The Edge of Recall Read online

  Smith frowned. “God forbid a man should have a say in his property.”

  “What about Petra’s say?”

  “He’s flying us out for Petra’s say.”

  “So we can shoot her down.”

  Smith sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But he’s signing the checks.”

  “That’s all it comes down to?”

  He faced her full on. “Do you have any idea how important it is to impress him here? He’s building all over the world. First-class hotels. I’d have the chance to do cutting-edge designs.”

  She didn’t believe it was only the money. Smith wanted a patron for his art. “I suppose she deserves it for marrying someone like that.”

  “Age-old story, Tessa. He’s rich; she’s beautiful. It’s mutually beneficial.”

  She looked back at the labyrinth. “I don’t want to be part of it.”

  “You made yourself part of it.”

  “I only thought—”

  “Listen. Neither of us likes this. Maybe we can work up a design that really will please and impress Petra while retaining the elements Gaston insists on.”

  Tessa raised her brows. “We?”

  “Why not? You had good ideas once. You think like a woman. You heard her requests. If Gaston and Petra can’t come together on this, maybe we can.”

  That was the last thing she wanted. “Why don’t you ask Bair?”

  “He’s not the creative force you are.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  “Work with me?”

  It would be too close to what they’d had. “I don’t know your software or the codes or—”

  “All I want is your input and ideas so that what we present pleases both parties.”

  “I’m not qualified.” Or prepared mentally or emotionally to work that intensely with him. She started for the office.

  “Is it that or is it me? Because I promise I won’t cross the line between business and personal.”

  “I can’t make that promise.” It was out before she could shoot it in its tracks. It didn’t matter if it was work, it would feel personal.

  His eyebrows arched ironically over his eyeglasses. “I promise I’ll bear it if you find yourself losing control.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Why did you kiss me last night?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He spread his hands. “I had no ulterior motive. I certainly didn’t premeditate it.”

  “Because the thought would be dreadful?”

  “Because my last relationship didn’t end well.”

  Her mouth froze around her planned retort and left her with, “Oh.”

  He sent his narrowed gaze off to the side. “That’s not the point here.”

  “Maybe not. But it helps.”

  “How?”

  “To know it’s not just that I’m unstable.”

  He hung his head. “You’re not unstable, Tess. Just high maintenance.”

  She glared. “Petra’s high maintenance.”

  “Petra’s above my price range. You’re . . .”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He started for the office, trying to make his escape.

  “I’m what, Smith?” She stayed right behind him.

  “Why do you make me say things that will only cause trouble?”

  “You started saying it. Now finish.”

  He turned on his heel, and she ran into him. He caught her elbows. “You need more than any man can give.”

  She opened her mouth. “You have no idea what I need.”

  “I think I do. It’s in your eyes, your—everything about you.”

  “Then let’s be clear. Whatever you think I need, I don’t need it from you.”

  “That’s good. Because I don’t . . .” He let go. “I don’t have much to offer.”

  Not at all what she’d expected him to say. How could he even think it? “That’s not true.”

  He started walking.

  “It’s not true, Smith. You might not want to waste it on me, but—”

  “Tess.” He turned with hurt in his eyes. “Nothing’s wasted on you.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t actually expect things to work out. They never do.” She got moving before the pity reached his eyes. She didn’t want to see it and wasn’t trying for it. “I guess you can show me what you want to do.”

  She held the hurt at bay while he opened the program and brought up his concept. She could see why Rumer Gaston didn’t want to relinquish the design. Smith had played off the monastic elements, but with fresh, clean lines and creative space. She saw what she’d already guessed, that he had a natural talent waiting to be recognized. No wonder he wanted this so badly. But Gaston wasn’t the only one involved.

  “All right.” She settled into the chair she’d pulled over from her desk. “This is what I heard. As you said, Petra’s part of the equation is her beauty. She wants the house, especially the bedroom, to remind Rumer why he has her. She’d rather he watch her bathe than look out the window over his property. If he must look out, she’ll surround him with her image. She’ll walk the runway for him when she dresses, because that’s where she shines. Though difficult to believe, I think she’s insecure in the relationship.”

  Smith had turned and was staring through his glasses as though she were a fascinating specimen. “How did you get all that?”

  “Lots of therapy.” She didn’t want him looking at her with such intensity. “The thing that really works for her is motion. You saw how she moved; Bair couldn’t keep his eyes off. A disco—lights, music, and motion—would give her a place, once again, to display her assets. If you can’t include it, we need to figure out what else might do that.”

  “So the key is to create elements that give Petra security. What’s Gaston after?”

  “Power. He wants to be king.”

  “So in essence we’re balancing their egos.”

  “His ego with her insecurity.”

  Bair brought them cups of tea and tried not to look worried. Did he think they’d tear each other apart the minute his back was turned?

  He shifted. “Mr. Gaston wants to send a jet to Baltimore in the morning. Will that … timing work?”

