King's Million-Dollar Secret. Maureen Child
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question,” Rafe muttered. “Too bad I don’t have an answer.”
Katie was getting used to the noise, the dust, the confusion and the presence of strangers in her house. One week and she could barely remember what quiet was like. Or privacy. Or being able to move around her kitchen to the sounds of late-night radio.
Now, her kitchen was an empty shell of a room. She glanced out one of the wide windows into the backyard and sighed. There was a small trailer parked on her grass, its doors wide open, revealing tools and equipment enough to build four kitchens.
Pickup trucks belonging to Steve, Arturo and Rafe were also parked on her lawn and the piles of her discarded kitchen were getting bigger. Broken linoleum, old pipes, her sink—a beautiful, cast iron relic—lay tilted atop one of the mountains of trash and just for a second, Katie felt a twinge of panic.
This had all seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now though, she had to wonder if she’d been crazy. What if the new kitchen wasn’t as good as the old? What if her new stove didn’t cook as reliably? Where would she ever find another sink so wide and deep? What if her business went belly up and she’d spent her savings on a kitchen she wouldn’t be able to afford?
“Oh, God …”
“Too late for panic now,” a deep voice assured her from the doorway.
She turned around to look at Rafe and caught the knowing gleam in his eyes. She forced a smile. “Not full-blown panic yet. Just a little … okay,” she admitted finally, “panic.”
He laughed and she had a moment to think how devastating he really was before the smile on his face faded. He walked into the room and looked out at the view she’d been staring at. “It looks bad now, but it’s going to be great when it’s finished.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Yeah, it is. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. I’ve done a lot of remodels and the owners always have that wild-eyed look you have right now.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But they’re always happy when it’s over.”
“Because it’s over or because they love what you did to their houses?”
“A little of both, maybe,” he acknowledged. “Just wanted to let you know we found a leak in a hot-water pipe.”
“A leak?” Katie instantly had mental images of a rising flood beneath the house.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s just an old, slow leak. The joint on the pipes is bad. We’re going to replace it, we just need to show it to you first and get you to sign off on the work, since it’s extra to the contract.”
She blew out a relieved breath. “Right. Okay then. Lead the way.”
Katie followed Rafe out of the patio, across the yard and through the back door to the kitchen. She couldn’t even reach her favorite room in the old house by walking down the hallway. It was crowded with her refrigerator, tables holding all of her pantry items and towers of pots and pans.
The sun was blazing down out of a clear blue sky and she was grateful for California weather. If she’d had to do this remodeling job in a place renowned for rain, it would have been far worse.
Rafe held the door open for her and she walked inside to a room she barely recognized. The old subfloor was black and littered with dust. The skeletons of the cabinets stood out like picked over bones on the walls. The pipes looked forlorn somehow, as if they were embarrassed to be seen.
Steve, the plumber, was crawling up out of a hole in the floor. Katie just managed to hide a shudder. You couldn’t pay her enough to crawl under the house where spiders and God knew what other kind of bug lived. When he was clear, Steve turned to flash her a smile. “If you come over here, I can show you the leak.”
“Great. Leaks.” She picked her way across the floor, stepping over scattered tools and bits of old wood. She stopped alongside the long, narrow opening in the floor and squatted beside Steve. He held a flashlight pointed beneath the floorboards and said, “There it is. Probably been dripping like that for years. Hasn’t done any damage, so that’s good. But we should put in a new copper joint.”
Katie nodded solemnly as if she understood exactly what he was talking about. But the truth was, she didn’t see a leak. All she noticed was a damp spot on the earth beneath the floor that probably shouldn’t be there. If she actually admitted she couldn’t see the leak, they might insist she go down there to see it up close and personal. So Steve’s word would be good enough for her. “Okay then. Do what you have to.”
“Excellent.” Steve turned and said, “Hey, Rafe, why don’t you show her the new sink you brought in this morning.”
“My new sink’s here? Already?” Now this she was interested in. As far as pipes went, all she cared about was that they carried water whichever way they were designed to carry it without leaks, thanks very much. She didn’t need to understand how they did it. Hard to get thrilled over copper piping.
“I was at one of our suppliers and saw a sink I thought you’d like, so I picked it up. We’ll just store it in the trailer until it’s time to install.” Rafe led her out of the kitchen, down the back steps and across the lawn.
Arturo had the cabinet doors spread across makeshift sawhorse work tables and was busily scraping off the old finish before sanding them. Everything was happening. Only a week and already she was seeing progress. Maybe they’d get it all done in two weeks, Katie thought, then smiled wryly to herself. And maybe she’d sprout wings and fly.
“Here it is.” Rafe stopped at the trailer, reached in and drew out a huge sink, one side much deeper and bigger than the other.
“Isn’t that heavy?” she asked, remembering the loud clunk her old cast-iron sink had made when tossed to the top of the junk pile.
“Nope. It’s acrylic.” He held it in one hand to prove his point. “Tougher and won’t chip or rust.”
She smoothed her fingers over the edge and sighed a little. It was perfect. Looking up at him, she said, “Thank you. It’s great.”
“Glad you like it.” He tucked it back into the trailer and draped a protective work blanket over it.
“I thought the contractor was supposed to pick up the supplies for the job,” she said.
He turned back to look at her and shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Joe asked me to pick up a few things at the home store. I saw the sink and …”
“How’d you know I’d like it?”
“Took a shot,” he admitted.
“It was a good one.”
His blue eyes were shining and a cool wind tossed his black hair across his forehead. He was tall, broad-shouldered and looked great in those faded jeans, she thought, not for the first time. In fact, she had dreamed about him the night before. In her dream they were back in her kitchen, alone, as they had been yesterday. But in her fantasy, Rafe had kissed her until her toes curled and she had awakened so taut with desire and tension she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
Even her unconscious mind was working against her.
“So, Rafe Cole,” she asked, “how long have you been in construction?”
She thought his features tightened briefly, but the expression was gone so quickly, she couldn’t be sure. Now why would that simple question get such a reaction?
“My dad started me out in the business when I was a kid,” he said, staring off at the house, keeping his gaze deliberately away from hers. “I liked it and just sort of stuck with it.”
“I get that,” she said, trying to put him at ease again, to regain the easiness they’d shared only a moment ago. “My grandmother started me out baking when I was a little girl, and, well, here I am.”
He