Beatrice and Douglas (3 page)

The next week went rather well considering everything. 
It was almost as if, after what had nearly happened between them, they were
both determined to convince the other that they were unaffected.  If the
men thought it was strange to see Douglas and Beatrice leaning side by side
over blueprints without a fight, they kept it to themselves.  Meanwhile,
the work progressed smoothly despite the tension that seemed to grow daily
between the two bosses.

After nearly two weeks of continuing tension, smiles that
showed a lot of teeth and pleasant conversations through narrowed eyes and
hardened chins, the men were making bets, quietly and from a safe distance, as
to who would blow first.  So far, the odds were two to one on the redhead
.

Douglas was working on flooring for the top floor, cutting
boards to replace the ones that were rotted out, when Beatrice came up the
stairs to give him the cell phone.  She was unprepared to find him
shirtless.  Even more unprepared for her own reaction to his
semi-nudity. 

The man had the most incredible shoulders, between them the
strong sensuous lines of his back and the way his jeans clung to his firm butt;
while he sawed back and forth, she was struck with a raging case of lust. 
Since the night he had touched her, she had continued to notice things she had
no business noticing.  Like the way his hair just brushed his collar and
that he had the most incredible hands she had ever seen.  She even seemed
to see them in her sleep these days.  She completely forgot about the
phone and just stared.

Douglas had known the minute she entered the room.  He
could feel her eyes on him and he almost growled.  He had felt her eyes on
him a lot lately.  It didn’t do anything for his blood pressure to know
that she felt the pull to watch just like he did.  Just the opposite in
fact, but he was determined that she would be the one to make the move this
time.  He was through being rejected, damn it.  But it was getting
harder in more ways than one.  If something didn’t give soon, he was going
to do something stupid.  Like drag her down to the dusty floor and put
them both out of their misery.

“You want something, Bumble Bee, or you just going to stand
there gawking all day?”

Beatrice jumped at the sound of his voice.  Her cheeks
reddened when she realized how much of an idiot she was being, then she walked
forward and, when he turned, jabbed the phone at his washboard stomach, making
him grab for it or watch it fall to the floor.  He grabbed it, but managed
to drop the saw at the same time and it landed with a clank on his boot. 
Luckily, it didn’t make much of a dent on his steel-toed tips . . . but it
pissed him off royally.

“Goddamn it!” he yelled, but Beatrice was already stalking
away and out of reach.  He grabbed the phone up to his ear.  “What?!”

“Interesting phone manner.  I take it things are
progressing as usual with you and my niece.”

“You don’t want to mention your niece right now, Jack, you
really don’t.”       

He laughed, “She’s a pistol all right, but that’s not why I
called.  Mr. Benedict wants to come out and see how his property is
shaping up.  How
is
his property shaping up?”

“Worried?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly; it’s just with you and Beatrice
together out there, things can be a little unpredictable.”

“Yeah, but we manage to get the work done despite her
tantrums.”

There was a gasp from outside in the hall that restored his
good humor immensely.  “You know how women are.”

“She listening in then?”

“Oh yeah.”

Jack chuckled.  “Just don’t get in too deep, boy; she’s
got a mean right hook.”

“I can handle things.”

“Right.  You can expect Benedict tomorrow, or if he
can’t make it before you all take the weekend break, Monday at the
latest.  He’s a big client, likes to buy real estate, lots of repeat
business possibilities on this one.  Make sure there aren’t any mangled
corpses lying around for him to trip on.”

“I have more finesse than that; if I killed her, they’d
never find the body.”

“I was talking about your mangled corpse, boy.  She
doesn‘t have your cool under pressure.” 

Douglas hung up with Jack’s chuckle ringing in his ear.

***

Benedict was there the following day.  A dapper
gentleman in a three-thousand dollar suit and designer shoes, he practically
shrieked money.  He was good looking in a yuppie, pressed way.  His
hair cut short and professionally styled.  His fit body the result of
hours of tennis, golf, and no doubt, polo.  He had a lot of perfect white
teeth.  He was not alone.

