King's Million-Dollar Secret. Maureen Child
and said, “Hey, Rafe, why don’t you show her the new sink you brought in this morning.”
“My new sink’s here? Already?” Now this she was interested in. As far as pipes went, all she cared about was that they carried water whichever way they were designed to carry it without leaks, thanks very much. She didn’t need to understand how they did it. Hard to get thrilled over copper piping.
“I was at one of our suppliers and saw a sink I thought you’d like, so I picked it up. We’ll just store it in the trailer until it’s time to install.” Rafe led her out of the kitchen, down the back steps and across the lawn.
Arturo had the cabinet doors spread across makeshift sawhorse work tables and was busily scraping off the old finish before sanding them. Everything was happening. Only a week and already she was seeing progress. Maybe they’d get it all done in two weeks, Katie thought, then smiled wryly to herself. And maybe she’d sprout wings and fly.
“Here it is.” Rafe stopped at the trailer, reached in and drew out a huge sink, one side much deeper and bigger than the other.
“Isn’t that heavy?” she asked, remembering the loud clunk her old cast-iron sink had made when tossed to the top of the junk pile.
“Nope. It’s acrylic.” He held it in one hand to prove his point. “Tougher and won’t chip or rust.”
She smoothed her fingers over the edge and sighed a little. It was perfect. Looking up at him, she said, “Thank you. It’s great.”
“Glad you like it.” He tucked it back into the trailer and draped a protective work blanket over it.
“I thought the contractor was supposed to pick up the supplies for the job,” she said.
He turned back to look at her and shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Joe asked me to pick up a few things at the home store. I saw the sink and …”
“How’d you know I’d like it?”
“Took a shot,” he admitted.
“It was a good one.”
His blue eyes were shining and a cool wind tossed his black hair across his forehead. He was tall, broad-shouldered and looked great in those faded jeans, she thought, not for the first time. In fact, she had dreamed about him the night before. In her dream they were back in her kitchen, alone, as they had been yesterday. But in her fantasy, Rafe had kissed her until her toes curled and she had awakened so taut with desire and tension she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
Even her unconscious mind was working against her.
“So, Rafe Cole,” she asked, “how long have you been in construction?”
She thought his features tightened briefly, but the expression was gone so quickly, she couldn’t be sure. Now why would that simple question get such a reaction?
“My dad started me out in the business when I was a kid,” he said, staring off at the house, keeping his gaze deliberately away from hers. “I liked it and just sort of stuck with it.”
“I get that,” she said, trying to put him at ease again, to regain the easiness they’d shared only a moment ago. “My grandmother started me out baking when I was a little girl, and, well, here I am.”
He nodded and glanced at her. “How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up here,” she said. “My dad died before I was born, and my mom and I moved in here with Nana.” Her gaze tracked across the familiar lines of the old bungalow. The windows were wide, the roof was shake and the paint was peeling in spots. But the house was home. It meant security. Comfort. “I moved out for college, then mom died and a year ago, I inherited the house from Nana.”
“Oh,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
It took her a second; then Katie laughed and told him, “No, she didn’t die. She just moved. Nana and her sister Grace decided to share an apartment at the Senior Living Center. They figure there are lots of lonely men over there looking for love!”
He laughed at that and once again, Katie felt a rush of something hot and delicious spread through her. The man should smile more often, she thought and wondered why he didn’t. The other guys working here were forever laughing and joking around. But not Rafe.
He was more quiet. More mysterious.
Just … more.
Rafe sat opposite his brother Sean at a local diner and waited for his burger. As for Sean, he was typing out a message or thirty on his cell phone. Okay, as far as Rafe was concerned. Gave him more time to think about Katie Charles.
The woman was haunting him.
He couldn’t remember being so fixated on a single woman—not even Leslie, before he married her, had so completely captivated him. While that should have worried him, instead he was intrigued. What was it about Katie that was getting to him?
She was beautiful, sure. But lots of women were. He wanted her, but he had wanted lots of women. There was something else about her that was reaching out to him on so many different levels, he couldn’t even name them all.
“Hey,” Sean said with a laugh. “Where’d you go?”
“What?” Rafe swiveled on the bench seat and looked at his younger brother.
“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you haven’t heard a word. So I was wondering just what exactly had you thinking so hard.”
Rafe scowled a little, irritated to have been caught daydreaming. Jeez. Thoughts of Katie were taking up way too much of his time. “Not surprising I was thinking of something else, since you were so busy texting.”
“Nice try,” Sean said, still grinning. “Distract me with insults so I won’t ask if you’re still thinking about the cookie woman.”
Rafe shot him a glare. “Her name’s Katie.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Anyone ever tell you how irritating you are?”
“Besides you, you mean?” Sean asked, giving their waitress a bright smile as she delivered their dinners. “You bet. All the time.”
Rafe had to smile. Sean was absolutely the most laid-back King ever born. Most of them were type A’s, ruthlessly pushing through life, demanding and getting their own way. Not Sean. He had a way of slipping up on whatever he wanted until it just naturally fell into his hands.
He was damn hard to annoy and almost never lost his temper. In the world of the King family, he was an original.
Once the waitress was gone, the brothers dove into their meals. This hamburger joint on Ocean Avenue had been a popular spot since the forties. Rafe and Sean were on the outside patio, where they could watch traffic and pedestrians in a never-ending stream of motion. Kids, dogs, parents with digital cameras poking out of their pockets fought for space on the crowded sidewalk. Summer in a beach town brought out the tourists.
“So,” Sean said, reaching for his beer, “let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“About the cookie lady,” Sean countered, both of his eyebrows wiggling.
Rafe sighed. Should have expected that his brother would be curious. After all, Rafe hadn’t talked about a woman since Leslie walked out. He remembered his ex-wife looking at him sadly and telling him that she felt “sorry” for him because he had no idea how to love someone. That he never should have married her and sentenced her to a cold, empty life.
Then he thought about Katie and it was like a cool, soft breeze wafted through his mind. “She’s … different.”
“This gets better and better.” Sean leaned back in his booth and waited.
Frowning, Rafe took a