Material Girl (19 page)

“See the brick?” he asked, his breath soft on her ear. “See the color of it? And the little mark right there? This brick is worth a small fortune.”

“It's beautiful,” she said, and insanely, intentionally, leaned backward, into him, on the pretense of looking up at the paned-glass windows above, until her hair was brushing his shoulder. “The stained glass is going to be gorgeous.”

“Yeah, this will be one beautiful house… with one beautiful owner.”

Robin's breath caught in her throat; she froze for an instant, debated madly whether she should turn around and kiss him like she sooo wanted to do, but quickly decided against it because A, she didn't have the guts and B, Mia chose that moment to come strolling in.

“Robin?”

Robin spun out, whirling dervish style, from beneath Jake's arm and into the middle of the entry, her breath coming in uneven little gulps as she tried to still her pounding heart.

Mia's eyes narrowed with suspicion; she looked at Jake, then at Robin. “I thought I might find you here,” she said, in that all-knowing, all-seeing way of hers. She walked into the entry, the heels of her Prada pumps clapping loudly on the tile floor. Perfectly dressed as usual, Mia's blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and her capri pants were skin tight. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Learning about brick,” Robin said quickly and walked through the archway into the dining room. “What are you doing?”

Mia was eyeing Jake as if she expected him to pull out a gun or something. “Shopping. I thought maybe you'd want to get some lunch.”

“Lunch? Ah…” Think fast, think fast… “I can't. I have a lot of work to do.”

One of Mia's blond brows arched high above the other as she coolly shifted her gaze to Robin. “Oh really?” she drawled, and took one last up-and-down look at Jake. “What are you going to do for food?”

“Leftover ravioli.”

“You must be kidding.”

“From Santiago 's.”

“Ooh, I've heard Evan talk about that place. Was it as good as he says?”

Acutely aware that Jake was listening to every word, Robin picked up a paper on which she had scribbled some notes and pretended to study them, muttering, “It's okay.”

“Speaking of Evan,” Mia said, “he called this morning and said his new boat is down in the marina again. He wants to do a dinner out there.”

Robin jerked her gaze to Mia. "Evan called?

“We talked about it last weekend remember?”

Like Robin could ever forget last weekend.

Mia sighed impatiently. “Michael and I are free this weekend. Aren't you?”

“No,” Robin said quickly. “I can't. Anyway, I thought Evan was going to New York .”

Mia shrugged. “What's the deal with all these pink flamingos?” she asked, picking up Robin's kate spade bag and having a look inside. “And where did you get this bag? Is it last year's?”

T hank fully, the conversation deteriorated from there into Mia's general obsession with handbags. Robin loved Mia, but she had never wanted her friend to be gone as badly as she did at that moment. She felt like a frumpy wallflower in her jean skirt next to her perfect friend, and worse, she could have sworn she saw Jake looking at Mia more than once. But Mia, true to form, seemed to have forgotten he was even in the same room, for which Robin was grateful. Which begged the question—since when did she feel so ridiculously and profoundly stupid and gangly? What was happening to her? She was out of control, so out of control that she suddenly informed Mia she had changed her mind about lunch. “I don't really like ravioli,” she said to Mia's look of surprise, grabbed her handbag from Mia's grip, and marched out through the kitchen without so much as a glance backward.

Jake watched the Porsche pull out onto North Boulevard, his nostrils still full of the sweet smell of lilac. Robin's

scent. He frowned; whoever the blond was, her timing couldn't have been worse—he'd been about to kiss Robin. Which wasn't exactly the brightest idea he'd ever had. In fact, it ranked right up there as the dumbest. The woman as much as admitted that money and power mattered (neither of which he possessed). She had grown up in River Oaks, probably in one of those gated mansions with a security guard. What would she think if she knew he grew up off Telephone Road? She'd think he was too far beneath her, that was what, a working man trying to latch on to the better deal, as she so eloquently put it. She didn't need someone like him hanging around.

On second thought, maybe her friend had excellent timing.

But damn it, that black curly hair and figure that was all butt and legs, and those blue eyes and those lips, shit, those lips… Get a grip. Those were River Oak lips that drank wine he couldn't pronounce and ate at Santiago's. Okay, so he had lost his friggin' mind. T hank you, God, he hadn't kissed her.

