The Honeymoon House. Patty Salier
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.”
“As soon as I get the honeymoon house plans approved by the building department.”
“Yeah.” He had to force himself to finally leave.
Inside her apartment, Danielle leaned against the closed door, touching her lips where Paul had kissed her. Why had she let him kiss her? Didn’t he have the power to hurt her on Mr. Harrington’s project? But Paul had said to trust him. Isn’t that what Kevin had told her?
Lisa entered the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me that Paul Richards was a hunk!” She nibbled on a slice of garlic bread. “He seems nice, too. Why don’t you forget what Mr. Harrington’s secretary told me?”
“I can’t,” Danielle said, plopping into a chair. “Why do I always pick a man whose career is entangled with mine?”
“Don’t compare Paul with Kevin,” Lisa advised. “I don’t know why, but Paul feels honest to me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “In fact, if I wasn’t going to marry Manny, I’d go after Paul Richards myself.”
“Marry Manny?” Danielle repeated. “Did he ask you to be his wife?”
Lisa nodded, bursting with joy. “Manny’s moving back to Los Angeles in a few months for our wedding!”
“Oh, Lee, what great news!”
Danielle hugged her, remembering Lisa and Manny falling in love in college when he was still living in Los Angeles. When Manny transferred to a university in New York, their love never ended. Manny had promised to come back and marry her. He’d kept his promise.
Paul Richards flashed in her mind. Could she ever risk getting close to him, when he had the power to destroy her career?
“Danielle, will you be my maid of honor?”
Lisa cut into her thoughts. A lump formed in her throat at her sister’s request. “I can’t wait.”
“I’m calling Manny to tell him!” Lisa quickly picked up the wall phone in the kitchen.
Danielle went into their shared bedroom and closed the door to give her sister privacy. She opened the bureau drawer and pulled out her lavender nightgown.
In a few months, her sister would move out of their apartment. She’d be living alone, with no family around to share her thoughts and feelings. She loved living with her family. When her parents were killed, she’d been so thankful to still have Lisa.
You’ll get used to living alone, she told herself as she stripped off her clothes in the bathroom to take a bath. Many women enjoyed living alone. But she knew she wasn’t one of them. She was a family person, and she hoped to someday have a family of her own.
So