But Not for Me Page 5

  Carl nodded. “You bet. There’s three bedrooms, three baths. The place is cantilevered down a rather steep hill overlooking the resort’s golf course, so there’s a master bedroom at the very top, living-dining area and kitchen on the middle level, and the other two bedrooms are on the lowest floor. Every bedroom has a great view. It won’t take me long to move my things out of the top bedroom.”

  “Nonsense. Stay where you are. We won’t be here long enough for you to inconvenience yourself. I’m sure the other bedrooms will work out fine.”

  Carl risked another glance at the rearview mirror and raised his brows slightly. Rachel smiled and gave a slight nod of reassurance. So, she thought, amused. Carl was looking out for her, was he? Frankly, Rachel didn’t care where she slept. Despite the early hour—the sun was still up—she was more than ready to call it a day and to seek the sweet oblivion of sleep.

  “Sounds like you found a great place to stay while you’re here,” Brad said, glancing at the passing rural landscape.

  “It’s the nicest thing about the job at the moment. Did you know that the condo overlooks Lake Lure? I’ve been told that a few movies have been filmed in the area.”

  Rachel leaned forward. “Really? Which ones?”

  “I can think of a couple— Dirty Dancing and Last of the Mohicans. I get the impression the locals are pleased to share that information with the tourists who visit in droves each summer.” After a moment Carl continued. “Too bad I don’t play golf. I would have been out on the course this week just to let off steam. It would have been great to picture Mrs. Crossland’s face on each golf ball every time I swung.”

  Brad relaxed against his seat and chuckled. “Why Carl, I’m beginning to think that maybe you don’t like our client’s wife.”

  “She’s an interfering, annoying irritant that I could certainly do without. It’s difficult to find skilled construction people out here in the hills. What I don’t need is for Mrs. Crossland to run them off with her withering remarks and snobbish criticisms about the work being done.”

  “Has that become a problem?” Brad asked, straightening.

  “The best carpenter I have—a local whose cabinet-work would make a grown man cry tears of appreciation—stomped off the job just before I called you today saying he wasn’t going to work another minute if that woman insisted on coming to the site every day. There were others mumbling about following him. That’s when I called you.”

  “Okay. I’ll deal with it. Does she know I’m here?”

  “Nope. The less I say to the woman, the easier it is for me to control my temper. She has no idea how much forbearance I’ve shown since she arrived.”

  The men lapsed into silence when Carl turned off the interstate highway and followed winding two-lane roads that reminded Rachel of an earlier era—a time when people relaxed after a day of work, unaware of the term stress. Maybe Brad had been right to bring her. She might decide to stay in North Carolina for a while when Brad returned to Texas.

  She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, feeling herself relax for the first time in several hours.

  The sound of Carl’s voice woke her some time later when she heard him say, “Hell, Brad, what have you been doing to her, working her to death?”

  Rachel sat up and looked around. They were no longer moving. Instead, the Jeep was parked in a large lot surrounded by condominium units. The view of the surrounding area was spectacular. The distant hills and a brief view of the lake looked like a backdrop to a movie set. No wonder the film industry had decided to use the place.

  Brad held out his hand and assisted her from the back seat.

  “Wow,” she said reverently. “Why haven’t I ever heard about this place?”

  Carl grinned. “It’s the state’s best-kept secret. Everyone who discovers it is loath to have others discover it and move here as well.”

  Brad stretched and asked, “Which unit is yours?”

  Carl nodded his head to the building directly in front of them. “The first one in that building.” He paused, leaning into the Jeep to look around. “Did you forget your bags on the plane?” he asked, only now aware that all they carried were briefcases.

  “Nope,” Brad said, striding toward the condo. “I figured we could pick up whatever we need somewhere around here.”

  Carl turned to Rachel. “Is he kidding?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Wish he’d said something before we left Asheville. The closest town with a shopping mall is about twenty-five miles away.”

  She sighed. “I’m not sure I can make it. I really am exhausted.”

  “Not to hurt your feelings or anything, but you do look a little weary.” He watched Brad start up the walkway. “We better let him in before he starts yelling for the key. Come on, maybe I have something you can wear to tide you over till morning.”

  If she weren’t so tired, Rachel would have laughed at the idea of six-foot-four-inch, two-hundred-forty-pound Carl helping her out in the clothes department.

  “I may take you up on that,” she finally said, walking with him to the door. “A T-shirt would be welcome for me to use tonight.”

  She and Carl joined Brad at the front door. Carl opened it and the three of them walked inside. The first thing she saw were two sets of stairways, one leading downward, the other one going up.

  Carl led the way upstairs to two rooms that were divided by a large stone fireplace. Each room had large sliding doors at the other end that led onto a railed balcony.

  “Not too shabby, Carl,” Brad said after a soft whistle. “I admire your taste.”

  “The only reason I took this place was that the house we’re building is no more than ten minutes away. This was the most convenient rental available.”

  Rachel looked around with interest. The place was fully furnished, including kitchen supplies. The dark-red carpet looked regal. There was a television set as well as a VCR. All the comforts of home, she thought.

  Carl turned and pointed upward. “I sleep up there. The view’s terrific, as you can imagine.”

