An Offer He Cant Refuse - By Christie Ridgway Page 0,11
replied. "Now there was a challenge."
Tea's fingers reached down to press against the wrinkles in her dress. "Oh?"
"The Hartman house."
"Oh." Her fingers stilled. What more could she say? The Hartmans, who had purchased a home in the part of Palm Springs first settled by movie stars in the 1930s, loved hearts. Demanded hearts. So there were hearts on the handpainted ceilings, hearts as part of the gold- and bronze-leaf-painted moldings, hearts in the pattern of the fabric on the tufted walls. There was even a kitschy heart motif in the side-by-side fur and luggage storage rooms.
The thought of that project, the thought of more of those types of projects in her future, made her sag against the back bumper.
"But now you think you're going to go from clients like the Hartmans to a man like Johnny Magee. That's quite a leap, isn't it?"
Knowing Lois's reaction would be shared by the desert's entire design community didn't soften the sting or silence any of Tea's own doubts.
So she turned to open the rear door of the Volvo, preparing to avoid further conversation by busying herself with the materials she'd brought along. After all, she consoled herself, Lois really didn't know any more than she did about "a man like Johnny Magee."
... or did she?
Tea spun back. "Were you around for the showing of the house?" she asked, nodding toward the rooftop that she could see in the distance.
"No."
But the glint in Lois's eyes hinted that she knew something more than the single word indicated and Tea wanted to know that something more, desperately. Anything she gleaned about Johnny Magee might help her cinch the job. Glancing at the other cars and then at her watch, she decided there wasn't time for subtlety.
"A massage at my mother's spa for what you know, Lois," she said quickly, before her pride got in the way of practicality. "On me."
Lois's eyes sparkled brighter. "With Erik."
"With Erik?" Erik was the most popular massage therapist at the spa and wedging in an appointment with him would cost her big in the daughter-duty department. She sighed. "Fine, with Erik. Now, what do you know about Johnny, Lois? Have you met him?"
"I don't know him," Lois said. "But on a visit to Las Vegas a couple of years back, a mutual acquaintance introduced us."
Tea frowned. "That's it?"
"That's all it took for me to recognize a bad boy."
A bad boy? Less than impressed, Tea reached inside her car for her purse, portfolio, and briefcase. "That little insight isn't worth a pedicure, let alone a massage with the legendary Erik, Lois." She elbowed shut the door and brushed past the other woman. She'd find the man and make her own estimation.
"I'm trying to tell you he's dangerous. Tea."
That made her hesitate. Hadn't he warned her about the trouble he'd cause? But she tossed the idea away and tossed her hair over her shoulders as she set off toward a path that led through more overgrown vegetation in the direction of the house. "I'm pretty sure I can handle him."
With her family history, who could doubt it?
But Lois wouldn't allow her the last word. "Don't misunderstand me or underestimate him, Tea," she called back. "Just remember that a real bad boy isn't any kind of boy at all."
The grounds of the Magee property could have benefited from a gardener's staging services or at the very least some simple pruning, Tea thought, making her way through unruly hibiscus plants and overgrown oleanders. She knew from the simple layout she'd been faxed that a three-hole golf course separated the main residence from the guest bungalows on the east side, and that on the south, between the stand-alone garage and the house, was a man-made lagoon.
So when she stepped into a clearing, she wasn't surprised to see the large body of water ahead of her.
It was the figure sitting on the wall of half-tumbled, large river rocks surrounding it that caught her off guard.
His long, thin legs bent like a grasshopper's, he was hunched over a computer on his lap while another was teeter-tottering on the ledge beside him. He wore crinkled khakis, black canvas high-tops, and a ratty bowling shirt not even a mother could kindly call "vintage."
No, Lois. Johnny Magee wasn't a bad boy.
He was a bad dresser.
And the other woman had merely been yanking Tea's chain. Unless... unless this wasn't him. Johnny hadn't sounded like this man looked.
Yet who else would it be?
And hadn't she known from the beginning he'd be a disappointment?