There were stocks to check. A callback to make. And some figures to analyze for Monday’s meeting with the potential seller of an apartment complex he was interested in buying and renovating into luxury condominiums. Developers had been making a mint on the practice for years in California.He’d had Marta collect contractor bids, most of which had come in within the budget he’d projected.
“It’s five o’clock, Blake. Mind if I take off? Bob and I have a dinner engagement tonight.”
Glancing up at the sharply dressed mother of three teenaged girls, Blake thanked her for her day’s work, wished her a good weekend and helped himself to a weak glass of Scotch and water.
Enough to take the edge off, but not enough to tempt him to spend the rest of the evening in a state of forgetfulness—as he’d done a time or two after he’d first opened shop again, two years before.
And then there was no further excuse for procrastinating. The workday was done.
Grabbing his cell phone, Blake hit the last number on his speed dial. For the first time ever.
He switched ears when he heard her answer. But didn’t consider hanging up.
“I’d like to stop by, if that’s okay,” he said shortly.
His request was met with silence. But then she replied, “Stop by River Bluff, thirty miles outside San Antonio—on your way where?”
“Are you going to be home tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have plans?”
There was another pause. “I was going to cut wallpaper.” And then, as if she was worried he’d feel sorry for her, alone on a Friday night, she added, “Becky’s at the game. Shane’s playing.” And high-school football was a constant in River Bluff, whether you had a kid in school or not.
“May I come over?” If anyone had told him three, four, even five years ago that he’d be asking that question of Annie, he’d have known they were crazy.
These days he wondered if he was.
“I guess.”
“Give me an hour.”
Blake rang off before she could ask him questions he wasn’t prepared to answer over the phone. Or worse, before she could change her mind. He had to get this done. He couldn’t take another day like today.
SHE TRIED TO EAT DINNER but the food stuck in her throat, so she put it outside for the stray cat, instead. The darn thing didn’t seem to realize that cats were supposed to be finicky eaters. Scrambled eggs were just fine with her.
But entering a house wasn’t. As many times as Annie had tried over the past year to coax the bedraggled thing inside, it continued to refuse her invitations.She heard Blake’s car door and reached for the cat, wishing for something warm to hold. But it darted across the yard and into the Friday evening darkness.
Annie went back inside, locking the kitchen door behind her. Grabbing the glass of wine she’d poured, she slipped on her sandals, pulled down her T-shirt over the low-cut waistband of her jeans, and went to open the front door, flipping on the porch light.
She needed to be on the offensive, but she could handle this. Blake felt honor bound to explain, in person, why he couldn’t father her child. She understood.
He was a respectful kind of guy. And this entire strange episode between them was mostly about his relationship with Cole. It had nothing to do with her.
“Hi,” she said through the screen door, fumbling with the lock. If he talked fast, he could be done and gone before she even got it open.
Other than muttering hello, he didn’t talk at all. Finally, Annie pushed on the latch, catching her breath as she opened her home to the outside night air—and him.
Blake at any time was hard to ignore. But in a suit he was breathtaking.
And maybe a little intimidating, too. If she’d been susceptible to him emotionally, in any way. Now, however, she was only inclined to get rid of him.
When he turned, waiting for her to lead the way, she headed toward the kitchen. It was the one place where she had more than a single seat to offer.
He took the folding chair she pointed him to. “Your tastes have changed.” His voice was more teasing than judgmental—not that Blake had ever been one to point fingers at anyone.
“I wanted the house more than I wanted the furniture,” she said, pouring him a glass of the merlot he used to like, and bringing it and her own glass to the table. She didn’t plan for them to be there long enough to finish their drinks, but the wine provided them with something socially acceptable to do while they decided not to have a baby together.