Jake stared at the wall in front of him. Next week, Zaney would be back to work and he'd have the demolition crews come in. Yeah, he'd have the crews come in, go do something else for a couple of days, and clear his mind of this stupid, crazy notion that anything could come from having a couple of things in common with a beautiful woman who lived in the Village.

He was revving up to abuse himself for being such an idiot all over again when he heard something that sounded like a body being dragged across the floor. What the hell was that? He turned abruptly and unexpectedly came nose to forehead with a round baldpate. Startled, he reared back a couple of steps.

“Well, what's your name, son?” the old man standing before him asked.

“Uh… Manning. Jake Manning,” he stammered.

“You must be the contractor.”

“Yes,” he said, taking in the man's siesta shirt and Forrest Gumperals.

The old man scratched his chest and peered up at the paned-glass window. “How much you charge?”

“Elmer!” A woman's voice pierced Jake's eardrum; she came rushing into the dining room from the kitchen. “Stop bothering that man! ”

Elmer shook his head and shuffled out of the entry on a pair of enormous white sneakers. The old woman smiled and adjusted her thick glasses. “Mr. and Mrs. Stanton.” When Jake didn't react to that, she added, as if he should already know, “We're Robbie's grandparents.”

“Ah. I thought you were burglars.”

Mrs. Stanton blinked. Then she laughed, her eyes crinkling very pleasingly beneath her cola bottle specs. “Did you hear that, Elmer? He thought we were burglars! Ha!”

“It's not us he needs to worry about, is it? By the way, where is our little convict?” Mr. Stanton asked, then laughed loudly, as if that was the most hilarious thing a body could have possibly uttered.

Jake liked the Stantons instantly.

“She went out with a friend.”

“Lucy?” Mrs. Stanton asked as she set the grocery bag down on the dining table.

“No. A tall, blond woman.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Stanton clucked and shook her head in disgust. “Mia Carpenter!”

“Oh now, Lil, that's been a good twenty years ago. You got to let bygones be bygones.”

A humph was all Mr. Stanton got in response, who, incidentally, had already made his way back to where Jake was working. He stood, his hands clasped behind his back, peering closely at the solution Jake was using to clean the brick. “Did a little renovation myself when I was younger. Never had much talent for it. Now you, you've got talent. I guess you noticed that Robbie's just like me, dumber than a hammer when it comes to stuff like this. I told her she couldn't do this herself, and see if I wasn't right. She damn near put a hole in every room before she finally gave up and hired you to do it.” The old man chuckled softly. "That girl's been trying to tackle the world since she was a baby,

and this is exactly what happens when she gets some wild hair up her—ah, nose. She leaves a mess a mile wide."

Jake could definitely believe that was true.

“Elmer Stanton, come away from there and leave that man alone!” his wife insisted.

“Insufferable woman,” Elmer Stanton said cheerfully and shuffled away a second time.

When Mia saw the Ford Excursion in the driveway, she wiggled her fingers, engagement ring and all, toward the passenger door. “Hurry up and get out. I don't want your grandma to see me.”

“God, Mia, that was twenty years ago,” Robin groused as she gathered her purse and bag from Jaeger, the shop to which Mia had forced her to go.

“It could have been a hundred years ago for all I care,” Mia snapped impatiently.

“You did wreck her new Buick,” Robin reminded her.

“Okay, but who in their right mind buys a Buick?” Mia argued. “Hurry up, hurry up! I don't want to be late to the gym,” she added and shot Robin a sidelong glance. “You should really try and pay a visit to the gym, too.”

“Oh, t hank you. Nice to know you are watching my butt for me,” Robin said and hoisted herself out of the Porsche, slammed the door, and adjusted her brand-new Hugo Boss shades to better glare at Mia. “I'll call you later,” she said.

But Mia was already backing out of the drive, trying to get out before Grandma appeared in her Easy Spirits to kick a little ass. Robin watched her drive off, wincing at the screech of her tires, then turned and made her way up the drive.

As she approached the back of the house, she could see Grandpa on his knees in the backyard, his butt high in the air, busily digging. And there was Grandma, just around the corner of the guest house, pruning one of four azalea bushes they had obviously planted while she was gone, right where she imagined her pool would be.

