New Year, New Love Read online

  Finally. Emilee let out a relieved sigh and worked up a smile. “I know so. It’s only obvious.”

  “That’s kinda sad.” Christa leaned against the concrete wall and crossed one heavily booted foot over the other. “But even if you’re right, there’s nothing we can do about it—except stay home with her.”

  “We can’t do that,” Emilee cried, horrified. “It wouldn’t be fair to Jason and Kyle. Besides, Mom wouldn’t let us.”

  “We could pretend that we’re sick.”

  “She’d never believe it.” Emilee tossed a lock of hair over one shoulder and frowned at her sister. “Besides, tonight’s not the real problem. You heard what Adelle said. If something doesn’t change, Mom’s going to spend the rest of her life alone.”

  Christa stooped to pick up Raoul and rubbed one cheek against his fur. “Maybe she needs a boyfriend.”

  “Mom’s not the boyfriend type. She needs a husband.”

  Both Christa and Raoul stared at her. Christa laughed. “Are you serious?”

  Emilee wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. “Sure. We used to do all sorts of things when Mom and Dad were married that we don’t do now. Camping. Hiking. Vacations to Walt Disney World…” Okay, it had only been one trip to Florida, but still—

  Christa nodded slowly. “And the houseboat we rented every summer on Lake Powell.”

  “Trips to Yellowstone Park.”

  Christa’s eyes grew dreamy. “Remember that summer we went to Vancouver Island?”

  Perfect. Finally, she understood. “Then we’re agreed. Mom needs a husband. The trouble is how do we convince her?”

  Christa let out a sharp laugh. “I’ll let you do that.”

  “Very funny.”

  After a few seconds Christa’s smile faded and her eyes glittered the way they always did when a plan began to form in her mind. “Maybe we don’t have to convince her,” she said slowly. “Maybe there’s another way.”

  “Such as?”

  Christa pushed away from the wall and ticked off points on her fingers as she talked. “Finding a guy who’ll be interested in Mom shouldn’t be hard. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I mean, it’s not as if there’s anything wrong with her. She’s pretty. She’s smart. And she’s tons of fun.”

  “Right.”

  “So, all we have to do is get her together with a few guys. Once they see how great she is, they’ll take it from there.”

  When footsteps creaked on the stairs, Emilee tensed until she realized her mother must be going upstairs to change. Still, she lowered her voice even further before she went on. “There’s still one small problem. What guys are we supposed to introduce her to?”

  “I don’t know.” Christa paced a couple of steps away. “It can’t be anyone who’s stubborn. Dad was way too stubborn.”

  “You’re right. And he can’t be macho and pushy. You know how Mom hates that.”

  “He has to like spending time at home. Nobody whose work is more important than his family.”

  “And faithful,” Emilee added. “A one-woman man.”

  Christa thought for a few seconds. “You know, Matt’s parents got divorced last year. His dad’s still single.”

  Brilliant. Matt had been Christa’s friend forever. It wouldn’t be hard to convince his dad to come over for some reason. “Good. Who else?”

  “What about Toni? Did her dad get married again?”

  “Yeah, a couple of months ago. It’s too bad, too. Toni’s dad would have been perfect for Mom.”

  “I can’t think of anybody else right now,” Christa whispered. “But we’ll come up with a list. There are lots of single guys out there. And it’s not as if we have to find her a husband by tomorrow.”

  A tingle of excitement worked its way from Emilee’s stomach to her chest. This was the most perfect plan they’d ever come up with. “Okay. Let’s make it our New Year’s resolution. By this time next year, we’ll find the right guy for Mom.”

  Christa held out a hand, pinkie finger extended. “Whatever it takes, we’ll make sure she’s not alone next New Year’s Eve.”

  Emilee locked her finger around her sister’s for a pinkie pledge, just like the ones they’d made when they were little. Neither of them had ever broken a pinkie pledge. “It’s a deal.” She used the serious tone they’d always used for important promises. “By this time next year, we’ll have found the perfect man for Mom.”

