His For Christmas (7 page)

Almost normal, almost like a professional
businesswoman.

Definitely not like a hormonal teenager
salivating after the latest heartthrob, which his presence often
reverted her to.

“I’m glad.” The grin he offered struck her
resolve to remain professional. His eyes did that twinkling thing
again and held her gaze captive.

Focus, Anabelle. Focus.

She took a quick breath, her eyes veered
from his and landed on a partially finished library table. “This is
striking Derek. I showed my new client photos of your work and they
want to commission a farmhouse table for their kitchen.”

His eyes lit up. “That’s great. I should pay
you commission for all the work you’ve given me.” He winked and she
locked her knees just in case that swooning thing did occur. “This
one isn’t finished but it’s coming along.” He reached over and
flicked residual shavings left behind. She caught a peek of his abs
mid stretch.

Holy cow.

She nodded, murmuring, “Yes, it is.” She
probably looked like a bobble head but it seemed wrong to drool in
silence.

“The boards for the table came from an old
Lenore barn. There are more beams out back if you want to see.
They’ve got lots of character. Land development is brisk over there
and they called us in to salvage what we could before
demolition.”

“Good call.”

He stood.

Goodbye beautiful abs.

“Look at the turned legs on this baby.” He
lifted the table as if the thing was weightless. Anabelle was
rewarded with another peek of abs.

Sigh.

He lowered the table and the view
disappeared.

“The details are outstanding, Derek. It’s
not a wonder business is booming.”

Derek bent to scope the levelness of the
top, running his hands over the grain in a reverent manner.
Anabelle suffered a bit of wood envy but caught a glimpse of his
pecs in the process.

Sigh.

He stood.

Goodbye.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Whatever the reason,
I’m grateful more people are interested in pieces with character
rather than getting mass-produced items.”

Anabelle nodded. “Save us from IKEA.” She
was rewarded with another peek of his yummy abs and licked her
lips. Then it was gone again. He moved to another piece and
inspected it.

Peek-a-boo
.

She couldn’t stand it.

“Button up already.”

He jerked to a stop and Anabelle froze.

Had she said that out loud?

Derek fastened the remaining buttons with
narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It was hot
and before you came by I was hand scraping a beam and—“

“No Derek. Please, stop. I’m the one who’s
sorry. So sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. This day has
been…”

“Been what?”

The heat from her cheeks burned, but she
couldn’t let him think he’d been rude. “You’re fine…I mean…it’s
fine. Please.” She grabbed his hands to stop him but instead
brushed against his abdomen.

They both stiffened at the contact.

Hot brown eyes seared her while she jerked
her hands back. Unsure, she wiped her damp hands on her dress.

Anabelle licked her lips and Derek followed
the wet trail with his eyes. “I’m sorry. Please, Derek, it’s my
fault. I was in the wrong, I interrupted your schedule and you were
kind to let me in. I don’t know why…”

While she rambled, he finished the last
buttons. He studied her lips while silence roared between them.
Derek’s study moved from her lips to her nose, then to her eyes.
She hated his unhurried inspection and how vulnerable she felt.

Breathing became difficult.

Matt Kearney might have been crooning in the
background but mainly she heard a loud roar in her ears. It was too
much and she needed to escape. “I’ll go and let you get back to
what you were doing.”

She shoved errant strands behind her ear and
turned towards the exit but strong hands grabbed her elbows from
behind. The heat of his palms tugged a response from her nipples as
if attached by live wires. The dress was a painful source of
friction. She hoped he wouldn’t notice the hard pebbles.

“Hold on, Anabelle.” He slid a hand to her
wrist, his fingers brushed against her pulse point and she wondered
if he felt the rapid beat. “Don’t go.” His deep voice rolled over
her, made her shiver. His heat surrounded her while sweat gathered
between her breasts. “You’re welcome anytime Anabelle…always.”

His eyes locked on hers. She felt a strong
pull that urged her to move closer, but she stood firm. A part of
her knew to do so would signal a start to something she couldn’t
control. Something unprofessional. Something she wasn’t sure she
was ready for.

