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Meant To Be Mine
Marie Ferrarella
THE BOY NEXT DOOR IS BACK… AND AFTER HER HEART!He’s a “gift” – a referral from the Matchmaking Mamas – sent by Tiffany Lee’s mother to do her bathroom remodel. But the real surprise is that Tiffany already knows Eddie Montoya. When they were little, he was her playground protector. When they were in college, Eddie was her campus competition. And now she’s a teacher and he’s her handyman?Well, just on weekends. On Monday morning, Eddie shows up at Tiffany’s school–as the new third grade teacher. When a fundraising contest between classes is announced, the old rivalry heats up. And it’s game on! Except as the playful competition intensifies, so do their feelings for each other. And Eddie begins to wonder if they might work better…as a team.


The boy next door is back...and after her heart!
He’s a “gift”—a referral from the Matchmaking Mamas—sent by Tiffany Lee’s mother to do her bathroom remodel. But the real surprise is that Tiffany already knows Eddie Montoya. When they were little, he was her playground protector. When they were in college, Eddie was her campus competition. And now she’s a teacher and he’s her handyman?
Well, just on weekends. On Monday morning, Eddie shows up at Tiffany’s school—as the new third-grade teacher. When a fund-raising contest between classes is announced, the old rivalry heats up. And it’s game on! Except as the playful competition intensifies, so do their feelings for each other. And Eddie begins to wonder if they might work better...as a team.
“I was thinking of making tiramisu, but ran out of time. Next time,” he promised.
That caught her completely off guard.
“Next time?” she repeated, feeling as if the words were suddenly falling from her lips in cartoonlike slow motion.
“Yes. Unless you want to be the one to make the dessert,” he told her.
Except for scrambled eggs and toast, she was a total disaster in the kitchen when it came to doing anything but cleaning it.
“I’d rather not have to call the paramedics,” she told him.
His smile was nothing if not encouraging. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not that good, either,” she told him.
It was supposed to be a flat, flippant denial but she just couldn’t seem to get her head in gear because her mind was currently focused elsewhere.
It was focused on the way Eddie’s lips moved when he spoke.
Tiffany rose to her feet, thinking that she would make a getaway, or at least make some sort of an excuse and slip into the bathroom, away from him. But he rose with her and suddenly she wasn’t going anywhere.
At least not without her lips, and they were currently occupied. More specifically, they were pressing against his.
* * *
Matchmaking Mamas: Playing Cupid. Arranging dates. What are mothers for?
Meant to be Mine
Marie Ferrarella


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award–winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two hundred and fifty books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com (http://www.marieferrarella.com).
To Tiffany Khauo-Melgar & Edy Melgar
Wishing You Happiness Forever & Always
And
To the Memory of Anne J. Nocton
My Fifth Grade Teacher
Who First Made Me Believe I Had Talent
Contents
Cover (#u2c552c53-3bde-5b2b-b2ba-c0a0b3d5e9be)
Back Cover Text (#u37927b33-bcfa-5109-a007-5e606e61dd10)
Introduction (#u3c8389a5-4570-5b12-9c16-d03908f63973)
Title Page (#u7560bc97-ea4f-5417-aaea-747c96c04bf7)
About the Author (#u33aa36ce-1c45-5ee8-8c0e-9ca44545ef44)
Dedication (#u1fa7d314-e6d5-59fc-b538-f40083f7717f)
Prologue (#ulink_f3431aae-8492-5b21-a2d1-7807de25cd5f)
Chapter One (#ulink_c08bf27f-f37c-56fc-a3bf-f5afe6b3eb6e)
Chapter Two (#ulink_a2041fd4-63cc-5c48-813f-9dc71a51447f)
Chapter Three (#ulink_6d3310f4-09ea-5fea-900e-dd130fbc97c0)
Chapter Four (#ulink_30211ad0-ef74-5a55-870c-0aa7669730c3)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ulink_780e1099-5dd6-5e4d-9b30-a7f22f93e457)
Tiffany Lee’s eyes lit up the moment that she saw him.
She might only be four years old, but she was a woman who knew her own heart and her heart belonged to Monty. That was what he told her his name was when she got up the nerve to ask him.
Monty.
His family lived in the house down the block and had only been there a couple of months, but it was long enough for her to make up her mind that when she grew up, she was going to marry him.
“Let’s go, Tiffany, you are making your sisters late for school,” her mother scolded.
She was deliberately dawdling, hanging back until Monty could catch up to her. He went to her school, as did his sisters.
“I’m trying to button my sweater, Mama,” she said, seizing the first excuse she could think of. It was a cool spring morning and her sweater was hanging open because she’d put the buttons into the wrong holes and had to start again.
Her mother looked at her impatiently. She had rules about being late. Mama had rules about everything. She said you couldn’t grow up properly without rules to guide you.
“You do not need to button your sweater, it is not cold,” Mei-Li Lee told her youngest born. “Just hold it against you. Now come!”
“I can help you button that,” the boy who had caught her young heart offered, coming up to her. “It won’t take long,” he promised.
She stood their, perfectly still, watching as his fingers pushed each button on her sweater through a hole. She felt like a princess and he was her prince.
And someday, she thought again, he would be her husband.
* * *
“Take your time, dear,” Theresa Manetti told the dignified looking, slightly flustered Asian-American woman sitting in the chair beside her desk. “I have all afternoon.”
That wasn’t entirely true. At the moment Theresa had approximately half an hour to spare, but she didn’t want the other woman to feel pressured or rushed.
They were sitting in her back office. The owner of a thriving catering company that had enjoyed more than a dozen years of success, Theresa had practically every minute of her time accounted for. But the award-winning chef trusted her people to capably carry on without her supervision for however long it took her friend, Mrs. Mei-Li Lee, to get around to asking what Theresa already knew in her heart the woman wanted to ask.
Having been involved in the side endeavor that she and her two lifelong best friends, Maizie Sommers and Cecilia Parnell, had been pursuing with passion and zest for a number of years, Theresa knew it was extremely difficult for some people to ask for help with such a delicate matter.
This was obviously the case for Mei-Li, whom she already knew was by nature a very private person.
Although Theresa was proud of her catering business, just as Maizie was proud of the real estate firm she had built from scratch and Cecilia was proud of her expanding house cleaning service, she felt that matchmaking was her true calling.
None of them took a penny for bringing about the matches they arranged, but it was no secret that they all felt richly rewarded by their successful ventures just the same. All three believed that there was something indescribably magical about bringing about these matches between soul mates who might have had no way of finding one another without a little outside “help.”
“Maybe I’m being selfish,” Mei-Li said, twisting the handkerchief she held in her hands until it began to look as if it was a little white corkscrew.
“You?” Theresa gently scoffed. “I know you, Mei-Li. You do not have a selfish bone in your entire body.”
“But all of my other girls are married,” the petite woman went on, referring to her four older daughters. “Two of them have children and Jennifer is expecting her first. Four out of five should be enough for any mother, shouldn’t it?” she asked, raising her dark eyes to look at Theresa.