  Brad and Rachel dutifully turned toward the stairway that stretched to yet another floor. They realized that the bedroom on the top floor was the size of the combined rooms where they stood, except for a small landing at the top of the stairs.

  “There’s a smaller balcony up there, as well,” Carl said.

  Rachel went back down the steps to the lowest floor. There was a closed door on each side of the hallway. She opened one and peeked in. She saw a bedroom with the same view of the hills and lake. She turned and opened the other door, which revealed an identical bedroom.

  She had no idea which room Brad might want, but decided not to worry about it. She walked into the one to the left and closed the door, leaning against it with a sense of relief.

  She shook her head and pushed herself away from the door. With her purse still hanging from her shoulder, Rachel walked into the large bathroom, which had a shower separate from the Jacuzzi-type tub.

  She placed her purse on the counter and emptied it. She had the toiletry bag that contained a toothbrush and paste she’d purchased at the airport before Brad hauled her away from the public area to where the company plane awaited.

  Thank goodness she carried moisturizing cream, a small brush and comb and a few items of makeup in her purse. They would get her through the next few hours.

  Her suit looked tired, she thought, staring into the mirror ruefully. It wouldn’t have taken her more than a few minutes to gather a few things if Brad hadn’t been in such a hurry.

  He didn’t have a problem. Once on the plane he’d mentioned the items of clothing he kept in his briefcase. He could be so infuriating at times. What could he be thinking to drag her to North Carolina? She had no reason to go to the site or sit in on meetings Brad might have with the clients.

  Oh, well, none of that mattered now. She was here. She might as well make the best of it.

  Rachel systematically removed an
d folded each item of apparel before she turned on the stinging spray in the shower. After she adjusted the temperature, she pulled the pins from her hair, and then stepped into the shower.

  She couldn’t remember enjoying anything quite this much, she thought, as she allowed the water to flow over her head and body. The rental management had provided bath and face soap, as well as small bottles of shampoo and conditioner.

  She unwrapped the bath soap and rigorously scrubbed her body until it tingled, then shampooed her hair. When her legs felt as if they had turned into limp noodles, she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped onto the mat beside the shower stall.

  A luxuriously large towel hung on a rack nearby. She quickly towel-dried her hair before patting herself dry. Only then did she spot the terry cloth robe suspended from a hook on the back of the door. She wondered if Carl had left it, but when she drew closer, she saw the resort logo above a chest pocket. Without hesitating she pulled it down and wrapped the thick, soft material around her, sliding her arms into the sleeves.

  Rachel returned to the bedroom, closed the drapes and slid beneath the covers of the bed. She closed her eyes with a sigh and fell asleep.

  Brad stood at the sliding door of the living room with his hands in his pockets, staring out at the view. The sun had disappeared behind a cliff west of the condo, causing a blue mist to settle over the golf course below.

  He’d never learned how to play golf, which was just as well, he supposed. When would he have had time to indulge himself in the sport?

  He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Carl behind the kitchen bar making coffee.

  “Good idea,” Brad said, strolling over to one of the tall stools arranged in front of the kitchen bar.

  “Thought you could use a cup before I make my report,” Carl replied.

  “Sorry to have put you off about Mrs. Crossland. I’ve had a number of things on my mind, not the least of which is Rachel’s decision to take a leave of absence from the office. She sprang that one on me this morning. I was still reeling when you called. I’m hoping that while we’re here, we can look at alternatives that aren’t quite so drastic.”

  Carl kept his gaze focused on the ground coffee he was measuring into the holder before he turned to Brad. He folded his massive arms across an equally impressive chest and leaned against the counter.

  “I know what a loss it would be for you if Rachel decides to leave. I hope you can work something out.”

  “So do I. Now then, tell me about Mrs. Crossland,” Brad said, focusing on the immediate problem.

  “Have you ever met her?”

  Brad rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying. “I don’t believe so. All my meetings were with Crossland.”

  “If that’s the case, it’s going to be difficult for you to understand the dynamics going on here,” Carl said with a weary headshake.

  “So tell me.”

  “Mrs. Crossland is a second wife, or that’s my guess, anyway. I got the impression that her husband is considerably older than she is.”

  “He’s probably your age,” Brad said. “How old is she?”

  “Hard to tell. She dresses like one of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders during a game—short-midriff kind of tops that barely cover her rather impressive assets…tiny shorts that look like she might have had them painted on…high-heeled sandals inappropriate to be wearing around a construction site.”

  “I’m beginning to get the picture,” Brad muttered, feeling a headache coming on in more ways than one.

  “She has long, thick, probably bleached blond hair that she wears carefully arranged to suggest she just crawled out of bed.” Carl pulled down a couple of mugs from one of the cabinets and filled them with the freshly brewed coffee. He inhaled appreciatively before handing one of the cups to Brad.

  “Hell, Carl, sounds like you’ve done everything but take her measurements. Does your wife know about this?”

  “Damn right. I call Joyce every night with complaints and questions about what makes a woman like her tick. Never met anyone quite like her.”

