Loving Mr. July Read online

  She sighed again. And about jumped out of her skin when she realized she wasn’t alone. The stationary shadow on the far wall wasn’t so stationary any more.

  She turned very slowly, only to see Kurt Renton leaning against the barn door, hands in his pockets, and with very little expression on his face.

  “Geez, give me a heart attack why don’t you?” Cynthia’s earlier fear gave way to anger. Not to mention humiliation that Kurt was seeing her with dirt on her clothes, and no date on a Friday night. It put an edge in her voice. “How long has your pretty face been decorating my wall?”

  “Might want to rethink that customarily congenial attitude of yours. Seems to me you need to be in major suck-up mode right now, given the little stunt you all pulled on me.”

  “Wasn’t my idea.” Cynthia put up her hands in defense. “I told Blake you had turned me down flat.”

  “Uh huh.” Kurt ambled closer. “He just decided on his own without any coaching at all to send me up the river?” He stopped a few feet away in a wide-legged stance, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so.”

  Kurt angry. Now this was something new, Cynthia thought. He was a little intimidating without his normal veneer of friendly charm.

  “Think whatever you want. Doesn’t change the truth,” Cynthia said. “Though I’d hardly call setting you up to take a few photos sending you up the river.”

  “I don’t see you posing in a bikini.”

  “Yeah, well. We weren’t all blessed with good genes,” Cynthia said, turning away so he wouldn’t see the pain his words induced. She was too tired to come up with a witty response that made light of her generous size as was her normal defensive habit. “And if it’s such an imposition, don’t do it.”

  “Since you all have taken away that option from me by announcing to the entire company that I was committed, it’s a little too late for that now,” Kurt said. “Nope. Way I see it is you owe me.”

  “I. Owe. You?” Cynthia pointed from herself to Kurt. “For what? You haven’t done a thing for me.”

  “Yet,” Kurt acknowledged with a nod. “But you need me. You may not want to admit it, but you do. I know how the Bocher Foundation works. No one. And I mean no one does a thing for that organization without a thorough background check. It’s required even if you’re not going to work directly with the kids. They’re fiercely protective of the kids and don’t want even a hint of scandal. And you know as well as I do that you aren’t going to get another soul through that vetting process in time.”

  He was right. She knew it. And he knew that she knew it. Cynthia looked at his set face. Oh how she would love to tell him where to put it. But she couldn’t. There was no way she would let down the foundation or the kids it helped. She’d been in their shoes once.

  “Okay, I’ll play,” Cynthia told him, sighing. “What favor is it that you think I should do for you?”

  “Oh, it’s favors, as in plural,” Kurt replied.

  Cynthia raised her eyebrows. “For one picture?”

  “We’ve got way more than one picture going here and you know it,” Kurt said, getting in her face to make his point. “There’s the photo session, the ball itself, the weekend I have to set time aside for, the arrangements for the fantasy weekend, not to mention the cost of it all.”

  “Your mother Marjorie would have insisted you and Blake go to the ball anyway,” Cynthia retorted. “And the fantasy doesn’t have to go too over the top.”

  “I’m not going to have it said about town that I’m cheap.” Kurt backed off a little, but not enough for her comfort.

  “Knock yourself out then.” Cynthia started gathering up the packing paper. Folding it gave her something to do with her hands, and kept her brain from thinking too much about how gorgeous he was. And how insanely, unreasonably, and unfathomably attracted she was to him. Why him? Why couldn’t it have been Terry the UPS guy, or Bob the plumber, or even Sam the fireman? Why did it have to be the one guy she had no chance in hell of ever attracting?

  Wouldn’t do to boost his ego by drooling either.

  He looked different tonight, Cynthia realized, sort of disheveled. He was a little sunburned and his blond hair, windblown. Instead of his usual knife-edged khakis, and pressed button down with tie, he wore older Levi’s and golf shirt. And could that be flip-flops on his feet?

  “Oh, I’m not going to knock myself out. Not too much, anyway. But you are.”

  Cynthia looked up at that.