  SCARCELY BREATHING, Gabe Malone waited inside the half-finished laundry room until the girls hurried away. Only a thin piece of plasterboard had separated him from them and, considering the topic of their conversation, he’d been reluctant to make any noise until they finished. Obviously, they had no idea he was down here.

  He chuckled softly, released the catch on his tape measure and stuffed it into a pocket on his tool belt. Poor Mrs. Lawrence. Gabe hadn’t yet met her, but he could just imagine the kind of woman who needed her daughters’ help finding a date. Probably a plain Jane with zero personality. Hadn’t his dad told him she was an instructor at one of the local community colleges? He added “dowdy” to his list.

  Pulling himself back to the moment, he checked his watch and groaned aloud. Nearly six o’clock already, and he still had to shower and change and pick up the roses he’d ordered for his date with Natasha. If he didn’t leave now, he might as well call her and cancel their New Year’s plans—whatever they were. She wanted to surprise him, and he’d agreed, as long as she let him foot the bill. Now he was eager to find out what she’d arranged.

  Natasha was everything Gabe wanted in a woman. Or, more accurately, their relationship was—and had been for the past two months—everything Gabe wanted right now. No pressure. No commitment. No demands.

  After dissolving his claustrophobic marriage to Helene two years ago, he’d vowed never to let himself get caught like that again. So far, he’d been successful. The instant a woman started talking commitment, Gabe moved on.

  As always, thinking of Helene brought his fifteen-year-old daughter, Tracy, to mind. Before the ink had even dried on the divorce decree, Helene had packed up and moved half a country away to be near her family. For all the contact he had with Tracy now, Oregon might as well have been in another world.

  Steering his thoughts away with an ease born of practice, he pulled on his jacket and picked up his toolbox. Thinking about Tracy only upset him, and he didn’t want to be upset tonight.

  He climbed the stairs resolutely. No matter what his dad had promised when he set up this appointment, no matter what Mrs. Lawrence expected of him, Gabe was leaving.

  His thoughts broke off abruptly when he reached the landing. He glanced into the kitchen, hoping to find Mrs. Lawrence or one of her daughters there. The kitchen was empty, but the sound of nearby voices pulled him into the room.

  From there, he could see into the dining room, and what he saw surprised him. Instead of the dowdy teacher he’d been expecting, he found himself looking into a pair of deep brown eyes set in the face of a woman about his own age. She wore an oversize pair of sweatpants, a baggy Denver Nuggets sweatshirt and a pair of thick white socks, but despite her questionable fashion choice for the evening, she was a knockout.

  If he’d known college instructors looked like that, maybe he would have pursued his education after high school. He couldn’t imagine why her daughters thought she needed help finding a man.

  Looking away, he reminded himself of his unwritten code of conduct. He had friends in the industry who’d made the mistake of getting involved with clients. He’d watched them go through all sorts of hell, from broken marriages, to lost contracts, to lawsuits. No, Gabe had no business checking out this woman. Not even for an instant.

  He tried to focus on Mrs. Lawrence’s face, but her hair caught his attention next. Long, dark curls spiraled from a ponytail at the top of her head and brushed the tops of her shoulders. A few wisps had escaped their confines. They framed her face and made her eyes look e
ven larger.

  He shifted his gaze to the girls behind her. They were both as fair as their mother was dark. One had short, mussy hair and wore faded jeans and heavy boots. The other had long hair and wore a short skirt and sweater. Even a glance told him the sisters were as different as night and day.

  Mrs. Lawrence let out a gasp when she saw Gabe. She put one hand to her chest and laughed nervously. “You startled me. Are you from Malone Construction?”

  He pulled himself together quickly, walked into the dining room and extended a hand. “Gabe Malone.”

  “Oh.” She shook his hand and withdrew her own quickly. “I was expecting the other gentleman.”

