The Honeymoon House

Danielle went to the utensil drawer to get serving spoons. She didn’t want to think about Paul’s relationship with Mr. Harrington. She just wanted to enjoy being with Paul for a little while, even though she knew the feeling would end the moment they started working together.

At the kitchen counter, Danielle suddenly sensed Paul behind her.

“Danielle, did I do or say something to upset you?” he asked.

She could feel his warm breath on her hair. “No, not at all,” she nervously replied.

His eyes caught hers. “Are you sure?”

For a split second, she knew he would never hurt her, that he really cared how she felt. She wished she could forget that he would be spying on her work.

“I’m positive,” she told him as they sat down at the table. “Enjoy your dinner.”

Lisa passed Paul the lasagna, studying him. “Paul, how well do you know Mr. Harrington?”

Danielle kicked her sister under the table to shut her up.

“A few years ago, I built a house for a friend of his,” Paul explained. “Mr. Harrington liked my work and hired me on a couple of his housing projects.”

“Has he ever fired an architect you’ve worked with?” Lisa inquired.

Danielle stopped eating. Paul looked at her worriedly. She knew he knew why Lisa was asking that question.

“Just once,” Paul replied a bit uneasily. “In the middle of construction, Mr. Harrington was dissatisfied with the architect’s work and hired another architect to take over the job.”

Danielle suddenly felt ill. Was that going to happen to her when she worked with Paul?

Just then, Paul’s beeper went off. “I’m sorry,” he said as he set a slice of garlic bread on his plate. “I should’ve left my beeper in the van.” He glanced at the number on his beeper. “Can I use your phone?”

Danielle pointed to the telephone in the living room rather than the wall phone in the kitchen. “You’ll have more privacy,” she said.

“Please forgive me,” he said again.

In the living room, Paul dialed Butch’s phone number, impatiently tapping his foot on the carpeted floor. He glanced toward the kitchen door. He’d upset Danielle by telling her about Mr. Harrington’s having fired another architect. Somehow, her sister had found out that Mr. Harrington had asked him to watch over Danielle’s work.

When Paul saw the anxious look on Danielle’s face about the fate of her job, he wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her not to worry. He’d make sure she kept her job right to the very end, 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 far no man had felt like family to her. No man except Paul Richards. Having him at her apartment was so natural, almost as though he were living with her.

She caught her naked reflection in the bureau mirror. She wondered what it would feel to have Paul Richards’s strong hands caress her breasts. Her bare nipples grew hard at the thought.

Stop fantasizing about Paul, she ordered herself. Don’t repeat what happened with Kevin.

But lying in the bubbly warm bathwater, she couldn’t get Paul Richards out of her mind. She visualized him climbing into the bath with her. She could almost feel his powerful masculine body sizzling against hers. She quickly turned on the cold water to startle her body back to reality.

At the burglarized construction site, Paul held in his frustration as he showed the Barrys, a young married couple, the damage inside their remodeled house. Butch began repairing the built-in drawers in their bedroom bureau that had been yanked out, scratched and thrown to the floor.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barry,” Paul began, feeling at blame for the entire situation, “my company’s insurance will cover everything that’s been stolen. Tonight, I’ll have my men spick-and-span your home until it’s shiny clean. We’ll even repaint the nicks in the walls and have the new carpeting steam-washed. Whatever you want. You just tell me.”

When Paul saw a hopeful smile on their faces, his muscles relaxed a little. Though burglaries occasionally happened on construction sites, Paul hated seeing his customers unhappy. He guaranteed superior construction and worked on their houses as if they were his own. His goal was for his customers to move into their new or remodeled homes totally satisfied with his work.

When the owners left, Paul put on his leather tool belt and joined Butch and two laborers to make the house brand-new again.

At three o’clock in the morning, an exhausted-butsatisfied Paul finished painting and cleaning up. As he packed his tools into his van, his mind drifted to Danielle. He wished he could have stayed at her apartment longer.

Butch put on his motorcycle helmet. “Going back to your new lady’s place?”

Paul climbed into his van. His normal reaction to Butch would have been an easy no. He liked his independence. He didn’t need to feel connected to anyone. But with Danielle, he was aware of a yearning that he didn’t quite understand.

