Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Read online

  Before she could answer, he swept her onto the dance floor. Her dress swished around her legs and she worried momentarily she would lose her footing and fall, but he pulled her tightly against him. He led her around the floor, sure-footed and confident, as he stared down into her eyes.

  “Where’d you learn to dance like this?”

  He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Surprised?”

  “Um, yeah. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the ballroom type.”

  He spun her out and away from him, then pulled her back into his arms effortlessly. “There’s a lot you don’t have right about me, sweetheart.”

  “Apparently.” She couldn’t fight the smile creeping across her lips.

  One song morphed into another and another. All the while, he kept her close, holding her body and guiding her across the floor. She couldn’t deny the heat between them, or the desire to feel his lips on hers again.

  Giving in to temptation, she turned her face up toward his, practically begging to be kissed. He smelled like heaven, filling her senses and setting her hormones raging. The sound of a throat clearing behind her shook her from the spell.

  “Mind if I cut in?” Blake pushed Donovan away and wrapped her tightly in his arms before she could decline. As he turned them around on the floor, she caught sight of Donovan’s face, a mask of rage mixed with concern. She threw him an apologetic look, trying to convey her dismay but also telling him she was fine.

  “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night. You didn’t tell me you were going to be here.” Blake’s voice was carefully measured and controlled.

  “You didn’t tell me you’d be here, either.”

  He pulled her against him. “Who’s your date?”

  She drew as far back from him as his hands would allow. “His name is Donovan. He’s a firefighter.”

  “A firefighter, huh? So, a little eye candy, then? You could’ve just asked me, you know. I would have been glad to bring you.”

  “That’s a little overconfident, Blake. Donovan is my date tonight. In fact, I think I should be getting back to him.”

  His grip tightened and a look of desperation crossed his face.

  “You can’t deny we were good together, Valerie. I regret so much of what happened between us.”

  Hurtful memories clouded her head. “You mean, like leaving me without a word? Or what about convincing me to drop out of the teaching program because we’d be married and I’d be going with you when you did your residency?”

  He let go of her then, clearly stung by her words. “Okay, I deserved that. Look, let’s not talk about this here. Saturday, I’ll explain myself. Just know I’ve regretted that decision every day.”

  Blake cupped her cheek in his palm and stroked the pad of his thumb over her lips, something he’d done a million times before. Now it didn’t offer comfort, it brought back the Valerie she’d been. The girl who’d dropped everything for him, only to lose it all. She turned to storm off, and met the hard wall of muscle that was Donovan. Fighting to control her anger and the hot tears that filled her eyes, she looked up at him.

  “Everything all right here, sweetheart?” His focus drifted from her face to the man standing behind her.

  “Dr. Blake Monroe. You’re Donovan, right?”

  Donovan tensed as Blake introduced himself, but nodded and shook hands with the man.

  “Thanks for letting me steal a dance with your date. See you Saturday, Val.”

  Donovan dropped his gaze to hers in question and Blake walked away. She had a sinking feeling Blake had just ruined her evening.

  “What’s on Saturday?”

  Guilt tickled the back of her mind. “Um, Blake and I are having dinner. Just catching up.”

  She could see his jealousy bubbling just under the surface and remembered his words. I don’t share. The frown on his face made her heart squeeze. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

  She reached up and put her hand on his broad shoulder. “I love this song. Can we dance?”

  He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

  After a few more hours of forced conversation and avoidance of Blake at all costs, Donovan dropped her off at home. The mood deteriorated at a rapid pace. She’d chased his hurt feelings for the rest of the night after Blake’s untimely interruption. As Donovan walked her to her door, she resolved to show him how she felt.

  “Hey, hotshot.”

  His eyes locked on hers.

  “I had a great time.” She grinned and leaned into him.

  “You sure you wouldn’t rather be with Doctor Blake?”

  Annoyance flashed through her at his jealousy, but she squashed it, opting to tease instead.

  “I guess I could call him, if you want.”

  His eyes glinted wickedly. “Not a chance,” he said, as he pulled her against his hard chest.

  His lips closed the distance between them, pressing, teasing, tasting, and claiming her as his. He pulled back and took her face in his rough hands, eyes searching for something.

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never been good at sharing. But now, with you, I’m sure I’m gonna fail at it.”

  Her heart melted, pooling at her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, anything that would ease his jealousy, but he captured her words with his lips instead. His slight stubble scratched at her cheeks as the intensity of his kiss grew. She wanted to wrap up in him, take his scent, and cover herself in it. Instead, she pushed lightly at him, clearing her throat and trying to signal that they weren’t out of public view yet.

  “Do you want to come inside?” Her voice was breathy.

  He smirked. “Nope. Not on the first date. You’re a lady, after all.”

