine (The Wounded Warrior Series Book 1) (15 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Marla had all day Saturday and Sunday to get her head and heart straight. She failed miserably. Not looking forward to facing Dwayne, she nevertheless had to go to the construction office to retrieve her laptop before heading to the real estate office downtown.

She pulled into the lot just as a large flatbed truck with a
We’re The Tops
logo finished unloading a shipment of granite countertops. Dwayne signed the manifest and handed the clipboard to the driver. The truck rumbled away as he bent to examine the stone more closely.

Marla parked, stepped from her car, and approached him. She stared at the cut granite countertops. “This isn’t what I wanted. Why didn’t you send it back?” Chin forward, she glared at him.

Dwayne thrust his hands in the air, and then slammed them on his hips. “I ordered this instead, because it’s superior quality for a little more money.” He strode to the construction trailer office, flung open the door, and stomped inside.

Marla followed him inside. “It’s
my
money, Dempsey! When are you going to start paying attention to what I want?”

He spun on her. “When are you going to stop micromanaging every step of this project, Danaher?”

She clenched her fists. “Grrr! You are the most exasperating person I’ve ever worked with.”

He leaned his face dangerously close to hers, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “You’re the most exasperating person I’ve ever worked
for!”

“I don’t know why I hired you in the first place.”

“I don’t know why I accepted the damn contract. You’re impossible to please, and half the time you don’t know what you’re asking for. Why don’t you leave the contracting up to the contractor?”

Glaring, she crossed her arms and invaded his space. “I have half a mind to fire you!”

“Oh, yeah? I have half a mind to quit!” He took a step closer.

“You have half a mind all right, you…” Marla shut her mouth at the dangerous glint in his eyes. She might have pushed him too far. Hah, as if she could push the stubborn lout an inch in any direction. She dropped her hands to her sides. “I’m…”

He put a finger to her lips, closed his hands on her upper arms, and pulled her to his chest. “Shut up, Red.”

Her knees wobbled. She stopped breathing.

Dwayne’s mouth covered hers. His arms captured her, the hand at the back of her neck strong and warm. He crushed her against his strong body, tilted his head, and teased her lips open with his tongue. Sliding his free hand down her back, he pressed her hips against his pelvis.

Oh, my. Oh. My.

Twenty-seven years old and she’d never been kissed like this. She should struggle, push him away.

He relaxed his mouth, but didn’t move his lips from hers. “I want you in my bed, Danaher.”

Marla gasped when a hot flush zipped from her hips to her ears then all the way to her toes. “No, Dwayne, we can’t.”

“Like hell we can’t.” He slid his hands up her arms, stepped back, and gazed into her eyes. Without another word he grabbed his jacket from the peg on the wall.

“But…where are you going?” Was he quitting? He couldn’t quit. She didn’t want him to quit.

“I’m gonna knock off early. I’ve got some personal business to take care of in Simi Valley. Mostly I need to get away from you.” He stepped through the door just as Cluny McPherson mounted the first step.

“But, Dwayne, we…”

Instead of answering, he shook his head, held up his arm, and dangled the keys to his truck. “I’m outta here.”

The protest died on her tingling lips as she watched him climb inside the truck. The engine roared to life and he backed out, turned, and drove away.

“Everything OK here?” Cluny set a faucet and a couple of chrome fixtures on Dwayne’s worktable.

How long had she stood there with her mouth hanging open? The mouth still telegraphing shocks through her body from the pressure of his lips on hers? She took a ragged breath and absently brushed at her blouse. “I don’t know.”

She reached across the table to her laptop, snapped the cover shut, and shoved it in her bag. Without another word to Cluny, she hurried to her car, started the engine, and drove onto the main road heading for town.

Ten minutes later, she sat in her car, in her office parking lot, hands gripping the steering wheel. She’d turned the engine off, but with the windows raised, the car quickly grew uncomfortably warm. She had no recollection of the drive. Finally she opened the door, gathered her things and went inside, still dazed.