After a moment, Derek stepped back, released
her wrist and thrust a hand through his hair. As if the tension
were too much, he rubbed the back of his neck. When he looked up
again, the heated look in his gaze was gone and in its place was
his usual laid back grin. For a moment, she thought she’d imagined
his tension.

“Come on. I’ve got something you might want
to see.”

Him, naked with a bow on top?

She didn’t think that was his plan but she
followed him anyway.

“Where is everyone?” The normal buzz of
activity in the warehouse was missing.

“Dani’s on an extended lunch, her Mac
crapped out on her over the weekend and she needed it for school so
she’s at the Apple Store at the mall and the boys are driving back
from Miami.”

So they were alone.

Wonderful
.

As if she needed more fodder for her
fantasies. Last week he’d had her on top of the console table.
They’d successfully tested the weight capacity of the table. Derek
may have thought she’d been in the midst of a hot flash because
she’d been red the entire visit.

Poor guy
.

If he knew he was the star of her many
fantasies, he’d stop being so friendly to the dirty old lady she
was fast becoming. Because not only was Derek an outstanding custom
cabinetry maker, highly sought after sustainable furniture designer
and all around exemplary craftsman, he was also too young for her
and therefore off limits.

He was in his late twenties or early
thirties, she wasn’t certain but she didn’t dare ask lest he assume
she was interested.

She wasn’t.

But maybe the overload of fantasies meant
she was ready to date again. It had been three years and as her
Aunt Martha mentioned during last week’s birthday lunch, Anabelle
wasn’t getting any younger and was on the verge of spinsterhood.
Although how that was possible since she’d been married was
questionable but Aunt Martha had no filter and felt compelled to
offer her opinion.

Lucky Anabelle.

The invitation in her purse reminded
Anabelle her younger cousin was all grown up and getting married.
Next month, the extended family would converge at Josie’s beach
wedding and before long, the sad state of Anabelle’s life would be
discussed. Somebody would inevitably bless Anabelle’s heart and
Anabelle would go insane.

The joys of family…where no filter was
required because they loved you.

While Anabelle wasn’t unhappy, she wasn’t
bouncing with joy either. She was…content. She had a successful
business, good friends and on the verge of getting a dog.

Once upon a time she may have thought life
would have been different, that maybe by now she’d have a couple of
kids, assorted pets, and a maybe smooth riding SUV because minivans
were too tame, according to her best friend Charlie.

Derek weaved through the warehouse, his
assorted finds scattered about. “Look at this beauty, my most
recent find. I salvaged this from a school over in Clearwater.”

“They look like PE lockers.” She fiddled
with the wire baskets on the worn green shelves. The retro numbers
on the dinged metal tags reminded her of middle school. She sniffed
the air. “They smell like them too.”

He grinned. “They were but I’ve got plans to
turn them into a custom storage display. Mix a little new wood,
improve the configuration, age and stain the addition and these old
lockers will have a new purpose but still maintain its original
character.”

“Creative but first you’ll have to Lysol
them to death.” She wrinkled her nose and he laughed, his eyes
crinkling at the corners. It was unfair laugh lines on guys added
to their attraction yet each morning she was a wrinkle Nazi
slathering anti aging cream on every possible hint of a line.

“Possibly,” he admitted, still grinning.

She looked away to avoid the yummy sight
lest she be lulled into submission. A graffiti heart etched on the
rail caught her attention and she fingered the penciled groove left
behind by Troy F. or Susan G. who’d loved each other forever. She
wondered how long forever had been to the hormonal vandals.

Three months?

Maybe.

To hormonal preteens, three months would
have been an eternity.

“I think they’d be perfect for your
office.”

That captured her attention.

“They could hold samples, projects,
materials…anything you want.”

The sexy grin was back and she caught her
breath. She wanted to smile back but she didn’t.

That path led to heartache.

Be professional
.