  “Yep. You are going to arrange the entire fantasy weekend for me. And that’s just the start.” He picked up a packing box. “These need to be broken down?”

  “Uh, yeah?” Cynthia said. She watched, bemused, as Kurt started to break down and stack the packing boxes, as if pitching in to help her was the most natural thing in the world. Couldn’t say that his mother Marjorie hadn’t trained her boys right. Neither one of them was a slacker.

  “You’re also going to work out with me twice a day until the pictures get taken.”

  Cynthia stopped her paper folding to stare at him. “What is it about this body,” she motioned to herself, “that gives you the first indication that I’m a personal trainer. Or in fact, know anything about working out?”

  Kurt shrugged. “The way I figure it, if I have to suffer through a crash program to get in top shape, you’re going to suffer right along with me.”

  “You look fine.” Cynthia gave him a dismissive wave. “And we can always Photoshop you. No one will know.”

  Kurt stopped stacking boxes long enough to scowl at her. “I’ll know.”

  “My working out with you will only slow you down.” Cynthia tried another tack.

  “Your meeting me twice a day will ensure that I go running and get to the gym. You’re going to be my workout buddy. You’ll meet me in the morning, at my house, and we’ll go running on the beach. You’ll come back in the evening, and we’ll hit the gym.”

  “Am I serving you meals too?” Cynthia said it in a sarcastic tone, then immediately realized her mistake. But it was too late.

  “Great idea. My trainer at the gym gave me a high protein, low carb cookbook. You can create our meals from that. And we will both have to eat them. No way am I going to eat fish and salad for three weeks by myself.”

  “Kurt, I’ve got a job here. Not to mention the entire second job that the Bocher Foundation volunteering has turned into. What you’ve just described has me practically living at your house. I know I owe you one, but come on, be reasonable.”

  “I’ve got plenty of room. You want to move in for a few weeks, go right ahead.” He finished breaking down the last box and joined her in folding packing paper.

  Cynthia studied his set face. She had seen the look only once before, when her partner Sharon had first met his brother Blake and a misunderstanding had put Cynthia on one side of a negotiating table representing Sharon across from Kurt, representing Blake.

  He wasn’t going to back down.

  And she needed him.

  So she had to put up with some discomfort. It wasn’t going to kill her to stick to a healthy diet for a few weeks and work out a bit more. Well, actually, it probably would, but she couldn’t let those kids down, could she?

  “Okay.” She admitted defeat in a quiet voice. “I’ll play. But don’t have high expectations of me in the physical fitness department. That’s never been my forte.”

  “I’m only asking that you suffer as much as I do.” Kurt’s face was enigmatic as he reached into a pocket, extracted a key and tossed it in her direction. “You know where my house is. Feel free to use any of the spare bedrooms.”

  Cynthia looked down at the key in her hand, momentarily speechless. Kurt meant it. Live at his house, with him, on the beach in Del Mar with a 180-degree view of the ocean. How was that going to work? “Isn’t this going to cramp your style with the ladies?”

  “Like I’ll have time for that in the next three weeks,” Kurt responded, picking up the huge stack of packing
boxes and paper they had created. “This stuff going to the recycle bin?”

  At her nod, he walked to the door with the pile, saying over his shoulder, “Be at my house at six a.m. tomorrow. We’re going running on the beach.”

  Cynthia didn’t have time to protest. The door slammed behind him.

  ~ ~ ~

  He had to be out of his mind, Kurt thought, as he got out of his BMW X5 and unlocked his beach house door. Not only had he just committed himself to two workouts a day, and where was he going to find time for that? But he had also essentially forced Cynthia to live with him for the next three weeks.

  Why? What was it about her that got under his skin so much? He’d had such a mad on when he first entered the shop this evening and watched her toiling away. Then he had started feeling sorry for her, working so hard by herself.

  She’d looked tired, and sort of down. Vulnerable in a way he had never seen her look. She had always been so feisty around him. That look had gotten to him. And then he felt guilty for being so obstinate about the silly calendar. Which in turn made him mad again, and apparently irrational.