  “My father,” Gabe said, ignoring an unwelcome flash of awareness at her touch. “He sent me, since I’m the one who’ll be doing the work.”

  The daughters stared at him, one openmouthed, the other with eyes wide as silver dollars. He smiled at them but their expressions didn’t change. He turned his attention back to Mrs. Lawrence. “I haven’t finished measuring the basement yet, but it’s getting late and I’ve got plans for this evening. Would you mind if I stop by next week to finish?”

  “No, of course not. I don’t want to make you late.”

  “Thanks. It looks like a fairly complicated project—we’ll need to rip out what’s already there and start almost from the ground up. If we could bring in a whole crew we could probably finish fairly quickly, but I have to be honest with you. We’re overbooked as it is. I can probably give you a couple of evenings a week and part of the time on weekends, which means it’ll take me a while. If you want to contact another contractor, I’ll understand.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I can’t bear the thought of starting over again. Besides, your firm came highly recommended. And I’m not in a real hurry.”

  “Thanks. I’ll give you a call on Monday and set up another appointment.”

  Mrs. Lawrence draped an arm around the taller girl’s shoulder. “Mr. Malone’s the contractor who’ll be finishing the basement for us, girls.”

  “Call me Gabe, please. Mr. Malone always makes me think my father’s in the room.”

  “Gabe, then. And I’m Sharon. Let me give you my number at work. If I’m not in my office, leave a message on my voice mail and I’ll get back to you.”

  While she found a slip of paper and jotted down the number, the girls shifted uncomfortably and shared a wary glance. Gabe nodded to each of them and worked hard to keep his expression bland. He had no intention of telling their mother what they had planned for her. It was none of his business.

  Eventually, though, she was bound to find out. And he wondered how she’d react when she did. It might be a kick to watch this little melodrama unfold.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GABE LEANED BACK in his seat and glanced at Natasha. Candlelight flickered from a glass holder on their table and from others nearby. Soft music and muffled conversation filled the room. The food was excellent and the wine superb, but the astronomical prices had all but wiped out his good mood.

  Natasha sent him a provocative smile. “I love this restaurant, Gabe.” Her voice came out like the contented purr of a kitten. “Thank you for letting me choose. I’m just glad you weren’t so late that we lost our reservations.”

  Usually, that smile left Gabe slightly off balance and the voice had him ready to do battle with dragons. Tonight, combined with the constant gibes she’d been tossing out all through dinner about arriving late, they left him slightly irritated.

  He made an effort to hide his annoyance and took another sip of wine. Giving Natasha free rein to choose tonight’s entertainment had been a stupid thing to do. He’d known she had expensive taste. Well, it was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  She lifted her wineglass and studied him over the rim. “Do you know what I’d like to do?”

  Gabe hesitated to ask. “What?”

  “I’d like to take you shopping.”

  “Shopping?” Warning bells sounded in the back of his mind. “Why?”

  She smiled again, sipped delicately and waved one slim hand toward him. “I saw a suit at Nordstrom the other day, and I know you’d look wonderful in it.”

  Nordstrom? Gabe wasn’t a Nordstrom kind of guy. He glanced at his jacket. “What’s wrong with this suit?”

  Natasha’s eyes widened slightly. “Nothing. Really. It’s fine. But…well, it doesn’t really accent your shoulders the way it should. And that tie—”

  “This is my favorite tie.” Tracy had given it to him for Father’s Day the year she’d turned twelve. He raised the tie and studied it for a second. “I love this tie.”

  “Yes, I know.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “But it is a few years old, and it’s really better for more casual occasions. Besides, I doubt it would match the new suit.”

  He scowled at her. “I’m not buying a new suit.”

  “How can you say that? You haven’t even looked at it.”

  “I don’t need to look at it to know I’m not buying it.”

  She looked down at the candle, as if she thought that would keep him from noticing her irritation. “Clothes make a statement about a person, Gabe. And yours say the wrong thing.”

  “And what would be the right thing for my clothes to say?”