  Subtext: Had she agreed to go and could they possibly be ready?

  When she didn’t answer, Smith shrugged. “He doesn’t know we’re attempting this consolidation. He thinks I’ll be rehashing what we already decided.”

  Tessa studied his face. “Are you willing to risk it?”

  “Let’s see how successful we are.”

  They worked through dinner and into the night. Bair made roast beef sandwiches from the leftover beef and kept them supplied with tea. He had slumped down in the only comfortable chair in the corner of the office and drew long, snuffling breaths through his half-open mouth, insisting when they addressed him that he did not need to go to bed.

  “Well,” Smith said, jamming his fingers into his hair when the night had slipped to morning and crept toward dawn. “It’s not complete by any stretch, but we have a concept.” His eye and her gut instincts had brought it together.

  “I think it could work.” She yawned, suddenly aware of the fatigue.

  Smith rolled his chair back. “I’ll drive you in.”

  She shook her head. “I’m okay.”

  “We’ll be taking your car to the airport in the morning anyway.”

  “In the morning?” She raised her brows sardonically.

  He looked at his watch. “In a few hours. I’ll drop you off now and pick you up on the way. No point your driving out here for me.”

  She guessed he was rationalizing to support his position, but she was tired enough to accept.

  Smith shook Bair’s shoulder. “Go to bed, Bair. We’re finished.”

  He opened his eyes. “Mmm … wide awake.”

  “I’m taking Tessa back. Get some sleep.”

  Bair pus
hed himself up. “Right, then.”

  While working, their discord had disappeared. Now, alone in the car with him, her defenses collapsed. It had been so wonderful pooling their ideas, playing off each other, sparking fresh concepts. They had integrated gardens with the architectural motifs to strengthen Gaston’s vision and relocated the master suite to meet Petra’s needs. With cleverly mirrored angles—not unlike labyrinthine elements—they had created an inner space that would reflect her like the facets of a diamond. To Tessa’s half-trained eye, they’d created a masterpiece of cooperative adaptation.

  Smith at last pulled up to the inn. They hadn’t spoken a word, both inhabiting their own thoughts through the entire drive. But now Smith parked and turned. She met his fatigued gaze with her own and allowed the smile that spread between them. It was all she could do not to reach over and smooth the hair he’d left standing.

  “So, I’ll come for you nine-ish?”

  She nodded. “I’ll throw together an overnight bag and something to meet in.”

  His smile turned drowsy. “Don’t outshine Petra.”

  “No worry there.” She reached for the door handle, but Smith touched her arm.

  “Let me.” He got out and opened her door.

  She climbed out on shaky legs.

  He took her elbow and walked her to the door, stood a moment and said, “So, thank you.”

  She shrugged. “You did the hard work.”

  He shook his head. “It was both of us absolutely, and …” He looked away. “I better let you get some sleep.” He opened the inn door.

  She slipped inside. “Good night.”

  “Pleasant dreams.”

  He didn’t know what a thoughtful wish that was.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Smith drove back to the office, overwhelmed by what he and Tessa had accomplished. It was what he’d imagined years ago—only better, so much better. He had technical skill, innovation, and creativity, but her insight was remarkable. She brought an intuition that gave the structure exactly the personality they’d been striving for.

  They were an awesome team. And he didn’t want to think it because it wouldn’t last. When would their paths logically cross again over a labyrinth? And more than that, they might have called a truce to accomplish this thing, this incredible thing, but once the afterglow faded they’d be who they were before and nothing would be right and …

  He sighed. He needed sleep, but he reached the trailer more invigorated by their interaction than fatigued. In the dawn light, he moved toward the door and jammed his foot against something. What … ? He bent and stared. The gate. Tessa’s gate lay beside the stoop, when they’d left it lying in the labyrinth field. He straightened and searched the woods around him. Whoever was there liked playing games. Or was he restricting them to the trailer, removing anything they left elsewhere?

  Determined not to give the intruder any satisfaction, Smith moved past the gate and went into the trailer. Bair’s guess at someone who didn’t want them to build might be the closest of all. Should he mention it to Gaston? What if it escalated to sabotage when they started building? He crept into the bedroom and removed his shoes, shirt, and jeans while Bair slept undisturbed. He had a responsibility to apprise the owner, even if it sounded crazy.

  He tried to rest, but his thoughts would not still. It seemed like just minutes later he was driving back to get Tessa, fortified only by strong tea. She opened the inn door as he drove up, tossed her carry-on into the backseat beside his, and got in. He couldn’t stop the smile.

  “What?”

  “You look like you did all those mornings you wanted to cram.” Tousled and soft-faced and adorable.

  “And you wouldn’t help me.”

  “You didn’t need help.” It was even more evident now. Not as technically proficient, perhaps, she nonetheless worked out of a reservoir of something inside her that no head knowledge could trump.

