Destiny by Design (10 page)

She was jolted out of her collegial admiration when her ears picked up a conversation that made her stomach lurch.

“Come on, I’ve clearly got this competition wrapped up. Help me celebrate my win. There’s champagne in the fridge downstairs. We could go back to my place and…”

She trailed off to a whisper Ellis couldn’t pick up. There was a second voice but whoever it was spoke so low that she couldn’t hear. But she knew it was a man and, judging by the way the hair on her neck stood up, she thought she knew exactly
which
man.

“Darling, haven’t we played games long enough?” Cynthia purred. “I know you want me. I feel your eyes on me…feel your heat whenever we’re close.”

The intimate conversation was coming from the bathroom. Ignoring the voice screaming in her head to turn around and run as fast as she could, Ellis drew closer until she could see the couple’s reflection in the mirrored closet door, which stood slightly ajar.

Simon was sitting on the edge of the gigantic corner bathtub, nose-to-nose with Cynthia, who straddled his lap. Her flouncy black skirt rested high on her thigh, exposing the clips of her old-fashioned stockings, which was where, Ellis noted with disgust, Simon’s hand was firmly planted. Cynthia’s long, lacquered nails played seductively with his shirt collar, her red pouty lips mere inches from his.

“Of course I want you,” Simon’s voice, low and gravelly, answered. “What red-blooded man with good eyesight wouldn’t want to take you home and make you howl until the sun rises?”

Ellis had seen and heard enough. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her stomach felt nauseous. She backed out of the room, quickly, quietly, before her presence was noticed. Her ears were ringing and she longed for a Q-Tip to remove any vestiges of the conversation she’d just overheard. If only she could figure out a way to wash Simon out of her mind, out of her heart. She couldn’t decide what emotion was stronger, disgust or heartache.

I obviously read the signals wrong
, she thought as she made her way downstairs,
or he’s a randy bugger who likes to have a few fish in his pond
. She chided herself for believing, hoping that some sort of relationship was waiting for her at the end of the competition. A wave of intense claustrophobia hit her. She needed to get out of the house, needed fresh air…needed to get as far away from Simon Callon as humanly possible.

“Miss Strathmore, you okay?” Marco had never seen Ellis looking so forlorn when he bumped into her on the landing. He listened to her briefly explain about the hinge but didn’t dare tell this poor woman, who looked as if the world was ending, that he had no time to deal with it in the fifteen minutes left before deadline. He would do this one last thing for her. She might be a little loco, but at least she always said please and thank you.

* * * * *

The cocktail reception held by the developers was a lavish affair, complete with string quartet and champagne, but Ellis knew its main purpose was to entice the potential buyers who were in attendance, rather than “graciously acknowledge the hard work of all participants in the Oak Ridges Development Competition”, as the invitation had stated.

Emotionally raw, Ellis contemplated skipping the reception. It would have been much easier to console her wounded ego with a pint of Cherry Garcia. Instead, she decided to give Simon a little dose of you-coulda-had-it-but-you-blew-it. It was a matter of dignity to go to the party with her head held high, looking absolutely smashing. Hell, she had a knack for colors and accessorizing, she may as well use it for something other than empty rooms.

She arrived fashionably late and scanned the assembled crowd for three people—Simon and Cynthia so she could avoid them, and Remi, whom she intended to keep close for emotional support.

Her scum radar locked on Simon within moments, almost as if they had a psychic connection. Steely knives sliced through her gut at the thought of Cynthia and Simon spending the afternoon screwing. He smiled and raised his hand but Ellis turned away and practically assaulted one of the judges, shaking hands and babbling about the “terrific experience” she’d had.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Remi, but her intentions of shadowing him were dashed when she noticed he was in full-flirtation mode with another guest. Fortunately, there was no sign of Ms. Travers. She might not have been able to stop herself from clawing the bitch’s eyes out.

Ellis continued ’round the room, mingling with designers and answering the myriad questions thrown at her by the press and potential investors. Perhaps she laughed a little too loudly, tried a bit too hard, but she was determined to be charming. Every time she spotted Simon making his way toward her she managed to engage someone in conversation, but the inevitable happened and they found themselves in the same group chat.

Awkward minutes passed as the group talked around them. Ellis examined her shoe, turned her gaze to the giant chandelier, which dripped from above, studied the faces of everyone in the group…anything to avoid eye contact with Simon. Then his cell phone rang and he turned away for privacy. Ellis stole the moment to admire the way his navy dress jacket hung perfectly on his back and shoulders, the way his dark hair curled over the collar. She thought back to the morning he showed up fresh from the shower, with his hair still wet. Simon cleaned up beautifully, despite the fact that he was such a scoundrel. Even among the metrosexual businessmen and polished real estate tycoons, he was without a doubt the finest-looking man in the room.

Simon turned around quite suddenly, his eyes boring into her. Ellis felt abashed—he’d caught her staring! She could feel her face redden as he made his apologies to the group and left the room.

He was leaving. Ellis felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. The tension in her neck and shoulders drained as she watched him exit without a backward glance. He was clearly walking trouble, and Ellis hated him for making her feel so unsure of herself. Thank heavens the competition was over. She never had to see him again.

So why should that thought make her panic?

Ellis glanced between the clock and the door for the next half hour. He wasn’t coming back. She could shelve her show of bravado and go home to soak her sore feet and dive into the Cherry Garcia. She wished she had a cat, a little furry friend who would be waiting for her, happy she was home, if only because she had the opposable thumbs necessary to operate a can opener.

She knew it was against the rules but Ellis couldn’t help sneaking one last peek at the project that had consumed her life for the past few weeks. It was strictly forbidden to enter the house after the noon deadline but she decided that one stolen glance through the windows surely couldn’t be cause for disqualification.