They might have different cultural backgrounds, but Theresa understood exactly where the other woman was coming from.
“You’re not being selfish, Mei-Li. You’re just being a mother. Mothers want to see all their children happily married. They want all of their children to have someone to love who loves them back. It’s only natural, dear,” Theresa assured her.
Mei-Li sighed, no doubt grateful for her friend’s reassurance. “Tiffany would be so annoyed with me if she knew I was doing this,” she confided.
Theresa reached across the desk, covering her friend’s hand with her own. “Tiffany will never know,” she promised with a knowing smile.
Mei-Li looked as if she was at a loss as to how her part in this undertaking could remain a secret. “But then how—”
“Trust me, the other ladies and I have been at this for a while now.” Her warm smile widened. “Arrangements are made so that everything that ‘happens’ appears to be strictly by chance—and by luck,” she added with an amused wink. “My own two children would have been horrified if they knew their mother had brought into their lives the individuals they ended up marrying.
“I’m sure you’ll agree that if Tiffany doesn’t know that you have any part in this, her natural inclination to resist won’t get in the way and half the battle will be won right from the beginning.”
Mei-Li sighed again. “I suppose you’re right.”
Theresa merely continued smiling, refraining from saying that of course she was right. When it came to matters of the heart, that was a given. All was fair in love and war—especially in love. Maizie had taught her that.
“Now, in order for us to get this little venture under way,” Theresa said to the other woman, “I’m going to need more information from you about your lovely youngest daughter.”
Mei-Li slowly relaxed. “Anything,” she willingly agreed.
“Good,” Theresa replied, pulling out an old-fashioned pad and pen to take notes. Some things, she felt, could not be improved on. “If everything goes well—and they always have up until now—my guess is that we should have Tiffany engaged, if not married, by Christmas.”
There was no way to describe the look on Mei-Li’s face other than pure, unadulterated joy.
As for Theresa, she couldn’t wait to collect the information she needed to get this newest mission of the heart under way and to call her friends with the good news. Tonight she, Maizie and Cilia were going to be playing cards—and making arrangements to take the necessary steps that would bring love into Tiffany Lee’s life.
Chapter One (#ulink_b0e0eb76-32a1-51c2-b0e2-6a14c4e7663d)
“Do you have a minute, Ms. Sommers?”
Maizie Sommers had heard the door to her real estate office open a moment before she heard the deep, resonant voice politely addressing her. In the middle of writing up a glowing ad highlighting the features of a brand-new property she had just agreed to sell, Maizie held up her left hand, silently requesting another second. She wanted to jot down a thought before she responded.
Finished, Maizie looked up to see Eduardo Montoya, the handsome young handyman she had been recommending to any and all of her clients who needed a little work done on their residences. He was standing quietly by her desk, waiting for her to complete what she was doing.
She couldn’t help thinking that he looked like every young woman’s fantasy come to life.
“For you, Eddie, I have a whole hour.” Putting down her pen, she smiled at him. She already knew what he had come to tell her, but for the sake of moving things along smoothly, she would pretend to be in the dark. “But you didn’t need to stop by the office before going to see that lady about the bathroom remodel she wanted. I left all the details about it on your answering machine.”
Eddie nodded, his straight, midnight-black hair moving ever so slightly around his face. “I got them and I appreciate the referral,” he told her with cheerful sincerity. “I appreciate all the referrals you’ve been sending my way.”
“I send them your way because you do excellent work,” Maizie pointed out. Because she already knew what this visit was about, she smiled encouragingly at the young man. And because he couldn’t know her part in arranging things to happen, she continued to look as if she was in the dark. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she told him.
He flashed her a quick, easy smile, the kind that was capable of melting any young woman’s heart. Seeing it made Maizie wonder, not for the first time, how in heaven’s name Eddie still managed to remain unattached at twenty-eight.
There was a look in his eyes that spoke of excitement and happiness. Did it have anything to do with the new position he was starting on Monday morning? A position she not only knew about, but had a hand in facilitating, even if the young man had no idea of that.
Maizie waited patiently for Eddie to find the right words in order to tell her.
She didn’t have long to wait. “That’s why I wanted to come by and see you, so that I could tell you this in person.”
Maizie continued to maintain her cheerful, warm expression, waiting for him to tell her his “news.” She’d known Eddie Montoya for the last nine months, ever since one of her clients had recommended him when she needed some concrete work done on her own patio, and the contractor she’d usually used had retired and moved away. From the very beginning, Eddie’s work ethic, not to mention the caliber of the work that he did, had left her exceedingly impressed.
So much so that she began to send business his way whenever any of her clients—be they recent home buyers or home sellers—needed work done. It quickly became apparent that Eddie’s expertise went far beyond just cement work. It actually knew no bounds. The young man could lay brick, do landscaping as well as hardscaping, and was able to build room additions with the best of them.
Eddie’s late father, she’d learned, had been in the construction business and had actually built the house that Eddie and his two older sisters had grown up in. His mother, he told her, still lived there.
“Take a seat,” Maizie invited, gesturing to the chair beside her desk. Once he had lowered his five-foot-ten muscular frame into it, she hospitably asked, “Can I get you something to drink?” She gestured to the well-stocked counter against the back wall behind her. “Coffee? Tea? Bottled water?”
“No, ma’am, I’m fine, thank you,” Eddie told her politely.
Maizie folded her hands and inclined her head. “All right, then let’s get to this ‘but’ that’s hovering between us. What is it that you came to tell me that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”
He cleared his throat, then began. “Well, Ms. Sommers, you’ve been so nice to me, I didn’t want you thinking I was leaving you high and dry.”
“Are you leaving me high and dry?” Maizie asked, wondering if this was going to turn out to be about something else, after all.
She hoped not. She and her friends Theresa and Cilia had brainstormed for the last two days, starting the same evening that Theresa had been approached by her friend regarding the woman’s remaining unattached daughter. The moment Theresa had shown them the photograph of Tiffany Lee, which the young woman’s mother had given her, something inside Maizie’s head had “clicked” as everything had just fallen into place.
Although the names of a couple of other potential candidates had been brought up, Maizie’s mind insisted on returning to Eddie. With very little effort, she could actually see the two together—and the babies they would have.
From that moment on, she’d been completely sold on the idea that Eddie was the right match for Tiffany, and she had in short order sold both her friends on the idea, as well.
And now he was sitting here in her office, at her desk, looking suddenly very solemn. Was he possibly about to send her hopes for another perfect match tumbling into an abyss?
Mentally crossing her fingers, Maizie waited for him to speak.
“No. Well, not exactly,” he answered, correcting himself.
“Then what, ‘exactly,’ dear?” Maizie asked, gently coaxing the words out of him.
“Well, you know that I’m not really a contractor by trade,” Eddie began, referring to what he had told her when he had first come to work for the woman.
“Yes, I know, but you do an extremely good imitation of one,” she told him, smiling.
