Renovation (A Golden Beach Novel) Page 8

  “I hope they put this stupid bitch away for a long time. Kids, man. I hate it when it’s kids.”

  Klipper shook his head. “Nothing worse.”

  They got back to the station by four, in desperate need of sleep or coffee. Klipper put on a fresh pot to brew while Donovan sliced bagels and threw them in the toaster. The guys in the house worked together seamlessly, each understanding their individual roles. Klip made the coffee, Donovan cooked the easy stuff, and Michael was the chef. They’d learned the hard way not to let Klip near the stove.

  “Sully on next shift?” Donovan asked. He tried to sound nonchalant as he pulled out some cream cheese for the bagels.

  “Why? Because he saw Valerie at yoga yesterday?”

  “Shut up, Klip,” he muttered and frowned into the silverware drawer. “But, yes.”

  “Yeah, he’s on at eight.”

  That meant he’d be in at seven. Sully was always early. He liked to get pumped up by doing some cardio, lifting a little, and settling in before he truly had to be on shift.

  “Why are you so curious? Something change since your date?”

  “Some douchebag doctor took her out last night.”

  Klipper’s eyebrows rose. “A doctor, huh? Good looking?”

  Donovan pressed his lips into a thin line, trying desperately to control his jealousy.

  “So that’s a yes, then?”

  “He wasn’t beat with an ugly stick as a child.”

  Klip choked on his coffee in laughter. “Man, I’ve never seen you like this. She know how crazy jealous you are?”

  “I think she’s got an idea.”

  “He’s a doctor? What’s the douchebag’s name?”

  “Blake Monroe.” The name felt slimy on his mouth.

  “New guy?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll do some recon. Casey owes me a favor.”

  Donovan arched an eyebrow. “She does?”

  “Well, she will after tonight, if you know what I mean.” Klipper had no shame. He waggled his eyebrows and winked.

  “Again? I thought she was through with you after last time.”

  “She’ll never have enough of this.” Klipper gestured down his body.

  Donovan chuckled and settled at the table, ready to dig into his bagel and pour some coffee down his throat. He needed to stay alert until the next crew came in. Nights like these were what being a firefighter was all about. Helping people, saving lives, that was what made him who he was.

  Chapter 9

  Valerie’s phone rang promptly at eight on Sunday morning. She smiled as she lay in her bed and answered. “Hello, hotshot.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.” His voice sent shivers down her spine.

  “Calling to check in?”

  “No.”

  She bit her lip to conceal the laughter threatening to make its way out. He was a bad liar. She could tell even through the phone.

  “How was your shift?”

  “Busy. Lots of calls. I’m running on fumes. I just wanted to hear your voice before I crash.”

  “Thanks for the call.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart. How was your date, by the way?”

  She flinched. “Not a date. It was nice to catch up. Blake used to be someone important to me. Not anymore. We’re friends, that’s it.”

  “How important?”

  “Pretty important.”

  He grunted into the phone. “I don’t like him.”

  She laughed off his comment. “You’ve made that abundantly clear, Donovan.”

  “What’s your week look like?”

  “Busy. I’ve got extra work to put in on my projects, so I won’t get too far behind when I leave for London next week.”

  “Hmm, me, too. I’ve got some side jobs on a renovation that I’ve got to get done.”

  A sinking feeling crept into her chest. “I leave in a week.”

  “Oh, I’ll see you before you go. Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.”

  “Get some rest, hotshot.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hung up with a grin on her face and drifted back into a lazy doze, taking full advantage of her Sunday morning.

  The week flew by. Valerie put in extra hours each day, but Ingram kept piling more and more work on her. It was Wednesday, just two days left until she hopped on a plane and was gone for two weeks. She hadn’t seen Donovan since their date and her chest tightened at the thought of not getting to see him before her trip.

  Blake, on the other hand, had been very present since Saturday. He’d called, texted, and even shown up to take her to lunch. She’d brushed him off, saying she was too busy to leave. She didn’t want Ingram to think she was slacking.

  “Valerie, I need you in my office, please,” Ingram’s voice shot across the hall.

  She braced herself for the coming storm of uncomfortable conversation. Over the last week, she’d been wound tightly, a spring about to break. Twice, when he’d come up behind her in the break room, she’d flinched so hard she bit her cheek. He made her more uncomfortable than any man she’d ever known.

  Two more days . . .

  Two more days until vacation. She could make it.

  “Yes, Mr. Ingram?”

  “Please have a seat, Valerie.” He motioned to the free chair positioned across from his desk.

  She sat gingerly on the edge. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Valerie, I know you’ve been working hard since returning from Braley. I appreciate all of your efforts, but things have been . . .” He rubbed at his chin as if he was searching for the right words, “. . . disjointed.”

