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Two
“Phew! Who was that?” Erica said as she glanced back toward Distressed Success’s front door, where she had just entered and Ryan had just departed. “Looked like Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous.”
“Mr. Tall, Dark and Irritating is more like it,” Kelly responded, wrinkling her nose. She was still steaming over Ryan’s attitude.
Kelly had hired Erica, a cute blonde and married mother of two, to help her out in the shop part-time, and her assistant was just showing up for the day.
As Erica continued toward her, she looked down at the bills scattered on the counter. “Well, it seems as if he liked what he saw.”
“Yes,” she agreed acerbically, “until he realized whom he was seeing. That was Ryan Sperling.”
Erica’s eyes widened.
“Yep,” she said in confirmation, “Webb Sperling’s son.”
She glanced down at the counter. Ryan had left double what the candlestick holders had cost.
Damn Ryan Sperling, she thought. He made her feel unclean accepting his money, just as she felt unclean doing business with Webb Sperling.
“It’s too bad he turned out to be someone you’d never want to get involved with,” Erica responded. “He’s the hottest guy to walk in here in months.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Liar, liar.
“What’s he doing in Tahoe?” asked Erica, picking up the scattered bills.
She shrugged. “Taking a vacation, I assume. And with any luck, I won’t be running into him again.”
She filled Erica in on the encounter with Ryan.
Since being hired to work at Distressed Success three years ago, Erica had become her close friend. Though Kelly was cautious about what she told people regarding her past, she’d confided in Erica about her childhood in Clayburn and her mother’s affair with Webb Sperling. More recently, Erica was aware of her negotiations with Sperling, Inc. and how they’d come about.
“From what you’ve told me,” Erica said finally, “he wasn’t too happy about your doing business with Webb Sperling.”
“Well, there’s nothing he can do about it.”
Yet, despite how adamant she sounded, she found herself shaking off a feeling of unease.
“Still, maybe it’s best if you got this contract with Webb finalized, sooner rather than later,” Erica observed.
I couldn’t agree more, Kelly thought.
“I’m going to get back to opening those boxes of merchandise that arrived yesterday,” Erica announced.
“Thanks.”
After Erica had headed back to the stockroom, Kelly found herself left alone with thoughts that she couldn’t push away.
The encounter with Ryan Sperling had shaken her up more than she cared to admit to Erica. Ryan exuded power, even a little ruthlessness, and he made her nervous on every level.
By Ryan’s own admission, however, he and his father were estranged, so there was little he could do to meddle in her negotiations with Sperling, Inc. Or was there?
She knew from press reports that Ryan had made a fortune gobbling up cable companies. She’d also read he’d inherited from his paternal grandfather a small minority of shares in the family business, but other than that, he had nothing to do with the Sperling retail chain.
On the other hand, Ryan seemed as if he’d be all too eager to upend his father’s best-laid plans, particularly when they had anything to do with his former mistress.
Somehow, Ryan had known about her attempt to get her goods into Sperling stores and he’d seemed none too pleased at the prospect.
Kelly shook her head. Of course, she wouldn’t be in this predicament if she hadn’t said more than she wanted to her mother.
She still rued the day she’d confided in Brenda that she hoped to find a national retailer to carry designs under the Distressed Success name.
The last time her mother had breezed through Tahoe, Brenda had been short on cash again and looking for “a small loan,” and, as usual, Kelly had offered up some money, knowing she’d never be repaid.
Brenda had taken the opportunity to look around Distressed Success and comment on the latest inventory.
“These jewelry boxes are gorgeous, tootsie,” Brenda had said, holding an embroidered silk and stone-encrusted case.
“Thanks,” she’d said, walking over. “I hired a manufacturer to produce samples from some designs I sketched. I’m selling some of the samples in the store, but I’m hoping to find an outside vendor for them, too.”
She hoped if the samples sold well in Distressed Success, she’d have an easier time getting a big chain to carry them. Her dream wasn’t to carry other designers’ goods in her boutique, but to build up Distressed Success into a national, even international, brand using her own designs.
