Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(28)

The Claremont was a luxury spa—heiress or no—she could hardly afford. Without Ellen’s payoff, Bev was as broke as ever. She’d have to figure out how to draw a salary, but had no interest in depending on Liam’s advice.

“I’d better explain to your mother.”

“No, don’t bother. She’ll be fine.”

“I promised.”

“Under duress.”

“I promised.”

They made their way back to his house. Back at his front door she waited for him to open it, but he just stood still behind her. “Last chance,” he said.

She opened the door herself and stepped into the living room just as Liam’s sister pulled on a coat. The boyfriend was gone.

“Liam, I’ll need to ride back with you,” April said.

“Ah,” was all he said in reply.

“Oh, don’t you start, too. It’s not like you’ve got any better taste than I do,” April said, then noticed Bev. “Sorry. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Oh, I’m not—”

“April, you are pathetic. As I told you five minutes ago, this is Beverly Lewis. Ed’s granddaughter. She’s trying to get into his house next door.”

April waved off her brother’s insult. “I should have known. You’re way too normal-looking.”

Not sure if that was a compliment, Bev checked Liam’s face for a reaction just as April added, “Not like the supermodels Liam loves so much.”

Bev plastered a smile on her face and didn’t let herself brush any more dirt or leaves off her clothes.

“Bev is the new owner of Fite Fitness,” Liam said. “I report to her now.”

“Bummer,” April said, but didn’t specify for whom before flinging open the front door and stepping outside. “I’ll wait in your car. Don’t take too long, all right? I’ve got to note Billy’s departure on my blog.”

Bev shared an amused look with Liam just as Trixie came into the room. “No luck?”

“Apparently the locks have been changed,” Bev said.

“And now Bev is going to use your computer to find a decent bed for the night,” Liam said.

Bev said, “Oh, no, I can find—”

Trixie made a cheerful tisking sound. “You promised. Now you can help me eat all this leftover chili. Whatshisname was a vegetarian. Do you eat meat, Bev?”

“You are not going to make her eat too,” Liam said.

“Not if she’s a vegetarian. What do you think I am? Are you, Bev? A vegetarian?”

“No, but you don’t have to feed me, really. I’m fine.”

“You’ll be doing me a favor. In exchange for the room. We’ll be even. I can’t possibly eat all this chili, and the freezer is full of my strawberries. They were so good this year. Do you garden?”

The smell of rich, spicy meats spilling out from the kitchen and the thought of fresh home-grown strawberries were triggering deep hunger pangs Bev had managed to ignore all afternoon.

Her longing must have appeared on her face because Trixie grinned and clapped her hands together. “Liam, pour your friend a glass of wine.”

Liam scowled. “Mother. She’s only here because you’re pressuring her.”

“I have to be pushy so she knows I mean it. I’m not making some phony offer I hope she refuses.” Trixie grinned at Bev—a big, toothy smile that reached her ears.

“No, you’re making her accept an offer she’d rather refuse,” he said. “All she wants is a calm, private room at the Claremont without some pushy crazy lady bothering her.”

Annoyed by his assumption of what she wanted, Bev gave Trixie her warmest smile. “I would love to stay here tonight, Trixie. Thank you so much for the offer. Your house is beautiful and I hate hotels and your chili smells fantastic.”

Trixie beamed at her. Then both she and Bev turned to Liam and gave him a daring look in unison.

Liam’s mouth flattened and he stared back at them. After a long second, he said, “April’s waiting in the car,” and turned away to pull open the door. “See you at work, Beverly.”

Trixie took her arm. “He’s probably afraid I’ll put you in his old room,” she said, leading her deeper into the house. “Men are such little boys at heart.”





Chapter 7

Early the next morning, Liam paced the perimeter of his office with a tennis ball in his hand, hurling it at the wall every few steps and trying to distract himself with the effort of catching it before it hit the ground.

Both of the offices next to his were empty; nobody wanted to be his neighbor for long.

He stopped his pacing and ball-throwing long enough to grab the phone and dial the front desk. “Has she come in yet?”

“No,” Carrie said.

“You didn’t leave your desk since I came in? You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled and hung up, cursing Ed’s bad taste in hiring an antisocial teenager for reception, then called George at the back door. “Well?”

“Quit your nagging,” George said. “I told you I’d call you. Not that I know what she looks like.”

“Like Ellen, but . . . softer. Younger.”