When She's Bad (2 page)

“Yeah, right,” she murmured darkly.

“Are you sure it was my drill that woke you? It’s a silent drill.”

“It’s not silent. It’s a giant man-eating termite.”

“Are you sure you don’t have a problem with insomnia?” he asked, as if the buzzing sound was all her imagination.

Surely he wasn’t patronizing her, she thought, her temperature rising even more, which meant it would be impossible for her to go back to sleep. “I definitely have a problem with insomnia and you are it,” she yelled.

“Me?” he yelled in astonishment.

“Your nighttime renovations.”

“I do quiet renovations at night.”

“Not quiet enough, Mr. Tooltime. Put your weapons of destruction away,” Delilah yelled in return. “My best friend in the world died a month ago and I really need my sleep.”

Silence followed, then a mumbling sound.

“What?” Delilah asked, pressing her hands against the wall as she craned to hear.

“I said I’m sorry. I quit my job and fiancée. I’ve been trying to keep busy.”

“All night?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Even through the wall, she could feel his regret in admitting he couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t escape a stab of sympathy for the guy. She understood far too much about losing. Sighing, she felt an odd sort of connection with her insomniac neighbor.

She thought again and shook her head. “That’s wack,” she muttered to herself. “I’m sorry about your problems, but you need to find something quieter to do at night.”

“Like what?”

She rolled her eyes. Why was she supposed to solve his problems? “Bowling. The bowling alley is open all night,” she said and headed for the bathroom.

With his ear pressed against the wall he shared with his neighbor, Benjamin Huntington III would have replied if he hadn’t heard a shriek of frustration followed by the sound of his neighbor’s shower.

Pulling back, he glanced down at his high-tech silent drill, then eyed the wall again with skepticism. The woman’s shriek still rang in his ears.
Great
, he was living next door to the Wicked Witch of the West.

His fingers itched to continue drilling. After all,
Broom Hilda
was still in the shower. She wouldn’t hear him. Muttering, he unplugged the drill. The renovations were supposed to be therapeutic. So far, they’d been working. Even though he’d made a few mistakes and sections of his condo resembled the apocalypse, he liked the feeling of progress. He liked working with the tools and his hands.

The renovations helped him deal with his own insomnia and disillusionment. In one week, he’d lost both his dream job and the fiancée he’d thought was his dream woman. As if it had just happened an hour ago, Benjamin remembered his confrontation with the managing partner of the most prestigious law firm, Fitzgerald and Lewis, in Connecticut.

Benjamin had been sickened to learn that one of the other attorneys had bribed a judge on behalf of one of his clients. Fitzgerald’s words still rang in his ears.
“Keep it quiet. This is the son of one of our most prominent clients.”

Benjamin had quit on the spot and he’d thought his fiancée Erin, an attorney at the same firm, would join him in Houston without batting an eye. But Erin hadn’t. She’d told him the bribery was all part of the game. He was overreacting.

So now he was back in Houston, teaching law instead of practicing it. His blood pressure rose at the thought. That would change in due time, he told himself, brushing off his hands and heading for the den.

His father was urging him to join the family firm here in Houston, but Benjamin had never been comfortable being his parents’ “chosen one.” That had been part of the reason he’d stayed back East after he’d graduated from law school.

His brother Robert was finally coming into his own, preparing to run for public office, and Benjamin refused to steal any of Robert’s thunder.

He sank down onto his overstuffed couch and drummed his fingers over his plaster-dusted jeans leg. He closed his eyes and the familiar edgy restlessness tripped through him, making it impossible for him to sit still. He needed to hammer a couple of boxes of nails into the wall or drill all the way to Dallas. Anything to escape the damned-if-you-do-and-damned-if-you-don’t feeling in his chest. If he had been able to play the game as his fiancée had suggested, he would still be in Connecticut now with his rising position at the firm and his marriage plans intact.

He wouldn’t have been able to look at himself in the mirror. Benjamin had been told by more than one person that his deep-seated sense of integrity would cause him unending heartburn if he practiced law. He just hadn’t known it would cost him his dream job and future wife. Since he’d followed his convictions and made the right decision, the least he had expected was the ability to sleep at night, but he had too many unanswered questions about himself, about his future.

