No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (47 page)

“You okay? You look like you could
use a ride.”

“I...I....”

“Climb in, Suzanne,” said the
heartthrob behind the wheel. I swallowed hard, grabbed the handle,
and eased my aching body into the seat beside the driver. “Where
can I take you? Emergency room? Laundromat?”

“Home,” I replied, feeling like I
was in a dream.

“Where might that be?” Jasper
Wintonberry wanted to know.

Chapter Three
--

“West Avenue,” I told him, putting a
hand up to my face. I was fairly certain I had dirt all over my
cheeks. “The Victorian. Number 16.”

“I’d tell you you look great, but at
the moment, you look like hell. Did someone kick the crap out of
you?”

“Actually, I fell when I was running
at Plover Park.” I took a sideways glance at the man of my dreams,
the one who got away. He looked like a million bucks, literally. It
was enough to take my breath away. Like a dream who stepped
straight out of a Drakkar Noir ad. His face was lightly tanned, his
dark hair perfectly coiffed. The eyes were still as green as I
remembered. He was wearing a blue Nautica shirt and chinos, with
boat shoes on his sockless feet. All that was missing was the
yacht, and I suspected that was probably docked down at the Bayside
Marina.

“That explains the scrapes and
bruises,” he decided. “I haven’t really talked to you since our
high school reunion. What have you been up to?”

I explained to him about going to
work at Dawkins Builders straight out of college and how my brother
had taken over the helm after our parents died in a car accident.
In my effort to impress, I told him about the place on Glengarry
Court.

“Wow,” he exclaimed. “Sounds
interesting. I’d love to see it. I’m looking for a place for my
mother. She’s moving back from Boca Raton. When can I take a
look?”

“Why don’t you give us a couple of
weeks, and you’ll be able to better imagine the final results,” I
suggested, giving him my most adorable smile, which was surely
tempered by my current appearance, grass stains, scrapes, and all.
He gazed over at me casually, hands on the wheel.

“Why can’t I see it before you
start? That way, if I want to add or subtract anything, I
can.”

“We don’t normally work that way,
because it’s a flip,” I responded.

“But if I’m willing to pay you guys
to do the work, doesn’t that count for something?”

“Sure,” I agreed. After all, I knew
Ned wanted to buy the place. The trouble was that if we made
changes Jasper wanted and he changed his mind, cancelling the
contract with us, we’d be stuck with the house. Then again, it
really was a cute place. Surely someone would want to buy it. Maybe
even me.

“Here we are.” Jasper pulled his
Lexus up to the curb behind my Miata. “Let me give you my
number.”

I waited as he reached into his cup
holder and pulled out a gold-edged business card. Fortescue
Investments. Jasper was a certified financial planner.

“Call me when you get the
place.”

“Sure,” I promised, hand on the
door. “Thanks for the ride. I’m not sure I would have made it home
on my own.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would have done
fine. You’re a strong, healthy girl.” He gave me a short smile and
I realized that was my cue. Stepping out, I turned back to shut the
car door. That’s when I saw the baby car seat in the back, along
with the pile of kiddie books and the busy box. The ideal man had a
kid. My body may have been battered in that tumble down the hill,
but now my heart was bruised by the knowledge that the guy I
thought was my future was a dad.

I didn’t even bother waving as the
sleek sedan drove off. I dragged myself into the house and up the
stairs. How long had I been chasing the dream? I saw Jasper at the
hardware store three and a half weeks ago, having a key made.
There, in my paint-stained clothes and looking like some kind of
Hetty Homebuilder, I ducked behind the next aisle and scooted out
of the store like a fugitive on the run. The last thing I wanted
was Jasper to set eyes on me looking like that. When I caught sight
of him on my run two days later, I began to plot in earnest for the
chance to bump into him. Now it turned out that I had wasted all
that time for nothing. The guy was still unavailable, still tucked
on that shelf out of reach. My record with men stood. They were, as
a group, way ahead of me, and I couldn’t see that I was ever going
to get chance to even the score.

Let’s face it. Some women are great
at yanking men through the hoops. They know how to work their
magic, how to get what they want without giving up much. Not me.
When it comes to being a femme fatale, I’m about as subtle as a
pneumatic drill.

Ned always insists it’s because I
don’t treat relationships as seriously as I do the houses I fix. Is
that true? It’s hard to say. You’d think I’d be a lot tougher,
given that I work with a lot of men in the construction business.
Lord knows I’ve been hit on more times than I can remember. But the
truth is I can see structural problems in homes that most people
ignore and I know that you can’t half-ass a construction job. I’m
always looking to fix what’s broken in buildings. I like things
tidy. I like things functional. But when it comes to romance, I
have a sentimental side that leaves me misty-eyed and wobbly. My
biggest weakness is I sometimes bend too much when people come up
short on character. I’m willing to cut people too much slack if I
think I can achieve my goals with them. That’s when I get into
trouble. They wind up walking all over my heart before they walk
out the door. I’ve got the footprints all over me to prove
it.

I drew a warm bath, opened the
bathroom window, and watched the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean
from my wet perch. Ned and I had renovated 16 West Avenue just
before Jay and I moved in. I had my choice of the condos, but I
loved the view from the top floor. My little turret attached to the
living room looked out toward the bay, and I could watch the
distant lights on the bridge at night as the cars crossed from
Elingham into Glendale. My little balcony had a peak of the sea,
and it was a lovely spot to sit in the morning with a cup of coffee
or at night with a daiquiri. But the best spot in the house was the
tub. I could watch the surfers ride the waves and see the sailboats
as they left the bay for the ocean.

So immersed was I in the soothing
powers of the water and the glass of wine I held in my hand, I
didn’t realize at first that my phone was ringing. Scrambling to
put down the chardonnay and pick up my smartphone, I managed to
splash water onto the floor. Caller ID displayed an unfamiliar
number without a name.

