King's Million-Dollar Secret. Maureen Child
his brother said, “Come off it, Rafe. There’s something there and you’re looking. And about time too, I want to say. Leslie was a long time ago, man.”
“Not that long,” Rafe countered. Although, as he thought about it, he realized that he and Leslie had been divorced for more than five years. His ex-wife was now remarried to Rafe’s former best friend, with a set of toddler twins and a newborn, last he heard.
“Long enough for her to move on. Why haven’t you?”
Rafe shot Sean a glare that should have fried his ass on the spot. Typically enough though, Sean wasn’t bothered. “Who says I haven’t?”
“Me. Lucas. Tanner. Mac. Grady …” Sean stopped, paused and asked, “Do I have to name all of our brothers or do you get the point?”
“I get it, but you’re wrong.” Rafe took a bite of his truly excellent burger and after chewing, added, “I’m not carrying a torch for Leslie. It’s over. Done. She’s a mother, for God’s sake.” And if he was to be honest, he hadn’t really missed her when she left. So what did that say about him?
“Yet, you’re still living in a hotel suite making do with the occasional date with a beautiful airhead.”
“I like living in a hotel and they’re not all airheads.”
“Good argument.”
“Look,” Rafe said, reaching for his beer. “Katie’s a nice woman, but she’s off limits.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because she’s got white picket fence written all over her,” Rafe explained. “She’s the settle-down-and-get-married type and I’ve already proven I’m not.”
Sean shook his head and sighed. “For a smart guy, you’re not real bright, are you?”
“Thanks for the support.”
“You want support?” Sean asked, digging into his burger. “Then stop being an idiot.”
“Shut up. I tried the happily-ever-after thing and it blew up in my face. Not going to do it again.”
“Did you ever consider that maybe the reason it didn’t work was because you married the wrong woman?”
Rafe didn’t even bother answering that jibe. What would have been the point?
Monday morning, the guys were still fighting with the pipes and Katie was ready for a week in Tahiti. She’d hardly slept all weekend. Though the peace and quiet were great, she’d been so busy filling cookie orders she hadn’t had time to appreciate it.
Now she sipped at a cup of coffee and winced every time the whine of a drill shrieked into the air.
“The noise is worst the first week,” someone from nearby said.
She turned to look at Joe Hanna, the contractor. “You’re just saying that so I won’t run away.”
He grinned. “Once the new pipes and drains are installed, the rest will be easier for you to live with. I promise.”
He had no sooner made that vow when a shout came from the kitchen. “Arturo! Shut off the water! Off! Off!”
“Crap.” Joe hustled across the yard just behind Rafe while Arturo sprinted for the water shutoff valve out front. Katie was hot on Joe’s heels and stepped into the kitchen in time to see Steve crouched over a pipe with water spraying out of it like a fountain in Vegas.
Katie backed out of their way while the men grabbed towels. Then Arturo got the water off and the three men in the kitchen were left standing around as what looked like the incoming tide rolled across the floor and under the house.
“That fitting wasn’t on there right, damn it,” Steve muttered and dropped through the hole in the floor.
“Should have checked it out with the water on low,” Joe pointed out and got a glare from Rafe in response.
“What happened?” Katie asked and both men turned to look at her.
“Nothing huge,” Joe assured her. “Just got to tighten things up. Looks worse than it is.”
Katie hoped so, because it looked like a lake was in her kitchen and she couldn’t think that was a good thing.
Joe slapped one hand on Rafe’s shoulder and said, “I should have checked his work personally before we tested it. Rafe’s been out of the game for a while, so he may be rusty. But he’s got potential.”
Katie saw the flicker of annoyance cross Rafe’s features and she shared it.
“Isn’t Steve the plumber?” she asked pointedly.
“Yeah,” Joe said, “but Rafe did the joint work on that pipe.”
“It was fine,” Rafe said. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Sure, sure,” Joe told him, then looked at Katie. “My fault. Like I said, I should have kept a closer eye on the new guy’s work.”
Rafe was biting his tongue, no doubt worried about defending himself and maybe losing his job. Then she realized that he could be fired anyway, if Joe decided that his work was too sloppy. So before she could stop herself, she stepped in to defend him. “Rafe does excellent work. He set up my temporary kitchen, allowing me to keep my business going. He’s stayed late everyday cleaning up and making sure I’m inconvenienced as little as possible. I’m sure that whatever happened with that pipe was unavoidable.”
“Yeah,” a voice came rumbling up from under the house. “Found the problem. The first joint worked itself loose, so the water had to go somewhere. My bad. I’ll get it fixed and we’ll be back in business.”
Katie gave Joe a look that said quite clearly, See? You blamed the wrong man. She smiled at Rafe and left them to clean up the mess and get back to work.
“What was that all about?” Joe wondered.
Steve poked his head up from under the floorboards and smiled widely. “Sounds to me like the boss lady has a thing for Rafe. Lucky bastard.”
“Shut up, Steve,” Rafe said, but his gaze was locked on the empty doorway where Katie had been standing only a moment before.
Joe was riding him because he could and Rafe would take it because it was all part of the bet he’d lost. Good-natured teasing was all part of working a job. But Katie’s defense of him had surprised him. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone had stood up for him—not counting his half-brothers and cousins.
Katie Charles was like no one he’d ever met before. She didn’t want anything from him. Wasn’t trying to get on his good side. But then, that was because she thought his name was Rafe Cole.
It would be an entirely different story if she knew he was a King.
Three
Rafe was late getting to the job site.
Despite the bet he was in the process of paying off, he had his regular job to do, too. And dealing with a supplier who wasn’t coming through for them was one of the tasks he enjoyed most.
“Look Mike,” he said, tightening his grip on the phone. “You said we’d have the doors and windows on site at the medical complex by noon yesterday.”
“Is it my fault if things got hung up on the East Coast?”
“Probably not,” Rafe conceded, “but it’s your fault if you don’t get this straightened out in the next—” he checked his watch “—five hours.”
“That’s impossible,” the older man on the other end of the line argued.
“All depends on how determined you are, now doesn’t it?” Rafe wasn’t going to listen to