Private Parts (9 page)

I
T WAS AFTER
2:00
A.M. BY
the time Kendall made it back to her room at the bed-and-breakfast. Thankfully, she hadn’t woken Mrs. Foss while gaining access, but now that she was in her quiet room, she almost wished she had roused her, if just so the grumpy old woman could drown out the incessant voices in her head.

She should change out of her wet clothes. Finish packing. Take a shower. But she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than collapse to the bed, dropping her purse to fall where it may.

What a difference a day makes…

She groaned and lay back on top of the thick quilt, her feet still planted on the floor to anchor her, her mind refusing her peace. Troy…Philippidis…Elena… Ari sharing the news of the early arrival of his baby daughter…It all seemed part of a crazy dream. So outside that with which she was familiar.

What she had done, the altering of the contract, was so uncharacteristic of her, she was having a difficult time reconciling her actions within herself. But what she was struggling with involved more than that. Far more.

Somehow, somewhere, over the past two weeks, she had fallen in love.

Love.

Such a simple word. Such complicated implications.

Had she known…

She closed her eyes. Had she known…what? Had she known, she would never have done what she had? But that didn’t make any sense. Mostly because she should never have done it in the first place.

While her justification now seemed weak, everything had happened so fast she hadn’t had a chance to explore all of the ramifications. Plus she was Manolis Philippidis’s business attorney. His interest came before all else.

Except in the case of wrongdoing. By engaging in the criminal act, she’d placed her very career in jeopardy.

Which presented her with an interesting conundrum. It was in
her
interest to remain by Philippidis’s side. To prop up the duplicity. Doing otherwise would be professional suicide.

To not do so would be the same.

A voice sounded from the hall.

She lifted up onto her elbows, listening. Caleb was staying at the Metaxas house now so she was the only guest at the inn. Who could Mrs. Foss possibly be shouting at? Unless it was a delayed reaction to her late return? Or had the bedsprings creaked when she lay down?

“How were you raised?” Mrs. Foss’s voice got louder, sounding as if it were coming from the other side of the door.

Kendall sprung up off the bed. Mrs. Foss’s bedroom was downstairs. What would she be doing upstairs?

“Fine. Well, just know this, buster. That tally-whacker of yours had better stay in your pants, because I’m not putting up with any monkey business tonight.”

Kendall opened the door, an apology for waking the inn owner on the tip of her tongue…only to find herself standing face-to-face with none other than Troy.

The air rushed out of her body, she was completely vulnerable, unprepared for his appearance.

“What kind of girl accepts visitors this late?” Mrs. Foss demanded. “In my day, if a girl dared see a man this late, her reputation would be ruined for—”

“Thank you, Mrs. Foss. Sorry for the trouble,” Kendall said quickly, ushering Troy inside and closing the door.

Silence. And then a loud whoosh as Mrs. Foss exhaled loudly, half growl, half exasperated sigh.

Whatever Troy had to say to her must be important, because she knew what lengths he’d already gone to to avoid the stridently opinionated woman before now.

Kendall cleared her throat. “What she doesn’t know is that my reputation is already all shot to hell.”

Troy dropped his gaze, his frown seeming bone deep.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

He looked at her curiously, as if incredulous that she would ask such a question.

“At the, um, hospital, I mean. Elena? Baby Amy?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and walked toward the window. “Yes, yes. Everything’s fine there.”

She realized how stupid she’d been to ask. In order for him to arrive at her door shortly after she’d gotten back herself, he must have left right after she did.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “You know…for reacting so quickly…for helping out…”

This time it was probably she who looked curious. “You expected I would react differently?”

They stared at each other. And she ultimately figured out that her recent behavior suggested she was a person other than the one she thought of herself as.

The one she wanted him to see in her.

The woman he wanted.

She turned away from him; from his probing gaze, from the pain she glimpsed just below the surface. She stepped out of her shoes one by one, put them on the floor and then picked up her purse.

“How could you do it, Kendall?” he asked quietly.

The question hit her like a gunshot.

She absently wound the strap around the purse, her heart beating thickly in her chest. “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered.

“Wouldn’t I? Try me.”

She blinked up into his face, surprised to find him closer than she’d thought.

She swallowed with difficulty.

He spoke first. “I know that Philippidis put you up to it. At least I hope that’s the case. But I don’t understand why you would do it.”

“I had to,” she said simply.

She listened to his even breathing as she waited for his response, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness.

“You see, Troy, our family situations aren’t all that dissimilar…”

He blinked once but still said nothing.

“Philippidis has my father up against the wall, his hand around his neck…”

She thought she heard Mrs. Foss downstairs banging pans and generally putting up a fuss, but she
couldn’t be sure. She could barely hear anything outside her own heartbeat and Troy’s even breathing.

“He threatened to close down your father’s firm,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He turned from her and paced a few feet away, his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets.

“There’s an important difference between you and me, Kendall.”