He glanced in the direction of his neighbor’s condo. And now he’d learned he was living next door to a woman with a shriek that could make his skin crawl. Where were a good hammer and board when you needed them?

Champagne cocktails and M&Ms are the real necessities of life.

—D
ELILAH’S
D
ICTUM

Chapter 2

“
T
ake a message. I’m not paying him or seeing him,” Delilah told her assistant, ignoring the niggling uneasiness underneath her skin at the mention of Guy Crandall.

“This is the third time he’s called this morning,” Sara Cox said calmly. Sara was always calm except when her almost-ex-husband, Frank, called to harass her. The woman’s determined calm was the reason Delilah had hired her. That and the beaten-down dejectedness Delilah saw Sara trying to shake. Delilah knew a little too much about being beaten down herself.

“The answer will be no if he calls ten more times,” Delilah said, still fighting that itchy discomfort. Cash had warned her about Guy. Cash had also told her to
just pay him
, but Delilah wanted to expand the business and in order to expand, she needed to trim unnecessary costs. Guy Crandall didn’t appear to do a blasted thing, so she’d cut off the weekly payments for his nonexistent consultation services.

Leaning over her cherry desk, Delilah studied the expenses for the business for the zillionth time and felt a cautious spurt of optimism despite her lack of sleep. If everything went half as well as she planned, she could open a new location in Dallas in twelve to eighteen months.

If she was successful, she would effectively shut the mouths of all her detractors, and heaven knows, she had a lot of detractors. Her stomach burned and she reached for an antacid as she shook off the drowsiness that still plagued her. A little peace would go a long way in soothing her ragged nerves, but Delilah suspected peace wasn’t in her future today.

“Coffee,” she murmured, noting her empty cup. Sometimes she wondered if she lived on coffee, antacid, and her secret stash of M&Ms in her bottom desk drawer. The staff nutritionist would be horrified, but Delilah left the herbal tea that reminded her of stinky socks for the clients that streamed in the door of Spa DeMay paying astronomical sums for everything from sea enzyme treatments, mud wraps, microdermabrasion, and permanent makeup to a highly coveted spot at the exclusive Botox parties held after hours. The only concession she had made to being healthy had been to quit smoking, and that was in direct response to her eleven-year-old half-brother living in Pennsylvania. Rising from her leather chair, she strode into the greeting area for coffee while her assistant fielded another call.

“Frank, I’ve asked you not to call me at work,” Sara said in a shaky voice. “I’ve already told you I’m not going to quit my job and come back to you.”

Delilah wrinkled her nose in distaste at the way Sara’s ex tried to manipulate her.

“You’re wrong. I can hold down a job,” Sara said, her voice cracking. “I may not have a lot of skills now, but I’m learning.”

If there was one thing Delilah couldn’t stand, it was a bully. Her stomach burned as if she hadn’t just swallowed an antacid tablet. Swinging around, she gently pulled the phone from Sara’s hand. “Pardon me,” she said to Sara, then lifted the receiver to her ear. “Frank, this is Sara’s boss. Stop calling the office or I will arrange for someone to remove your testicles and Sara and I will have to fight over who gets to wear them for earrings.”

She hung up the phone and met Sara’s startled gaze. “Hope you didn’t mind.”

Sara shook her head in tiny movements that barely disrupted her carefully coiffed red hair. She cleared her throat. “Do you really know someone who would remove Frank’s, uh—”

“Testicles,” Delilah supplied, certain Sara was too ladylike to say the term aloud herself. She returned to the coffeemaker and filled her cup. “Yes, I do.” She’d met a lot of interesting people through Howard Bradford.

“Well,” Sara said in a voice that evoked images of melted butter and honey on a flaky biscuit. “If you happen to get Frank’s
earrings
, I’d like to wear them first.”

Delilah chuckled in approval. When Sara had first shown up for her interview, she had been a shadow of a woman, painfully meek. Although Delilah was known for her ball-breaking attitude, there had been a time when she’d been vulnerable and unsure. Even though she’d interviewed more assertive applicants, Sara had haunted her and she’d sensed hiring her would be the right thing to do. So far her instincts had proven correct. With each passing day, her assistant seemed to get a little stronger. Until Frank called. “Does he call you much at home?”

“I don’t pick up.”

“Good.” Delilah sipped the hot brew. “Have you started dating yet?”

