Any Man Of Mine: A Waiting Game / A Loving Arrangement

“The property line is two paces behind you,” she replied coolly. “And if you care to look, there’s a metal survey stake—quite a new one. I had the property lines resurveyed two days ago.”

His eyes narrowed as he lowered them to her slender body, past her high, firm breasts to her small waist and flaring hips, clearly outlined by her tailored riding gear.

“Keena?” he asked as if the thought was incredulous. His eyes came back up to her lovely, high-cheekboned face framed by black hair that feathered around it, her pale green eyes like clear pools under her thick lashes.

She allowed herself a smile. “That’s my name.”

“My God, you’ve changed,” he murmured. His eyes went to her wrist, and he smiled faintly. “Except for that habit of wearing gaudy costume jewelry. I’m glad something about you hasn’t changed.”

She wanted to hit him with the riding crop, but that would have been more in character in her adolescence than it was now. She’d learned control, if nothing else.

“Old habits die hard,” she replied with a bitter smile.

“How true,” he murmured. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good worker. There’s a small insurance policy, of course. You might check with the personnel office about that. You got the flowers we sent? A potted plant, I think...”

“They were very nice, thanks,” she replied.

“Are you still living in Atlanta?” he asked politely.

“New York,” she corrected.

He made a distasteful face. “Nasty place. Pollution and all that. I prefer Ashton.”

She stared at him, letting the memory merge with the reality. He’d changed. Not just in age, but in every other way. He looked older, less imposing, less authoritative.

“How’s Jenny?” she asked quietly.

“Doing very well, thanks. She lives with her husband and son in Greenville. Larry’s married,” he added pointedly. “He lives in Charleston.”

“I heard that you and Cherrie married,” she said.

His face drew up. “She and I were divorced two years back,” he said coldly.

She shrugged. “It happens.”

He was staring at her again, his eyes thoughtful. “I can’t get over the change. You’re different.”

“I’m older,” she replied.

“Married?” he asked, openly curious.

She shook her head. “I have a career.”

“In textiles?” he asked with a faint smile.

She paused. “In a matter of speaking, yes.”

He laughed shortly. “Sewing, I suppose.”

“That, too.” She patted the mare’s mane. “I’ve got to get back. Nice seeing you,” she said with a parting smile.

“I’ll drop by before you leave for home,” he said unexpectedly.

She gave him her best smile. “That would be nice,” she managed huskily. “But you needn’t rush. I’ll be here for several more weeks.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Can you spare that long from your job?”

“I have a wonderful, understanding boss,” she returned. “See you.”

And think about that, she laughed to herself as she let the mare have her head on the way back to the stable.

What Ashton needed, she decided, was a party. A big, lavish, New York, society-type party, so that she could show her dear old friends how much the gangly textile worker’s daughter had changed. Just thinking about it brightened her dark mood. Before she got back to the house, she was already planning her strategy, from redecorating and renovation, to the caterers. This was going to be an absolute delight.

* * *

IT WAS LIKE having a houseful of relatives come to stay when the carpenters and decorators descended on them. Keena couldn’t move without bumping into a ladder or a pile of lumber.

“They’re multiplying,” Mandy moaned one morning, watching two carpenters hard at work trying to replace a portion of the kitchen ceiling. “And how can I cook?”

“Make two plates full of sandwiches.” Keena laughed. “Maybe if we feed them enough, they’ll work faster. And don’t spare the coffee.”

“You’re the boss,” Mandy sighed, shaking her head as she moved toward the cupboard.

“Hey, lady, somebody’s at the door!” one of the electricians called, pausing with a length of cord in one hand.

She squeezed past a painter on a ladder, her jeans and pale blue T-shirt making her look younger than her years, clinging outrageously to her long, graceful legs and the soft, full curves of her body. Her hair was curling softly around her face, and some of the strain of big business had fallen away despite the grief this trip had started with. She felt younger, more relaxed and more feminine.

“Hey, guys, there’s a Rolls-Royce out there!” one of the carpenters whispered to his friends, stunned.

Keena paused with her hand on the doorknob. It couldn’t be James Harris, even though that was whom she’d expected after their confrontation two days ago. The Harrises had money, but not enough to run a Rolls. She knew only one man with that kind of careless wealth, and she hadn’t dreamed—despite Mandy’s prediction—that he’d come here.

She twisted the crystal doorknob and pulled the wide door open. The man standing there towered over her, as broad as a wrestler, all hard muscle and determination, with a craggy face and dark eyes that were devouring every inch of her.

“So here you are,” he growled, his voice reminiscent of the last time she’d seen him, and remembering it made her flush slightly. “I’ve had a hell of a time finding you. Mrs. Barnes said you called the apartment to see if I’d come home, but all you told her was that you were going home to Georgia.”

“And you couldn’t remember where that was?” she asked with a sweet smile.

“It’s a damned big state,” he replied curtly, staring past her at the gaping workmen who were openly curious about the newcomer in the gray suit. “I had to hunt through your old personnel file to find out your hometown. I couldn’t remember it.”

“You didn’t think to call my office?” she asked.

“I got back only yesterday,” he said under his breath. “Sunday, madam, and your people don’t work on Sunday.”

She drew in a steadying breath. Seeing him again was causing her heart to do acrobatics. “My father died,” she said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “Was it quick?”

She nodded. “Very.” She looked up at him with sad eyes, and wished she could have run to him when they’d called to tell her. His arms would have felt so good, and she could have cried in them. “Did you think I was in hiding?” she added with a mirthless laugh.