Brenda perked up. “A vendor?”
Her mother turned the jewelry box around in her hands, inspecting it. Her nails were long, manicured and fire-engine red, a color that matched her lips.
Not for the first time, Kelly wished her mother would tone it down. Brenda’s makeup was perfect for television or for the Las Vegas showgirl she’d once been, but in the harsh light of day, it just looked garish.
Then again, Kelly reflected, since her mother’s life often resembled a soap opera, the makeup wasn’t completely inappropriate. Brenda continued to live in the fast lane, her devil-may-care attitude still going strong in her fifties.
Kelly sighed. As a teenager, she’d been embarrassed by her mother’s loose living. Her mother had drunk, smoked and partied hard. And now it appeared some things were destined never to change.
“I’m looking to partner with a national chain,” she said in response to her mother’s inquiring look, “but there’s a lot of competition for shelf space, especially in the more prestigious retailers.”
She could only fantasize about getting her designs in Neiman Marcus or—
“What about Sperling?” Brenda said, her eyes sharpening.
For a moment, Kelly thought she’d spoken out loud, but then she realized Brenda was giving voice to what she herself had been thinking.
“I could contact Webb and—”
“No,” she said emphatically. It would be a bad idea for either of them to let Webb Sperling back into their lives.
“It’s settled,” Brenda said animatedly, putting down the jewelry box. “I’ll just give Webb a call and—“
“No.”
But Brenda was already caught up in another one of her schemes. “Of course, he’s still married to that cheap slut Roxanne—” Brenda’s mouth curved in a hard smile “—but Webb and I keep in touch.”
Kelly resisted rolling her eyes. As far as Kelly knew, Brenda and Webb hadn’t been lovers in years. But one could never tell with those two, particularly since Webb was a known adulterer and Brenda had never looked a gift horse in the mouth.
Kelly mentally winced at the thought of her mother approaching Webb for a favor, then winced again as another, more ominous thought occurred and she wondered whether Brenda had already been approaching Webb from time to time over the years for “a small loan.”
In the end, she’d convinced Brenda to back off the idea of contacting Webb Sperling—or rather, she thought she had.
Two weeks later, however, the phone call had come. Webb’s tone had been too hearty, his attitude a tad oily.
She hadn’t had the willpower to resist what was being dangled in front of her, particularly since all her dreams for Distressed Success were bound up in it.
Now, though, she’d unexpectedly come face-to-face with the avenging angel—someone who despised Webb Sperling and everything associated with him. His son.
Still, Ryan’s attitude riled her. He had some nerve to judge her.
When they’d both been teenagers in Clayburn, he’d been the scion of the richest family in town and she’d been the daughter of the local sexpot and living in a run-down house in the cheapest part of town. Sure, her mother had had an affair with Ryan’s father, but only because the senior Sperling liked his women brassy and trashy.
Her world and Ryan’s couldn’t have been more different—growing up, the only times she’d see him was when she’d occasionally spot him around town. He’d attended exclusive private schools, while she’d been a student at the local high school.
And though he’d had a reputation for hell-raising, his rebelliousness hadn’t prevented him from getting into Harvard. She, in contrast, had worked her way through two years of community college to earn a degree in small-business administration and management.
The same will to succeed, however, now made her pick up the phone sitting on the counter. She needed to put her mind at rest, or try to.
When Webb’s secretary picked up, she said, “I’d like to speak with Mr. Sperling, please.”
“Who shall I say is calling?”
“Tell him it’s Kelly Hartley of Distressed Success.”
“Please hold while I see if he’s available,” the secretary intoned.
After she’d endured an anxious wait of several minutes, Webb came on the line.
She’d been afraid he wouldn’t be in since it was already Friday afternoon and her recollection from her days in Clayburn was that Webb liked his golf game.
“Kelly, what can I do for you, sugar?” Webb said heartily.
She hated being called sugar, but it appeared to be Webb’s favorite endearment.
“Thank you for taking my call,” she began.
“There’s no need to be so formal, sugar. After all, we’re old friends, aren’t we? Next time, you just tell my secretary that it’s Kelly calling.”