As with everyone she came in contact with, Maizie knew the young man’s backstory. Eduardo Montoya was an elementary schoolteacher. A very gifted one, if the way she’d seen him interacting with children was any indication of his abilities. Due to recent drastic cutbacks in the district where he had been employed, he had lost his job and was forced to pick up work as a substitute teacher, which was the only thing that had been available to him at the time.
However, because those jobs were few and far between, Eddie had needed some way to fill in the gaps. He did it by picking up odd jobs that other contractors turned down.
Although he was single, with no mortgage payments to worry about, only rent, he did have school loans he needed to repay. Unlike some young people Maizie was acquainted with, Eddie refused to let his loans mount up without making any payments. On the contrary, he was determined to repay the entire amount as quickly as he could. Because of that sense of honor, he picked up anything that Maizie and her friends sent his way, and sometimes wound up working seven days a week.
He started slowly. “Before I came to work for you, I was a teacher,”
“Are,” Maizie corrected, cutting in. “You are a teacher, Eddie.”
He flashed her another warm smile, obviously pleased that she thought of him in that light. “And now a position’s come up.”
“Teaching?” Maizie asked, hoping she didn’t sound too innocent as she put the question to him.
The fact was, she knew all about this. Knew because she was actually the one behind his being hired for the position. Not in the initial part, which involved a young teacher going into premature labor, but in the ultimate outcome. Because of her connections, Maizie had been able to get his résumé moved to the front of the line.
For now, she did her best to look intrigued and interested—and very hopeful for the young man she had come to regard so highly during their brief association.
“Yes, teaching,” Eddie answered. “It seems that one of the teachers at Bedford’s newest school, that elementary school that was just opened last fall, Bedford Elementary, went into early labor yesterday—really early,” he emphasized. “From what I heard, she wasn’t due for another month.”
“She went into labor four weeks early?” Maizie questioned, genuinely concerned. Her connection hadn’t mentioned this part to her—undoubtedly because they knew she would be concerned. “I hope the baby’s all right.”
Eddie nodded, pleased to be the bearer of good news not just for himself, but all around. “I asked,” he told her. “Mother and baby are both doing fine.”
Hearing this, Maizie blinked, admittedly somewhat surprised.
“You know the mother?” she inquired. This was another piece of information she hadn’t gotten previously. It really was a small world.
“What? Oh, no, I don’t,” Eddie said, quickly setting the record straight. “I just asked the administrator about the teacher when they called me about the sudden vacancy.”
Maizie looked at him, once again very pleased with her choice for Mei-Li’s daughter. “You’re an unusual young man, Eddie. Most men your age wouldn’t have inquired about the mother’s condition.” Or asked any other questions of a personal nature that didn’t directly include them, she added silently.
“I grew up with two older sisters and a mother. If I hadn’t thought to ask, they would have skinned me,” he told her simply, taking no credit for the fact that he really was a thoughtful, sensitive young man.
As it happened, Maizie had sold the principal of this new elementary school her house when Ada Walters had first moved to the area, and as was her habit, Maizie had remained on friendly terms with her client long after the ink had dried on the mortgage papers.
Once Theresa had supplied her the information about their newest client-in-search-of-a-match, she had called the principal to find out if Ada knew of any upcoming openings in either her school or any of others nearby. As luck would have it, there was one in the offing in the near future.
And then the future became the immediate present.
When she’d heard about the sudden opening, Maizie had immediately brought up Eddie’s name and his qualifications. And just like that, the pieces fell into place, as her instincts had told her they would.
But Maizie never left anything to chance and never allowed herself to grow too confident, no matter how foolproof a situation might look. So when Eddie had walked into her office just now, looking a tad uncomfortable, Maizie had braced herself—just in case—and then was relieved to discover that it had been a false alarm.
So far, it was all going according to plan, and she couldn’t be more pleased.
“You’ve come to tell me that you’re going to have to turn down that last job I sent your way,” she guessed. That wasn’t a disaster; it just put off the inevitable. The two were still going to meet at the school, where Tiffany taught fifth grade, now that Eddie was taking over Chelsea Jamison’s third-grade class.
“Oh no, I’m still going to do that.” He was quick to set her straight. “It’s just that I’m going to have to get started on the remodel early tomorrow morning, and do my best to finish up by late Sunday night.”
“And if you can’t?” Maizie asked, always wanting to remain one step ahead of any surprises.
“Then I’ll have to come back next weekend so I can get the job done,” he told her. “Do you think that’ll be a problem?”
The young man was one in a million, Maizie couldn’t help thinking.
“The kind of work you do, Eddie,” she told him, “I’m sure that the home owner will be more than happy to accommodate you.”
He glanced at his watch, a gift from his mother when he had graduated from college. He never took it off. Pressed for time, he realized he had to be getting back.
“I’m just finishing up this other job, so I won’t be able to give the home owner a proper estimate until I get there tomorrow morning and look the job over.” He didn’t believe in quoting one price and then upping it as the work got under way. He took pride in keeping his costs, and thus his prices, low.
“That’s no problem at all,” Maizie assured him. “The owner’s mother is paying for it. She referred to it as an early birthday present. She told me to tell you that as long as you don’t wind up charging anything exorbitant, she’ll be all right with your fee.” Maizie smiled at the young man, delighted with the way this was going. “I told her you were very reasonable. She was happy you were taking the job.”
Eddie laughed. “I guess that means I’ll just have to put that Hawaiian vacation I was planning on hold,” he quipped.
“Of course you will,” Maizie deadpanned. “Don’t forget, you have children to educate now.” Unable to maintain a serious expression any longer, she allowed herself to smile, radiating genuine warmth. The kind of warmth that had clients, and people in general, trusting her instantly. “I’m very happy for you, Eddie. I know that you feel that teaching is your calling. I really hate to lose you, but if I have to, I’m glad it’s for this reason.”
“Well, you’re not exactly ‘losing’ me, Ms. Sommers,” Eddie told her almost shyly, exposing a side to her that most people didn’t see. “I still do have those student loans to pay back so I’ll need to pick up those extra jobs on weekends—as long as your clients won’t mind having me around then, working. I’ll do my best not to get underfoot,” he promised earnestly.
Maizie laughed. It was obvious that the young man before her didn’t realize just how rare a competent worker was. “Eddie, considering the prices you charge and the work you do, I’m fairly certain they would be willing to put up with all sorts of crazy hours on your part.”
She sat back, thoughtfully regarding him for a moment. “So, just to be sure, I can tell Ms. Lee that you’ll be at her house tomorrow morning?”
His grin lit up the office. Maizie saw that her assistant looked utterly entranced as she glanced in their direction. “Absolutely,” Eddie said.
Maizie clapped her hands together and declared, “Wonderful!”
* * *
Eddie looked at the address on the piece of paper again. Specifically, at the name that appeared right over the address and beneath the phone number he’d been given in case he needed to cancel the appointment or to change the time he’d be arriving.
With everything that had been happening these last couple days, the name, when he’d heard it, hadn’t fully registered. It did now.
Tiffany Lee.
Could it actually be her?