  “Whatever you say.” She settled in as he started for the airport, and after a while said, “Do you think Bair might haul that gate somewhere to be repaired? I was hoping to borrow the Land Rover and take care of that.”

  Strange how she picked thoughts right out of his head. “Bair’s heading up to the main office while we’re gone, but he can drop the gate somewhere on his way.”

  “Does he know where to find it?”

  Smith turned. “Actually, yes. It was lying beside the stoop.”

  “What?” She frowned. “What’s going on?”

  He shrugged. “Bair thinks a poltergeist, but that gate would be an awful lot of material matter for a ghost to relocate, so I’m leaning toward human mischief. So far the pranks have been harmless.” He refrained from mentioning the odorous activity on the doorstep.

  “But … it’s just weird.”

  “Quite.”

  She sank back in her seat and rubbed her eyelids.

  “Did you sleep?”

  She nodded. “Like a rock for two hours.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  He sent her a sideways glance. “Just that nasty surface sleep where your mind keeps whizzing over everything. Lines and patterns and measurements.” Her sitting beside him, challenging him as he’d never been before.

  “Do you want me to drive?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll sleep on the flight.”

  Silence settled, pregnant with unsaid words. Finally she murmured, “Do you think they’ll like it? What we did?”

  “I’ve learned not to anticipate anything either way. Sometimes people can’t envision it, even with the 3-D model in front of them. Sometimes clients think they know what they want, but when you give it to them on paper, it’s all wrong. Sometimes they catch the magic. You just never know.”

  “Catch the magic.” She smiled. “It was, wasn’t it.”

  His throat tightened. “Yes.”

  “You said last night you don’t bounce ideas off Bair. How come?”

  “Bair thinks very concretely. He’s going to handle commercial structures that emphasize utility over design. He’s quite good with cost control.”

  “Then you’ve never done what we did last night, pooled creative energy and funneled it into conceptual design?”

  “Not like that, no.” He stared ahead at the road until his voice would convey no more than he intended. “I sometimes shared concepts with Danae.” In a business sense, Tessa had no need to know about her. After last night, he wasn’t sure they were firmly business only.

  “Did she work with you? Another architect?”

  “No. She didn’t know anything technical. I simply wanted her opinion on everything.” He watched that sink in. Way more than he’d wanted to reveal.

  “She must have loved your drawings.”

  “Not everyone is fascinated with lines.”

  She turned, slightly agape. “You remember that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because …” Her throat worked. “I didn’t think anything I said had much of an impact.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  She looked out the window, hurt rising from her in waves.

  “Tess?”

  “It was easier to think you hadn’t really gotten me than that you’d turn on me, knowing … how I was.”

  “It was six years ago. I was full of myself and my plans. I assumed everyone wanted a piece of what I had to offer. When you changed direction, it was as though I’d failed somehow.”

  She turned back, eyes glazed with tears. “You’d failed? You never failed in anything.”

  He pulled a crooked smile. “That shows what you know.”

  She turned back to the window.

  He sighed. “I suppose it confirmed your philosophy that nothing works out.”

  “It went a long way. That and never trusting anyone who has the power to hurt me.”

  He swallowed the ache in his throat. “I’m sorry, Tess. Really.” When she merely shrugged, he said, “Yo
u’ve got to give me more than that. Tell me you forgive me.” The pain that washed over her face confused him. “Or not. If you don’t want to.”

  She stared down at her hands. “I do want to. It’s what I came for. To find closure.”

  “That sounds final.”

  “I thought it would be.” She bit her lip. “Last night was … really great. The way we clicked, the energy. I’m thankful for that.”

  “So am I.” He didn’t want it to end there. “I’d envisioned it, you know, working like that with you. That was why I tried so hard to dissuade you from changing course.”

  “It was? You didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, well, that would’ve been begging. I had far too much head for that.”

  “I don’t know what to say. All this time I thought …” Her hands fell open on her lap.

  “It’s quite obvious what you thought all this time.” He formed a grim smile.

  “It might have helped to talk.”

  “A little like stepping on a land mine.”

  She glared. “You didn’t even try.”

  “Would it have changed your mind?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then I’d have been limbless for nothing.”

  “But I’d have understood your motivation.”

  “Would you have even heard me? Once you’d shut me out?”

  Her gaze fell to her hands. “I don’t know.”

  They drove in silence until she picked up the previous thread. “So who was Danae, if not a colleague?”

  “An event planner.” Probably not exactly what she was asking. “On a big scale. Openings and whatnot.”

  “How did you meet?”

  He really didn’t want to go into it. “One of my parents’ gatherings.”

  “In London?”

  “New York.” Why had he started this?

  “Did they introduce you?”

  “A friend of the family.”

  “What does she look like?”

  He shot her an exasperated look, but he’d opened the door; he couldn’t blame her coming through. “Tall. Straight brown hair. She wore it twisted up in back to look professional, rarely let it down, literally or figuratively.”

  “What attracted you?”