"Look," I said sharply, "whether you move here or not, I'm not interested in any kind of . . . whatever . . . with you."
His gaze didn't move from mine. His eyes were darker than a blueprint. "Define 'whatever.'"
"In this case it means sex."
"That's one of my other talents," he volunteered.
As distraught as I was, I almost smiled. "I'm sure that will make some of the female residents of 1800 Main very happy." I paused for emphasis. "But I won't be one of them."
"Understood. So where do I end up, Haven? . . . Here, or Post Oak?"
I made an impatient gesture to indicate it was of no consequence. "Move here if you want. It's a free country."
"Okay. I will."
I didn't like the way he said it. As if we had just made some kind of bargain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Like hell he's gonna live here," jack said indignantly, pacing around my office later that day. He had dropped by for a quick visit to see how things were going. Although he would never admit it, I thought that Jack was mildly relieved that Vanessa was gone. Whenever she was around, she sent out discreet signals that she was angling for some kind of relationship that went beyond business. Thankfully, he didn't seem interested.While Jack fumed about Hardy, I sat behind my desk, trying to figure out some new software that had gone contrary on me.
"Here's the way I'm looking at it," I said, looking up from my laptop. "'Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer.' What better way to find out what Hardy Cates is up to, than have him in our building? "
That made Jack pause. "I guess there's some sense in that. But why does he want to live here? If this is some whack deal about Gage and Liberty — "
"No, I honestly don't think that's it. I think he would have taken another apartment if it were available."
Jack sat on the edge of my desk. "He's got something up his sleeve. I guarantee it."
He sounded so certain that I gave him a questioning glance. "Have you met him before?"
"Yeah, about a year ago. He was going out with a girl I used to date and I happened to see her at a club, and we all talked for a few minutes."
"What did you think about him?"
A wry smile curved his lips. "Hate to admit it, but if it weren't for the shit he pulled with Gage's biofuel deal, and crashing the wedding, I might have liked the guy. We talked some hunting and fishing, and he struck me as a good ol' boy. And like him or not, you've got to hand it to him — that company of his is kicking ass."
"Why do you think that is?"
"He's pulled together a great team, and he can negotiate a tight deal. But mostly he's got the knack for finding oil. Call it luck, call it skill, but some people got it and some don't. Maybe he's not college-smart, but he's smart in a way they can't teach. Man, I wouldn't underestimate him." Jack dragged his hand through his dark hair, looking thoughtful. "Joe's met him."
I blinked in surprise. "What? Our brother Joe?"
"Yeah. Joe took his picture for that thing they did on him in Texas Monthly last year."
"What a coincidence," I said slowly. "What did Joe say about him?"
"Can't remember. I'll have to ask him." Jack frowned. "You think Cates has some kind of revenge thing going on against the Travises?"
"For what?"
"Because Gage married his old girlfriend?"
"That would be taking things a little far," I said skeptically. "I mean, they never even slept together."
Jack's brows rose. "How do you know?"
"He said so."
"You were talking about sex with Hardy Cates?" he asked in the same tone he would have used for et tu, Haven?
"Not like that," I said uncomfortably. "It was sort of a casual reference."
Jack gave me a long, hard stare. "If he so much as glances in your direction, I'm going to wipe the floor with his ass — "
"Jack, hush — "
" — and I'm gonna make that real clear to him before the contracts are signed."
"If you embarrass me that way, I'm going to find a new job. I swear it, Jack. Not a word to Hardy."
A long silence, while my brother stared at me. "Are you interested in Cates? " he asked.
"No!"
"Good. Because — and don't take this personal — I have no confidence in your ability to pick a decent guy for yourself. If you like someone, he's probably scum."
"That is a huge boundary violation," I said indignantly.
"A what?"
"That means I don't make any comments about the kind of women you date, and you have no right to judge my choices."
"Yeah, but — " Jack stopped and scowled. "You're right. It's none of my business. It's just . . . I'd like you to find some nice guy with no weird fuckin' baggage."