  Disappointment grabbed hold, but was quickly replaced by a warm and fuzzy feeling. He wanted to respect her reputation. Either he was a romantic genius, or genuinely a good guy.

  “I’ll see you again soon?”

  “Oh, you can count on it, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

  She leaned against the door to her apartment and suddenly her beautiful dress felt confining. She needed a cold shower and a stiff drink.

  Chapter 8

  All day Saturday, Valerie was a jittery mess. She’d started her day with a session of sunrise yoga on the beach, hoping for some clarity and calm. Instead, she left more worked up than she’d been when she’d started. Sullivan was there, as usual, but this time he brought an agenda with him. He had plopped down on the sand next to her and peppered her with questions about her plans for the night, her history with Blake, even her feelings for Donovan. By the time she got home, she felt so guilty about her evening plans she almost called to cancel.

  A glance at the clock told her she had less than two hours before Blake was picking her up—she could still call and cancel. She reached for her phone and yelped when Lena slapped it from her hand.

  “Lena. What the hell?”

  “Don’t you dare cancel.”

  Her face flushed guiltily. “I wasn’t . . .”

  “Liar, liar—”

  “Fine. I was thinking about it.”

  Lena smirked and ran a hand through her perfect ebony hair. “What are you so unsure of? It’s not like you’re married to Donovan.”

  “I know, I just . . . He looked like I’d kicked his puppy.”

  “Good.”

  “How is that good?”

  Lena folded herself gracefully into her favorite chair. “Make him sweat a little. He’s always been overconfident. Always gets what he wants. You going out with Blake gets to him.”

  “I’m not trying to get to him.”

  “I know, but you’re not trying to date Blake, either. There’
s nothing wrong with catching up with an old flame. He was the love of your life, right?”

  Her stomach twisted. “I thought so, years ago.”

  “Come on,” Lena said, standing and grabbing her hands, “you need to look hot tonight.”

  She chuckled nervously and followed Lena into the bathroom.

  An hour and a half later, she was buffed, tweezed, polished, and powdered within an inch of her life. She had to admit, she looked amazing. Her cheeks glowed with an ethereal sheen and her hair was a mass of glossy waves, gleaming when the light caught it.

  “Wow. How did you learn to do that?”

  Lena winked. “When you’ve worked with as many hair and make-up artists as I have, you pick up a few things.”

  “I’ll say.”

  A confident rap on the door made her jump as she realized Blake was a few minutes early and she was still in a robe. She may have looked amazing from the neck up, but she highly doubted her silk robe was appropriate date-wear.

  “Answer that for me, please? I’ve got to get dressed.”

  Lena laughed her way to the door as Valerie darted into her room, thankful she’d already set her dress out for the evening. As she slipped on her bra and panties, she listened to the murmur of voices carrying from the living room. She sprayed a little of her favorite perfume and smoothed her dress before she stepped out to face the man who’d shattered her so long ago.

  Blake’s attention shifted from Lena and focused solely on her. “Valerie, wow! You look gorgeous.” His eyes ran up and down her body, making her slightly uncomfortable.

  “Thanks.”

  He held out a hand. “Ready?”

  She glanced at Lena who was practically swooning over Blake’s dashing good looks.

  “Yep, let’s go.”

  As they walked down to his car, apprehension mounted when he placed a hand on the small of her back; a familiar and unwelcome gesture. Valerie squirmed out of arm’s reach and took a deep breath to try and calm her jumping nerves. He acted the gentleman, opening the door to his ostentatious, vintage red Mercedes, making sure she was comfortable, but she remembered all the times he’d been anything but gentlemanly.

  “Take a breath, babe. I’m not going to bite.”

  “Nice car.”

  The seats were buttery leather. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, trying to find something to distract her.

  “Thanks. Graduation present from Mom and Dad.”

  She nodded. Of course his parents had bought it for him. Blake came from money, old southern money. He was the stereotypical southern rich boy. His hands were soft and pampered, he had no need to rough them up when mommy and daddy paid for all the manual labor. He wore designer clothes and drove a car furnished by them, too. She stifled a sigh and tried not to compare him to Donovan.

  Donovan, who worked a back-breaking schedule in order to help people, but was paid a fraction of the typical doctor’s salary.

  Donovan, who’s rough, calloused hands made her tremble when he ran them over her skin.

  “Babe?” Blake’s voice broke through her daydreaming.

  “What? Sorry. I got distracted, reminiscing.”

  He placed a hand on her bare knee. “I know, babe. We’ve got so many memories.”

  He pulled into the parking lot of The Creekside, the only steakhouse in their little town, and she let out the breath she’d been holding as he removed his hand from her leg. She tensed again when he placed the same hand on the small of her back as they walked toward the restaurant.

