Building Dreams Read online

  For the same reasons, most females felt threatened by Amanda. For Tess, however, her friend's looks and appeal had never been a problem. Tess had been the only child of adoring parents who had showered her with love and attention and made her feel special and confident of her own worth.

  Not that she wasn't aware of her shortcomings. Tess knew full well that she was at best attractive, in a girl-next-door sort of way. Her shoulder-length hair was carroty, that aggravating shade between red and blond that was both, yet neither. Unfortunately, she had the fair skin that went with it, the kind that never tanned but turned lobster red when exposed to the sun for even a modest period of time.

  Even now, at twenty-nine, Tess had a splattering of freckles across the bridge of her short, slightly tumed-up nose. Her mouth was just a little too wide, her chin just a bit too firm for her heart-shaped face. Her only claim to real beauty was her eyes. Big and wide set, they were the color of mellow whiskey and surrounded by long, dark brown lashes, which Tess considered a minor miracle, considering her fair coloring.

  Though far from being a drop-dead gorgeous femme fatale, Tess had long ago discovered that there were plenty of men around who preferred the wholesome type. Certainly, she had never lacked for male attention, not even when out with Amanda.

  Amanda fished an ice cube out of her glass and popped it into her mouth, crunching it with her teeth. "I still don't like the idea of you living here alone, you know," she muttered around the icy chunks. "I don't see why you don't just come and live with me."

  "Amanda, we've been all through this. I appreciate the offer. Truly I do. But surely you can see it would never work. You're not accustomed to children. I don't think you have any idea of how completely a baby takes over your life. And anyway, you know you like living alone, not having to accommodate anyone else. As much as I love you, you have to admit, we have completely different life-styles. Believe me, for the sake of our friendship, it's much better this way."

  Besides, not in her wildest dreams could Tess imagine raising a baby in Amanda's chic mauve and gray condo among all that modern chrome-and-glass furniture. Her own tastes tended toward old-fashioned patchwork quilts, needlepoint pillows and homey antiques.

  "Maybe you're right," Amanda conceded grudgingly. Pulverizing another ice cube, she sniffed the air. "What smells so good?''

  "A casserole. I knew by the time we finished unloading we'd be too tired to cook or go out to eat so I prepared it last night. There's a salad and a jug of iced tea in the fridge to go with it."

  Amanda rolled her eyes. "Gawd, but you're domestic. If ever a woman was meant to be a wife and mother it's you."

  Pain stabbed at Tess.

  Seeing her stricken expression, Amanda grimaced. "Oh, Lord, Tess, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That was a stupid, thoughtless thing to say. Me and my big mouth. When will I ever learn to think before I speak? I should have—"

  "It's all right, Amanda. Really. I don't expect you to tiptoe around me forever. I have to accept that Tom is gone. Anyway..." She patted the rounded mound beneath her oversize shirt. "I may not be a wife anymore but at least I am going to be a mommy soon." With a determined smile, she opened another box and began unwrapping a set of hand-blown tumblers.

  Mike came and went several more times, hauling in the last of the items from the trailer. When finished, he returned to the living room and looked at Tess over the bar, shifting from one foot to another. "I'm all done, Mrs. Benson. The trailer is empty. What do you want me to do now?"

  "Oh, Mike, you've done more than enough already. You've been a tremendous help. I don't know how we would have managed without you. But I certainly don't expect you to do more."

  The boy flushed to the tips of his ears but looked enormously pleased. "That's okay. I want to. Honest."

  "But won't your parents be expecting you home for dinner soon?"

  "Naw. Anyway, my folks are divorced, so it's just me'n my dad. He decided since I was going to lend you a hand he'd catch up on some stuff at the job site tonight. When he works late, I usually just zap a frozen pizza in the microwave."

  "In that case, why don't you join Ms. Sutherland and me for dinner? There's plenty, and it's the least I can do after all your hard work."

  Mike's face lit up. "Hey, that'd be great!"

  A short while later when they sat down to eat he nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to hold out Tess's chair for her.

  She bit back a smile. It had been the same all day. Mike treated her as though she were made of fine china. Since introducing himself the evening before and volunteering to help, he had insisted on doing all the heavy work and had fetched and carried and hovered over her like a mother hen. Tess found his awkward attempts at gallantry sweet and endearing.

  She wondered, though, if he had ever been around a pregnant woman before. He seemed fascinated by her condition. Several times she had caught him watching her, the look in his eyes a mixture of awe, curiosity and terror.

  Mike devoured his food, eating with more gusto and appreciation than the simple meal merited. "Man, this is super," he exclaimed, digging into a third plateful. "You're a terrific cook, Mrs. Benson. I haven't eaten anything this good since the last time I visited my Grandma McCall in Crockett."

  "Why, thank you, Mike."

  "Me 'n Dad usually eat stuff like pizzas or burgers, or TV dinners. Once in a while he'll grill steaks and nuke a couple of spuds in the microwave, but mostly we eat take-out. Dad's no great shakes in the kitchen."