“Hi Marla.” The receptionist smiled and handed her several slips of paper. “You have messages, and Ted wants to talk to you.”

An absent, “Thanks,” and she continued to the desk in a far corner. She’d asked for that location away from the traffic pattern of the busy office. She spread the messages on the desktop in order of time received. Decided none of them were particularly urgent, and sat down to stare out the window.

* * *

“I doubt she has a leg to stand on, but first, Mr. Dempsey, I need to consult with my clerk. I want him to check Wyoming divorce statutes to make sure there’s no loophole your wife can use for leverage.”

“
Ex
-wife.”

“Yes, of course.” The busy lawyer stood. “There’s no need to take more of your time this morning. All your paperwork is in order.” He tapped the file Dwayne had provided. “I’ll call you as soon we’ve completed a thorough review. If you have any questions or concerns in the meantime, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

Dwayne shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“It was my pleasure to meet with you.” He rounded his desk and opened the door. “You may leave your retainer with my secretary.”

Dwayne smiled to himself. At least the man hadn’t charged him for the initial consultation. He had a good feeling about him, and he’d come highly recommended by his local business attorney.

All he wanted now was to get Francine out of the picture, finish Marla’s damn building, and move on to his next project. What the hell had he been thinking when he kissed her? Sure, he’d like to sleep with her, but then what?

He could see no good outcome in pursuing a relationship with her. Now was not the time to start something he couldn’t finish. What kind of man would he be to hook up with Marla Danaher without considering how his actions affected her?

That damn woman invaded his thoughts day and night.

* * *

“Marla? Got a minute?” Ted’s voice called from the door of his office.

She mentally slapped herself.
Get back on track, kiddo, you’ve got a living to earn.
“Sure, I’ll be right there.”

She took a minute to look at the messages again, arrange her desk, take a deep breath, and straighten her clothing before following him through the door.

“What’s up, Ted?”

“Close the door.”

Now what?
“That sounds ominous.”

He laughed. “No, I don’t want the staff to hear what I’m talking to you about before I get your take on it.” He indicated a chair. “Sit. You know that Cartwright property on the edge of town? I heard through some sources I trust that the old man is finally planning to sell out.”

“Wow. That
is
news. His family’s owned that property for over a hundred years. There was nobody in this valley except for a few nomadic Indian tribes before the Cartwright’s came to run cattle on their original Mexican land grant.”

Endless possibilities on how the land could be developed bounced around her brain. “It hasn’t been used for anything except movie locations for the past forty years. Most production companies have moved to Canada for their location filming. Are you going after the listing?”

“Not exactly.” He tilted his chair back and steepled his fingers. “Think about this. I’m forming a consortium of investors to buy the property and develop it. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I want you in the group.”

Ted was right, this could be the one she’d been waiting for, her big step to financial security. Marla’s heart sank. The timing couldn’t be worse.

“Holy goats, there’s nothing more I want than to get in on it, but every penny I have is tied up in the condo project.”

“Isn’t it about finished?”

“We’re in the very last stages. The painting contractor is starting on the exterior in a couple of days, then they’ll do the inside. My building contractor is putting the final touches on the interiors now. But it’s going to take some time for me to get the units rented to create an income stream. I just don’t have any money lying around right now.” She groaned and shook her head. Timing—wouldn’t you know it?

“Listen to yourself. You have to think big. Finish the building and sell it. Think of it as a stepping stone. If we secure the Cartwright property we can develop it into a high-class residential neighborhood and a golf course, maybe even include a resort hotel. Your condos are small potatoes by comparison.”

Sell her condos? What of her plans for predictable rental receipts? The building was to be her future income stream. Not only that, she’d promised Miss Emmaline she’d always have a home there. Would a new owner honor her promise? She couldn’t take that chance, wouldn’t take it. No, Ted’s plan was too risky.