  “Disjointed?”

  “There’s too much tension between us. I need an assistant who will work with me closely, without conflict. We need to be a well-oiled machine. Do you see what I’m getting at here?”

  She frowned as she worked to piece together the meaning of his words.

  “Valerie, I’m going to have to let you go. It’s just not working out.” He smirked. “I know you and Grace worked together well, but I need someone to be my assistant, not my therapist.”

  Anger raced through her veins, making her blood boil. “You’re firing me?”

  “I’m afraid so. Best of luck.”

  He reached out to take her hand, but she stood, fuming. She stalked to her desk, furiously swiping at the angry tears in her eyes.

  Bastard!

  The fucking bastard!

  Thankful she kept her desk free of personal items, she grabbed her purse and rushed for the elevator. As she reached her car, the tears came. She searched her heart for a reason. Humiliation? Anger? Relief? She hated this job, wanted nothing more than to move on and carve her own path. Ingram had just unwittingly set her free and given her a reason to pursue her dreams. She had no excuses now.

  She cringed at the quiet snick of the lock turning as she opened the door to her apartment. Lena was usually home and still sleeping at this time of day and the last thing she needed was an interrogation.

  The little apartment was silent, save the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Dropping her keys and purse on the table, she kicked off her heels and plopped down on the couch. She sighed as she sank into the deep cushions, wondering what she was going to do now.

  “Baby, where do you keep the towels?” a deep, masculine voice called from the bathroom.

  Valerie jumped and instinctively turned toward the sound. Her jaw dropped as she took in the very wet and very naked form of Michael Oliver. His strong muscled torso was bronze from the sun and covered in droplets of water. She let out a little squeak of surprise as he turned in all his naked glory to face her. She saw everything, absolutely everythi
ng. A hot blush raced up her cheeks.

  “God! Val, I’m sorry. What—” he started, but her uncontrollable laughter interrupted him.

  “Towels are in the closet on your left. My eyes are not opening again until you give me the all clear,” she said, slapping a hand over her face.

  Moments later, the soft clearing of a throat had her prying her fingers from her eyes. “Clothed?”

  “Clothed.” Michael laughed softly.

  “I didn’t know you were . . . um . . . seeing Lena.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Yeah, it’s kinda new.”

  She nodded. She’d never had much of a relationship with the Oliver boys. John was friendly with her out of necessity, because Grace had spent so much time with her.

  An awkward silence filled the room, causing Michael to glance nervously around the apartment. His gaze settled on her half-packed suitcase and garment bag, clearly visible through her open bedroom door.

  “You going on a trip?”

  “Yeah, Angela and I are flying out to the UK in a few days.”

  His gaze dropped. “Grace’s wedding. Right, I forgot about that. God, that’s so weird.”

  She sat in stunned silence. The Olivers were a tight-knit family and though Marianne, the matriarch of the clan, had been supportive, she had no clue how they were handling Grace’s upcoming nuptials.

  “It’s strange to think that she’d be married to John if things were different.”

  “She’s happy, though. Drew loves her.”

  He smiled, just a ghost of a grin. “I’m glad. I really am.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  “You’re an angel.” Michael flashed her a genuine smile, one that would’ve melted her into a puddle only a month earlier. Now, all she could think about was how much she wanted to see Donovan.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She returned, coffee in hand, and curled up on the couch. They sipped in silence, feeling a strange tension between them. She’d just seen more of him than she’d ever thought possible, after all.

  “What’s up with you and Miller?”

  This caught her off guard. “Nothing.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “He’s driving us all nuts at the house. The guy’s so distracted he can barely form a coherent thought.”

  A thrill of excitement ran through her at the thought of Donovan acting this way because of her.

  “Really?”

  “Look, don’t tell him I said anything. He’s been a mess since . . . well, since my brother died. I’m pretty sure he blames himself.”

  A clatter at the front door stopped her from delving further into the topic. She got up and padded to the entryway, peeking out the peephole. Swinging the door open, she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Donovan stood there, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand, and an expression of annoyance on his beautiful face.

  “Well, damn, sweetheart. I was trying to surprise you. What are you doing home?” A slightly crooked grin spread across his lips.

  “Came home early. Sorry to disappoint.”

  His grin widened. “No disappointment here.” Donovan slid his hand around her waist. “I’d much rather see you than the door of an empty apartment.”

  She melted into his touch. His free hand played with the waistband of her pencil skirt.

  “I wanted to see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around since our date.” His eyes twinkled with mischief as he pulled her to him.

  “It’s fine. We’ve both been busy.”

  He lowered his face, anticipation coiling inside her. “But we didn’t get a chance to really finish our date. I forgot to do something.”