  Mike forked up another mouthful of food, but in mid-chew he looked suddenly worried and hastily swallowed it down. "Course, he's real busy an' all," he tacked on anxiously, as though afraid he'd been disloyal. "He works real hard and puts in long hours. He doesn't have time for stuff like cooking. But he's a really great dad."

  "I'm sure he is." Tess's smile offered gentle reassurance, and Mike relaxed visibly. She passed him the plate of crackers and he scooped up a handful. "What sort of work does your father do, Mike?"

  "He 'n Uncle Reilly build houses."

  "Oh, you mean they're carpenters?" Amanda commented.

  "Naw...well...yeah, sorta, I guess. Dad 'n Uncle Reilly can do just about anything it takes to build a house if they have to," he said, flashing a proud grin. "Clear the land, pour concrete, wiring, plumbing, lay carpet—all that stuff. But mostly they've got other guys to do those things 'cause they're always busy with suppliers and inspectors or down at city hall getting permits and junk.

  "See, Dad and Uncle Reilly own this company called R and R Construction and Dad says that dealing with bureaucrats is a real pain in the bu—" Flushing, Mike ducked his head. "Uh... that is... being a builder is a real headache," he mumbled into his chest.

  Tess fought back the urge to laugh. "I'm sure it is," she agreed with a straight face, then tactfully changed the subject. Within minutes she had Mike chattering away once more, telling them all about his baseball team and their chances of making the play-offs.

  By the time they had eaten, it was getting late. There was still a lot left to do, but their number one priority was to set up Tess's bed. They had just completed that task when heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs outside, followed by a door closing.

  "That's Dad," Mike announced. "I hate to leave you with so much left to do, but I'd better go. I'll be back tomorrow, though, to help you get things straightened up."

  Tess thanked him profusely, making him blush again, but he looked pleased. When he had gone, Amanda gave Tess a sly look.

  "Well, well, well."

  "Well, what?"

  "I think that boy has a crush on you, that's what. At the risk of sounding immodest, I'm somewhat of a local celebrity. Usually people get all flustered and excited around me, especially males, but Mike barely paid me any notice all day... except, of course, to ask questions about you."

  "Don't be ridiculous, Amanda."

  "C'mon. You've got to admit, he's been practically tripping over his feet all day, fetching and carrying for you." />
  "That doesn't mean he has a crush on me, for heaven's sake. I think he's just looking for a mother substitute."

  "Mmm. You may be right. If so, his instincts are good. They don't come any more maternal and nurturing than you."

  The two friends sat in silence, slouched on the sofa, their napes resting against the top edge of the back, feet outstretched. After a while Amanda chuckled. "Right now Mike's all knees and elbows and big feet, but give him a few years, put a few pounds on those bones, and he's going to be drop-dead gorgeous. Exactly like his father."

  "His father? I thought you didn't like Ryan McCall."

  "I didn't say that, exactly. Anyway, so what? I may find his personality grating, but I'm not blind. I mean, just look at the man—tall and broad-shouldered, black hair, blue eyes, chiseled features. He probably has to fight the women off with a stick."

  "If you think he's so handsome then why were you so short with his brother? They look just alike."

  Amanda snorted and shot her friend a sidelong look that reeked disgust. "That lightweight? Forget it. Reilly McCall is nothing but a glib-talking skirt-chaser who coasts through life on looks and charm. I've seen his type before and take my word for it, he'll never amount to a thing. I don't waste my time with men like that.

  "Now his brother, on the other hand, is serious and dependable. Those qualities, combined with good looks are much more appealing. I bet even his abrasive attitude probably draws more women than it repels. Personally, the brooding angry man type doesn't do a thing for me, but a lot of women can't resist a challenge—the more standoffish a man is, the more they want him.

  "Of the two, Mike's father is by far the better prospect." Amanda rolled her head on the sofa back and smiled at Tess. "And just think, you've got the inside track, living right next door, you lucky devil."

  ''Me? Amanda, for heaven's sake! I'm hardly in the market for a man. I've been a widow for barely seven months. Besides, I'm expecting a child, remember? A handsome hunk isn't going to look twice at a woman who resembles a pumpkin with legs."

  "Maybe," Amanda conceded in her laconic way. "But grief eventually fades and life goes on." She rolled her head on the sofa back again and sent Tess a slow, wicked smile. "And you, my friend, won't always be pregnant."

  Chapter 2

  Well? What do you think? Do we stand a chance?" Reilly shot his brother a hopeful look. The two men strode side by side through the lobby of Texas Fidelity Bank, heading for the exit.

  "Maybe. Houston's economy has picked up some, but things are still tight," Ryan replied. "It could go either way."

  "So all we can do is wait, huh?" Reilly grinned and winked at a pretty blond teller. Despite the serious nature of their conversatioii, he was aware of the feminine sighs and dreamy stares that followed their progress.