Ignoring the invitation, she went on, “I thought I’d check to see where matters stood as far as putting through orders for Distressed Success’s designs.”
Webb sighed. “You have to be patient, sugar. I’ve passed along your information to the right people.”
“Yes, but—”
“You could say we have a sort of committee system around here for bringing in a new vendor,” Webb said jocularly. “Lots of hoops to jump through.”
She’d heard the speech before, but it had already been weeks since she’d heard from any of his people. “I know, but it’s been a while since—“
“Listen, sugar, there’s a meeting I need to get to. Say hello to your mama for me, you hear?”
Webb ended the call before she could argue any further.
Kelly bet his meeting was an appointment on the golf course.
“What’s wrong?” Erica asked, walking back into the room.
“I called Webb Sperling to check on things, and got nowhere,” she replied. “He told me to be patient, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Still thinking about your run-in with Ryan Sperling?”
“Among other things.”
Erica shook her head. “Don’t let a man shake you up. Trust me, it isn’t worth it—” she stopped and grinned “—particularly when you aren’t even sleeping with him.”
An image of her and Ryan making love flashed through Kelly’s mind, sending a shiver of awareness shooting through her.
Appalled, she tried to banish the image.
She was sick, sick, to even be thinking of Ryan that way after he’d basically accused her of being a skank and made it clear what he thought of her business.
The guy was obviously a jerk with tons of baggage—baggage she didn’t need. She already had enough luggage herself to ground a 747.
Erica waved a hand in front of her face. “Earth to Kelly. Come in, Kelly.”
“Sorry,” she responded, focusing on Erica again.
“Was it something I said?” Erica joked. “You know—” Erica looked at her shrewdly “—Ryan may be a jerk, but there’s no denying he’s a wealthy, good-looking jerk.”
“Really?” she asked, injecting her voice with a healthy note of skepticism.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Hey, you’re a married mother of two.”
“And not dead.”
“What would Greg say?” she pressed.
Greg, Erica’s husband, was a hulking firefighter.
“Actually,” Kelly added, her tone turning thoughtful, “the image of Greg pounding Ryan to a pulp holds some appeal.” Until now she hadn’t known she possessed a bloodthirsty streak.
“I think it would be an even fight,” Erica responded. “Ryan Sperling looked like no pushover.”
And that’s what she was afraid of, she thought, pushing aside her unease once again.
She forced herself to switch gears. “Good news. How could I have forgotten to mention it when you walked in? I’ve been officially hired for the decorating job at the lodge.”
Erica clapped her hands. “Fantastic!”
Kelly nodded. “I met with Meri again yesterday, briefly toured the rooms of the house that need decorating and signed a contract.”
She and Erica had been discussing the lodge ever since the caretaker for the mysterious home—a woman named Meri—had walked into Distressed Success, taken a look around and talked to them about decorating some empty bedrooms.
Meri, a good-looking woman with an incisive mind, had been short on details about the lodge. It wasn’t until Kelly had met with her on Erica’s day off yesterday that she’d gotten any real particulars about the house—luxurious even by Tahoe standards—about which speculation had been rife among the locals during the nearly twelve months it had taken to build it.
“For some reason the lodge is now being transformed into a restorative place for cancer patients and survivors,” she said to Erica.
Erica raised her eyebrows. “The plot thickens.”
“Officially,” she went on, “Distressed Success has been hired by the Hunter Palmer Foundation, which got the original building permits. The home has never been fully furnished, and now that it’s going to be a restorative place, they need to complete the decor ASAP.”
Erica cocked her head. “Why aren’t they going with the original decorator?”
“The original firm is too busy right now to take on any more business.” And happily, she’d turned out to be the beneficiary of the scheduling difficulty. “Meri wants this project completed in the next few weeks in order to cause as little inconvenience as possible to any future occupants.”
Erica’s brow furrowed. “Lots of work for you.”
Kelly gave her a game smile. “No sacrifice is too great where Distressed Success is involved.”
