Whatever It Takes: A Highland Springs Romance (Whatever Series Book 4) Read online

  “You decide.”

  “Hell no. If I pick the wrong thing, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Why now? Couldn’t he wait until tomorrow or Monday when this headache would be a distant memory?

  “Darla?”

  She and Jamie had formed a partnership and were building their first spec house—a practice run for the housing development they were planning. With her market sense and money, and Jamie’s impeccable craftsmanship, they were venturing into unchartered territory but felt confident it would be a success. They had a lot on the line, but right now, she couldn’t possibly make a decision.

  “What about the Ventura stone?” she suggested—anything to get him off the phone.

  “You said it was too brown.”

  “Then pick the gray one.”

  “Gainsboro or Plummet?”

  “Oh, God, I don’t know.” She lay the phone on her knee and pressed her hands on either side of her head, hoping to squeeze away the pain and fuzziness. Why was he forcing her to decide right now?

  She picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, Darla, it can’t. What the hell is the matter with you this morning?”

  “I had one too many margaritas last night.”

  Jamie’s raucous laugh burned through the phone. “Lightweight.”

  “Yes, I’m a lightweight, and I have a massive headache. So I can’t pick a stone color right now.”

  “Fine, I’ll make the choice. But if you don’t like how it turns out, don’t come crying to me.”

  “Give me twenty-four hours.”

  “No can do.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Darla, you’ve dragged your feet for over two weeks. You wanted us to build this house, so if you want to delay another couple of weeks, fine.” Whose bright idea was it to work with her brother? The answer came with another jabbing pain. It was hers.

  “What difference would another day make?”

  “Time is money, so says Darla Heartwood, the agent with heart.”

  “Shut up.”

  “It’s your money.”

  “Don’t make any moves without my okay.”

  “It can’t wait.”

  She drew in a deep breath and popped to her feet. Her brother was being a total jerk right now. “Look, you little weasel. Stop pushing my buttons.”

  “I think I’ll go with the Sandstone. It’ll look great with the barn-red siding.”

  “If you do—”

  His annoying laugh set her teeth on edge. She wasn’t in the mood or physical condition to deal with his adolescent wit. Someone was outside the door, and she had to morph into professional realtor role—hangover be damned.

  “Listen up, jerk face,” she said through gritted teeth. “You make one move without my approval, and you’ll be cutting two-by-fours at the sawmill for minimum wage. No one will hire you to hang a picture when I get through with you.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  Sometimes he could pluck her last nerve. “Mess with me, and you’ll be through in this town.”

  Darla tapped off the call and threw her phone onto the carpeted stairs. “He’s impossible.” Her scream echoed off the gray-painted drywall.

  “I hope I’m not too early.”

  She stumbled off the first step and landed against the foyer wall. Silver fox scowled in the entryway.

  TWO

  A lush and a ballbuster. This is exactly why he never wanted to start down this road, but he had promised Meghan. Last night, Darla had been celebrating her birthday, so he had excused her inebriation. With the amount of free drinks sent her way, there had been a high probability she’d get drunk. That he understood. But now he’d seen the real Darla—an angry, demanding bully. Obviously, her funny sweetness only came out with the help of alcohol.

  She’d been damned cute last night as she belted out a karaoke song. And when she stumbled between his legs and whipped out her business card, he couldn’t help but enjoy the feel of her luscious hips. Too bad in the sober morning light, she was nothing like he’d surmised. He’d originally feared Meghan’s biological mother was a drug addict, living in squalor or in prison. He’d imagined a high school dropout with rotten teeth and six kids by different fathers. So many horrible depictions had come to mind, so when he found out she was a successful real estate agent with no other children, he was thrilled. He’d forgiven her overindulgence, chalking it up to birthday fun, but he couldn’t deny her true self. At least in his dreamed-up scenarios, the other women had an excuse.

  “Good morning.” She reached out her hand and gave him a firm, professional handshake. “I’m Darla Heartwood. Please come in.”

  And a fake. Was she really going to act like they hadn’t met? Forget that she had landed in his arms last night and told him how hot he was?

  “I’ll be happy to show you around, or you can take a look on your own.”

  “I think I’ll—”

  “There are two generous-size bedrooms upstairs with a Jack-and-Jill bath between, as well as a large master bedroom suite. Perhaps you’d like to start up there.”

  She was a little green around the gills. No wonder with the quantity of alcohol she’d consumed last night. He had wandered into the Brass Rail on the recommendation of the front desk clerk and couldn’t believe his luck when she walked in. After over five years of searching, he thought perhaps the stars had aligned in his favor last night. But as he watched her down drink after drink, he now realized she wasn’t the adorable birthday girl. He was dealing with someone very different than the image she portrayed on her website. The realtor with heart? Ha! No way could he introduce his daughter to Darla Heartwood.