Relieved to finally be able to kick off her high heels, she turned her car in the direction of the show house and pressed her bare foot on the accelerator. It was a short drive from the stuffy club to Oak Ridges. As she got within sight, Ellis pondered the thirty-six acre estate and could imagine the future of this place—children running around perfectly manicured lawns, gardeners trimming hedges, moms maneuvering their minivans into the circular driveways. A tinge of sadness washed over her, a feeling of regret that she couldn’t see her own future as someone’s wife, as someone’s mother. Ridiculous really, to feel sorry for herself, especially since Simon’s behavior proved her right on two counts—testosterone-dripping alpha males are not her type and all men named “Simon” are scoundrels.

She turned onto the narrow road that led to the show house and surveyed the dusty flat of land, lined with rows of Victorian street lamps and dotted with concrete foundations. Abandoned front loaders, backhoes and bobcats stood like silhouetted behemoths guarding the landscape.

Lost in her musings, Ellis didn’t take any notice to the black Mustang that buzzed past her going in the opposite direction.

Ellis killed her headlights and parked in the shadows away from the solitary house, where no one would see her car. She got out and noticed that the construction trailers had been moved to another area in the development, the gardens had been cleaned up and all signs of the past weeks’ frenzy were erased. The beautifully landscaped yard was well lit but the only lights she could see burning in the house were those in the foyer and main hall.

“Oh hell,” she mumbled in the dark. She’d come for nothing. She wouldn’t be able to see through the windows after all. But as the disappointment was settling in her chest, she detected a faint glow coming from the far side of the house where the office was located. Ellis strolled through the front yard, enjoying the feel of the freshly laid Bermuda grass between her toes and admiring the quick work of the gardening firm. They made it look as if the hostas and dahlias had had been blooming in the winding front garden for a full season.

She rounded the corner. Finally, a lucky break! The office lights had been left on.

But as she drew closer, Ellis knew that her luck had just run out.

* * * * *

Simon left the Oak Ridges Development madder than a wet cat. This damned project was supposed to be over but thanks to the call he’d received at the reception, he faced a long night of work. He contemplated phoning Ellis but despite her chilliness toward him, he didn’t want her dragged into this mess. It was hard enough on
him
. Emotionally, it would crush her. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle Cynthia but something had to be done.

Goddamned women! Why did they get caught up in this pettiness? It was only a contest for damn sake. Simon shook his head with disgust and forced his fingers to relax on the wheel. Before he tackled the problem at the show house, he was going home to pour himself a very large brandy and change out of his monkey suit. Thoughts of his wardrobe brought a vision of Ellis to mind.

Simon had arrived at the cocktail party and done a cursory search of the room, but he hadn’t seen the perky golden-brown eyes he was looking for. He was searching out Ellis, who had left the show house before he had the chance to catch her. It wasn’t like her to leave before the absolute deadline, he’d thought at the time, just ten minutes before noon. He’d expected her to be fiddling with this and that until the last strike of the bell.

Cocktail in hand, Simon mingled, caught up with a few acquaintances, his father’s friends among them, but couldn’t stop himself from looking toward the door, eager to see that shy little smile form whenever their eyes met. He probably should have offered to pick her up but she was the one who insisted they keep things low-key—or no-key—until after the competition, so he hadn’t bothered to ask.

Then WHAM! When she had finally arrived, it was if someone had squeezed the air out of his lungs. Simon didn’t know anything about women’s fashion, but that dress! It was milk-chocolate brown, with thin straps that showed off her toned shoulders and graceful neck. The tailored sheath molded over her breasts and skimmed her body to mid-calf, and when she walked, Simon could see her long leg through the peek-a-boo slit up the side. He could imagine those long, honey-colored legs wrapped around his waist. Her bare arms had moved with the grace of a ballerina, waving at friends and acquaintances scattered throughout the room. The light from above played with the gold and amber streaks in her hair. The only jewelry she wore was a thick gold bangle. It was all she needed. Ellis had a casual beauty that didn’t need the distraction of sparkling gems.

Simon had needed to be at her side and to hell with the competition or what the others thought. He had weaved his way through the crowd, only a few steps away when she’d caught his eye. Instead of the slow grin he had expected, she turned away. Perhaps she didn’t see him? No, Simon caught the icy glare on her face before she abruptly turned her back.

Man, would he ever understand women? First Cynthia had thrown herself at him with a level of aggression he just wasn’t used to, then sweet Ellis gave him the frosty shoulder.

* * * * *

“No, no, no, no…” Ellis chanted as she stumbled through the garden to the main entrance. She dug the master key from her handbag and raced for the alarm system. She reached the panel and was surprised to see it was already off. Still in shock over what she’d just seen through the window, she didn’t stop to think about the implications. Ellis made her way to the office, her bare feet doing double-time over the cold gray marble.

“NO!” she cried. It wasn’t a trick of the night. Two of the office walls were pink. Pepto-Bismol pink! How? She’d only left it nine hours ago and it was perfect. Someone had destroyed her work. She would be the laughing stock of the competition! Her reputation would be ruined! But why?

First Simon, now this! Ellis sank to her knees as her eyes filled with tears—tears of rage, frustration and sadness. She allowed herself five minutes. Just five minutes to be upset and then she would have to take action. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply and tried to come up with a plan. Surely something could be done to fix this mess. Ellis stared at the floor. She concentrated on relaxing her body while the thoughts in her brain swirled until they began to align and form a pattern, like the interlocking grain of the gleaming wood. First she’d call Remi. Between them, they would come up with a plan to overcome this situation and redeem their design in the next thirteen hours.