His companion was young, probably no older than twenty-three
or four.  Long blonde bedroom hair, blue eyed, stacked, and bird-brained
was the impression she gave.  With a short red linen skirt and high heels,
she caused no less than three accidents within the first ten minutes. 

When Beatrice heard the utter silence where there had always
been sound before, she left her drafting table and color samples to
investigate.  She came out of the trailer and around the corner of the
house with the newest set of blueprints.  The first thing she saw was
Douglas holding the arm of some blond bimbo and very solicitously helping her
over some loose debris.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The men who had been standing around with arrested
expressions, watching the blond dither, quickly turned back to work at the
strident query.  The noise commenced immediately.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault.”  The voice was cultured and
smooth, cutting through the tension and distracting Beatrice from glowering at
Douglas.  “I’m afraid I’ve distracted your men.”

Beatrice turned and noticed the man standing over by the
front porch; she hadn‘t seen him earlier because, well, because she’d been
glaring at Douglas and the blond.

“I’m Martin Benedict; you must be Ms. Blue, the interior
designer.”  He came forward as he was talking, looking very cool despite
the heat.  It was clear from the appreciative look in his eyes that he
liked what he saw.  “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion.”

The client.  Great.
  Beatrice smiled
determinedly. 

“No problem, it‘s your house after all.  I just wasn’t
told you’d arrived.”  She spared a second to glare at Douglas, placing the
blame squarely on his shoulders.  But he didn’t see it; he was too busy
studying Benedict while he took Beatrice’s
hand
in greeting.  He didn’t seem to have any intention of giving it
back. 

“A terrible oversight on my part.  But now that I know
how charming you are, I will insist you are present at all my inspections from
now on.”

Beatrice ignored the grunt that came from Douglas, and
extracted her hand as gracefully as she could.

“Thank you.”

“I would be very happy if you could show me around; the
interior designer must have a slightly different take on things than the
construction people do.  I would be interested to see it through your
eyes.”  He offered his arm in an old world courtly fashion and Beatrice
had no choice but to take it.

She smiled again, mentally consigning the next hour of work
to wasted time.  “Certainly.”

The walk through was worse than she expected.  Every
time the blowsy blonde tittered, Beatrice could feel her neck get
tighter.  It didn’t help matters that she was forced to swallow her angst
while trying to explain why there was no noticeable improvement to the
property. 

“Most of the floors were rotted through and have to be
pulled and redone.  It looks like a mess now, but in the end, it will be
worth the time and expense to use the real thing.  As you can see, we have
pulled all the original light fixtures out; as many as we can restore will be
re-hung when we’re ready.”

“Seems a waste of money.  Personally, I would prefer a
little more modern appeal, but old is in and I’m told the house will be worth
more if its original condition is restored.”

“You don’t plan on living here then?”

“No.  I’m definitely not a back woods kind of
man.  I’ll restore it, then sell it for an obscene profit.”

“Ah.”  That explained a lot.

“And you, Ms. Blue, where do you call home?”

“Seattle.  The business is based there.”

“Splendid, perhaps when you return to town I can take you
out to dinner.”

Beatrice was surprised.  It can’t have escaped his
notice that the blonde was walking right behind them and could hear every word
they said.

“This job will keep me busy for quite a while.  But
I’ll certainly keep you in mind.” 
Never going to happen
. 
“The wraparound porch was in bad shape, though you can’t tell that from
here.  We have to pretty much build that from scratch, then sand it all
down, finish it with a nice glaze.  It‘s going to be beautiful.”

“Wonderful.”

“And that concludes the tour.  I hope that you are
satisfied with the work we are doing; we have a great deal to do still, but
it’s progressing nicely.”