“Ted, I don’t see how I can do that. I have so much riding on the building, and I’ve made promises to some of the rental tenants waiting to move back in. One elderly lady has stayed in the building throughout the renovation.”

“You need to think big. I’ll give you overnight, but we have to act fast. Once Kreisler gets wind of it we’re screwed. I can’t keep it under wraps for long.”

“Wouldn’t Ben Kreisler be a potential partner in the deal?”

“Are you kidding me? That greedy bastard would like nothing better to have it all for himself.”

“Where will he get the money in this economy?”

“I don’t know, but he’s always been able to ace everybody in a cash deal. I’m not taking any chances. He has his own sources, and he’ll know what Cartwright’s plans are soon enough. We have to move on it. You’ve got till tomorrow night.”

Back at her desk, she stared at her messages and saw a couple more had been added. None of them seemed important enough to answer while she tried to get her mind around Ted’s offer.

Feast or famine. It never rains but it pours. If anything can go wrong, it will. And every other dang cliché I can think of.

She froze with indecision.

* * *

Dwayne rolled his shoulders and surveyed the work he, Slim, and Jack had sweated at like hogs all afternoon, hauling the stone countertops to each unit for installation the next morning. Cluny finished with the new plumbing fixtures after the last of the modular showers was positioned. They looked great. The glass man would arrive in the morning with the new shower doors.

He rubbed his lower back. Kitchens would be the last step before painters began work inside each unit. Dwayne spent the evening hours after the crew knocked off for the day personally masking woodwork and covering Miss Emmaline’s furniture and possessions with drop cloths. Carpeting would wait to be installed in individual condos until the epoxy floor coatings dried in the hallways and foyers once the walls got painted.

He estimated they had ten days max to wrap up the project. What a relief! Another contractor would finish the driveways and parking areas before the landscapers got access to the grounds. It was coming together beautifully, a month sooner than he’d promised, and under budget.

Ready to drop, he locked the building and left by the front entry. He’d parked his truck on the street so the security company could drop off Hercules and lock the perimeter fence.

His phone vibrated. “Yeah?”

“Hi, Daddy. I miss you. I want to come home.”

“Hey, squirt. You just got there.” He missed her too.

“I know.”

“Tell you what. Give it a week. If you want to come home then, I’ll come and get you. But I know Grammakat and Miss Emmaline would like you to stay a little longer. OK?”

She heaved a huge sigh. “OK. I love you, Daddy.”

“Not as much as I love you.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you later.”

Eyes heavy and aching all over, he pulled into his driveway and locked the truck. He shed his clothes, piece by piece, as soon as he got in the house and headed for the shower.

Sitting on a plastic bench, elbows on knees, he let the hot water sluice down on him, his muscles relaxed, and tension in his shoulders and hips eased. He’d often speculated that Iraqi tribesmen who lived in some of the most parched areas of their godforsaken country might not be so enraged and fanatical if they could regularly avail themselves of hot showers.

Food, he needed food.

Cheerios never tasted better. Halfway through his second bowl, the doorbell rang. Who’d be at his doorstep this late? He pulled himself up on his crutches and glanced around for a shirt. He’d worn the one thrown on the back of a chair all day. In nothing but his pajama bottoms, he shrugged and headed for the door.
Please, God, don’t let it be Francine leaning on my bell.

Hand hesitant on the doorknob, he finally turned it and pulled. He swallowed.

Marla stood in the dark holding her dog.

“Dwayne, I know it’s late, but can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dwayne took a hop back and opened the door wider. “Sure, come in. I wasn’t expecting…”

Marla stepped past him. “I know. I’m sorry, but we need to talk about the situation that came up today.” She set Skipper on the floor and started toward the living room.

“No.”

She stopped and turned. “No?”

“No.” He tilted his head. “I mean…in the kitchen. Let’s go in the kitchen. I was eating.”

Her cheeks flushed. “This is dumb. I should leave.”

“No, come on. We have to talk about it.”