Read Online All Through The House by Janice Kay Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

being denied, even to those who had
received assurances in advance.
    Nate grunted. "You talked to any city council members
yet?"
    "Yeah, and they put me off. Do they care if we were
promised permits before this whole damn sewer thing blew up? Lucky we have
other projects, so we're not stopped in our tracks. We'll be busy enough, at
least. Especially if we build the school."
    The crux of every conversation. If they built the school. If
they won the contract, their business would be an instant success. The city
would be wooing them, not the other way around. They would have contributed to
the community. And Nate could buy the Irving House.
    Dreams. Too many riding for a fall.
    What about Abigail McLeod's dreams? Nate shoved his guilt
back in his gut where it had been churning all week. If he bought the Irving
House, her dreams would be attained, too. She didn't care who bought it, just
that it sold. He was as good as any other buyer. What difference did a month or
so make to her?
    He'd reached for the phone a dozen times that week, guilt
warring with his desire to hear her voice again, see her green-brown eyes and
her smile, touch her dark curls, her lips, her slender throat. And each time
he'd tasted acid in his mouth. He still didn't know what his choice would be,
if he had to make one. He'd wanted the house all his life. He'd wanted her for
little over a week.
    Until this was settled, he should leave her alone. He should
never have walked into her office that day. Trouble was, then, she was just a
pretty woman. Then, he hadn't kissed her. Now? Now his lies were handcuffs that
bit into him every time he was too tempted.
    "Want to talk about it?" John said.
    "Talk about what?"
    His partner was an unusually big man, pushing forty, with
short dark hair graying at the temples and a deceptively gentle manner. John
Mercer almost never raised his voice, but he reveled in confrontation. Nate
often contrasted his friend with Ed Phillips, since they were the two
contractors he'd worked most closely with. Both were aggressive men, but in
different ways. Phillips blustered and bellowed and cursed; John sliced with a
stiletto so sharp the wound didn't show. His talent meant that subcontractors,
bank officers, and county building inspectors wanted to cooperate. Phillips
made them afraid not to.
    Now John raised a dark brow. His deep brown eyes were
shrewd. "You've had something on your mind all week. What are you doing,
thinking about adding a few turrets to the school?"
    Nate shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed broodingly
at the raw land. "Are we getting symbolic here?"
    "Why not? At least you're listening to me."
    Nate wondered how much his partner really wanted to hear. He
approached the truth indirectly. "The Irving House is going to be sold
right out from under me."
    "Somebody interested?"
    "Not yet. But I have a bad feeling., The listing agent
has pulled out all the stops."
    "Nate, what are we talking about here?"
    "I took her out to dinner Friday night."
    The big man swung to face him. "Jesus, Nate...."
    "Not because she's the listing agent," Nate said
gloomily. "Despite it."
    A pause. "Then what's the problem?"
    Nate hesitated. "I guess you might say...we're
antagonists."
    "You don't want the house to sell. She does. So
what?"
    So what? He was trying to cut her feet out from under her,
that's what. Then again, she didn't know it. And with luck, the situation would
never arise again.
    "Yeah," he said slowly. "You're right."
Wasn't having it all the great American dream?
     
    *****
     
    Abigail's reaction to Nate's voice on the phone was
uncomfortably complex. Relief, anger, exhilaration.  She felt like a teenager,
sulky because he hadn't called sooner, thrilled because he had now. She didn't
like it. Women were trapped by that kind of need.
    "Nate," she said, in a voice that betrayed none of
her emotions. "How are you?"
    "Hey, I still have a place to live. Can't ask for much
more than that."
    "Have you talked to a Susan