In the four and a half years that Tess York had been with No Ring Required, she’d called in sick three times. The first time was in the winter of 2004, when she’d had the flu so badly, she’d passed out on the way to her car. The second time was last summer when she’d had her wisdom teeth out, and the third time was today when she’d woken up with a nasty little hangover.
She wasn’t a big drinker. Actually she wasn’t even a little drinker, but last night, after seeing Damien and having the past hurled back in her face, she’d enjoyed a few glasses of champagne too many.
Garbed in ratty old sweats and stretched out on the couch with her cat, Hepburn, Tess stared at the TV. Trying to ignore her pounding head, she watched Montel Williams take a seat beside his favorite psychic guest, who was telling one audience member after another that what they probably had in their house was a ghost who had unfinished business.
“Maybe you can give us some advice on how to get rid of those ghosts,” Tess muttered at the screen.
So far, she’d only taken steps to avoid hers. Mary was already on her honeymoon, so Olivia was going to be the only one in to work today. The one appointment Tess did have wasn’t on the books, and she was more than willing to skip it.
As the psychic rambled on about heaven and the light, Tess let her eyes close and her mind shut off for a while. She must’ve drifted off because when she woke up, there was a soap opera on the television and someone knocking on her apartment door. Her head still pounding, she padded over to the door and looked out the peephole.
When she saw who it was, she swore silently, turned around and sagged against the door.
Damien.
“Tess?”
Accompanying her headache, her stomach twisted sickly at the sound of his voice.
“Tess, I know you’re there.”
“What do you want, Damien?” she yelled into the door.
“You know exactly what I want. I was pretty damn clear last night. Now open the door.”
“I’m sick.”
“Yes, Olivia was kind enough to tell me that. After I’d driven all the way over there.”
Tess sighed. This was not how she did things—hiding behind doors so she wouldn’t have to deal with uncomfortable meetings and threats from an old boyfriend. That was the way the married Tess had handled herself, the Tess who’d had a reason to feel nervous and afraid. But that part of her life was over.
She flipped the lock and opened the door wide.
Damien stood there, filling up her doorway. Freshly shaven and showered and dressed in a navy blue suit so fine it probably came straight from the Gucci runway show in Milan.
Knowing she looked like her cat’s chew toy after a gnarly play session, she lifted her chin and said in her most superior tone, “I never agreed to see you, Damien.”
A slow, cool smile curved his lips as he looked her over. “Well, there she is.”
“There who is?”
“The firecracker I used to know. The woman worthy of that mass of red hair.” He leaned against the doorjamb. “After last night and hearing all that stuttering and fear of what your partners might find out, I thought she was gone. I wondered what or who had taken that fire out of her.”
Well, he could keep on wondering, she thought dryly. There was no way he was ever going to know anything about her life with Henry, about the scars that remained.
He narrowed his eyes, studied her. “You look…”
“Sick?” she offered.
“Did you drink last night?”
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Champagne gives you intense headaches, remember?”
“No,” she lied.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you going to let me in?”
“I think you can say whatever cryptic thing you need to say from here.”
“Fine, but I did bring you matzo ball soup…well, actually Robert picked it up.” He held up a white deli bag. “And you look like you could use it. But you can’t eat it standing in the entryway.”
“Who’s Robert?”
“My driver?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s a point at which someone has too much money.”
“Not really.”
He tried to walk past her, but she stopped him. “Soup first.”
He handed her the bag, and she let him pass. After a quick look around her living room, he sat on the couch. She picked up the remote and switched off the television, then dropped into the leather armchair a few feet away.
His brow lifted. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Fear is a useless emotion,” she began. But then she shrugged. Instead of inspirational quotes, maybe honesty…or some form of hybrid might be a better tack to take with this man. “After what you said last night, or didn’t say, I think feeling apprehensive isn’t a bizarre response.”
His gaze grew serious, his mouth hard. “No.”
She placed the deli bag on the coffee table, then looked up at him. “Enough bantering back and forth. You and I both know this isn’t a social call, so let’s get to it.”
He sat back and regarded her. “Do you remember the red house in Tribute?”