No, Eddie told himself, he was letting his imagination get carried away. Neither Tiffany nor Lee was an uncommon name, and he was fairly certain that even if he Googled them together, or searched through Facebook, he would find more than a handful of “Tiffany Lees.” And none would be the Tiffany Lee he remembered from college who was, hands down, the most argumentative woman on the face of the earth.
Or more importantly, the same Tiffany Lee he had had a crush on—when she was four and he was five—before she had become such a competitive pain.
Damn silly thing to remember now, Eddie thought, pulling his car up in front of the modest looking two-story house. What his mind should be on now was doing a good job for this woman, getting paid and focusing any spare time he might have tonight and tomorrow night on getting fully prepared to take over Chelsea Jamison’s third-grade class.
He’d already done his due diligence as far as that was concerned. The moment he’d learned from the principal that he would be taking over the woman’s class, he’d requested a list of the students’ names and any sort of notes Chelsea might have made regarding the individual students.
Eddie prided himself on never going in cold or unprepared. This way, there would be no awkward period of adjustment. He wanted the students to respond to him immediately. To feel as if he was their mentor, or at least someone who was willing to listen to what they had to say—both in the class and privately, if they needed help with something of a more personal nature, like being bullied.
He loved teaching, and wanted to leave a memorable impression on the students he encountered. More than that, he wanted to, by his own example, encourage the kids he’d be dealing with to make the most of their potential. Had his fifth-grade teacher, Miss Nocton, not done that for him, not seen past his cocky bravado, he might be languishing in a prison somewhere right now, like some of the guys from his old neighborhood. But Miss Nocton, a dour-faced, straitlaced woman, had awakened a thirst for knowledge within him by challenging him. Every time he felt that he had done his best, she had told him he could do better.
And damned if he couldn’t, Eddie thought now with a smile. Granted, he had a great family and he loved his mother and his sisters, but it was that little, no-nonsense woman in the sensible shoes who was responsible for the fact that he was who he was today. He intended to make her proud, even if she was no longer around to see it.
Eddie took a deep breath. Time to get to work, he told himself.
Shelving his thoughts, he reached over and rang the doorbell.
Chapter Two (#ulink_37efae88-3510-5ad5-b797-921e88c8170a)
Tiffany Lee was not fully awake as she stumbled down the stairs and toward the annoying noise. Her eyes were still in the process of trying to focus. It was the sound of the doorbell that had disrupted her sleep and eventually forced her out of bed to answer it—because it just wouldn’t stop ringing.
She had never been accused of being a morning person. She was especially not a weekend morning person. Five days a week, she resigned herself to the fact that she had to be up and smiling at an ungodly hour—and any hour before 9:00 a.m. was ungodly in her book. But her job called for her to be up and at ’em early.
Someday, when she became queen of the world, school wouldn’t begin until noon, she promised herself. But until that glorious day arrived, Tiffany knew she had to make every effort to turn up in her classroom before eight in the morning. That way, when her students marched in shortly after eight, everything would be ready and waiting for them—including her. Because she really loved teaching and loved her students, she went along with this soul-crushing arrangement.
But weekends were supposed to be her own. And in a perfect world, they would be. But in a perfect world, bathroom sinks and bathtub faucets didn’t suddenly give up the ghost and gurgle instead of producing water—and toilets would flush with breathtaking regularity rather than just 50 percent of the time. None of that was presently happening in the master bath adjacent to her bedroom, and she knew she needed help—desperately. It was either that or start sleeping downstairs near the other bathroom, something she had begun to seriously consider.
Her mother, for once, hadn’t somehow turned her current dilemma into yet another excuse to go on and on about how this just showed why Tiffany needed a husband in her life. A husband who would take care of all these annoying nuisances whenever they cropped up.
Instead of bending her ear, her mother, bless her, had not only volunteered to find someone to put an end to her master bathroom woes, she had even said she would pay for it.
The only catch was that the contractor had to come do the work on the weekend because he had a day job the rest of the week.
She hadn’t realized when she’d agreed to her mother’s generous offer that “weekend” meant the very start of the weekend—and that it apparently started before daylight made its appearance.
So okay, Tiffany thought, dragging her hand through her hair—as if that motion would somehow cause adrenaline to go shooting through the rest of her very sleepy body—technically “weekend” meant any time after midnight, Friday, but she’d figured she would have some leeway.
Obviously not, she thought with a deep sigh.
The ringing sounded even more shrill as she got closer. It felt as if it was jarring everything within her that was jarrable.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she cried irritably, raising her voice so it could be heard through the door. “Hold your horses. The bathroom’s not going anywhere.”
Glancing through the peephole, she made out what looked to be some sort of a truck parked at her curb. There was someone in dark blue coveralls standing on her front step.
The contractor her mother sent—she hoped.
The plot thickens, Tiffany whimsically thought. feeling slightly giddy.
“Good to know,” Eddie said the moment she unlocked the door and pulled it partially open.
Her brain still foggy, Tiffany blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He grinned at her. She caught herself thinking that it was way too early for a smile that cheerful. Was there something wrong with the man her mother had sent?
There was something oddly familiar about that smile—but the thought was gone before she could catch it and she was way too tired to make the effort to try to place it.
“You said that the bathroom wasn’t going anywhere and I responded, ‘Good to know,’ since I’m going to be working on remodeling it,” Eddie told her, patiently explaining his comment. Teaching younger students had taught him to have infinite patience.
“Oh.” She supposed that made sense.
Functioning on a five-second delay, Tiffany opened the door wider, allowing the good-looking contractor to come inside. The rather large toolbox in his hand convinced her that he was on the level. Who carried around something that big at this hour of the morning if they didn’t have to?
“Sorry,” she apologized. “My brain doesn’t usually kick in this early in the morning.”
“Early?” he echoed in amusement. “You think this is early?”
“I don’t think,” she said, followed by a yawn she couldn’t stifle. “I know.” She started for the stairs. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the man with the toolbox wasn’t following her. “The bathroom’s upstairs.” She pointed for emphasis.
“Wait,” he called out, bringing her to a halt. The woman was either way too trusting or simply naive—and he had to admit that she didn’t look to be either. Especially if she turned out to be who he thought she was. “Don’t you want to see my credentials?”
Tiffany yawned again, not at his question, but because her body desperately yearned to go back to bed and she couldn’t.
“You’re driving what looks like a service truck, you’ve got on coveralls and you’re carrying around the biggest toolbox I’ve ever seen. Those are credentials enough for me.”
Besides, she added mentally, knowing my mother, you probably already got the third degree before she hired you.
“What about my estimate?” he asked. They hadn’t talked about what he was going to charge her for the work. He didn’t plan to overcharge her, but she didn’t know that. “I haven’t given you one because I need to see the bathroom first.”
Tiffany waved away his words. “I don’t need to hear it,” she told him as she began to walk up the stairs. “My mother insisted on paying for this remodel, and after arguing with that woman about everything else under the sun ever since I could talk, I thought that this one time I’d just give in and say yes.