“You’ve got to lighten up,” Erica grumbled.
“I will. After I put the success in Distressed Success. I want the Distressed Success name in every bathroom, every bedroom, every living room—“
Erica rolled her eyes. “Good grief. I’m working for a megalomaniac.”
Kelly stopped and grinned. She’d almost forgotten how badly her day had started. Almost. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
“So when do you start?”
“I’m visiting the lodge on Sunday, since the shop is closed then. Meri gave me the key to the front door yesterday. She shuttles back and forth to Los Angeles, and she wanted to make sure I’d have easy access. The house will have an occupant for the coming month, but he’s been told about the decorating project.”
Meri had been tight-lipped about who had been using the lodge, but rumor among the locals was that a man had stayed there in March, another in April and a third in May. Kelly assumed they’d been vacationers who’d paid to rent the place, and that the man due to check in this weekend was there for a similar stay.
“Do you need me to come along?” Erica asked.
Kelly shook her head. “Sunday is your time with the kids. Meri hired Distressed Success because we’re local and this project needs to be done fast. Now that I’ve seen the lodge, I think I know what she’s looking for.”
Sunday couldn’t come too soon for her. She was relishing diving into a new project. Just let Ryan Sperling try to stomp on her dreams!
Sunday morning, Kelly got up early and drove over to the lodge.
Although decorating the house would eat into her leisure time, she was eager to have another venue to showcase her designs. She had no illusions about how competitive the home-decor market was and she’d already spent years improving her designs.
As she got out of her car, she looked up at the famed log-and-stone house. At 9000 square feet, with a soaring sloped roof suspended on thick log columns, the home would surely satisfy any millionaire’s luxury tastes. Multistoried, with covered decks on the main level, the house sloped down to the water on one side and had a spectacular view of Lake Tahoe.
Her feet crunched on the ground in front of her as she crossed to the house and traversed the porte cochere to the front entrance.
It didn’t look as if anyone was at home, but she rang the doorbell a few times anyway. She waited a moment and, when she received no response, she let herself in with the key Meri had given her.
Stepping into the great room, she caught her breath, impressed all over again. A massive fireplace dominated one wall and large armchairs stood before it. An immense metal chandelier was suspended from the vaulted ceiling, which was braced with wood beams. Windows and French doors afforded a wonderful view of the lake, which glittered under the gaze of the morning sun, the sunlight catching and sparkling like so many diamonds scattered across the waves.
She turned around and looked back at the grand staircase that led to the upper level, where Meri had told her the master suite and guest bedrooms were located. Only two of these rooms had been furnished so far.
Hearing a click, she whirled around, realizing she was no longer alone.
“What the hell—”
Ryan Sperling, naked except for a gray towel riding low on his hips, stood silhouetted by the French doors leading to the deck outside. Droplets of water clung to his torso. Ryan’s expression was thunderous, and Kelly sucked in a breath.
She drank in the sight of his smooth, muscled chest, flat stomach and hair-roughened legs, which ended at feet planted firmly on the plush carpeting.
She knew from her first tour with Meri that there was a hot tub on the deck. He must have been soaking in it.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I—” Shock rendered her momentarily speechless.
“If this is some desperate attempt to try to persuade me that Sperling department stores should be doing business with you,” Ryan sneered, “forget it.”
She couldn’t believe his ego. He’d already informed her that he didn’t have anything to do with Webb these days. Did he really think she’d seek him out as a supplicant for any leverage he could provide as far as getting her products into Sperling department stores? Apparently so.
Ryan’s expression darkened even more. “If this is some sort of entrapment scheme, I’ve got some of the best lawyers in the country on retainer.”
Her temper rose. “Not to worry. Entrapping you is the last thing on my mind.”
He scowled. “How did you track me down?”
“Easy,” she retorted, “I just followed the trail of fawning women.”
He smiled mirthlessly. “I’ve got news for you. Women don’t faint for me, they just press their phone numbers into my hand. But this is the first time one’s gotten into my house unannounced.”
“You’ll have a hard time tossing me out,” she said, letting a note of satisfaction creep into her voice.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m the newly hired decorator.”