  She couldn’t fight her answering smile as his lips brushed hers. The stubble of his unshaven face was pleasantly scratchy on her skin. The kiss built rapidly, turning from sweet to white hot. She only pushed him back when she remembered her apartment was less than empty.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He pulled away and glanced inside.

  She knew the moment he saw Michael. His jaw tensed, the muscles working as he clenched his teeth. His intake of breath caused a knot of worry in her chest.

  “Michael.” He nodded his head at the man sitting on her couch, barefoot and hair still dripping from the shower.

  He turned to face her, his face a stoic mask. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be interrupting you.” He gestured to Michael. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

  “Donovan, stop. That’s not . . .”

  He thrust the flowers at her. “If you wanted a one-night-stand that badly, I’d have helped you out. Looks like living with Lena rubbed off on you. I’ll be sure to give the other guys at the station your number.”

  Before she could chase after him, he stormed down the stairs.

  Michael sighed softly. “Well, shit. Sorry.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed, heading out after Donovan.

  What the fuck was Michael doing in Valerie’s house, with dripping wet hair, looking freshly screwed? Donovan raked his hands through his hair. He was seething, out of control with jealousy. The idea of her in bed with anyone but him had him seeing red. He already had Blake Monroe, with his smarmy face and stupid doctor coat, to deal with. The man was waiting for his chance, waiting for him to drop the ball, so he could scoop it up and take the prize. His heart pounded in his chest as he paced the parking lot unwilling to drive away.

  “Are you serious?” He watched her storm out the door of her apartment building, shoeless and fuming. Her tiny frame and angry expression were surprisingly terrifying.

  “I don’t know, you tell me? What was Michael Oliver doing dripping wet, sitting in your living room at ten in the morning?”

  She got as close to in-his-face as possible, standing on her tiptoes. “I have a roommate, you idiot. Did you think of that?”

  A smile spread across his lips and elation filled him. Lena. Slutty, fantastic Lena.

  “Yeah, Lena, hotshot. Are the wheels turning now?”

  “Michael went home with her finally? I didn’t think he’d ever give in.”

  “Well, he did. And you just made a complete ass of yourself in front of him and any of my neighbors who happened to be home.”

  He didn’t care what anyone thought, just as long as she was his. “I’m sorry. I just saw him in your house and couldn’t take it.” He chewed on his lip as he searched for the right words. “The idea of you with anyone but me . . . I couldn’t deal.”

  The anger in her eyes faded to a soft smolder. “I’m not a slut.”

  “I never said you were.”

  She pursed her lips. “You kind of did.”

  “I was jealous.”

  “I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it just a little bit.” This time, when she popped up on her toes, he didn’t give her a chance to move away. His lips crashed down on hers, forceful, claiming.

  “I don’t want you to want anyone but me,” he whispered against the softness of her mouth.

  She smiled under his kiss. “I don’t.”

  “Come home with me?”

  She nodded and pressed her lips against his firmly. Lust coiled deep inside him as he dug in his pockets for the keys to his jeep. One arm around her tiny frame and the other fumbling to open the door, he bit out a soft curse as the keys dropped to the ground.

  “Hop in, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t have any shoes.”

  “You won’t need them.”

  Chapter 10

  The drive was all of ten minutes.

  Ten . . . excruciatingly slow . . . minutes.

  Valerie needed Donovan. She need
ed to be surrounded by him; his taste, his scent, the feel of his skin on hers. At every stoplight, she let out a slight annoyed breath.

  His hand never left her leg.

  His thumb traced small circles on the outside of her knee.

  His fingers played up and down her thigh, driving her wild.

  “Once we do this, sweetheart, it’s just you and me. No one else.” His voice was rough as he parked in front of his building.

  “No one else.”

  They walked hand in hand.

  Ten steps to the elevator.

  Not speaking.

  Both staring straight ahead.

  As the doors closed, flashes of the last time they were in this enclosure together ran through her mind. Heat crept up her body, causing her to squirm ever so slightly.

  “I’m trying like hell to control myself, sweetheart. You keep squirming like that and I’ll have you up against this elevator in less than a second.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat and she swallowed. He released her hand and stepped away from her, leaning casually against the elevator wall. As she turned her eyes to him, the sexual energy crackled between them and she prayed the doors would open soon. She watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips and couldn’t help but squirm against the wave of lust that hit her.

  “I warned you,” he said as he crossed the distance to her.

  His hands captured her face and he crushed his lips to hers as the doors to the stupid elevator finally opened.

  “Oh,” came a soft cry from the elderly woman who stood in the hall.

  Donovan and Valerie split apart. A wave of humiliation coursed through her for her obvious wantonness.