“Your bill,” she told him as he followed behind her, “will go to her, and trust me, if you try to fleece her, you will live to regret it—immensely. My mother’s a little woman, but she’s definitely a force to be reckoned with. None of my brothers-in-law will go up against her. They’ve learned that if they want to keep living, they need to stay on her good side,” she concluded as they reached the bathroom he was going to be remodeling.
The door was standing open and she gestured toward the interior. “Here it is,” she said needlessly. “Knock yourself out.”
And with that, she turned on her bare heel and walked away.
This had to be the most unorthodox job he’d ever been called to. “Wait, don’t you want to tell me what you want?” Eddie asked, calling after her retreating back.
Tiffany only half turned in his direction. She wanted nothing more than to get dressed and then collapse on the bed in the guest room for a few hours. She assumed that the man her mother had sent didn’t need any supervision. He appeared competent enough.
“I want a bathroom,” she told him. “One where everything works, 24/7. And it would be nice if everything matched.”
“Well, of course it’s going to work,” he told her. That’s why he was here, and he wasn’t about to do a shoddy job. But her answer didn’t begin to address his question. “What about the style? And the color?” he pressed.
There was something familiar about his voice, but like his smile, she couldn’t place it and she wasn’t up to thinking right now. Her brain was foggy. Maybe it was just her imagination.
“Style and color would be good,” she replied, nodding as she began to walk away again.
Eddie took a breath. He realized that the woman with the gorgeous legs and the football jersey wasn’t being flippant. She apparently still wasn’t fully awake.
She shouldn’t have answered the door half-asleep. He couldn’t help thinking that she really was in need of a keeper.
Eddie tilted his head a little, trying to get a better look at her face. Her shiny, long, blue-black hair kept falling into it. His curiosity was becoming more aroused, but he really didn’t need to have it satisfied in order to do a good job.
It would just be nice to know what his client actually looked like.
And then she turned slightly in his direction and it hit him like a ton of bricks. It was her, the Tiffany he knew in college. The Tiffany who was so different from the little girl whose sweater he’d buttoned all those years ago.
He wanted to tell her, then thought better of it. Now wasn’t the time. He’d tell her after the job was done.
Pushing back that thought, he tried to pin her down again—at least a little bit. “What do you like? Modern? Antique? Classic?”
The words he tossed her way seemed to circle around her head, even though she tried to visualize the styles. Tiffany had a feeling he wouldn’t give her any peace until she made some kind of a choice.
So she did.
“Modern,” she told him.
Heading back toward the stairs, she heard him declare, “Well, that’s a start.”
Feeling she needed to acknowledge his response, she nodded. “Yes, it is.” Then, just to keep things civilized, she added, “If you want coffee, help yourself. There’s a coffee machine in the kitchen. It’s on a timer.”
Having reached the banister, she ran her hand along the sleek light wood as she made her way down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she quickly hurried to the back bedroom, flipped the lock on the door—just in case—and arrived at her real destination: the guest room bed.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she collapsed on the mattress.
The last thought that floated through her mind was that there was something vaguely familiar about the man who had come to remodel her bathroom.
The next moment, it was gone.
* * *
Tiffany felt like she had been lying down for only a few minutes when the noise suddenly started.
It was loud enough to have her bolting upright, abruptly terminating what was beginning to be a pleasant semisleep.
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw that she’d actually been asleep for half an hour, but that was far from enough. Especially since the noise turned out to be steady enough to keep her from putting her head back on the pillow. And it was definitely irritating enough to keep her from falling asleep again.
“He’s actually working,” she muttered incredulously. “Who does that as soon as they arrive?”
The noise gave no sign of abating. For the second time that day Tiffany got out of bed. But this time, rather than heading for the door and the annoying doorbell, she went in search of the source of the teeth-jarring noise.
Hanging on to the banister, she half walked, half dragged herself up the stairs, all the while struggling to finally wake up—permanently. There was no point in even thinking that she could go back to sleep again. That ship had definitely sailed.
Once on the landing, Tiffany made her way toward the source of the noise, which was growing louder with every step she took. It was emanating from just beyond her bedroom, she discovered. Specifically, from her master bathroom.
The noise seemed to vibrate right through her chest.
Standing in the doorway, Tiffany looked accusingly at the culprit behind her shattered morning’s sleep. “Why are you destroying my bathroom?” she asked.
Covered in dust and wearing a mask over his face to keep from breathing it in, Eddie looked for a moment at the woman whose bathroom he was remodeling, before setting down the sledgehammer he’d been wielding. He pushed the mask to the top of his head and answered her question.
“Well, for one thing, I can’t put the new fixtures in without getting the old ones out,” he told her. He gestured around the bathroom. “That includes your bathroom tub, sink, medicine cabinet and commode.”
Commode? That certainly was a delicate way to talk about the toilet, she thought, somewhat surprised.
Tiffany blinked, and for the first time since she had let the man into her house, she actually looked at him. Not through him, around him or over him, but at him. And now that she did, even though her brain was still just a wee bit foggy and out of sync, she realized that there really was something vaguely familiar about the man standing in her bathroom, effectively making rubble out of it.
Where did she know him from? Nothing specific came to mind, though a memory seemed to play hide-and-seek with her brain, vanishing before she could get hold of it.
The next moment, she let it go, focusing on the more important question for the time being. “You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
Amusement curved the corners of his mouth as Eddie watched her for an incredibly long minute. “It’s a little late to be asking that, isn’t it?” He looked around at the rubble he’d created. “You didn’t ask to see any letters of reference, or photographs of my previous work.”
“I assumed my mother had you vetted,” she replied. “Which is good enough for me. She’s like a little barracuda. Nothing gets past her.”
He understood what she was telling him, but it hadn’t been like that. The woman who’d called him, saying she’d gotten his number from Ms. Sommers, had just said that her daughter’s bathroom needed remodeling and to use his better judgment. He’d found that rather unusual. He found Tiffany being so lax about it even more unusual.
Maybe she had become less intense over the years. After all, it had been five years since he’d last seen her. The Tiffany he remembered from their classes together in college had been extremely competitive and had had to verify everything for herself. She’d also given him one hell of a run for his money. Maybe it was a good thing that she didn’t recognize him just yet. He did need the money this job would yield. For now, he decided to play this by ear.
“I just thought you’d want to ask some questions yourself,” he told her.
“Okay,” she said. “How long is this going to take?” When he made no attempt to answer, Tiffany gestured at her disintegrated bathroom. “This,” she emphasized, moving her hand to encompass the entire spacious room. “All this. Rebuilding it. How long is this going to take?” she repeated, enunciating every word.
Leaning the sledgehammer against a wall, Eddie dusted himself off. “‘This’ is turning out to be a bigger job than I thought it was going to be.”
She gave her own interpretation to his words. “Is that your clever way of asking for more money? Because I already told you that my mother—”
“No,” Eddie said, cutting her off before she could get wound up. The Tiffany he remembered could get really wound up. “I’m asking for more time. I thought your bathroom could be remodeled in a weekend, but now that I see it, I realize it’s going to take at least two.”
She still didn’t understand why this contractor could work on the bathroom only on weekends. It didn’t make any sense to her. “Why not just come back Monday morning and keep at it until it’s finished?” she demanded.