“I’m going home, Butch.” He started up the van’s engine, relieved that it didn’t sputter out.

Paul drove toward his Santa Monica apartment, knowing he needed to get some sleep, but he found himself diverting his route a few blocks and ending up on Danielle’s street.

He slowed his van as he neared her apartment building. He stopped at the curb a few yards away from her complex and turned off the engine. Her apartment on the second floor had a small balcony. The Monterey pines somewhat blocked his view.

His heart quickened when he noticed that her living room lights were still burning. Her glass balcony door was open, letting in the summer evening’s cool breeze.

He wondered how late he would have stayed at her apartment if he hadn’t been forced to leave. He felt the sudden urge to ring her doorbell and ask if he could come in for a little while.

Paul knew he was thinking crazy. He regained his senses and was just about to start up his van, when Danielle appeared at her balcony door.

Three

Paul’s fingers froze on the ignition key as he watched Danielle walk over to the railing and look up at the star-filled sky.

Through the trees, he could see that she was wearing a flimsy nightgown. The light from the living room filtered through the fabric. Her breasts jutted out against the material, and he could barely see her nipples protruding.

Paul held his breath. He forgot he was in his van, parked on her street. He was aware only of Danielle’s naked hourglass form silhouetted under her nightie.

His hands were perspiring as he held the steering wheel. He slowly opened the van window to let in more air so he could breathe. His body became wide-awake.

Just then, Danielle leaned over the railing and peered down at the street. Paul’s heart hammered against his ribs. He was invading her privacy. He hoped she didn’t see his van through the Monterey pines lining the sidewalk.

On her balcony, Danielle stretched her body and breathed in the sweet, pine-scented evening air. Then she went back into her apartment, locked the balcony door and leaned against the glass door.

Was that Paul’s van she’d seen in the shadows of the pines and the streetlights? Her skin tingled under her nightgown at the thought that he might have been watching her.

What a crazy idea, she silently told herself as she drew the white curtains across the balcony door. Why would Paul Richards be parked outside her apartment at four in the morning, watching her? Was this just another of a zillion fantasies she was having about him?

She went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of cold orange juice to cool her heated body. Paul Richards had been permeating her mind all evening. That’s why she couldn’t sleep and had gone out on the balcony. No wonder she thought she’d seen his van parked under the trees, as he admired her from afar.

When she put back the orange juice, she noticed the hammer magnet Paul had left on the refrigerator door. Why had he put his magnet on her door? Did he feel as close to her as she felt to him? She gently touched the metal, as though caressing him.

She quickly brushed away her sensual thoughts and returned to her bedroom, where Lisa was lightly snoring. She quietly climbed into her twin bed.

As she lay on her back, she felt an aching in the tender area between her legs. She couldn’t get rid of the vision of Paul watching her standing in her nightgown on the balcony.

She closed her eyes and pictured Paul’s warm palm snuggled between her thighs, caressing her to ultimate pleasure. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

At her architectural office, Danielle anxiously checked the coffeemaker to see if her mocha java brew was ready. Her plans for Mr. Harrington’s honeymoon house had been approved by the building department, but she had a couple of small revisions she wanted to discuss with him. A meeting had been arranged for that morning.

She set up two chairs at her petite conference table. She constantly shifted them to get the perfect angle to talk to Mr. Harrington. She glanced at the digital clock on her desk. He was expected at any moment.

She couldn’t wait to tell him about her new ideas for the interior of his house. She flipped through the spec sheets she’d written designating the specific details, such as white metal windows, recessed lighting, a marble floor in the entry, thick beige carpeting upstairs in the master bedroom and plenty of custom-made closets. She’d listed high-quality everything.

She knew that the more she pleased Mr. Harrington with her work the closer she came to asking him if he could select her as the architect for his children’s library.

The loud knock on her office door startled her. She held her breath and excitedly opened the door.

“Mr. Harrington, I—” Her words caught in her throat when she saw Paul Richards standing there. “Paul, what are you doing here?”

“Am I late?” he asked, looking a bit concerned. His muscular arms were filled with folders and papers that were about to spew out on the floor.

She leaned out the door frame. “Where’s Mr. Harrington?”

“Didn’t you get his message?”

“No,” she replied, panicking.