“I was going to put my pool there!” she shouted at them.

“Hi, honey!” Grandma called cheerfully. “We planted some azaleas!”

Grandpa looked up from his digging. “Say, Robbie, how much is that fella in there charging you?”

“Okay! Well. Gotta get to work,” Robin responded nonchalantly and adjusted her grip on her shopping bag.

“I brought you some pineapple upside-down cake,” Grandma called after her as she walked on to the kitchen. Inside, Robin dropped her bag—the Jaeger linen pantsuit already forgotten—glanced at the cake, and continued on to the dining room.

Jake had made some amazing progress over the last few hours—he had managed to strip most of the brick wall in the entry and had removed all the trim. When she came in, he flashed that warm smile of his. “Aha. The prodigal granddaughter returns.”

Robin could feel her grin was ridiculously huge. “I take it you met Lil and Elmer.”

“Yep. Nice folks.”

They were certainly that, even if they did drive her absolutely nuts. She punched a key on her computer, scanned the half dozen e-mails from Lucy, then leaned over to look at the answering machine. No messages. Apparently, Elda-girt couldn't be bothered to call her today. This was really beginning to annoy her to no end—this was business, not a social call. How could she just ignore her like that? The more Robin thought of it, the more inept she felt, which she didn't need, which only made her madder.

“Okay, that does it,” she said aloud. “I've had it.” She angrily snatched the phone off its cradle. “I am going to give this Wirt chick a piece of my mind! I may never get in to see her, but I'll feel much better!”

“Do you always go rushing in with both barrels?” Jake asked, chuckling.

“Got a better idea, Hammerman? Besides, I thought we agreed, no telling the other how to do their job.”

“Okay, fine. But you know what they say.”

“No, what do they say?” she muttered absently as she began punching the numbers.

“You can catch more flies with honey.”

Robin paused in her abuse of the phone's number pad. “Huh?”

“You are going about this deal all wrong.”

Okay, he was a hunk, but not hunk enough for that. “Excuse me?” she demanded, ignoring the beeping of the phone. “Am I dreaming, or are you talking to me?”

“Oh my—” He made a sort of groaning sound, then was suddenly striding forward, his hand out. “Give it over. I'll do it.”

That was such an absurd suggestion that Robin burst out laughing. “What, you'll call Eldagirt?”

“Hand it over,” he insisted, motioning impatiently for the phone.

“You don't even know what you are doing!” she exclaimed incredulously.

“Well, it's obvious you don't. Come on, you have nothing to lose at this point. Hand it over.”

“All right. Fine!” Robin said and slapped the receiver down in his open palm.

Jake grinned triumphantly. “Got a number?”

She grabbed the phone back from his hand, pounded the numbers she now knew by heart, and handed the phone back to him.

With a far too superior wink, Jake put the phone to his ear. Robin folded her arms and grinned in anticipation of his failure; Jake's smile only broadened.

“Hey, Jake Manning here,” he said suddenly. “How ya doing?” He pointedly turned away from Robin. “Oh, I'm doing pretty good. Could stand a little rain down here in Houston though. What's the weather over there?”

Robin rolled her eyes, slid into one of the dining room chairs and counted the seconds until they hung up on him. One-one thousand, two-one thousand…

“Oh, is that right?” Jake asked cheerfully, turning to give Robin a wink. “We've been pretty lucky, but I'd be glad to get a little rain before everything dries up.”

What? It had rained buckets just last week. The ground was still mushy!

Jake laughed easily. “You got that right. Say listen, let me tell you why I called… er, what did you say your name was? Carol. So anyway, Carol, I'm down here with a shipping company that is growing by leaps and bounds, and we're starting to ship freight all over the world. The thing is, we don't have a reliable packing materials company to serve us.”

He paused, nodded his head. 'That's what I'm saying,“ he agreed. ”You start shipping all kinds of stuff, and you don't have a reputable packing supply company with a proven track record, and you're sunk. So we're trying to find us a partner who can make sure we have the materials we need to be competitive."

He paused again; his brows lifted at something Carol said, and he flashed a grin at Robin that indicated he had hit the right spot. But just as quickly, he frowned. “Umm… leartransportindustries.”

He paused; then his frown deepened. Robin leaned forward.