“That would be incredible Derek, and very
sweet of you, but I haven’t the funds for renovation right now.” It
would have been perfect. She could imagine it in her studio,
functional yet a charming, a conversation piece and a great way for
clients to witness the charm of repurposing.

His smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry, I’m
messing this up. They are yours. I’m giving them to you.” He tilted
her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. The earnest expression
held another unnamed emotion, and refused to let her go. “You’ve
been great for business and I want to show my appreciation.”

She blinked, breaking the intimate moment
eye and pulled away.

“I couldn’t. It’s too much. You should sell
it.” She exhaled a breath. “I can’t let you lose the profit.”

“Anabelle, Anabelle.” His voice was soft and
he caught her gaze, the combination was seductive. “Let me give it
to you. You know you want it.”

She did, dammit. Her resolve weakened.
“I…don’t…know…”

His smile was triumphant. He knew he had
her. “A ‘thank you’ would be a good start and whatever else you
want to throw in. I certainly wouldn’t turn down a kiss.” He winked
and Anabelle started.

“Thanks Derek,” she said with a weak smile,
stepping back before she did something stupid like kiss him as
requested.

Dating never looked so good.

Mooning over a guy young enough to be
her…younger brother was dangerous. Her mother would be disappointed
and tell her it was unprofessional as well as inappropriate so
Anabelle did what any professional businesswoman would do given the
same situation.

She beat a hasty retreat.

Hunched over her keyboard, Anabelle
concentrated on writing tedious specifications when the dire notes
from
Jaws
sounded.

Ba…bump

She froze.

Fear along the lines of the fated Nantucket
swimmers filled her. Her older cousin, Brody, had thought it fun to
show her the hair-raising classic one night when he babysat. Her
eight-year-old imagination soaked in the delicious horror but for
months she’d avoided large bodies of water especially if she
couldn’t see the bottom. This had earned Brody a hall of fame spot
on her mother’s bad boy list. Years later, he has yet to earn any
forgiveness. Her mother’s memory was legendary.

Claire Broussard wouldn't appreciate the
ring tone Anabelle programmed for her, but when Charlie had first
heard it, she’d whooped with delight.

Ba...bump.

She pushed the speaker button. "Hello
Mother."

"Anabelle." A southern drawl filled the
studio. Regardless of the fact her mother had lived most of her
adult life in Sugar Bay, she refused to let go of her Louisiana
drawl.

“How are you dear?”

“Fine.”

“Business?”

“Doing well mother.”

She knew where this was headed. The pearly
pink envelope taunted her from its hidden spot. There was order to
Claire’s life and civilities had to be maintained.

“How’s the tour?”

“Fine.”

“How are Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Lou?”

“Oh you know...Lorraine hasn’t met a
stranger and has the energy of a golden retriever. And Lou, the
poor sod, follows her lead.”

Anabelle winced. She knew from experience,
getting her introverted mother to be social was hard work. Poor
Aunt Lorraine.

Fingers crossed, she asked, “So you’re
having fun?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say…fun.”

Of course not. Her mother was allergic to
relaxation and fun. She was a cross between the Grinch and Cruella
de Ville. It was no wonder she suffered from a mild heart attack
earlier this year.

“But you’re resting though, correct?”

The annoyed sigh was clear despite the
distance. “Yes, Anabelle, the old lady is resting, just as the
doctor ordered.”

“Mother, this is for your own good. Most
people would love a tour of Europe.”

“Hmmph.” Her mother’s code for ‘I’m not
ready to admit you’re right and I am wrong because I’m never
wrong’.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying your birthday
present.”

"You mean the kidnapping? What’s not to
enjoy? Being dragged from ruin to ruin.”

“Look on the bright side, you no longer have
to worry about Gladys Perkins.”

“Don’t get me started Anabelle. If I get
back and she’s turned the Winter Ball into Moulin Rouge, it will be
your fault.”

Guilt was her mother’s weapon of choice. She
sighed. “I’m sure the other ladies in the league can handle things
without you for a little while longer.”