A rush of memories flooded into her mind along with a deep burn of sadness. It had been their spot, a starter home, in a tiny town, that Damien had bought for a song as his first investment property. In the high days of their romance, they had walked the main drag of that town, sharing their plans for the future, then later they’d shared a bed.
She met his gaze and nodded. “I remember.”
“I want to renovate it.”
This surprised her. “You never did?”
“No.”
“Okay. So, what does this have to do with me?”
“You made a promise to me in that house, one week before you left.”
Tess’s heart plummeted into her stomach, and she searched her memory.
“You promised to help me renovate. You wanted to make it a home, if I recall correctly.” His voice dropped, soured. “I expect you to keep that promise.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I am.”
And then it all came back in a rush. It had happened a week before she left, just like he’d said. One week before Henry had asked her to be his wife. One week before she’d forced herself to realize that with a man like Damien she’d never have the kind of life she’d planned for herself. The kind of stable, family-friendly life she’d promised herself when she was seventeen, after her parents’ deaths. She stared at him and shook her head. “But why? Why do you care now—”
“It’s a chapter I need to finish,” he said, his tone cool. He stood, then reached inside his coat and pulled out an envelope. “Here are the keys, the address—in case you’ve forgotten—and a formidable amount of cash.”
“What—”
“I need you to start right away.”
He was crazy. She stood. “Damien, I have no intention of—”
“I need the job done in two weeks.”
She didn’t even try to suppress a bitter laugh. “Impossible.”
“I leave in two weeks, back to California. I want to make sure everything is done. And I want a full remodel, not just a coat of paint and new towels for the bathroom.”
She put up a hand. “Stop right now. This is not going to happen. Two weeks is Christmas.”
He shrugged. “You can do your shopping up in Tribute.”
“Not funny, Damien. I have a business to run—”
“Yes, and if it will make you feel better, tell your partners that I hired you.” His gaze moved over her hungrily. “My wife for hire for two weeks, fixing up my home.”
Awareness moved through her, but she shook it off. She walked to the apartment door and opened it. “I’m not going to play this game with you anymore.”
He didn’t move. “Good, because I don’t play games. You will go to Tribute and you will fix up the house.”
“Or what?”
“Or that business of yours will have to find a new location, which will take a lot of time and money that a new business can’t really afford.”
“Are you actually threatening me?” The words ground out from between her teeth. “Because I don’t take kindly to threats.”
“I’m telling you to think about your future,” he said, his tone dark with warning. “And the future of your partners.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
He walked to her, faced her. “I know the owner of your building and I think I could convince him to not renew your lease in January.”
Her heart took a nosedive. “How do you know our lease is up in January?” She was shaking now, her breathing uneven. “Do you have this jerk owner in your pocket?”
“I don’t have to. I’m the jerk.”
Tess held her breath, and silence filled the space. She was trying to process what he had said and, more important, what it meant.
“I own your building, Tess.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“My company owns your building,” he said evenly. “Three years now.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I have a business, too.”
“What is this business of yours? Revenge? Hurt feelings because I chose another man over you?”
He seemed to grow a foot taller before her eyes, and his gaze became dark and menacing.
She looked directly at him. “You need to grow up, Damien.”
His lips formed a sneer. “I’ll expect you at the house tomorrow afternoon. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Who are you?” she called after him as he walked down the hall. “The man I used to know would never do something like—”
“The boy you used to know was a fool,” he said over his shoulder as he walked into the elevator. “Enjoy the soup.”
Tess shut the door with a little too much force. That bastard. Never. No way. He could take his threats and shove them where the sun don’t shine. She spotted the deli bag on the coffee table and snatched it up, stalked into the kitchen. But as she dumped the soup into the sink, her rational mind started to rear its unwanted head. If he did own her building—a fact she would check immediately—he could follow through on his threat and kick them all out on their backsides.
Did he really hate her that much…?
Tess leaned on the counter and released a breath. Her headache from earlier was gone, but it looked like she was about to get another…one that would last about two weeks.
According to some major athletes and those perfect people who work out a lot, exercise is the best way of reaching a state of true introspection.
Well, Tess was counting on it.
“So, renovating a house? Like new paint and drywall? Or we talking air ducts and toilet flanges?”