She stared at his neatly trimmed dark hair, yearning to touch it.

“No matter how desperate my situation, I would never have done what you have.”

“That’s easy to say, because you aren’t wearing my shoes.”

“What did your father say?”

“What?”

He swiveled back to face her, searching her face. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“Of course not…the entire point is that he not know.”

Troy’s frown deepened. “Where we differ is that I would never have sacrificed your family for mine.”

Kendall tightly closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against the lids. This wasn’t happening.

She wished more than anything that she could nudge back the hands of time to the night before last when Philippidis had called her with his demand.
Longed to take back what she’d done. Make it right again.

But she couldn’t.

She dropped her hands back to her sides and beseeched Troy with her gaze. “I’m so, so sorry…” Emotion choked off her words. She bit down hard on her bottom lip. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me…”

He stood watching her silently. “I don’t know if it’s even possible.”

Her heart beat faster. “Then why did you come by here? Why didn’t you go straight home? Do you want your pound of flesh? If so, go ahead and take it.”

The hint of a sardonic smile turned up one side of his mouth. “You sound like you’re the victim here.”

“No, I sound like I’m an additional victim.”

He squinted at her.

“That’s right. You’re not the only one who got screwed here, Troy. I got screwed, too. Oh, while my father’s company is safe for now, who’s to say Philippidis won’t yank out the rug from underneath him next week? Next month? Next year?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should have gotten it in writing.”

She flinched.

His words were no less than what she deserved. She knew that. Knew that she was on shaky ground trying to convince him they were both victims in
Philippidis’s scheme. But she felt compelled to say something, anything, to wipe away the expression on his handsome face.

Was it really only a matter of hours since he’d looked at her with passion? As if he couldn’t get enough of her?

The pain and disdain he wore now chilled her to the bone…and filled her chest with a hurt she wouldn’t have thought possible.

It was bad enough that she didn’t like herself just then. But seeing herself through his eyes stung most of all.

“Okay, then,” he said. He moved toward the door, then back again, coming to stand directly in front of her. She could smell his aftershave and the familiar scent made her mouth water. For a moment, she hoped he might kiss her.

Then he turned, opened the door and left. She jumped slightly. Not because he’d slammed the door after himself. But because, somehow, the dull click sounded louder than if he had…

T
HE FOLLOWING
M
ONDAY
T
ROY
sat at his desk, oblivious to everything and everyone around him.

Damn it all to hell, he couldn’t seem to free himself from the numbness that coated him like thick tar. He’d have a thought of what he might do to salvage the company’s plans and then Kendall’s face would come into focus and sweep everything from his head.

Patience came in. “Didn’t you hear my buzz? I have Sanford on line one, Johnston on line two and a slew of messages for you.”

How was it that bad news always traveled faster than good?

He had hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with any of this until after the holidays. That everyone involved would at least give him that much consideration. If not him, then Ari, who’d spent the past two nights at the hospital with Elena and the baby.

“Troy?” Patience asked quietly.

He grimaced and waved her away. “I’m not taking any calls.”

“What am I supposed to do with them if they insist on talking to you?”

“Shut the damn phone off. Send them all over to voice mail. What do I care?”

The secretary’s eyes widened.

A knock on the glass door and Ari came inside.

“Hey,” he said, wearing a stupid grin that Troy was beginning to think was mandatory for new fathers.

And reminded him of how little he had to smile about.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”

“Elena said I was bugging the hell out of her and kicked me out this morning.”

“Lucky her.”

Patience gasped.

He apologized and waited until after Patience congratulated Ari again on the new addition and the finally left the room, promising to intercept all calls.

Ari flopped onto one of the two metal guest chairs, made a face at the discomfort and then said, “If my ass wasn’t hurting already…”

Troy grumbled under his breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it’s not every day I get screwed. It smarts.”

Troy stared at him.

“I told you he’d do it. Didn’t I tell you he’d do it?”

“He didn’t do it.”

Ari gripped the sides of the chair. “What, you think Kendall did this all by her lonesome?”

He didn’t answer.

“And what would her motivation be?”

“What does that matter? She played a part in it. Makes her just as guilty.”

“Not from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, well, the view’s a little different from there, isn’t it?”

Ari chuckled. “You choose now to be unforgiving. Perhaps if you’d been a little more wary when Philippidis contacted us again, neither of us would be staring at the mess we are.”

Troy got up and grabbed his suit jacket. “Shut up, Ari.”

Not even that was capable of budging the grin from his brother’s face. “Where you going?”

“Palmer set up a meeting with the foremen we already hired.”

“Want a wingman?”

“No. But you could have Patience reroute the avalanche of calls your way if you want to be helpful.”

“No thank you. I’m going to be talking to Caleb
at ten with the legal team trying to see what we can do to wiggle out of this contract.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“All right.”

Troy ground his back teeth together as he stalked from his office.