“I can see that.  And now that I’ve met you, I’m sure
it’s in good hands.”  He took hers again; Beatrice had the insane thought
that he was going to bring it to his lips and kiss it in a gentlemanly fashion,
but either he realized it would look silly under these circumstances or she was
imagining things.  In any case, he merely held it for a moment then
released it.

“We’ll allow you to get back to your work.  Perhaps
next time we can both make time to talk longer.”

“It’s certainly a possibility.” 
When pigs fly.

When he left, the blonde safely back on his arm, Douglas and
Beatrice stood where they were and watched them walk away.

“Well, that was fun.”

The sarcasm was lost on Douglas.

“You certainly gave him a good look.”

She was surprised at the bite behind the words.
 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”  Then, “Do you have to hang all over the
clients?”

“Hang . . . Are you off your meds again?”

“Oh come on.  You were flirting with him.”  Even
as he said it, he knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop the words, or
the knowledge that she’d been smiling at another man, touching his arm all the while
she sent him withering glances at every opportunity.

“Me?  Who was the one tittering with the blonde? 
It wasn’t me.”

“Tittering?  I was trying to keep her from breaking her
idiot neck in six-inch heels.  I was trying . . .”  There was that
bite again.  “To save us from a law suit.”

She snorted inelegantly.  “Right.  Well, as fun as
this is...”

She took off with a huff determined to get some work done,
but when she entered the miniscule trailer to get back to her samples, he
slammed in right behind her.  With the two drawing tables, a small
kitchenette, and a ratty old couch there wasn’t much room.  Even less with
Douglas taking up all the available air.

“Get out.”

“We need to talk.”  He’d had enough.  If he didn’t
get to touch her soon he was going to combust.

“Talking to you is like having a conversation with a
baboon.  A lot of grunts and butt scratching, but no real information
exchange.”

“Cute.  Very cute.”

“Thanks.  Now leave.”

“I said we’re going to talk and that’s exactly what we’re
going to do.”

She turned back to the blueprints and swatches on her
drawing board in the hopes that he would get the hint and leave.  Instead,
he came up behind her, and yanked her around by the arm until she was facing
him and neatly pressed up against the table.

“Back off.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

She pulled back her right fist, but he caught it and held it
down against the table before she could strike.  She tried the left and
got the same result.  She was neatly pinned and that was enough to have
her anger hitting the roof.  She growled.  He ignored it.

“I said,” he began very carefully, “that we are going to
talk.  We have been dancing around this for a week and a half and I’m damn
sick of it.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about other than the sexual
harassment charges you’ll be facing if you don’t BACK OFF.”

“Jesus Christ, you are the most stubborn, contrary
pig-headed brat I have ever met.”

“Well then, if that’s the way you feel why the hell do you
want to talk to me, you mule-brained ape?”

“Because I damn well can’t stop thinking about the way you
taste!”

The words hit her low in the stomach, making her breath
catch and her brain freeze.  She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak,
but nothing came out.  Just like that, anger turned to desire.

“Got your attention?”  His words were low and brimming
with heat.

She swallowed carefully, aware that he was watching every
breath and reaction with hot eyes.  She tried to breathe again, to tough
it out.

“Your problem.”

“My problem?  That’s it?”  He let go of her hands
and stepped back carefully.  “I never would have pegged you for a coward.”

“I’m not a coward.” 

“Prove it.”

She stood there with her fists clenched, biting her bottom
lip, knowing that she really wanted to be biting him. 

“I don’t . . .”  She wasn’t sure what she was going to
say but he moved again until he was close enough that their breath mingled, and
she could feel the heat radiating from his massive body.  She lost the
words.

He was too close but still not close enough.  The contradictory
emotions bombarding her system were overwhelming. 

“Prove it,” he said.  “Touch me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“The hell you don’t.  You can’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Your ego’s showing.  Now back off.”  But her
voice came out weak and soft, not at all her usual tone, so it was no wonder he
ignored her and moved his body closer still.