  He tossed his keys on the counter and unlocked the door to the tiny yard to let Lucky, his chocolate Labrador, inside. She greeted him with the enthusiasm that only a dog could. It brought a smile to his face.

  “I’m sorry, girl,” he crooned to her, giving her a good scratch behind her ears. “You’ve been very patient about your dinner, haven’t you?”

  He took the stairs to the living area at a jog with Lucky dancing at his heels. She let out a few excited barks when he headed straight for the kitchen.

  Lucky watched him with bright eyes, her tail thumping a rapid beat against the cabinet, and licking her chops as he filled her food bowl.

  While she happily chomped down her food, he glanced around his immaculate house with its modern furniture and neutral tones. The maids had come today. He could smell the lemon-scented cleaner they used on his granite kitchen counters. He knew that his laundry was completely done for him, his bed changed and remade with precise hotel corners. All three spare bedrooms would also have been changed, even though no one ever slept in them. He received excellent service. Of course he paid them very well.

  But tonight the perfect neatness of his house seemed cold and oppressive. Lonely.

  He grabbed a Red Trolley ale from the refrigerator, opened the bottle and wandered over to the massive sliding glass doors that separated his living room from the second floor deck and its views of the pounding surf. He slid open one door and walked outside.

  The marine layer had come in with a vengeance tonight with the clouds and mist obscuring any stars. It suited his rare mood, slightly melancholy and a little dark. The air was thick, too, with the distinctly sea air smell of salt and fish. So thick, the cushions on his deck furniture were slightly moist. He stretched out in one of his teak lounge chairs anyway.

  Lucky padded over to the chair, pushing her muzzle against the hand he dangled over the armrest, sure of her welcome.

  “We might be having some company for a while, girl,” he said to her, giving in to her implicit petting request. “I hope she likes dogs.”

  Lucky laid her head on his thighs, turning her soulful brown eyes in his direction.

  “If she doesn’t, she’s out of here, right girl?” He stroked her head. “Besides, how could anyone not like you?” He patted the deck chair, to let Lucky know it was okay to jump up.

  All seventy-five pounds of dog happily complied, lying across his chest in lung-squashing eagerness.

  “It’s not every day I let you up here, is it?” Kurt used both hands to stroke her head. “And don’t get any ideas about doing it when I’m not here.”

  Lucky gave him her soft whine.

  “Am I leaving you alone too much?” He asked her in a quiet voice. “Maybe it’s time we got you a friend?”

  Maybe it was time he thought about finding someone more permanent to share his life. And where had that thought popped into his mind? He had never been in any rush to couple up, despite his mother’s oft-mentioned wish of having her boys happily married off and producing prodigious quantities of grandchildren. Why should he when there were so many women happy to spend time with him? How was a guy to choose?

  Recently though, seeing Blake get married, culminating a long parade of the people closest to him coupling off, seemed to amplify the fact that while he was almost always surrounded by people, there was something missing.

  He watched a couple stop to embrace on the beach below him, their bodies silhouetted by the moon. A weird, almost longing emotion filled him. He had what appeared to be everything—an active social life, a successful business, wealth, friends, and a close extended family. So why was he feeling so alone on a Friday night? And why couldn’t he get Cynthia’s vulnerable face out of his mind?

  “I’ve been working too hard, huh girl?” He nudged Lucky to the side, so he could rub her belly. “That must be why I’m losing it.”

  Yeah, he’d go with that, because to think anything else was just too disconcerting.

  Well, he’d thrown out a challenge. He wondered if Cynthia would show up in the morning. Then it hit him. He’d just committed to running at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m.—on a weekend no less.

  Chapter 3

  Cynthia gave the doorbell another press, and heard the bell peal in the house for the third time. She glanced at the doorbell button and back at the keys in her hand. It felt sort of weird to just barge into Kurt’s house even though he had given her leave to do so. But he had said six on the dot and her atomic watch didn’t lie. And if the barking was any indication, at least the dog knew she was here.