Eddie inclined his head, as if conceding the point—sort of. “A week ago, I would have agreed—”
“Fine,” she declared, satisfied that she’d won this argument. “Then it’s settled—”
Eddie talked right over her. As he recalled from past encounters with Tiffany, it was the only way to get his point across. “But that was before I took a day job.”
She assumed he was talking about another construction job. “Put it off until you’re finished.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Anything is possible,” Tiffany insisted. “I know that you construction people take on multiple jobs.” Her best friend had dated a man who had his own construction company, and she’d complained about taking second place to his work schedule. “That way, if one falls through, there’s still enough work to keep you going.”
“This isn’t another construction job,” Eddie informed her. “It’s a different job entirely, in a different field.”
He resisted the urge to explain just what that other job was. He wasn’t superstitious by nature, but in this instance he was afraid that if he talked too much about the job that was waiting for him come Monday morning, somehow or other he’d wind up jinxing it. He loved working with his hands, loved creating something out of nothing, but construction work didn’t begin to hold a candle to being a teacher. The one allowed him to create functional things; the other was instrumental in awakening sleeping minds, brains that were thirsting for knowledge. And amid those budding minds one could very well belong to someone who might do great things not just for one or two people, but for a multitude.
But Tiffany wasn’t about to let this drop. He began to think that she hadn’t changed, after all. “What kind of field?”
“A field that might eventually produce someone who could do something to effect the masses,” he told her, leaving it at that.
“The masses?” she questioned, eyeing him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “You make it sound as if you were part of the CIA.”
“No, not that organization,” he replied.
“But you won’t talk about it?” she asked, really curious now.
“I’m not being paid to talk, I’m being paid to work,” he reminded her, picking up the sledgehammer again. But Tiffany made no move to leave the area. She was obviously waiting for him to tell her what he was referring to. “I’d rather not jinx it,” he finally told her, being quite honest.
She cocked her head, trying to reconcile a few things in her brain that just weren’t meshing. “You’re superstitious?”
“Just in this one respect.”
“Good,” she said, turning to leave as he began to work again. “Because superstitions are stupid.”
It was her. If he’d had the slightest doubt before, he didn’t anymore, Eddie decided. She was just as opinionated now as she had been then.
As she left the room, he slanted a long look in her direction. From there he couldn’t see her face, only the back of her head. But even the set of her shoulders looked familiar.
It was Tiffany Lee, all right. And right now, he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t going say anything to her about their shared past. At least, not yet.
Chapter Three (#ulink_d0357b3c-8340-5893-ae6e-6a8ccee43e7c)
Since Tiffany apparently didn’t recognize him, Eddie decided to keep the fact that they had a history to himself and not say anything to her until he felt the time was right—like after he finished the job. After all, he couldn’t have made that much of an impression on her if she didn’t remember him. He vividly remembered their interactions in college, but it was obvious that she didn’t. If he reminded her of it, she might just turn around and fire him.
It was best to leave well enough alone.
Working at a steady pace, he demolished the bathroom and then carted the debris out to his truck until it was filled, at which time he hauled it to the county dump. That involved a number of round trips. All in all, it took him practically the entire day.
He worked continuously, taking only one thirty-minute break to consume a fast-food lunch that was far from satisfying.
By four thirty, he was completely wiped out and decided to call it a day. But he didn’t want to just pack up and leave, the way he knew some people in his line of work would. He wanted Tiffany to be made aware that he was leaving for the day. Otherwise, she might wind up thinking she had to wait around for him to return.
When he didn’t see her during his multiple trips back and forth to his truck while he was packing up his tools and equipment, Eddie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to go looking for her. Since she hadn’t said anything about leaving the house, he assumed she had to be on the premises somewhere.
As unobtrusively as possible, he went through both floors of the house, going from room to room.
Tiffany wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Would she just leave the house—and him—without saying anything? Granted, it wasn’t as if she had to check in with him, since technically, he was the one working for her. But just walking out without letting him know that she was going or when she’d be back didn’t seem quite right to him.
What if something came up and he wanted to go home while she was out? He couldn’t very well just leave her house standing wide open. That was tantamount to issuing an invitation to any burglar in the area. And despite the fact that if anything happened, it wouldn’t be his fault, he would still feel responsible if someone did break in and steal something.
With a sigh, Eddie resigned himself to waiting for her to come home. That was when he happened to glance out the rear bedroom window. It was facing the tidily trimmed backyard, which was where Tiffany had disappeared to.
She appeared to be completely engrossed in a book. She was sitting at a small oval table in the little gazebo that was off to one side of the yard.
He should have thought of looking there first! Eddie upbraided himself as he left the bedroom and hurried down the staircase. After all, it was a beautiful April day.
Since she had obviously taken it upon herself to stick around while he worked, he could understand Tiffany wanting to take advantage of the weather. Which explained why she was outside, reading a book.
After reaching the bottom of the stairs, Eddie went to the rear of the house and opened the sliding glass door. It groaned a little as he did so. He debated leaving the door open—after all, informing her that he was leaving for the day wasn’t going to take any time, he reasoned. But then he thought better of it—just in case—and pulled the door closed again.
Despite the groaning noise, Tiffany didn’t even look up.
She was totally engrossed in the book she was reading—a real book, he noted with a smile, not one of those electronic devices that held the entire contents of the Los Angeles Public Library within its slender, rectangular frame.
For a moment he said nothing. He almost hated to disturb her, but he really needed to get going.
His body ached from swinging his sledgehammer and hauling out the wreckage that had been her bathroom just eight hours ago. What he craved right now was a long, bracing shower with wave after wave of hot, pulsating water hitting every tight muscle and ache he had—and a few that he probably didn’t even know he had.
Eddie cleared his throat, waiting for her to look up. But either she was too caught up in the story or he was being too quiet, because Tiffany went right on reading.
He tried clearing his throat again, much louder this time. When that had no effect, he decided to say something outright and tell her that he was leaving for the day.
He had no idea exactly how to address her; calling her “Ms. Lee” just didn’t seem right to him, since the very first time their paths had crossed they’d lived in the same neighborhood. She’d been four and he’d been five at the time. But given the nature of their present relationship, he couldn’t very well call her “Tiffany,” at least not until she recognized him.
So after giving the matter as much thought as he felt it deserved—which was very little—Eddie decided to forgo any salutation whatsoever and merely announced in a resonant voice that was bound to get her attention, “I’m leaving now.”
Startled—Tiffany really had been engrossed in the book she was reading, a fast-paced mystery by one of her favorite writers—she looked up and was truly surprised to find she was no longer alone in the backyard.
Doing what she could to reestablish her poise, she put down her book and then inquired almost regally, “You’re finished?”
Eddie nodded. “For the day.”
“But you’re coming back tomorrow, right?” she asked a little uncertainly as she got up from the small redwood table.
“I said I’d finish remodeling the bathroom, so yes, I’m coming back.” Since they were talking, he had a more important question for her. “Have you given any more thought to what you want?” Realizing she might find the sentence rather ambiguous, he quickly added, “In the way of colors? Fixtures? Styles?”
