The Summer's End

Blake’s arm shot out to steady her. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just lost my balance.” She snorted. “Hormones.”

“Have you seen a doctor yet?”

“I made an appointment. Next week.”

“Can I . . . I mean, is it okay if I take you?”

Carson hesitated. This was a big step. A first in their being partners in her pregnancy. She looked into his eyes, felt his arm holding hers, steadying her.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

Chapter Five

The following morning Dora stood in front of an ironing board, pressing one of the two dresses she was considering wearing for her first job interview in almost fifteen years. She stood dressed only in her fancy new lacy bra and panties in front of the glass sliding doors to Devlin’s bedroom porch. The large room was graced with a patio that offered a sweeping view of the ocean. The doors were wide-open to the onshore breezes.

“Now that’s what I call a view,” Devlin said from behind her.

Dora threw Devlin a saucy look over her shoulder, knowing full well which view he was referring to. Devlin was lying on his enormous, king-size bed that they’d just made love upon, one knee up, one leg hanging off the side of the mattress, as naked as a jaybird. He didn’t care that he had a paunch growing, and that at forty he wasn’t as trim as he’d been at seventeen when they dated all those years ago, only to end up with other people and ultimately find their way back to each other. Unlike Dora, Devlin had no modesty issues and was completely at ease with his body.

In contrast, Dora had always struggled with her weight, especially the tire around her middle. She had her mother’s figure and cursed that she’d not inherited the long, lean frame of the Muir clan, like Carson and Harper. She also resented the biological burden that women carried, those damned extra fat cells on their hips for reasons of reproduction. Since she’d started her walking regimen, however, she’d whittled down that tire, and her body not only looked better, but she felt better. Exposing even some of her body was, for her, a measure of confidence.

She turned back to her ironing, shaking her head. “You’re such a man.”

Devlin chuckled low in his chest. She smiled. Even his laugh had a lowcountry accent. “Darlin’, I just spent the last hour trying to prove that very point to you.”

Dora blushed, remembering the details of the past hour.

“The only sight prettier than a woman ironing is a woman cooking a meal.”

Dora pressed the steam button on the iron. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Why? It’s the truth. Put on an apron and I’ll show you.”

“Hush now, you’re being ridiculous.” She huffed in feigned annoyance. “You know I’ve got to get going. I’m running late, thanks to a certain distraction.” She pulled the pale blue cotton dress with white-stitched embroidery off the ironing board and held it up in front of her. “Which do you like best for the interview? This one?” She gave him a minute to observe, then set the blue dress down and held up a chocolate-brown shift. “Or this one?”

“I like you with neither on the best.”

Dora rolled her eyes. “Try to be serious, Dev. I need to look good. Real good. I need this job.”

He sighed with resignation, giving up the tease. “What job is that?”

Dora took a breath, trying to be patient. She’d told him about her job interview at a local dress shop earlier, but to be fair, he’d begun kissing her neck at the time. “Don’t you recall? I told you that I had a job interview at a dress shop in Towne Center. The location would be so convenient. I don’t want to have to go to the city to find work.”

“A dress shop? What do they pay?”

She shrugged. “Fair wages.” When he gave her a doubtful look, she conceded, “Minimum wage. But I get a discount on my clothes.”

“Uh-huh.” Devlin rose and walked to the end of the bed to slip on a waffle-weave robe. “Why don’t you come work for me?”

Devlin owned his own real estate firm on the barrier islands. He’d done extremely well during the boom of the past twenty years, but like most Realtors was hurting during the downtrend in the real estate market. The market was just beginning to pick up.

“What would I do?”

“Be my assistant.”

“I don’t have any secretarial skills. I can barely find my way around a computer, much less a fax machine. And you’ve already got a receptionist.”

“I need help scouting out houses to flip. You’d be my right-hand gal. You have a great eye for real estate. You’re a natural. You can study for your real estate license.”

The idea of getting her real estate license was tempting. She and Devlin had been working together shaping up a darling cottage on Sullivan’s Island. But working with him as a couple and working for him as an employer were not the same thing.

“No.”

“Hear me out.” Devlin laid his palm out in the air. “Look how well you and I do together working on that cottage. It’s turning out real well. And don’t we enjoy working together?” When she nodded, he grinned. “I think so, too. You’ve got good instincts with houses, Dora. That’s something you can’t learn in school. You’re born with it.”

“No.”

“I’d pay you well. Hell, a sight better than minimum wage.”

Dora walked to him and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. You are a prince among men and I appreciate the offer. I really do. But, no.”

“Why the hell not? You like real estate.”

“I do.”

“Why accept a minimum-wage job when I’m offering you something better?”

“Because you don’t really need me. And”—she emphasized to discourage his objection—“I want to get a job on my own, without someone handing it to me. Not this time. This is important to me. Try to understand.”

With his tousled blond hair and baby-blue eyes, he looked like a pouting child. “I never heard you talk about wanting to be in retail.”

“I don’t particularly.”

“Then why?”

“Because, frankly, I don’t have a college diploma, secretarial skills, computer skills, or training in any particular area, for that matter. I’ve done volunteer work most of my life. What can I say? I saw the ad in the newspaper. It’s either this or asking the customer if she wants fries with that.”