rather I pimp myself out and get a wife so Maddie can have a mother?” Keith snarled, towering over Francesca.
“No. I’d rather you make a conscious effort to stop drowning in self-pity and make something of yourself.”
“This is bullshit. I don’t have to listen to this. I’ve got money too, Aunt Francesca…more money than I know what to do with. You think I won’t hire an entire firm of lawyers to fight you?”
Francesca tilted her head up at an angry Keith, standing rigid as a board. “Son, what I think is that you won’t drag Maddie through the court system if you really love her like you claim you do.”
Keith went perfectly still and then his shoulders slumped as he exhaled a ragged breath. At that moment, her nephew looked much older than his thirty-three years.
The pain of the last six years showed in his weary eyes. “Getting married is not going to make a happy home for Maddie. I’ve tried marriage once…it was a disaster and you know it.”
“No. It ended tragically and you stopped caring. It’s time to change all that…for your daughter.”
***
Fascinated, Bertie sat on the edge of her seat during the heated exchange between Keith and Aunt Franny. It felt like being in the middle of the live taping of a soap opera. She should leave the room and allow Aunt Franny some privacy with Keith, but she couldn’t make her legs move. Too many thoughts swirled around in her head. One hundred and fifty thousand of them. One hundred and fifty thousand big ones to stay in town…for three months. She could do that. Three months of designing the old Victorian and bringing it back to life. Twelve weeks of working for Keith Morgan. Mr. Perfect Kiss with a chip on his shoulder the size of a tractor-trailer. Oh gawd.
A groan slipped past Bertie’s lips. Keith turned as if he had noticed her for the first time. He approached in slow motion, like all his joints hurt to move, and slumped down onto the settee next to her. Bertie didn’t dare look his way, but she could feel his hot gaze burning a laser-like hole in the side of her head.
“Bertie, what do you say?”
“Excuse me?” Francesca had asked a question, but Bertie had been distracted by Keith sitting so close that she could smell his enticing, musky scent.
“Will you stay and fix the old Victorian for the next three months?”
“Uh, well, I can certainly start the project, and then Gary can implement—”
Francesca shook her head and waved the file folder in the air. “No. That’s not the deal. No farming it out to Gary and no phoning it in. This offer is only valid if you stay in town and complete the job in three months. You’ll have to put off moving to Atlanta. Will you do it?”
“Uh…” Bertie pictured her packed bags stuffed in the back of her car, pulling out of her driveway, waving good-bye to Cal and Gary. Then she pictured sitting in bumper-to-bumper morning traffic on Interstate 285, trying to get to work in downtown Atlanta. “Can I have some time to think about it?”
Francesca gave a curt nod. “I’ll need an answer tomorrow by two, before I meet with my attorneys.” Francesca raised an elegant eyebrow. “Keith?”
Dread seized Bertie’s lungs as she held her breath, expecting another explosion from Mr. Angry as he stiffened next to her. Keith’s deep voice filled the tense silence, sounding really close to her left ear.
“So, it’s come down to this. I find a wife or you’ll file for custody of Maddie.”
Francesca smoothed the hem of her gray skirt. “Yes. You need to make a concerted effort. It shouldn’t be that hard. You’re famous, good-looking, and you have more money than you know what to do with. ” She slipped her reading glasses off, folding them on top of her file. “I have all the faith in the world you can do this.”
“And I suppose my true love is somewhere hidden in this Leave It to Beaver town,” Keith drawled.
A slight fissure of alarm crept its way up Bertie’s spine at his
“No. I’d rather you make a conscious effort to stop drowning in self-pity and make something of yourself.”
“This is bullshit. I don’t have to listen to this. I’ve got money too, Aunt Francesca…more money than I know what to do with. You think I won’t hire an entire firm of lawyers to fight you?”
Francesca tilted her head up at an angry Keith, standing rigid as a board. “Son, what I think is that you won’t drag Maddie through the court system if you really love her like you claim you do.”
Keith went perfectly still and then his shoulders slumped as he exhaled a ragged breath. At that moment, her nephew looked much older than his thirty-three years.
The pain of the last six years showed in his weary eyes. “Getting married is not going to make a happy home for Maddie. I’ve tried marriage once…it was a disaster and you know it.”
“No. It ended tragically and you stopped caring. It’s time to change all that…for your daughter.”
***
Fascinated, Bertie sat on the edge of her seat during the heated exchange between Keith and Aunt Franny. It felt like being in the middle of the live taping of a soap opera. She should leave the room and allow Aunt Franny some privacy with Keith, but she couldn’t make her legs move. Too many thoughts swirled around in her head. One hundred and fifty thousand of them. One hundred and fifty thousand big ones to stay in town…for three months. She could do that. Three months of designing the old Victorian and bringing it back to life. Twelve weeks of working for Keith Morgan. Mr. Perfect Kiss with a chip on his shoulder the size of a tractor-trailer. Oh gawd.
A groan slipped past Bertie’s lips. Keith turned as if he had noticed her for the first time. He approached in slow motion, like all his joints hurt to move, and slumped down onto the settee next to her. Bertie didn’t dare look his way, but she could feel his hot gaze burning a laser-like hole in the side of her head.
“Bertie, what do you say?”
“Excuse me?” Francesca had asked a question, but Bertie had been distracted by Keith sitting so close that she could smell his enticing, musky scent.
“Will you stay and fix the old Victorian for the next three months?”
“Uh, well, I can certainly start the project, and then Gary can implement—”
Francesca shook her head and waved the file folder in the air. “No. That’s not the deal. No farming it out to Gary and no phoning it in. This offer is only valid if you stay in town and complete the job in three months. You’ll have to put off moving to Atlanta. Will you do it?”
“Uh…” Bertie pictured her packed bags stuffed in the back of her car, pulling out of her driveway, waving good-bye to Cal and Gary. Then she pictured sitting in bumper-to-bumper morning traffic on Interstate 285, trying to get to work in downtown Atlanta. “Can I have some time to think about it?”
Francesca gave a curt nod. “I’ll need an answer tomorrow by two, before I meet with my attorneys.” Francesca raised an elegant eyebrow. “Keith?”
Dread seized Bertie’s lungs as she held her breath, expecting another explosion from Mr. Angry as he stiffened next to her. Keith’s deep voice filled the tense silence, sounding really close to her left ear.
“So, it’s come down to this. I find a wife or you’ll file for custody of Maddie.”
Francesca smoothed the hem of her gray skirt. “Yes. You need to make a concerted effort. It shouldn’t be that hard. You’re famous, good-looking, and you have more money than you know what to do with. ” She slipped her reading glasses off, folding them on top of her file. “I have all the faith in the world you can do this.”
“And I suppose my true love is somewhere hidden in this Leave It to Beaver town,” Keith drawled.
A slight fissure of alarm crept its way up Bertie’s spine at his
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