The Honeymoon House

Danielle kicked her sister under the table to shut her up.

“A few years ago, I built a house for a friend of his,” Paul explained. “Mr. Harrington liked my work and hired me on a couple of his housing projects.”

“Has he ever fired an architect you’ve worked with?” Lisa inquired.

Danielle stopped eating. Paul looked at her worriedly. She knew he knew why Lisa was asking that question.

“Just once,” Paul replied a bit uneasily. “In the middle of construction, Mr. Harrington was dissatisfied with the architect’s work and hired another architect to take over the job.”

Danielle suddenly felt ill. Was that going to happen to her when she worked with Paul?

Just then, Paul’s beeper went off. “I’m sorry,” he said as he set a slice of garlic bread on his plate. “I should’ve left my beeper in the van.” He glanced at the number on his beeper. “Can I use your phone?”

Danielle pointed to the telephone in the living room rather than the wall phone in the kitchen. “You’ll have more privacy,” she said.

“Please forgive me,” he said again.

In the living room, Paul dialed Butch’s phone number, impatiently tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. He glanced toward the kitchen door. He’d upset Danielle by telling her about Mr. Harrington’s having fired another architect. Somehow, her sister had found out that Mr. Harrington had asked him to watch over Danielle’s work.

When Paul saw the anxious look on Danielle’s face about the fate of her job, he wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her not to worry. He’d make sure she kept her job right to the very end, no matter what Mr. Harrington had requested of him.

When Butch’s upset voice came onto the phone, Paul knew it was trouble. “Man, somebody broke onto the construction site at the Barry property,” Butch said.

“Damn!” Paul muttered. “What’d they take?” He dreaded hearing. He’d wanted the Barry project to finish smoothly like all his other assignments. Why at the last moment did something horrible have to happen?

“The owners moved in half their belongings and furniture yesterday,” Butch said. “The vandals cleaned them out.”

Paul’s jaw muscles tightened. “Jeez!”

“You want me to call the Barrys?”

“I’ll tell them myself,” he replied. “You contact the insurance company. Then meet me at the Barry house.”

Paul hung up feeling as if his insides were about to explode. He’d made sure that the construction site had been fenced and locked. The owners had been very pleased with their remodeled house. They were planning to move in tomorrow.

Now Paul had to break the disastrous news to them. The vandalism made him feel he hadn’t done an adequate enough job for them. He should have protected the property better. But how?

He heard Danielle’s voice behind him.

“Paul, what’s wrong?”

He turned around to find her staring at him with a concerned look on her face. Her soft voice was like a peaceful drug that soothed his insides. His agitated, frustrated feelings slowly subsided.

“Danielle, I’ve got problems at a construction site,” he began. “I can’t stay for dinner. I spoiled your great Italian meal and I’m—”

“Hungry,” she finished for him. “I’ll pack you some meatballs, lasagna, garlic bread and salad. You can take it along.”

Before he could protest, she hurried into the kitchen, with him right behind.

The phone rang again, and he saw Lisa jump up from the kitchen table.

“It’s Manny!” she said excitedly. “Paul, you’re the shortest dinner guest we’ve ever had, but it was great meeting you!” Then she was out of the kitchen.

“Danielle, I didn’t mean to mess up your evening,” Paul apologized once more.

“Forget it, will you?” Danielle insisted. She packed him a scrumptious dinner in a pan with tinfoil covering. She even added a plastic spoon, fork and knife.

She handed him the hot bag. “Just like my mother used to do for me when I had late classes at architectural school.”

“You’re lucky,” he admitted. “Nobody ever packed a lunch or dinner for me.”

Danielle looked surprised. “Not even your mother?”

He felt a sudden cold void inside. “My mother died when I was a baby,” he explained. “And my stepmother—she didn’t have time for me.”

Danielle’s turquoise eyes held his, almost as though she could feel his pain.

“I’m glad to be your first time.”

He felt an instant closeness to her. “Me, too.”

Danielle walked him out of her apartment into the hallway. He held her warm package of food in his arms, wishing he didn’t have to leave.

“Danielle, I want you to know something,” he began. “You don’t have to worry about your job at the honeymoon house.”

“I don’t?” she asked in an anxious voice. “How do you know?”

“Just trust me,” he whispered.

Danielle appeared so vulnerable. Her silk-covered body was close to his. Her pink lips looked so tempting. Paul wasn’t thinking. He leaned his face to hers and covered her mouth with his. Her lips tasted sweet like honey, and he wanted more.

His tongue caressed her mouth. She parted her lips, welcoming him inside. His tongue gently danced with hers and he wanted to let her know that he was with her, not against her.

He impulsively moved his body closer to hers, aching to feel her womanly curves. But the bag of food in his arms became crushed between their bodies.

Her lips formed a smile against his. He gently released his mouth from hers.

“Your dinner is steamy hot,” Paul whispered, meaning more than her food.

Her turquoise eyes twinkled at him. Her cheeks flushed. He could still taste the honey of her lips.

“Don’t let it get cold,” she said in a shaky voice. “The meatballs, I mean.”

Being close to her, nothing felt cold on his entire body. “Danielle, I wish I didn’t have to go.” He wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her.

“Another time,” she whispered back.

He touched her cheek. “I’ll see you at work.”