“I thought we agreed to leave that up to you.” The truth was she hadn’t given any thought to it at all.
He frowned slightly. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t want some sort of input when it came to decorating her living space. At least he’d never met one, he amended. Given how opinionated and stubborn he remembered Tiffany being, he sincerely doubted that he’d met one now.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” he told her. “There’s an entire area in Anaheim that has store after store dealing with bathroom fixtures, tubs, medicine cabinets, tile and marble—”
But she shook her head, holding up her hand to stop him from going on. “There’s no point in telling me where those stores are. I wouldn’t know where to begin, or how much I needed of any particular thing,” she told him.
Eddie frowned inwardly. He didn’t want to put himself out there and volunteer to take her to the various shops. If nothing else, traipsing from one store to another would be very time consuming.
On the other hand, if he didn’t offer to go with her, he’d have nothing to work on tomorrow or next weekend, and this project could drag on indefinitely. He needed the money sooner rather than later.
Besides, he wanted to be able to get his head together for the new class he’d be taking over Monday morning. It wasn’t that he couldn’t multitask, but he definitely preferred not having his mind going in two different directions at the same time. It was a lot less stressful that way.
And just like that, without a single shot being fired, Eddie surrendered.
“All right, why don’t I take you to the different stores tomorrow?” he suggested. “That way, I can at least point you in the right direction and you can make the choices.”
He waited for her to agree. Instead, Tiffany had a strange look on her face. Not as if she was thinking over his offer, but more like she was trying hard to place something.
It turned out to be him.
Out of the blue, her light blue eyes pinning him down, Tiffany suddenly asked, “Do I know you from somewhere?”
She’d almost succeeded in knocking him for a loop, but Eddie managed to regain control over himself and the situation. “Yes, I’m the guy who was swinging the sledgehammer in your master bathroom all day.”
“No,” Tiffany said impatiently, “I mean, do I know you from somewhere else?”
“Possibly,” he allowed. “I’ve been lots of places.” And then, because he didn’t want to risk losing this job—he really did need every penny he could earn—he told her, “I’ve got to get going. I’m meeting someone in an hour.”
For just a split second, she felt her stomach drop. “Oh.” Tiffany immediately took his response to mean that he had a date. She didn’t want to seem to be trying to keep him here, especially if he did have a date—and why shouldn’t he, considering his looks?
She was just trying to place him. It was probably her imagination, anyway, she decided. A lot of people looked like someone else at first scrutiny.
She took a breath, ready to wave him on. “Well, then I won’t keep you.”
Eddie gazed at her without commenting.
He’d told her a lie. He wasn’t meeting anyone, but it was the first thing he could think of, and it must have done the trick because she was backing off.
Maybe he’d enlighten her tomorrow about why she thought she knew him. But he wasn’t up to going into any of that tonight. Especially if, after he told her that they’d gone to school together and wound up competing against one another more than once, she decided to tell him to get lost. He needed to be fresh and on his toes if it turned out that he had to talk her out of terminating him.
So for now, Eddie quietly took his leave. “I’ll be here early tomorrow,” he told her, just before he turned toward the sliding-glass door.
“Of course you will,” she murmured under her breath. She meant to say that to herself, but it was loud enough for him to hear.
He took it as a complaint about the time.
“All right, then how about eight thirty?” he proposed gamely, thinking that was a compromise.
It might have been, but obviously not in her eyes. “Eight thirty is still early,” she pointed out.
He wondered if she was being deliberately difficult or if it was just an unconscious reaction on her part. “It’s half an hour later than this morning.”
“Half an hour only means something if you’re a fruit fly,” she said in exasperation. “What time do those stores you mentioned open?”
He didn’t have to think to answer. All this had become second nature to him in the last few months, ever since he’d lost his teaching position. “They open up at eleven on Sunday.”
It wasn’t perfect, but it was better, she thought, and she said as much out loud. “Okay, come at ten thirty,” she instructed.
He didn’t like getting a late start, not when there were other things he could do while he was waiting to take her on that hardware safari.
“If I come earlier, I can do prep work,” he told her. That was important, since he was fairly confident they were bound to come home with at least some of the things needed to remodel her bathroom.
“If you come later,” she countered, “then I can sleep.”
“You can always sleep,” he responded. “Besides, sleep is highly overrated.”
Tiffany could feel her blood pressure rising. This was the most annoyingly stubborn man... Regrouping, she blew out a breath.
“Tell you what, let’s compromise. You can come here at eight.” She shuddered as she contemplated the early hour. “As long as you promise not to make any noise. And I get to sleep until it’s time to leave for those store you’re so anxious to have me go to.”
Eddie suppressed a frown. He knew it was useless to argue; and if memory served him correctly, Tiffany could argue the ears off of a brass monkey without blinking an eye.
So he gave in. “You’re the boss,” he finally told her.
In response to his capitulation, her grin was positively beatific.
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” Anxious to have him leave before he changed his mind, she quickly led the way to the front door. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” Tiffany opened it and held it wide. “Have a good night,” she said as she waved him on his way.
She thought she heard him grunt in response, but she wasn’t sure.
What she did know was that the house was suddenly quiet.
Blissfully, wonderfully quiet.
After a few moments, though, it seemed almost too quiet. Especially after all the noise she had endured for most of the day.
“I’ve got to be going crazy,” she muttered.
Turning away, she headed into the living room. She was just about to turn on the TV—which was her usual method of combating the almost oppressive late-afternoon quiet—when she heard the doorbell ring.
Now what?
With a sigh, Tiffany pivoted on her heel and hurried back to the front door. Without stopping to look through the peephole to make sure it was the contractor, she opened the door and asked, “Did you forget something?”
“Not that I know of. But perhaps you have forgotten your manners.”
It wasn’t the contractor. Instead, there on her front step was five-feet-nothing of angst and the source of not a few of her headaches.
Too surprised to even force a smile, Tiffany asked, “Mother, what are you doing here?”
The model-slender woman raised her small chin. “Is that any way to greet the woman who gave you life?”
That was her mother’s opening salvo in almost every exchange they had. “It is if I’m not expecting to see the woman who gave me life.”
Mei-Li shook her head. “Someday, when I am gone, you will wish that you could see me just one more time,” she told her youngest daughter, uttering the words like a prophecy. “But for now, while I am still alive, you should always expect to see me.”
Rather than ask if that was supposed to be some sort of a curse, Tiffany took a breath. She stepped back and opened her door a little wider—her mother didn’t need much room to come in.
Trying again, Tiffany asked in her best upbeat tone, “And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, dear Mother?”
Mei-Li did not appear placated. “There is no need to be sarcastic, Tiffany.”
Tiffany squelched the temptation to raise her voice in total frustration. Instead, she struggled for patience and tried a third time, keeping her voice even and respectful, despite the fact that to her own ear, it sounded almost singsong. “Mother, is there something I can do for you?”