He really didn’t want to do this. The last time he’d met with the foreman Palmer had recommended, they’d been agreeing to terms and talking start dates. Now he had to tell them it was done, over. Palmer had offered to pass on the news himself, but Troy had refused, figuring he was the reason for the bad news, he should be the one to deliver it…

K
ENDALL PULLED THE PILLOW OVER
her head, wishing the world would just go away. Or the voices in her head would just shut up.

Somehow, although she couldn’t clearly remember how, she’d made it home early Sunday morning and climbed into bed, her entire body aching. And she hadn’t gotten out since.

She wasn’t ill. At least not with a traditional physical malady. It just felt like she wanted to die.

The memory of how Troy had looked at her caused her to fold up in herself.

All day Sunday, the telephone had rung. Since she knew there was zero chance that she’d be hearing from Troy—now or ever—she’d let it ring. Then
her cell phone started vibrating on the bedside table. Until, eventually, it had vibrated over the side and was somewhere on the floor under her bed.

Which was where she felt like crawling.

She groaned and hauled the pillow from her face, staring at the ceiling through strands of her hair. Not even when she was physically ill had she ever taken to bed. Feeling sluggish? Somewhere there was a pill designed to combat it. Feverish? Congested? The same. Nothing, but nothing, was big enough to keep her down.

Except this.

She rolled over, staring at the nicely appointed room she’d decorated herself when she first bought the apartment in downtown Portland. Where before the fine porcelain dogs she’d collected since she was ten might have given her pleasure, now they looked like little more than bits of worthless pottery.

She’d gotten her first “dog” on her birthday when she’d made her usual annual request for a real one even though she’d known they couldn’t have a pet because of her mother’s extreme allergies. So she’d instead received the delicate porcelain collie. And had received one on her birthday ever since.

Now she wanted to crash them all against her pale rose colored wall.

If
she could find the energy for more than what it took to get to the bathroom and back.

Speaking of which…

She stripped back the comforter and padded barefoot toward the connecting bath. She nearly tripped over a roll of wrapping paper, but instead of propping it back up against the wall, she kicked it. It unrolled in front of her, covering the rug and then the tiled bathroom floor like some sort of white rug to the commode.

Cute.

She snatched the paper up, giving it a good crumple before throwing it into the bathtub.

She didn’t want to think about Christmas being only three days away. She didn’t want to think about anything but getting back into that bed and pulling her pillow back over her face.

She finished her business and out of habit stood looking at her reflection in the mirror.

Who in the hell was that mad woman?

It seemed oddly apropos that she didn’t recognize herself. Why shouldn’t that manifest physically? Her blond hair was more than a tangled mess around her head, it was a matted nest, and no matter how much she tried to push it back from her face, it flopped back down, knotted in place. Her skin was washed out, her face blotchy, her flannel pajamas buttoned wrong. Everything was just…off.

The apartment phone rang again. She leaned against the sink and closed her eyes. She really needed to go switch off the ringer and check the
answering machine to make sure there were no emergencies.

So why, then, couldn’t she bring herself to budge?

The ringing stopped.

Thank God.

She filled the rinse cup with water and sipped, trying to remember the last time she’d eaten…and the phone started ringing again.

With a resigned sigh, she put the cup back in the holder and padded through the bedroom to the living room. The answering machine display showed she had nine messages.

She picked up the handset, stared at the caller ID to find it was her father and hesitated answering.

She could feign an illness. She had compared how she was feeling to one a few minutes ago.

The receiver stopped ringing and the ID window went blank.

Which gave her the perfect opportunity to scroll through the numbers that had come in. Her sister…her father…her mother…

No Troy.

She put the receiver back in its holder. That meant that none of the messages would be from him.

She pressed the Play button and went to put on a much-needed pot of coffee, wishing she had her slippers when her bare feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen.

The first five messages were from her sister. Then
one from her mother, inviting her to Sunday dinner. Then her father. Then they reverted back to her sister. Nothing important, although by the end, there was a decidedly concerned tone to the messages and requests to call back.

Kendall squinted at the clock on the coffeemaker. Just past nine. In the morning? Night? She craned her neck toward the French doors in the dining room, unable to tell if it was light or dark. Of course, with all the rainy weather they’d been having, she wasn’t sure she would be able to tell the difference anyway.

Night. It had to be night. Despite the rain, it was too dim even with the curtains shut to be day.

That meant that she’d spent nearly three days in bed.

Maybe she had come down with something…

Yeah, right. A big case of the guilts was all she had.

She reached into the refrigerator and took out a yogurt, leaning against the counter as she ate it while the coffee machine spit next to her.

The telephone began ringing again.

She squinted. No, wait. That wasn’t the phone. That was the doorbell.

She put the half-eaten yogurt cup down and went to press the intercom button next to the door.

Her sister.

She buzzed her up and when Celia knocked on her door, she opened it and practically fell into her arms. “Oh, Celia, what have I done?”