Sara blinked. “Dating? A man?”

Delilah laughed. “You can use the plural form. You’ll be single any day.”

Flustered, Sara shook her head. “I haven’t thought much about it and I’m not ready, and if I were, I haven’t met anyone who would ask me and—”

“They’re not all like Frank,” Delilah said.

Sara took a deep breath. “So I’ve been told.”

“But you obviously haven’t experienced,” Delilah said, speculatively. She’d matched up more than one couple at Spa DeMay. She was good at managing everyone’s love life except her own. That quality seemed to run in her family. “You know what you need? You need a young stud muffin who will provide you with pleasure while you retain the control.”

Sara’s cheeks turned scarlet. “I can’t imagine—”

“Well, you probably should.”

Sara folded her hands. “Miss Montague, you’ve done a lot for me. I’ll never be able to repay you for helping me find a safe place to live and for giving me this job when I know I wasn’t the prime choice, but I cannot accept your offer of providing me with a sexual—” She cleared her throat and lifted her hand nervously to her neck. “A sexual stud muffin.”

“Well if you change your mind,” Delilah ventured.

Sara’s lips twitched. “I’ll let you know, but I’m not like you. You’re experienced and confident. Men want you.”

Not the way she wanted to be wanted, Delilah thought, but quickly brushed the thought away. Oddly enough, her relationship with Cash had provided her with a future at the same time that it had painted her as a floozy. Her mother had been a floozy. Like mother, like daughter. Delilah told herself for the hundredth time that she didn’t care if the world thought she was a floozy, as long as she was a smart floozy. If she had anything to do with it, she wouldn’t end her days dirt poor in a trailer in Nowhere, Texas.

A tall, gorgeous, buff blond man strode through the doorway. Delilah felt a rush of pleasure. There were very few people at Spa DeMay who didn’t secretly or not-so-secretly disdain her. There were very few employees at Spa DeMay whom she genuinely liked. Paul Woodward, the spa’s most popular massage therapist, was one of them. He was the kind of guy who crackled with masculine energy and wore his strength with ease. He had a ladykiller grin. With his good looks, he should have been cocky as hell, but he wasn’t. She could love him. Like a brother.

“How’s my favorite Woody?” she teased.

He gave a half chuckle then shook his head. “I’m fine, but I’ve got bad news, Miss Montague. Helga made the new esthetician quit.”

Delilah groaned. Helga, the spa’s most talented and renowned esthetician, was easily threatened. “I need a strong second when Helga’s not available. I don’t know what it’s going to take. I’ll go pull her hair,” she said. “Or talk to her if I can get rational by then.”

“Let me know if you want a neck rub after you’re done with her,” Paul teased.

Delilah gave a fake pout. “No full body massage?”

“You’re the boss.”

Delilah laughed and waved him away. “Go make me some money.”

“You can’t say I didn’t offer,” he said and nodded in Sara’s direction. “Mornin’ Miss Cox. You’re lookin’ pretty today.”

Sara’s cheeks colored. “Why thank you,” she said in an astonished voice.

Delilah smiled as Paul treated them to the sight of his broad back and tight butt as he left the outer office. “He’s so fun to flirt with. He almost distracted me about Helga.”

Sara gave a disapproving sniff. “He gives the impression that he’s quite accustomed to distracting women with his body.”

“You’re not being snooty, are you? Do you really believe Paul isn’t a genuinely kind person?”

Sara gave a quick shake of her head. “No. I’m not at all snooty. He’s just—” She shrugged. “He’s just so good-looking it’s a bit overwhelming.”

Delilah nodded. “With looks like that you’d expect him to be a real jerk. But he’s not.” She sighed and made a face. “As enjoyable as it is to talk about Paul, I really need to talk to Helga. Page me if there’s an emergency.”

“Good luck,” Sara said with a nod.

“I’m going to need it,” Delilah muttered and walked out of the office.

A receptionist immediately flagged her. “Miss Montague, Mrs. Manning says she’s desperate to get into the Botox party scheduled for tomorrow night.”

Mrs. Manning’s husband was president of an oil company. Like most of the women who walked through the elegant front doors of the spa, she was trying to hold off plastic surgery as long as possible. “Tell her we’ll squeeze her in, but she must sign the releases before she can attend.”