Walking in, the small woman scanned the room, taking in everything at once even as she rolled her eyes in response to the question. “More things than I could possibly enumerate in the space of a day,” she replied.
“But you didn’t come to enumerate a long list of things,” Tiffany pointed out. “I know you, Mother. You came here for a very specific reason. You always do,” she added as her mom opened her mouth to deny the assumption. “Now what is it?”
“How was he?” her mother asked without any preamble.
Tiffany was caught completely off guard, her mind a total blank. “‘He?’”
Mei-Li sighed, exasperated. “Surely you are not so dumb as you pretend, Tiffany. The young man I am paying to remodel your bathroom,” she said with emphasis. “Did he do a good job?”
She made it sound as if renovating a bathroom could be done in a single afternoon. If only, Tiffany thought wistfully. But at the same time, the question irritated her. “Mother, he’s just gotten started.”
To her surprise, her mother actually seemed pleased rather than annoyed that the job hadn’t been magically completed.
“Oh. Good,” Mei-Li commented. Then, because they were supposed to be discussing remodeling the bathroom and not remodeling her stubborn daughter’s life, she requested, “May I see what he has done?”
“Mainly, he left a mess,” Tiffany told her. “Right now, if you saw it, you’d probably be horrified.” And she had no desire to listen to her mother criticize what she saw. Why Tiffany felt almost protective of the man who had jolted her out of her bed was beyond her, but it didn’t change the way she felt. “Why don’t you wait until he’s finished and then I’ll show you just what he managed to do.”
Much to her astonishment, her mother smiled and nodded. “I can hardly wait.”
Tiffany wondered if Mei-Li was getting more eccentric as she got older—or if she was just becoming strange.
Tiffany found herself leaning toward the latter.
Chapter Four (#ulink_ef9d712f-7d02-549e-b904-f1af06a69285)
“I thought women liked to go shopping,” Eddie said, in response to the less-than-pleased expression on his passenger’s face.
True to his word, he had arrived at eight in the morning. And as per their agreement, he had gone straight to work on the master bath, preparing it for the items he hoped they would wind up purchasing later today. That allowed Tiffany to get back to bed—downstairs in the guest room—temporarily.
Back to sleep, however, was another story. She couldn’t seem to fall asleep because she kept waiting for the noise to begin.
It didn’t. However, the ensuing quiet didn’t allow her to drift off. After a while, Tiffany gave up her futile quest for sleep and got ready for the trip she told herself she didn’t want to make.
They’d left at a few minutes after ten, with her looking less than pleased about the forced field trip she was facing.
“I do like to go shopping,” Tiffany said when the silence became too uncomfortable. “I like to go shopping for clothes, for shoes. I even like to go shopping for electronic gadgets that I don’t need but that capture my attention.”
She shifted slightly in the passenger seat. Her seat belt dug into her hip. “But I have never even once fantasized about going shopping for bathroom faucets, or showerheads, or medicine cabinet mirrors.”
“Then this should be a new experience for you,” he told her cheerfully.
Tiffany caught herself thinking grudgingly that he had a nice smile, but she didn’t exactly appreciate the fact that the smile was at her expense.
“And a quick one, I hope,” she retorted.
“That all depends on you.” For her benefit, Eddie went over the list of various hardware and fixtures needed in her bathroom, concluding with, “You find ones that you like and we’ll be on our way back to your house in no time.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
Eddie shook his head as he guided his truck onto the freeway ramp. “No catch.”
“Then why aren’t we on our way to O’Malley’s Hardware, or One Stop Depot?” she asked, naming two local hardware stores in the area that boasted having everything a home owner might need.
Taking advantage of a space, Eddie merged into the middle lane. “Because I’m assuming that you want quality, not shoddy.” After he resumed the acceptable freeway speed, he spared Tiffany a quick look. “At least, that was what I was told by the person who hired me.”
“O’Malley’s Hardware sells shoddy goods?” she questioned.
Tiffany wasn’t all that familiar with the store, only the ads that seemed to pop up every hour on most of the television stations. Even the jingle had begun to infiltrate her brain on occasion.
“They sell ‘make-do’ goods,” he told her. “The stores I’m taking you to carry higher-end items that are made to last.”
“And higher prices,” she guessed.
Eddie nodded. “You get what you pay for,” he told her simply.
She had a feeling that he was conveniently omitting one little fact. “And you get a percentage of all those high-end prices, right?”
She thought she saw him stiffen ever so slightly, as if he’d just taken offense. “I’m charging for my work,” he pointed out. “The price—the actual price—of any fixtures gets passed on to your mother. You’re welcome to take a look at the bills of sale if you want to.”
She wasn’t going to bother beating around the bush. “Then you don’t increase the price of each item?” Tiffany challenged.
He shook his head. “That’s not the way I do it,” Eddie told her, although he doubted she believed him. But he had no intention of trying to convince her. She could believe him or not, that was her prerogative. He had better things to do than to try to prove his trustworthiness.
Tiffany shrugged her shoulders indifferently.
“Let’s just get this over with,” she told him with a deep sigh. Maybe he was actually telling the truth, maybe he wasn’t. She just didn’t want to waste any more time over this than she had to.
* * *
It surprised her how many choices there were of absolutely everything and how many stores were devoted exclusively to just one or two types of items. It was like entering a completely different world.
Although she had initially just wanted to point and go, Tiffany was stunned to find herself deliberating. Specifically, she was having a hard time picking out the kind of bathtub she wanted and exactly what she wanted built into it.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tiffany caught a glimpse of her “guide” in this gleaming fixture jungle, smiling to himself as she vacillated between two different models.
“You tricked me, didn’t you?” she accused with only a slight frown.
Eddie spread his hands wide, the picture of total innocence. “I’m just the one who brought you here,” he told her. “You’re the one who’s trying to decide between two kinds of bathtubs.”
“Which I wouldn’t be doing if you hadn’t shown them to me,” Tiffany pointed out, exasperated that she had been put in this position.
Eddie took the blame graciously. “Ah, but think what you would have been missing out on if we hadn’t come here,” he said.
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “You can’t miss what you don’t know,” she countered stubbornly.
The expression on his face all but told her that he knew she didn’t believe that, even though, out loud, he made it sound as if he was capitulating. “Whatever you say.”
Tiffany realized they were going to stand here in this little shop until she came to some sort of a decision. With a huff she pointed to the tub that came loaded with top-of-the-line Jacuzzi features.
“That one,” she announced. “I’ll take that one.”
Looking solemn, Eddie nodded. “Good choice.” And then he stopped her dead in her tracks as he asked in a very mild voice, “What color?”
Completely frustrated, Tiffany threw up her hands. “Arrgh!”
“I don’t think it comes in that color,” he replied evenly. “How about light blue?”
For some strange reason, the man was enjoying this. She could have strangled him.
“Fine.” Tiffany bit off the word. “Get the bathtub in light blue.”
The corners of his mouth curved. “See how easy that was?”
Her fingers began itching again. She would have loved to wrap them around his neck. “You’re lucky that I’m not strangling you,” she informed him from between clenched teeth.

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