  Hope there isn’t an alarm, she thought, as she slipped the key in the lock and turned. Of course, who needed one when the dog was doing such a good job? Either Kurt wasn’t home or he was comatose.

  “Hey there, sweetie.” She held out her hand for the dog to sniff, smiling when the dog took less than one second to smell her before shoving its muzzle in closer for petting. “Some watch dog you are.”

  She turned the dog’s collar around so she could read its tag. “Lucky. I’d say an appropriate name given where you live.”

  “Wow, a complement.” Kurt’s voice preceded him down the stairs. “I just might faint from the novelty.”

  “You deaf, or what?” Cynthia retorted. “Or is punctuality just not your strong suit?”

  She looked up to see his bare feet appear first as he descended the stairs, then long, muscular legs. She saw loose basketball shorts, and a glimpse of bare chest and stomach before the shirt he pulled over his head unfortunately covered it. He had a surprisingly dark shadow of stubble on his chin given how fair his hair was. And he looked sleepy.

  She thought back to how she had groaned when her alarm went off at 5 a.m. How she had rushed through her normal routine, not completely styling her hair, but blowing it dry enough that Kurt wouldn’t realize she had showered this morning. And how she’d even put on a light cover of makeup and a quick coat of mascara to cover her pale blond eyelashes. A truly ridiculous effort, given that she was about to get sweaty, but there was no way that Kurt was going to see her without makeup. Suddenly it seemed more worth it.

  “Clock upstairs said six,” Kurt replied in a mild tone.

  He slid a pair of dark rimmed glasses onto his nose that should have made him look like a geek, but instead made her pulse race just a little.

  He stared at her.

  “Something wrong?” Cynthia asked.

  “You worried I wasn’t going to see you in the fog or something?”

  Cynthia looked down at the brilliant yellow, close-fitting workout outfit she had donned that morning. “Sorry, only clean workout outfit I had.” Also the one chosen to bring as much attention to them as possible, in the hope of embarrassing Kurt enough to give up this crazy scheme, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “And what’s all this?” Kurt pointed to the bags of groceries cluttering the
small porch area by the front door.

  “You ordered healthy food. I followed through.” Cynthia picked up one of the bags. “This is the only one that needs refrigeration. Want to show me where things go?”

  Kurt grabbed the other three bags, perusing the contents as he did so. “Anything besides rabbit food in here?”

  “Nope,” Cynthia cheerfully replied. “You want to lose body fat in three weeks, then you’re going to have to go severe on your plan.”

  “You work fast. I haven’t even given you my trainer’s cookbook yet.” Kurt indicated she should precede him up the stairs to the main living area.

  “We go to the same gym, although I’m sure you’ve never seen me there.” Cynthia called over her shoulder. “And I know Carl. I helped him come up with a marketing plan for his personal trainer business. I’m familiar with his cookbook. Have several copies in fact.”

  “Oh.” Kurt’s voice held a note of surprise.

  Cynthia looked over her shoulder to see a nonplussed look on Kurt’s face. She turned around so Kurt wouldn’t see the smile that came to her face. Yes I know Carl, she thought, and I know how awful his food was before I helped him spice it up. Food and how to cook it well, she knew. What Kurt didn’t need to know was that she wasn’t going to cook from Carl’s published cookbook. She was going to use his ‘before’ recipes, as in before she helped him vastly improve their taste. And she couldn’t wait to see Kurt’s reaction to it. He wanted to punish her a bit for the photo shoot. Well, two could play that game. She hoped she could serve the stuff to both of them with a straight face.

  Cynthia stopped at the top of the stairs. After the rather non-impressive entryway, living area of Kurt’s house brought on a bit of a shock. It was absolutely stunning. Her dream home if she’d ever thought to dream that big.

  To her left, the expansive living area was arranged to make the most of the straight-on view of the Pacific Ocean. Floor to ceiling windows and sliding glass doors replaced walls in the western side of the room. And the north- and south-facing sides had been cleverly constructed to let in as much view as possible while still providing privacy from the neighboring homes.