“Hello?” I said
tentatively.

“Suzanne, it’s Jasper
Wintonberry.”

“Hi,” I responded breathlessly. What
kind of idiot gets her hopes up on a guy with a kid? I was mad at
myself for doing my Marilyn Monroe impression because I was caught
off-guard.

“What’s up?”

“I checked out your website and I
just wanted to tell you that I’m serious about taking a look at
that place. You do nice work.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said in response,
trying not to get my emotional panties in a bunch over a guy who
wasn’t available.

“I just wanted you to know I’m very
interested.”

“Great. I’ll let my brother
know.”

“Maybe we could get together for a
drink to discuss it.”

“Well, first you should see the
place and know what our plans are. It’s not the kind of house that
would appeal to most people,” I informed him.

“Who would it appeal to?”

“Someone who wants a place that
doesn’t require much maintenance or space. It’s going to be very
compact, kind of like living on a boat, with built-ins and not a
lot of square footage.”

“That sounds like June. She’s on her
own now, feisty and independent. Doesn’t want anyone’s help unless
it’s absolutely necessary. We might have to bring her into the
design choices. She’s coming up in three days.”

“Certainly something to consider.” I
was wondering how long it would take Jasper to finish torturing me
with his seductive voice and his charm. My best guess was about ten
days. I’d be able to resist the first week of being around him. I’d
feel anchored enough to the project to focus on the details of the
renovation. But after that, I’d probably be contractor’s putty in
his hands. Maybe I would pass Jasper on to Ned, and let him handle
things. Certainly my older brother, who had already warned me about
having a crush on an unavailable guy, would know how to deal with
him.

It was ironic that Jasper was so
interested in the property for his mother, because from what I
remembered of her from my high school days, she wouldn’t like the
Glengarry Court bungalow and, frankly, the thought of me working on
a decorating project with Jasper’s mother scared the holy guacamole
out of me.

“So, I’ll hear back from you?”
Jasper’s words cut into my mental musings and I returned my focus
to the conversation at hand.

“Absolutely,” I promised. “I’ll call
you tomorrow.”

“Great. By the way, how are you
feeling?”

“Banged up and bruised,” I admitted,
“soaking in the tub with a glass of chardonnay, watching the
sunset.”

“Sounds good. Wish I could join you.
Maybe another time,” he laughed. “Call me.”

“Will do,” I replied, suddenly
thinking that Jasper really was like all the other rats in the
world, flirting while the wife was unaware. This was going to make
him a whole lot easier to resist. All I had to do was remember what
it felt like to have my heart excoriated by Jay without
anesthesia.

A short time later, I was out of the
tub and hungry. I called Shanghai Palace and placed my order. Ned
called to tell me we were still waiting to hear back from the
sellers’ agent. I didn’t bother to share the news about Jasper,
figuring it could turn out to be a moot point. When my white
cardboard cartons of Chinese food arrived ten minutes later, I
hunkered down on the sofa and turned on the TV. All I wanted to do
was forget I ever had a crush on Jasper Wintonberry.

That was also the thought I had as I
lay down on my queen-sized bed to go to sleep, and it was still
with me when I woke up. I made a resolution that I was not going to
let myself be conned, sweet-talked, or manipulated into a romance
with a guy who was unworthy, no matter how much he tempted me. From
now on, my life was going to be hunky-dory. I was going to pursue
my dreams, goals, and interests. No distractions along the way, no
matter how interesting or enticing.

I filled my travel mug with some
steaming hot hazelnut coffee, half and half, and sweetener before I
screwed on the lid. I also grabbed a plastic container that I
filled with plain Greek yogurt, sliced bananas, some low-fat
granola, a splash of vanilla extract, and some honey. I wanted to
get to the office before Ned. I was hoping to start pricing out
some of the materials I wanted to use for the new flip.

There was little traffic on the way
to the office. I made it to my desk by ten of eight, spread out my
breakfast, and started searching for online bargains while I ate.
After about twenty minutes of taking notes and comparison shopping,
I had what I needed at the moment, so I took out the card Jasper
had given me. I set it down, intending to share it with Ned when he
arrived. Just out of curiosity, I did a search on Jasper
Wintonberry, wondering who he married, how many kids he had, and
where he was living. I never heard Ned come in.

“Please tell me you’re not stalking
the guy,” he said, coming up behind me, reading my computer
screen.

“Actually, smart ass, I ran into him
last night. He gave me a ride home. And he’s interested in buying
the Glengarry Court house. As soon as we buy it, he wants a tour.
It’s for his mother.”

“You didn’t give him a purchase
price, did you?”

“Of course not. We have no idea what
the flip with cost us.”

“How serious do you think he is?”
Ned was definitely interested.

“He says his mother is moving back.
She’ll be here in a couple of days. He wants us to let her pick her
fixtures, have some input on the redo.”

“Nice, Suze. That could be a good
thing. More profit than just a normal fix, because we’re
customizing it.”

“You think we should pursue it?” I
wondered.

“Of course, provided he’s got the
money. What did you find out?”

“Fortescue Investments. Certified
financial planner. His mother lives in Carmel. I can’t find the
information on his wife or kid.”

“Kid?”

“He had a car seat in the back, Ned.
There has to be a kid.”

“Right. Well, why don’t you let me
have his card and I’ll call him. By the way, they took our offer.
The closing on the bungalow is on Friday, provided the inspection
goes well.”

“Wow,” I replied, surprised by the
time line, “how did you get them to agree to such a quick
closing?”

“Actually, it was their idea. I was
willing to wait until next week, but they told me that if I wanted
it at $375,000, we had to get it inked by Friday.”