Delilah skimmed the front desk appointment book for Helga’s schedule and saw that she was on break. Probably smoking in her office, Delilah thought and turned down the hall. She gave three raps on the door then opened it. Helga scrambled under her desk, no doubt trying to conceal her cigarette. Helga kept a fan running in her office at all times.

There was a strict no-smoking policy at the spa that Helga ignored. Helga was a stern, tall, blonde fifty-one-year-old woman with a streak of paranoia that rivaled the width of the Mississippi river. She was a pain and Delilah would have cheerfully fired the woman if she weren’t the most talented and famous esthetician in the west. Women were willing to pay a great deal for one of Helga’s facial treatments.

“Good morning, Helga. What happened with Cynthia?” Delilah asked, already knowing the answer.

Helga poked her head above the desk and lifted her chin in regal distaste. “She didn’t know what she was doing. I gave her suggestions and she became hysterical. She was no good.”

“Helga, according to you, all of the estheticians are no good.”

“I have high standards for my clients,” Helga said with a shrug.

“But you do understand that we need at least two more estheticians to satisfy customer demand.”

“It is better for the customer to wait. Then they appreciate the service more. If they must wait, then they believe they have received something special. Which they have if I have performed their treatment.”

Delilah sighed. She’d held this conversation with Helga too many times to count and she was ready to try something drastic.
Everybody works harder if they have something on the line
, Howard had told her, and he was right. “You know that I would like to start another location of Spa DeMay in Dallas?” Delilah began.

Helga looked down her nose at Delilah. “You do not know enough about the business to do such a thing.”

Delilah bit her tongue. “Actually Howard thought it was a good idea. So do the accountants. I’ve been thinking you are such an integral part of Spa DeMay that I would like you to take on a larger role.”

Helga perked up with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. “What do you mean larger role?”

“Well, Helga, you must know that when it comes to facial treatments, you are the Queen. Anyone we hire will be second choice.”

“Yes,” Helga agreed, relaxing a centimeter. “What does this have to do with a larger role?”

“In order to expand, we must hire more estheticians. I would like for you to oversee them.”

“I already do that,” Helga said dismissively.

“If we can keep two estheticians for one year, then I’ll give you a bonus.”

Delilah could practically see the wheels of Helga’s mind begin to turn. “What bonus?”

“Two percent silent ownership in the spa.”

Helga blinked. “Ownership?”

“Two percent silent ownership,” Delilah emphasized.

“I could not be silent.”

“You may serve in an advisement capacity, but I will make final decisions. But if you’re not interested,” Delilah said as if she were pulling a platter of cookies from the table.

“I did not say that,” Helga quickly said. “I will agree.” She gave Delilah an assessing glance. “Perhaps you are smarter than some thought.”

Damn right
, Delilah thought, but smiled instead. “Who would have known? Go ahead and write the want ad advertising the positions.” She extended her hand to seal the deal then headed for the door, knowing she’d just made an agreement with someone who would love to see her fail. A deal with the devil. Delilah had a gnawing feeling it wouldn’t be her last.

On the way back to her office, she slowed at the sight of Lilly Bradford at the front desk. She felt an odd pang at the sight of Howard’s only daughter from his long-dissolved marriage. He had loved her so much, and would have moved heaven and earth to protect her from his secrets. Now Delilah was in charge of protecting Lilly. Overhearing the receptionist tell Lilly they were booked for the day, she intervened.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Delilah said to the receptionist.

“But we’re slammed,” the receptionist protested. “I’ve already had to work in—”

“We’re never too slammed for Miss Bradford,” Delilah said firmly, looking at the book. “What can we do for you today, Miss Bradford?”

Lilly didn’t quite meet Delilah’s gaze. Come to think of it, she never really had. Lilly had been a plain, painfully shy adolescent who was now desperately trying to be seen as a desirable marriage partner for Robert Huntington. She’d successfully straightened her teeth and Howard had been more than happy to pay for laser vision correction surgery that meant she no longer had to wear glasses. Her hairstyle covered ears that stuck straight out just like Howard’s had, but anyone with a smattering of women’s intuition could see that Lilly suffered from a dearth of self-confidence. “I-uh have a special dinner date for tonight. I need my hair done,” she said, absently stroking her shoulder-length highlighted blonde hair. “A manicure and makeup.”