It was 7:00 a.m. and Tess had met Olivia at the gym for a workout. Earlier that morning, say around 6:15, she’d sat in her office at NRR and gone over lease agreement after lease agreement, only to discover that Damien’s company did indeed own her building. It hadn’t taken her long to get it—there was nothing to do but face the fire. Damien was in need of some vengeance, and from the look on his face yesterday he wasn’t going to hesitate to kick them all out of the building if Tess didn’t comply with his demands.
So, at eleven o’clock, she was leaving for Tribute. She’d get in, do the job and get out.
“I’m not sure what I’ll find when I get there,” Tess said to Olivia, her breathing uneven as she picked up the pace when the treadmill inclined a notch. “Guess I’ll have to wait and see.”
Beside Tess, Olivia rode a stationary bike at a snail’s pace. “The client didn’t give you specifics?”
“He asked for a full remodel.”
“Who is the client, by the way? Do I know him?”
Tess hesitated. She wanted to tread lightly here. “He’s the man from Mary and Ethan’s wedding.”
Olivia’s brows shot up. “Mr. Tall, Dark and Dreamy? The one who came into NRR looking for you yesterday?”
“That’s the one.”
“Wow. He moves pretty fast.”
Tess bit her lip. She hated to lie to her partner, but there was no way she was going to explain the past and the present circumstances. Or what was at stake if she didn’t take this job. “We spoke this morning. He needs the job done ASAP. He needs to get back to California in a couple weeks.”
“He’s looking to sell the place?”
“I think so.”
“That’s a big job to take on right before Christmas. You sure you want to tackle it?”
“Yeah. Not a problem. I’ll probably do a good portion of the work myself, then hire a few subcontractors.”
“You’re gonna have to pay double because of the holiday.” Sweat-free and smiling, Olivia stepped off the bike and came to stand by the treadmill. “Speaking of which, what are you doing for Christmas?”
Ah…same thing she did every year. Join a few people in her building on Christmas Eve for some food and music, then just relax on Christmas Day. She shrugged. “Not sure.”
“I want you to spend the day with Mac and me.”
Tess grinned at her partner. It was a nice offer. “That’s sweet, Liv. But—”
“No buts.”
Tess stepped off the treadmill and grabbed her towel. “We’ll see.”
“And you know,” Olivia continued. “Mac has a friend…”
“That’s nice,” Tess said quickly. “Everyone needs friends.”
Cocking her head to the side, Olivia gave her a soft smile. “I want you find the right man.”
“I don’t want the right man, Liv.”
Olivia laughed. “How about the wrong one, then?”
Been there, done that. She tossed Olivia a tight smile. “I have to go home. Shower and change, take the cat to the vet, then get on the road.”
She nodded. “I’ll call you.”
“Okay.”
Tess owned a pretty great SUV. It was sleek and black, had four-wheel drive, leather seats, a killer sound system and an easily accessible cup holder for her coffee. It also had a panel that displayed the outside temperature.
Normally Tess glanced at this panel once during her regular drive time, but on this trip she’d checked the thing every few minutes. Mostly because she couldn’t believe how quickly the temperature dropped—five degrees every thirty minutes.
Northern Minnesota in winter was as close to the Arctic as most people ever got. Freezing temperatures arrived in October and stayed around until April, making everyone up there a bit nutty. Tess shook her head. And she was about to spend the next two weeks there. Good thing she’d packed her parka.
Just before two o’clock, she pulled off the freeway and drove the short distance to downtown Tribute, which was comprised of four wide, unclogged streets with a handful of mom-and-pop stores, a gas station and a diner. It hadn’t changed much in six years, and for a moment Tess recalled how she and Damien had shared a burger in the diner and a good deal of necking behind the gas station.
Tess slowed to a crawl as she drove down Yarr Lane, then pulled into the third driveway on the left. She killed the engine and stepped out of the car. The yard was three feet deep in snow, but other than that the little red cottage looked very much the same as it had. Which, incidentally wasn’t saying much.
To start with it needed a fresh coat of paint, a clean doorknob, coach lamp, knocker and new address numbers. And that was just on the outside.