  “Please excuse me. Feel free to look around.” She disappeared into what he assumed was the powder room and heard the remnants of her cocktails dislodge into the toilet. He remembered mornings like this from his college days, but there was no excuse for a thirty-three-year-old woman to be heaving after a night of partying—birthday or not. What kind of example would she set for Meghan?

  He strolled into the large living room and glanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the hillside dotted with tall, budding trees. There was a recently planted backyard, big enough for a swimming pool and play set. Meghan would have loved growing up in a place like this with the thick forest for exploring and fresh, country air. Instead, her playground had been a paved parking lot in front of their townhouse and a tiny, fenced-in backyard. It wasn’t all bad. They lived in a great school district with every academic opportunity, and it was within walking distance of St. John’s College where he taught. She’d known most of her friends since elementary school. His mother had helped raise her, living only a mile away, until she passed away suddenly. They had a good life, the two of them, so why mess it up?

  The powder room door creaked open, and he turned to find Darla with a sheepish grin.

  “I apologize. I’m not feeling very well this morning.”

  “A little too much birthday party?”

  Her chin dropped to her chest, and her dark, silky hair cascaded around her face like a curtain. She’d been outed.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember me.” She ran her fingers through her hair and his heart stopped. He felt a modicum of sympathy as her deep, espresso eyes, just like Meghan’s, glistened through her tortoiseshell glasses. The curve of her lips reminded him of his daughter’s, and they shared the same dark hair and round face. That’s where the comparisons stopped. Meghan was taller with a boyish figure, not curvy and voluptuous like her mother. “I apologize for whatever ridiculous comments I may have made to you last night. I don’t usually drink that much.”

  Yeah, I bet.

  “It was my birthday, and I’d gotten some bad news right before I arrived, and well”—she threw up her hands in defeat—“I let the margaritas get the best of me.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “Oh, no, believe me…” She la
id her hand on his arm. “I rarely drink, and never to that extent. I’m a lightweight, as my brother often reminds me.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I’m a busy woman and don’t usually take time for such silliness.”

  “So you think getting drunk is just silliness?”

  She stepped back, the smile fading from her face while her brows drew deep in anger. Maybe he’d gone too far. He should dial back his attack. Even through the hangover haze, there was something about her. He didn’t want to like her but was starting to.

  “I assure you, it rarely—if ever—happens,” she said.

  “I apologize. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Oh? Where did you stay? You’re not from around here, I take it.”

  “I got a room at the Resting Place Motel.”

  “Oh my. I guess you figured out it’s hard to get any sleep there. The train runs behind it at all hours, and it doesn’t exactly attract the best clientele, present company excepted, of course.”

  “The room next to me left their TV blaring all night, and the train woke me at two, three, and five.”

  “I hope you checked out. I’ll be happy to recommend another suitable hotel for tonight.”

  “I’m not staying. Heading home soon.”

  “And where is home?”

  “Ohio.”

  Did her eyelids just flutter? Was that a tick in her upper lip? He hit a nerve mentioning Ohio. The bad news she mentioned was obviously his phone call. Is that how she categorized his daughter—bad news?

  “Since you’re probably in a hurry, I’ll be happy to show you around.” She spread her arm out like a game show presenter. “As you can see, this home was designed with an open floor plan. Just off this lovely great room, you’ll find a large dining area and gourmet kitchen.”

  “Have you ever been to Ohio?”

  Her smile faltered and she closed her eyes for a moment, but her pleasant smile returned. “Of course, hasn’t everyone? Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the beautiful quartz countertops.”

  “Ever been to Cleveland?”

  “No, I’m afraid that’s one city I’ve never visited.” Keeping her back to him, she pointed into the kitchen. “This home is equipped with top-of-the-line appliances suited for a home chef.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  “I’m a native. Born and raised in Highland Springs.” She twittered nervously and continued her presentation. “So here you’ll see they cleverly tucked a wine fridge among the custom-made cabinetry.”

  “Did you go to college?”

  “Um…yes.” She flipped on the faucet, but before she could tell him about the amazing water pressure, he dug for more.

  “Where?”

  “Ohio University. Would you like to see the full, unfinished basement?”

  “What did you major in?”

  “Business.” Turning to face him with her arms folded below her ample breasts, she cocked her head to the side. “Sir, I get the impression you’re not much interested in this home. Perhaps there’s another location I could show you.”

  “I’m more interested in getting to know you.”

  “Oh.” She spun like a ballerina, picked up a stack of brochures, and shuffled them until the corners matched perfectly. “Well, I…” Keeping her back to him, she arranged the brochures in a perfect fan and then wiped the counter with the floral hand towel hanging on a hook. “I’m not sure why you’d—”

  “Actually, I wanted to know if you’re married.”

  “Married?” He couldn’t see her face but noticed the quiver in her hands as she attempted to fold the towel into an equilateral rectangle. “I…um…no, I’m not married.” When she turned to face him, she wore an angry scowl and color had risen to her cheeks. “I’ve never been married. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  “It hardly seems appropriate to discuss my personal life. Are you interested in the house or not?”