Three
Ryan figured if he kept talking, he wouldn’t get turned on.
Little Miss Sweet and Tart was the last woman he’d expected to discover inside the house, even if he’d had one heck of an erotic dream about her last night. In fact, for a second, when he’d first seen her, he figured he must still be dreaming.
He’d been ticked off this morning when he’d realized whom he’d been fantasizing about and that, combined with his current effort to hold those memories at bay, made him brusque.
“Meri said a decorator would be coming by,” he said icily, “but she also said whoever it was would ring the doorbell if she did.”
“I did ring the doorbell,” Kelly said defensively, “but I got no response.”
“I was in the hot tub,” he snarled, “and I didn’t hear you. Then when I did, it took me a minute to get inside to answer the door.”
“Clearly.”
Great, Ryan thought. It was the first time he’d had a chance to relax in a hot tub since he didn’t know when, and now he had to deal with her.
It didn’t help she was wearing some ridiculous getup that nevertheless managed to be provocative. She had on a white crewneck T-shirt, a long, highwaisted black skirt and black suspenders. The outfit was finished off with midcalf-length black leggings and black pumps.
Her generous breasts were framed by the high waist of the skirt and by the black suspenders. Damn.
“I rang three times,” she said.
“I heard only two.”
Her chin came up. “Are you suggesting I’m a liar?”
He smiled mirthlessly. “The apple usually doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Same thing goes.” She craned her neck. “Anyone out there with you?”
He frowned. “No.”
She stopped trying to see outside and gave him a cool look. “Well, I’m surprised.”
She went beyond irritating, he decided. And what’s more, if she was the decorator, then she’d be hanging around the entire time he was here. The realization came as a blow.
“I didn’t see a car,” she said.
“It’s in the garage.”
“Oh.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “How long is this damn decorating job supposed to last?”
Her lips tightened. “For several weeks, at least. And please try not to refer to it as ‘this damn’ anything. Some of us have to work or starve.”
“Or depend on the generosity of our friends,” he sneered.
He figured Brenda Hartley’s daughter could spot a sugar daddy as well as, if not better than, her mother. The two certainly looked alike. The pair shared the same voluptuous figure and dark-red hair—and the same siren voice calling men to their doom.
“Let’s keep family out of this,” she snapped.
“Can’t,” he responded. “You’re trying to shake some more fruit from that tree.”
“It’s a business deal!”
“Nothing for Webb Sperling is merely business when an attractive woman is involved.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you suggesting I’m putting out?”
He raised his eyebrows and she sucked in an outraged breath.
“I don’t put out for anyone,” she bit out. “Besides, if the newspapers are to be believed, you’re just one of many family members who owns a minority interest in Sperling, Inc., so there’s not much you can do about my contract with Sperling stores.”
“It’s not a contract yet, sugar.”
Despite her bravado, he sensed her worry he might be able to do something to cause her deal with Webb Sperling to fall through. The hardened business executive in him knew better than to tip his hand, however.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do. Let’s just agree to stay out of each other’s way. Next time, I’ll ring the doorbell until someone responds or call in advance or whatever.”
“Nice to hear, but there won’t be a next time.” He picked up the cordless phone sitting nearby. “I’m calling the caretaker and getting this project postponed or, better yet, cancelled.”
The longer he stood in front of her nearly naked, the harder it was to keep thoughts of sex at bay, which fueled his ire, both at her and at himself.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, hurrying forward.
She stopped an arm’s length away, visibly fuming as he dialed the cell number Meri had given him.
When Meri picked up after a couple of rings, Ryan spelled out the problem, his eyes on Kelly.
“But I don’t understand,” Meri said. “I explained the decorating project to you previously by phone, and you had no problem with it.”
“That was before I knew who you’d hired. Ms. Hartley and I have—” how the hell was he supposed to describe it? “—a history. Or rather, we don’t, but a couple of family members do.”
He had no idea why he was protecting the old man by not bringing his name directly into it. The bastard deserved to have his dirty laundry aired.