As she walked to the door, she recalled thinking that Damien had bought this house for them, for a future together. But he had been quick to point out that he’d purchased the house as an investment property: the first of many—to be fixed up and sold for a profit. Hearing that had crushed her, made her realize that they’d wanted very different things from life.
She unlocked the house and stepped inside. It was completely bare, not one piece of furniture, and there was dust on every visible surface.
She did a quick walk through and found that the two small bedrooms were well maintained, just in need of a cleaning, new fixtures and a few coats of paint. The kitchen and bathroom, however, were, in a word, horrible. Outdated and showing years of wear. Both spaces needed new floors, countertops, some drywall patching, new appliances, fixtures and paint.
She stood in the living room and stared. The place needed a lot, a complete overhaul. First thing she had to do was go into town, get some cleaning supplies and the phone numbers of some skilled labor.
“So you’re the city girl Damien hired?”
Startled, Tess whirled around. Walking into the house was a woman in her late sixties, bundled up in a dark-blue down jacket and matching ski cap. She had smooth chocolate-brown skin, high cheekbones and cat-shaped violet eyes. She was short and a little plump, but even at her age she was startlingly beautiful.
Tess stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Tess York.”
“Wanda Bennett,” the woman said, shaking Tess’s hand with the firm grip of a lumberjack. “I’m the property manager here in Tribute, and the owner of the food market in town.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
The woman nodded, then glanced around. “Sweet place, but it needs some work.”
“Sure does,” Tess agreed.
“Never understood why Damien left it to rot like this. Not his style.”
No, it wasn’t his style. And he had just left the place to rot until he’d found the time to blackmail his former girlfriend into fixing it up. Tess didn’t think that sharing this information with Wanda was appropriate. Of course, the woman had called Damien by his first name, so maybe they were friends, maybe she knew exactly who Tess was and what she was doing here.
“So, you’re probably wondering why I barged in like this?” Wanda asked.
“You said you’re the property manager…”
“Sure, I turned on the heat and water, but Damien wanted me to give you this.” She took a fat envelope out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Tess. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“He wired it this morning. He thought you might need more than what he gave you,” Wanda explained. “For fixing up the place. He wants it furnished, as well.”
Tess looked inside the envelope. A three-inch stack of hundred-dollar bills. Good Lord. He’d already given her four times that much. But then again you never knew what problems might come up in an older house. She looked up at Wanda again. “Is there a furniture store in town?”
“Nope.”
“Lighting, hardware?”
“There is a hardware store in Tribute—it’s on Main, next to the diner—and you can get furniture and light fixtures in Jackson, that’s about fifty miles away.” She paused for a moment, then said, “But I think Damien might want this place fixed up with the local flavor. A few people make their own furnishings around here, I’d talk to them.”
“Do they work quickly? I’m under a bit of a time crunch.”
Wanda shrugged. “Depends.”
Tess sighed. Looked as though she was just going to have to figure everything out on her own. She gave Wanda a quick smile and said, “I’m going to head over to the motel and check in, then.”
“Ruby’s place?”
“Yes. I saw it in the phone book.”
Wanda pressed her lips together and looked at the ceiling.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope.”
Tess’s shoulders fell. “What? Is Ruby an ax murder or something?”
“No. Ruby’s lovely.” She pointed to the envelope in Tess’s hand. “It’s just that before you go to Ruby’s, you might want to go here first.”
Tess glanced down at the address written on the envelope. “What is this?”
“Damien asked that you be there at four o’clock.”
“Four o’clock when?”
“Today,” Wanda said evenly.
Tess looked down at her watch. “It’s three-thirty now.”
She waved her hand as if it was nothing to worry about. “It’s just a short drive. I’ll give you directions.”
On a sigh, Tess grabbed her purse and searched for a pen. She had really wanted to clean up the place before it got dark. Damn Damien and his demands. “So, what’s at this address?” she asked Wanda. “A contractor or a plumber or something.”
Wanda shrugged her shoulders again. “Or something.”
Tess glared at her. “Did Damien tell you to be this annoyingly evasive?”
At that, a smile tugged at the woman’s lips and she pointed to the pen in Tess’s hand. “I’ll give you those directions now.”