As Paul struggled to balance the stack of materials, she glanced at her answering machine. The message light was blinking. She’d been so nervous and excited about her meeting that she’d forgotten to check her machine.

“Mr. Harrington had an emergency out-of-town business meeting.”

She felt totally thrown off balance. “Does he want to reschedule the meeting?” She needed to keep the momentum going with Mr. Harrington so he’d see how prompt and efficient she was.

Paul grabbed a couple of papers that almost fell to the floor. “He sent me in his place.”

She stared at Paul in disbelief. “You’re going to sit in for him?”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

She nervously clasped and unclasped her hands. “No, no, it’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine. She needed to show her architectural talents to Mr. Harrington, not Paul.

Her stomach knotted. She knew why Paul had been sent. He was there to guarantee that she didn’t make any mistakes. Mr. Harrington still didn’t completely trust her abilities.

Paul’s muscular arms strained from the weight of the folders. “Is there anywhere I can set these down?”

“Oh, sure. Right here.”

As she moved behind him in the tiny space to get to the conference table, her breasts brushed against his broad back. A hot sensation rushed up her legs.

As Paul put down the folders, her eyes met his. He’d felt the electricity, too. How was she going to have a serious meeting when her mind was ensconced in her fantasies about Paul?

Just then, her telephone rang, jolting her out of her momentary sensual reverie about Paul. “I—I’ll be right back,” she stammered.

When she picked up the phone, Mr. Harrington was on the other end.

“Danielle, please forgive my last-minute change of plans,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem working closely with Paul.”

“Of course I won’t, Mr. Harrington.”

She glanced at Paul, who was sitting in a chair, sorting out papers on his lap. His royal-blue T-shirt hugged the muscles of his massive chest. His broad shoulders ached to be touched. His long legs were spread, and his powerful, muscular thighs glared out at her.

She quickly turned away from him, unable to think straight.

“Danielle, I told Paul my ideas for the master bedroom,” continued Mr. Harrington. “Please go over every detail with him. He’s aware of exactly what I like and may make a couple of suggestions of his own.”

“Mr. Harrington, when can I discuss the information with you?” she asked, needing to create a working relationship with him directly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be in touch with you later in the day.”

“Sure,” she said disappointedly. “You’ll be pleased with the results of my meeting with Paul.”

Danielle’s hands felt cold as she hung up the phone. She’d wanted so badly to show Mr. Harrington how creative and competent she was.

“Is everything straightened out?” Paul asked, concerned.

“I think so,” she replied, feeling upset.

Paul walked over to her. “I’m sorry Mr. Harrington sent me over. I know you’d prefer working with him.”

Paul’s sensitivity to her feelings surprised her. “Why don’t we get to work?” she suggested, wanting to smooth things over. “I’m going to need a few more weeks to finish the spec sheets and make a few revisions on the approved framing plans.”

“Fine,” Paul said. “I’ll start framing when you give me those changes.”

She spread out her floor plan on the conference table. “Here’s the location of the master bedroom and master bath. As you’ll notice, I drew two large bedroom windows facing the Pacific Ocean.”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think there should be two windows.”

She stared at him. “What’re you talking about? I’m putting in two windows.”

Paul spread his hand across the air. “I see floor-to-ceiling glass facing the blue sea.”

“Absolutely not!” she protested. “Mr. Harrington and his wife need privacy for when they—they—”

“Make love?” he added in a husky voice.

His charcoal eyes melted into hers, and she couldn’t think about her work anymore.

She bolted from her chair. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

At the coffeemaker, she could barely concentrate on pouring the brew into two cups. How could she work when Paul kept reminding her of how much she needed and wanted a man—that man being him!

Paul walked up behind her. He rested his large hand on the wall beside her. Her fingers trembled as she poured the coffee.

“Danielle, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She turned and looked up at him. He was inches from her. She could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I need this project to go smoothly, Paul.”

His eyes drowned in hers. “Danielle, I have the same need as you do.”

Stop fantasizing about kissing him! she silently shouted at herself.

“Paul, you’ve already established your working relationship with Mr. Harrington,” she added in an unsteady voice. Her entire being was concentrated on how physically close he was to her. “I want to create a good rapport with him, too.”

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