  Now he had really taken it too far. She was furious at his line of questioning, but he had so much to learn about her before he introduced her to Meghan.

  “What about children? Ever had children?”

  ***

  “Dad, you’re home early.” Jason swept Meghan into his arms and planted a loud kiss to her cheek.

  “How’s my girl? Been behaving yourself?”

  “Nope. I had a party last night.”

  He dropped her to the ground and gave her his fiercest scowl. “A party? On a school night? I thought you stayed at Kristin’s house.”

  “Nope. Stayed here. Had a party until two in the morning.” With a tilt of her head and a sparkle in her brown eyes—so much like Darla’s—she continued her tall tale. “There was a keg and whiskey.”

  “Is that so?”

  “And bikers. Did I mention the bikers?”

  “Come here, you.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her tight to his side. He knew better than to think she had thrown a party while he was gone. She was a sensible, goal-oriented, mature young lady who had never given him one day of trouble. Beautiful, smart, at the top of her class—she was perfect. Lots of parents thought their kids were perfect, but Meghan was. Occasionally, she’d test her independence by staying out beyond her curfew, but that was understandable for an eighteen-year-old. From the moment she came into his life, she had been his heart and soul.

  “Now, what’s the real story?”

  “Nothing exciting happened while you were gone. I stayed at Kristin’s, went to school, went to work, and came home. That’s it.”

  “Good. How’d you do on your calculus test?”

  “Aced it.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  She wiggled out of his embrace and tugged open the refrigerator door, pulling out an apple and bottle of water. He sat across from her at the kitchen island. “Are you coming to my game tonight?”

  “In all probability.”

  “Dumb question.”

  “Afterward, I’ll take you out to dinner.”

  “The team is going to Pizza Palace.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t look so disappointed. The parents are invited.”

  “Okay then.”

  Meghan took a bite of the apple and circled the island where she sat on a barstool. How many nights had they sat here together, side by side, eating dinner and talking about their days? Just the two of them. The dynamic duo, two peas in a pod; they had dozens of names for their partnership. Us against the world. How could he possibly introduce Darla into their mix? It would never be the same between the two of them. Jenny left them when Meghan was only a year old, and he’d been both mother and father to his precious little girl. He didn’t want to jeopardize the love they had for each other by bringing her biological mother into the picture, but the doctor felt it may be necessary.

  “So did you find her?”

  “Find who?”

  “My mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dad,” she said, dropping the apple and crossing her arms. “I know you went looking for her.”

  “No, I was away doing some research.”

  “Research on my mother. You found her, didn’t you?”

  “Look, Meggy.” How could he lie to her? He had promised her since she was twelve years old that when she turned eighteen, he’d help her find the woman who had given birth to her. She had always known she was adopted, but after seeing a sex education film in middle school, she had put two and two together and developed a robust desire to meet her real mother.

  “Dad…”

  This wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t ready to share her. They only had three more months until she left for college. Besides, he was up for tenure and couldn’t be distracted. He could construct a dozen excuses why he wanted to keep his daughter all to himself, but her recent health problems had prompted the doctor to question whether her condition was heredit
ary.

  “Honey, you have all this graduation stuff coming up, and you’re going off to college in August. Now is probably not the right time.”

  “When would be the right time? You promised when I turned eighteen, which was four months ago, that you’d do everything you could to find her.” She stood up and met him eye to eye. “I know you’ve been looking. I found your notes on your desk.”

  “You’ve been snooping through my desk?”

  “On your desk. Don’t put this on me, Dad. You told me you’ve been searching for her.”

  She was angry and hurt, and when he reached out, she took a step back. He wouldn’t let this come between them, so he stood up and wrapped his arms around her, laying his cheek against her head. How could he tell her Darla had no interest in meeting her? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his daughter. She’d been through so much lately with shortness of breath and fainting spells. Would she be able to handle the truth?

  When he had asked Darla about children, all the blood had drained from her face.

  “That, sir, is none of your business.”

  “I’m making it my business. Did you give birth to a baby girl in Canton, Ohio on January 23, 2000?”

  “You need to leave.”

  “Why can’t you answer the question?”

  “Get out.”

  “You did, didn’t you? And you gave her up for adoption through Catholic Charities.”

  She collapsed into a puddle on the shiny, ceramic tile and burst into tears. When he knelt down to help, she scooted against the cabinet and curled into a ball.

  “She wants to meet you.”

  “I can’t,” she choked out through the tears. “Please leave.”

  He pressed a kiss to Meghan’s head and gathered her angelic face in his hands. He’d give anything to protect his daughter, but he couldn’t hide the truth.

  “I won’t lie to you. I found her, but she doesn’t want to meet you.”

  THREE

  Raindrops the size of green peas pelted the windshield of Darla’s compact SUV so hard and fast, the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up. She rubbed a circle with her sleeve against the foggy glass, but still, it was nearly impossible to see where she was going. If it weren’t for the natural guardrail of trees on either side of the gravel lane, there was no telling where she’d end up.