* * *
Rick held the car door open for Kendall, then strode around to his side and got in, buckling his seat belt before turning toward her. He held his hand high and she slapped it in return. “Mission accomplished.”
“You think?”
“I know my mother and she definitely believes she saw sparks flying between us tonight.” Because they had been, Rick thought.
But that was for another time. Shadows tinged the fragile skin beneath Kendall’s eyes as exhaustion obviously set in. She needed rest.
“She’ll call off the push for a daughter-in-law?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.” He twisted his wrist and the ignition kicked in. “If anything she’ll step up her campaign.”
“So what was the point of tonight?” Kendall asked. “She’ll no longer be pushing other women on me. Instead she’ll focus all her attention on the one with the most potential.”
He glanced over in time to see her open and close those lips that tempted him so.
“You mean me?”
He grinned. “I most definitely mean you.” But Rick sobered fast because he had something more pressing to discuss with her. “Kendall, what kind of relationship did you have with Brian?”
She stiffened in her seat, laughter replaced by intensity. “I don’t think that’s relevant.”
“Sure it is. You said he did you favors and you felt you owed him.” Shades of their bargain had risen when he’d heard Kendall’s description, making him uneasy. “We’re entering a similar arrangement. I just don’t want you uncomfortable with me.”
“If you’re worried my past dealings with Brian will affect me pulling off the charade with you, don’t be. At this point I’m a professional,” she said wryly.
That’s what had him worried. In Kendall’s eyes, Rick didn’t want to be another man using her for his own gain. “I know he got you modeling jobs to pay for your aunt’s care. What did you give him in return?”
Kendall rubbed a weary hand over her eyes.
He grabbed her hand, squeezing it tight.
“Brian was coming off a broken relationship. He’d been hurt badly by a model whom he had to face often at industry events. He wanted what he called a pretty woman by his side to show his ex he was over her. He needed me to pretend to be his . . .”
“Girlfriend.” Pretend to be my girlfriend, Kendall. Rick had asked her to do the same thing.
The same thing that had sent her running from New York City in a wedding dress. And because she was desperate, she’d agreed. Which made Rick feel like a shit for putting her in the same predicament again.
He exhaled hard. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I don’t do things I don’t want to do,” she assured him. “And believe me I’m getting plenty out of this arrangement too.”
“Besides my wonderful company?” He forced lightness into the conversation.
“Yeah, besides that.”
She laughed, warming him inside and out. “What would that be?”
“By the time you’re finished fixing up my aunt’s house, I’ll be on my way to a brand-new life.” She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, satisfaction and a smile on those lips.
Well, he’d asked and she’d answered. Too bad for him if he didn’t like her reply.
Chapter Four
For the duration of Rick’s “off” days, Kendall and Rick cleaned, fixed, and focused on making the guest house livable. Dust and dirt flew fast and furious along with the sexual tension and incredible sparks. Sparks they did their best to ignore or avoid. Kendall had a hunch they were merely tiptoeing through a minefield that was destined to explode anyway, but once Rick returned to his shift, she was given a reprieve.
Left alone, she turned her sights to the work area for her jewelry designs. Apartment living in New York City had offered her unnatural light that hampered her color choices and hence her designing ability. When her jewelry and a suitcase full of clothes arrived courtesy of Brian, she scoured the house for the optimal working environment, and upstairs in the musty attic she found large windows that let in beautiful natural light.
Excited and working on adrenaline, Kendall spent an entire day bombing the attic, removing the dirt, and setting up the card tables stored there. Hours later, her plastic containers filled with materials had been strategically placed, beads organized by size and color, and her tools laid out for easy access. She stepped back and eyed her handiwork. The attic had been transformed into an artist’s dream.
Ironic, really. She had the perfect studio set up in the same place she’d strung her first necklace, one made of varying sized pasta beads. It was here that Aunt Crystal taught her patterning, among other things. A wave of nostalgia along with the distinct feeling of loss enveloped Kendall. She missed her aunt as much as she missed what might have been, the life she’d have had if Aunt Crystal had been able to keep her on.
Kendall shook her head. No need to delve into the past. Live for the moment and move on, advice imparted by Aunt Crystal and wisdom Kendall had always followed. If the memories were choking her here in the attic, she’d just leave them behind and take on the town instead. Bracing her hands on her hips, she turned and walked out, grabbed her car keys and hit the road.
The sun shone overhead as Kendall drove her repaired, beloved red car into town. Her Volkswagen Jetta had had an electrical problem but the repair could have been worse and cost an awful lot more. So while the fates were still smiling on her, Kendall decided her first stop would be the beauty parlor to have her hair fixed.
She walked into Luanne’s Locks, the place Raina had suggested the night before. The strong ammonia smell hit her immediately, clogging her lungs and bringing tears to her eyes. When she finally stopped tearing, she was able to look around. Pink wallpaper, burgundy chairs, and gleaming chrome and mirrors surrounded her. A glass case with hair products took up one wall at the front of the store, a perfect place for Kendall’s jewelry to enhance the display—if the owner agreed to a consignment deal.
Kendall had approached many proprietors in various cities to take in her designs, and she hoped the owner would be receptive here. No one sat at the reception desk, so she headed deeper inside and paused at the top of one step that divided the entry area from the working one. For a small place, the salon was crowded with women and the chatter sounded loud and friendly, giving her hope.
Kendall drew a deep breath and paused by the first station. “Excuse me. Can you direct me to the owner or receptionist?”
“That’d be me.” The stylist, a woman with a bouffant hairdo reminiscent of the fifties, turned to face her, teasing comb in hand. “How can I help you?”
Kendall smiled. “I’m Kendall Sutton and I’d like to make an appointment.”
The stylist didn’t have a chance to answer. A customer seated in her chair leaned over, speaking in a stage whisper to another woman with rollers in her hair at the neighboring station. “It’s Rick Chandler’s new girlfriend,” she said, exercising her lungs.
The information traveled from the two manicurists sitting a few paces away and in seconds silence descended in the shop as all eyes looked at Kendall and none appeared friendly. The hope she’d held for winning over the store owner evaporated along with her positive mood.