I had to laugh. My irritation vanished, and I reached over to pat his hand. "If you ever meet one," I said, "let me know."
My cell phone rang, and I fished it out of my purse. "Bye, Jack," I said, and flipped the phone open. "Hello?"
"Haven."
The sound of Hardy's voice gave me a subtle, pleasurable jolt. "Hi," I said, and damned myself for sounding breathless.
Jack, who'd been in the process of leaving, stopped at the doorway and shot me a curious glance. I waved for him to go on, but he stayed where he was, watching and listening.
I adopted a brisk, professional tone. "Do you have a question about the apartment? I'll give you Samantha's number — "
"I've already got her number. I want to talk to you."
"Oh." I fiddled with a pen on the desk. "How can I help you?"
"I need a recommendation for someone who can come in and fix up the apartment — pick out the furniture, colors, that kind of stuff."
"An interior decorator?"
"Yeah, but a good one. The one I hired for my last apartment charged a fortune, and it ended up looking like a Fort Worth bar."
"And that's not your style?"
"No, it's exactly my style. That's the problem. I need an image upgrade."
"You don't need to worry about that," I said. "The formal look is out. Casual and comfortable is fine."
"I have a sofa that once roamed the open range."
I couldn't help laughing at that. "You mean cowhide? Oh, God. You do need help." I thought of Todd. "I know someone — but he's not cheap."
"That's okay, as long as he's good."
"Would you like me to call him for you and set up something?"
"Thanks. That would be great. And as a favor would you be there with me when I meet him?"
I hesitated, my fingers tightening on the pen. "I don't think I'd be much help."
"I need your opinion. My kind of decorating usually involves fur, skins, and horns. You have no idea what I could be talked into.
"All right," I said reluctantly. "I'll be there. When are you free?"
"I'm tied up the rest of today and tomorrow, finishing up an AFE. So the next day or anytime after that would be fine."
"What's an AFE?"
"Authority for expenditure form. Basically it's all the estimates for drilling and completing a well, including salaries, services, and equipment. You can get screwed six ways to Sunday if you don't get the AFE right and make sure everyone follows it. It's real important for a smaller company with a limited budget."
"So are you the one who makes sure everyone follows the AFE?"
"Yeah, I'm the heavy," Hardy admitted. "Neither of my partners are good at it — one's a geophysicist and sticks to the science stuff, and the other one can't handle confrontation. So it's up to me. I figure I haven't managed a project right unless I get a few death threats along the way."
"I bet you're good at confrontation," I said.
"I have to be, sometimes. But I'm not that way by nature."
"Sure," I told him, smiling skeptically. "I'll call you later with the appointment time."
"Okay, boss."
The smile was still tucked in the corners of my lips as I looked up and saw Jack there. I couldn't tell it he was frowning or scowling — but it was not a happy expression.
"Don't tell me you were just talking to Hardy Cates," Jack said.
"I was just talking to Hardy Cates. What about it?"
"I haven't heard you giggle like that since high school."
"I wasn't giggling," I said defensively. "I never giggle. And before you say anything else, remember my personal boundaries."
"You make sure Cates remembers about your personal boundaries," Jack muttered, and left my cubicle.
"You know, " Todd said, "I've had lots of clients who have crappy taste in decorating. But they never want to admit it. They hire me and then they waste a lot of time arguing over the design scheme. This is the first client who's ever admitted he has crappy taste."
"I think he may actually be proud of it," I said.
We were riding up in the elevator to the eighteenth floor, where we were going to meet Hardy at his new apartment. "Did I tell you what Beebe Whitney said when I told her that I was doing his apartment?" Todd asked.
Back in high school, Beebe had been the most beautiful girl at Lamar, not to mention head cheerleader and class princess. She had been married in one of Houston's biggest weddings ever and had divorced eleven months later.
"No, what?"
"She said, 'You may be doing his apartment, Todd, but I've done him.'"
My mouth fell open. "Beebe Whitney slept with Hardy Cates?" I whispered, scandalized.