  She looked up again. “That you’re an up-and-coming businessman. If you want to be successful, you need to dress the part.”

  “I’m a construction worker,” he pointed out. “And I do dress the part.”

  She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance any longer. “You’re not just a construction worker. You’ll own your own company someday. There’s a big difference.”

  “I work with my hands,” he reminded her, holding one out to show her the scars and calluses. “Why are you so interested in changing me all of a sudden?”

  She sighed again. “I’m not trying to change you, Gabe.”

  “Do I embarrass you? Is that it?”

  “No.” She glanced at the tables nearest theirs and looked back at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m trying to help you. The question should be, why are you so determined to hold yourself back by showing up late and dressing like a simple construction worker instead of a successful businessman?”

  “I was working,” he began, but cut himself off and downed the rest of his wine. He’d apologized and explained earlier. He wasn’t going to do it again. “Let’s drop the subject.”

  “Fine. We’ll drop the subject.”

  The way she clamped her lips together told him she definitely wasn’t fine. He’d seen that same look many times on Helene’s face.

  He pushed aside his glass and tried to hide his mounting irritation. “Did you enjoy your dessert?”

  Natasha nodded, one jerky movement of her head. “Yes.”

  Gabe motioned for the waiter and tucked his credit card inside the burgundy leather case with the exorbitant bill. He forced himself to smile as he asked, “Now what?”

  Natasha also made a visible effort to pull herself together. She lowered her lashes and smiled again. “Now we’re going dancing at the Rooftop.”

  “The Rooftop?” Gabe sat back in his seat. The Rooftop was one of the most expensive clubs in town.

  Natasha narrowed her eyes again. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I thought you’d enjoy going there.”

  “Hardly.” The harsh word came out before he could stop it. “I’m not made of money, Natasha.”

  “I realize that,” she said with a tight smile, “but I didn’t know you were cheap.”

  “If staying within a budget is cheap, then I guess I am.”

  “So, what do you want to do? Go home and bring in the New Year?”

  He shook his head slowly and made a show of looking at his watch. “Isn’t there someplace besides the Rooftop we can go?”

  “Not without reservations.” She sat back in her seat and linked her hands as she studied him. “You’re angry, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want to go.”

  “I�
�m not in the greatest mood,” he admitted truthfully.

  “Why? Because I’m trying to help you?”

  “I don’t see how putting myself in debt for one evening’s entertainment will help me.”

  “It’s all about image. You need to be seen in the right places. You need to look prosperous.”

  “You’re forgetting one small detail. I’m not prosperous. I’m the second man in a small operation. And my father still runs the business his way. So it could be a long time—if ever—before I am.”

  She sighed and put one tentative hand over his. “All right. We’ll forget the Rooftop. Just come with me on Saturday and look at the suit. If you don’t like it, maybe we can pick up some polo shirts.”

  Gabe longed to pull his hand away, but didn’t. “I have to work Saturday.”

  “Can’t you just take an hour off?”

  “Not unless it’s really important. And a shopping spree doesn’t qualify.”

  “If that’s the way you feel,” she snapped, “maybe you should just take me home right now.”

  Gabe nodded. He was past feeling angry. Now he just wanted to put an end to the evening. If he said anything more, he’d only make things worse.

  GABE WAITED in the truck until Natasha disappeared inside her apartment, then jerked away from the curb. He replayed their conversation over and over in his mind as he drove along the freeway on his way home. One minute, he wished he hadn’t reacted so strongly. The next, anger boiled to the surface again. And by the time he reached his exit, he knew the argument had left him too keyed up to sleep.

  Almost automatically, he pulled into the crowded parking lot of Milago’s, his favorite after-work hangout. Inside, the jukebox pounded out a country song, smoke stung his eyes and New Year’s Eve revelers filled the place to overflowing.

  He struggled through the crowd toward the bar where he could see his childhood friend, Jesse, sitting hunched over a bottle at the bar with the remnants of a garlic burger, the house specialty, in front of him.