  Rustic was the best word she could use to describe The Creekside. The building was designed to emulate a log cabin, with exposed wood beams in the ceiling and an enormous river-rock fireplace at one end. Copper light fixtures in the shape of whimsical stars hung at various heights, spraying warm light around the space. It really was romantic. A jazz combo played in the corner and she could see there were lots of couples out for date-night.

  “Welcome to The Creekside. Party of two?” A perky hostess popped up from behind the reception podium.

  “I have a reservation. Dr. Monroe.”

  The hostess eyed Blake appreciatively before sizing up Valerie, then looked at her reservation book. “Yes, I see you here. If you’ll just follow me.”

  She led them to a quiet table in the corner. There was a window overlooking the beach and she could see the lights of boats out for a sunset cruise.

  “You want a drink, babe?” Blake asked casually and a little too comfortably.

  “Sure.” She chewed her lip and took a deep breath. “Please don’t call me babe, Blake. I’ve always hated it. And honestly, you and I aren’t in a place where endearments are okay.”

  His eyes went wide. “Sorry. Old habits, I guess.”

  She felt better. Asserting herself had always been tough around him. His persona dazzled her. When they’d been dating, she’d followed him around like a lost puppy. The idea that he found her attractive, that he wanted her, made her feel important.

  “Things are different now. I’m different.”

  Blake waved the waiter over. “I can see that. Five years is a long time. I’m different, too.”

  They placed their orders and fell back into uncomfortable silence, with Blake absently checking his phone and her picking at the hem of her dress. When their drinks and food were delivered, she said a silent prayer of thanks and focused on her delicious steak.

  “This place is good,” Blake said, around a mouthful of lobster.

  “Yes, best steakhouse in Golden Beach.”

  About halfway into the meal, Blake stopped eating and reached out to take her hand.

  “Valerie, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I can only tell you so many times, but I’ve regretted leaving you every day.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m here because I want another chance. When I found out you were still single, and there was a position at Golden Beach General . . . I don’t know. I felt like it was a sign.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. “Blake, I’m seeing someone.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  The question was so direct. It caught her off guard and knocked the wind out of her.

  “No, then?”

  “It’s . . . It’s new.”

  He took his hand back and cast his eyes downward.

  Why did she feel guilty for telling him she was with Donovan? Confusion brought a tightness to her chest.

  “Give me a chance. Let me prove I’ve changed. I want to earn your love back.”

  These were the words she’d fantasized about hearing for so long. She’d wanted him to come crawling to her, begging for her to let him back in.

  But now . . .

  Now, she was so changed. She wasn’t sure where she wanted to be, but she wasn’t willing to return to the way things had been.

  “Blake, I can’t. I can’t just jump back in with you. You hurt me so badly.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Friends is all I can offer you. Can we be friends?”

  He smiled, that room brightening smile, but it was tinged with disappointment. “Friends.”

  After dinner, Blake took her home. With the pressure off, she was able to enjoy the feel of the beautiful car she rode in and laugh with him as they made conversation. He didn’t walk her to her apartment door, but embraced her tightly outside his parked car, kissing her hair. That the hug lasted a little too long and the fact that he took in the scent of her hair did not go unnoticed.

  “Goodnight, Blake. Thank you for dinner.”

  He smiled and waved. “Sleep well.”

  Donovan crouched next to the smoldering couc
h as he searched for the one little girl who was still unaccounted for. There were always hard calls, but this one was shit. A foster home in the boonies, three kids under age ten, and a foster mom who’d left them alone to fend for themselves for the night. How did people like this get handed kids to care for? The fire was contained, but the smoke was still a risk. He combed the floor, searching under the furniture for the three-year-old.

  Klipper popped his head out of the master bedroom.

  “Anything, D?”

  “No, nothing here.”

  Every minute that went by without a sign of her meant more oxygen deprivation; more risk of death. His eyes searched the living room, praying for providence. A small wooden chest, probably a toy box, sat nestled in the corner. Apprehension tingled in the back of his mind. He remembered, as a child, hiding in cramped spaces when his parents fought, when his dad got too rough with his mom.

  He rushed to the chest and flipped open the lid, revealing the little girl, unconscious, but breathing shallow, labored breaths.

  “I’ve got her, Klip!” he shouted across the room.

  Her tiny body was light in his arms, almost unbelievably so. His heart ached at the thought of what could have happened to her. He said a prayer of thanks when the cool, clean air hit his face and he raced toward the ambulance. As he handed her to the waiting paramedic, he sighed in relief. They’d found her, alive. Now he had to leave it in the hands of his coworkers, trust they could bring her through.

  Klipper clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good work, Miller.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’d have thought that chest was too small. I’m glad you checked it.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Come on, let’s get back to the house. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

  It was three in the morning. Their shift was five hours from being over and they were all dog-tired. This shift had been call after call—a heart attack at a grocery store, a car fire on the freeway, and now this. At least everyone had gotten out.