Todd's blue green eyes sparkled with relish. "A one-night stand. They met on her divorce-moon."
"What's a divorce moon?"
"It's the trip you take after your divorce . . . you know, like a honeymoon. You didn't have one?"
I remembered lying in Gage and Liberty's apartment with a rib brace and a concussion, and I smiled grimly. "Not exactly."
"Well, Beebe did. She went to Galveston, and there was this great party, and Hardy Cates was there. So after they talked for a while, they went to her hotel room. According to Beebe, they had sex all night in every possible position, and by the time it was over she felt like a cheap whore. She said it was fabulous."
I put a hand over my midriff, where nerves were jumping. The idea of Hardy ha**ng s*x with someone I knew was strangely upsetting.
"Too bad he's straight," Todd said. "Heterosexuality is so limiting."
I gave him a dark glance. "Do me a favor and don't pull anything with Hardy."
"Sure. You calling dibs?"
"No. Not at all. I just don't want you to make him nervous. He is definitely not bipossible."
As we got out of the elevator and went to the apartment, I wondered what Hardy would make of Todd. My friend wasn't in the least effeminate, but he still gave off the vibe of being able to play it any way. People usually liked Todd — he had a sense of effortless cool, of being comfortable in his own skin.
"I think you'll get along with Hardy," I said. "I'll be interested to hear your opinion of him later."
Todd had an unerring ability to read people, to ferret out the secrets they gave away without even knowing it. Body language, verbal hesitations, the minute changes in expression . . . Todd saw it all with an artist's sensitivity to detail.
As we got to the door, we saw that it was already open. "Hello?" I said tentatively as we went inside the apartment.
Hardy came to meet us, his gaze flicking over me, then settling on my face. "Hi." He smiled and reached for my hand. He held it a little too long, his thumb sliding into the cup of my palm before I tugged free.
He was wearing a designer suit, a beautiful dress shirt, a good watch. His tie was a little loose, as if he'd been tugging at it, and his hair fell in mink-brown layers that practically begged to be touched and played with. He looked good in the civilized attire, but there was still a touch of the bruiser about him, a sense that he was not meant be bound up in a suit and tie.
"Can I help you with that?" he asked Todd, who was burdened with a stack of materials including a portfolio, sample books, sketches, and folders.
"Nope, I've got it." Todd set the stack on the gray quartz countertop. He gave Hardy a pleasant smile and extended a hand. "Todd Phelan. Great place you've got here. I think we can come up with something really spectacular for it."
"Hope so." Hardy shook his hand firmly. "I'll do my best to stay out of your way."
"You don't have to stay out of the way. I intend to take your likes and dislikes into account." Pausing, Todd added with a grin, "We may even be able to work in the cowhide sofa if you're attached to it.
"It's damn comfortable," Hardy said with a touch of wistfulness. "I have some good memories of that sofa."
"We'll all be better off if you keep those to yourself," I said crisply. Hardy grinned at me.
"In the absence of furniture," Todd said, "this will have to be a kitchen counter meeting. If you'll come around here, Hardy, I'll show you some ideas I've already come up with. I have a copy of the floor plan, so I'm familiar with the layout . . . "
As Hardy walked around the counter to join him, Todd turned to me and mouthed a silent Wow, his turquoise eyes sparkling with glee. I ignored him.
The two men bent over the sample book. "See this color palette . . . ? Todd was saying. "Earth tones, caramels, botanical greens, some pumpkin orange here and there for pop. This would be a really comfortable environment. And it would definitely soften the sterility of the finish in here."
They agreed on natural textures and tones, and furniture with tailored lines. The only preference Hardy had was that he didn't want a lot of little tables and chairs scattered around. He liked solid furniture that wouldn't make him feel cramped.
"Of course," Todd said. "Big guy like you . . . what are you, six one, six two . . . ?"
"Six two."
"Right." Todd slid me a glance of bright mischief. Clearly he found Hardy as delicious as I did. But unlike me, Todd was not at all conflicted about it.