  Brad grinned. “Then you’re in luck. I keep stumbling over them at every social event I’ve attended since the business took off.” He took a tentative sip of the fragrant liquid. “I’m curious. What does Joyce say about her?”

  Carl chuckled. “That she sounds like a trophy wife. Got her a husband who can indulge her every whim…and obviously does. I swear she behaves like a spoiled brat, inspecting each and everything that has been done and never satisfied with anything.” He took a long swallow of coffee before setting down the cup with a thud. “I tell you, I can’t take much more of this. If you can’t get her to stay away from the place, I’m going to join the cabinetmaker and find something to do elsewhere.”

  “It’s that bad?” Brad asked quietly.

  “It’s worse,” Carl stated baldly. “Joyce has had to talk me out of packing my gear and getting out of here for the past week.”

  “Tell Joyce she deserves a bonus.”

  “She deserves a bonus. For what!”

  “Keeping a cool head while you’re losing yours, for starters.”

  Carl picked up his cup and walked around the bar to sprawl onto one of the stools. He placed his elbows on the counter and held the cup in front of his mouth with both hands.

  “I’ll call her right now, okay?” Brad said. “You have her number?”

  Silently Carl fished into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. It belonged to Thomas Crossland, listing his telephone numbers in Dallas. Brad flipped the card over and saw a hand-printed number in a feminine hand.

  Without moving from his perch, Brad reached for the wall phone and punched in the numbers in front of him.

  The phone was answered on the second ring. A low, sultry voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Crossland?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Brad Phillips, Mrs. Crossland. I understand that—”

  He got no further because she immediately jumped in with “Thank God you’ve called. I’ve been going out of my mind over here, trying to get someone with an ounce of intelligence to listen to me. They are ruining my home…absolutely ruining it. Those workers refuse to listen to anything I say. I really had no choice but to demand that someone contact you.”

  Brad glanced at his watch. “Have you had dinner, Mrs. Crossland?”

  A surprised silence vibrated across the lines. “Well, actually I haven’t, but I don’t see what that has to do with this mess.”

  Brad kept his eyes on Carl as he replied. “I thought we could talk about the matter over dinner, if that’s all right with you.” He waited.

  “What? You mean you’re actually here in North Carolina? I thought you were calling from Dallas!”

  “No, ma’am. I’m here.”

  “Well.” She paused as though searching for words. “That might work out all right. Tommy isn’t here, though. He’s in Europe doing God knows what…no doubt continuing to make more money than we’ll ever be able to spend. I keep telling him there’s no reason for him to work so hard. He’s in the prime of his life. He should relax and enjoy some of the fruits of his labor, don’t you think?”

  Or, Brad thought, he’s finally decided he’d prefer to keep an ocean between him and his blushing bride. He glanced at his watch. “If you’ll give me directions to your hotel, I’ll be by to get you in an hour.”

  She gave a trill of excited laughter. “Oh, well. If you insist. I’m not in a hotel, though. There wasn’t one close enough for me to keep an eye on the construction site. So I’ve rented a house.” She gave him directions, which he dutifully wrote down, hoping Carl knew where the named roads were located.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said, as she continued to talk about the problems she was dealing with after she’d given him the necessary directions. Before she could say anything more, he hung up.

  “Whew. Can that woman talk!” he said, turning back to Carl. He handed him the sc
ribbled directions. “Does this make any sense to you?”

  Carl read them before nodding. “She’s about ten miles farther along that last road we turned off of to come here. I don’t think you’ll have a problem finding the place.”

  Brad finished his coffee. “I’d much prefer to stay here this evening with you and…” His voice trailed off as he said, “…Rachel.” He looked around. “Where’d she go, anyway?”

  “I heard one of the downstairs showers running a while back. It’s possible she’s already gone to bed.”

  “Now? It’s not even eight o’clock.”

  “From everything I’ve heard, she’s had an eventful day. Maybe she’s tired.”

  Brad thought about that for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll catch you up on what’s been happening with her when I get back from dinner.” He stood. “Oh, is it all right if I borrow your Jeep?”

  Carl tossed him the keys. “Be my guest, boss. Take all the time you need.”

  Brad headed downstairs, wondering about Carl’s tone. It was obvious that he and Mrs. Crossland had clashed as soon as she arrived. He had never seen Carl this upset. Brad wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s meeting, but was determined to get the matter settled. Carl was too good an employee to be lost over something like this.

  He’d developed some tough negotiating skills since he’d been in business, Brad thought. How hard could it be to convince this woman that everything was under control?

  Brad paused at the bottom of the steps and looked at the closed doors. He wondered which one Rachel had chosen. If she’d gone to sleep, he didn’t want to disturb her. On the other hand, he didn’t want to walk right in with no warning. He did a quick “eeny, meeny, miny, moe” before he knocked softly on one of the doors.

  There was no answer.

  She was probably in the other one. He opened the door and stepped into a shadowy bedroom. He started across the floor to the bathroom without bothering to turn on a light, wanting a shower before his business meeting. He pushed the door open and immediately knew he had the wrong room.

  The faint scent of soap and shampoo hung in the room. He didn’t need to turn on a light to know that this was the room Rachel had chosen.