  So was Ryan, but, as always, he ignored them.

  The women's interest was understandable; the McCall brothers were an impressive sight. Except for subtle, almost undetectable differences, the two men were identical. Tall and broad-shouldered, they had the same ruggedly handsome features and both had the fit, muscular build of a man whose job involved physical labor. Each man's thick hair had the glossy blue-black sheen of a raven's wing, and long hours spent out-of-doors had tanned their skin to a deep bronze, creating a startling contrast to vivid blue eyes.

  For the meeting with the bank's loan officer both brothers had worn dark blue suits. There, however, the similarities ended. Ryan's white shirt and diagonally striped navy and wine tie were conservative and sober, but Reilly sported a shirt the exact color of his eyes and a tie in multihued splotches of red, yellow and blue that looked as though it had been created by a berserk artist.

  ''That's about all we can do," Ryan acknowledged. "Wait and see if our loan application is approved."

  'Tm not worried. We'll get the money. We've dealt with Larry Awkland before. He knows we have a reputation as first-class developers."

  "He also knows we damned near went under when the bottom fell out of the economy."

  "But we didn't. That's my point. While other construction firms were going belly up, we hung on."

  "Yeah. By our fingernails." Ryan pushed open the plate glass doors and they stepped outside. The humidity and blistering June heat hit them like a suffocating wet blanket. "Awkland knows that, too. Anyway, it takes more than reputation to swing a loan these days."

  "So? That's a prime piece of property we're offering as collateral. If we get that interim loan we'll develop it into a first-class preplanned neighborhood with all the amenities."

  Ryan's Jeep Cherokee was parked around the comer from the bank. As he stepped around to the driver's side to unlock it he looked over the hood at his brother.

  "That's true. But whether or not the bank feels there's a need in Houston right now for another community of upper priced homes is something else again."

  "Aw, you worry too much, Hoss,'' Reilly chided with a grin, chmbing into the vehicle. "We'll be breaking ground on this project within two weeks. You just watch."

  Ryan grunted, and his brother gave him a playful sock on the arm. "Loosen up, man. It doesn't do any good to worry. I want this project to go as much as you do. But hey! If it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen. One way or another, we'll get by. We always do."

  "Maybe you're right," Ryan conceded, and pulled out into the traffic.

  Though at times his twin could be exasperating, Ryan envied his easygoing nature. Reilly took life as it came and rolled with the punches, always bouncing back with a grin. Nothing bothered him for long, nothing worried him, nothing—or at least very little—roused him to anger. Reilly, hke their younger brother Travis, was blessed with a sunny disposition and an eternally optimistic outlook. It was Ryan and their baby sister Meghan who were the serious ones.

  Ryan wished he could be as casual and unconcerned as Reilly, but he couldn't. For one thing, it wasn't his nature. For another, he didn't want to just "get by." Dammit, they had been just barely getting by for the last eight or nine years, ever since Houston's housing market went bust.

  He and Reilly had started their company right out of college. They had hustled their butts off and worked like dogs those first few years, but they had succeeded in building R & R Construction into a thriving business. In the process they had built a reputation as first-class builders and developers. It had been a bitterly frustrating experience to stand by, helpless to prevent it, and watch it all crumble because of circumstances beyond their control.

  Memories of that time were painful even now, and Ryan's jaw clenched. He remembered how desperate he had felt, how hard he and Reilly had struggled to hang on. They had been forced to unload almost all of the property they had acquired for future development, taking a loss just to get out from under the debt. All they had managed to retain title to was the wooded tract in northwest Houston, and that only because it was theirs, free and clear. Ryan had even been forced to sell his home—the enormous, extravagant home that he had built for Julia—just to keep the company afloat.

  Ryan's fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Julia had never forgiven him for that. To his wife, that luxurious house, their upscale life-style, all the trappings that went with it, were essential. More essential, it turned out, than their marriage, or him ... or even their son. Julia had been unable, or unwilling, to face a life without money and status.

  It had been tough, these past eight years, raising a boy alone and at the same time scrabbling to hold on to his business. For a while it had been touch and go, but he'd gotten through it. Mike was one hell of a kid; a father couldn't ask for better. And despite several shaky years, the company was still operating.

  It galled Ryan when R & R, a firm that had once built prestigious homes, had been reduced to bidding on remodeling jobs or any other piddling project that came along. However, it had been those small jobs that had paid the bills and allowed them to scrape by... barely.

  Their most recent job was an apartment complex renovation that
was nearing completion. They were scheduled to meet with the owner in less than an hour for a walk-through inspection. Rather than waste time going home to change, Ryan drove straight to the project- Both he and Reilly kept a set of spare work clothes in the trailer that served as their on-site office.

  They had almost reached the site when the car phone emitted a chirping ring.

  Ryan snatched it up at once. The instrument was an expense he normally would not have bothered with, but after Julia left, he had gotten it so that his son would be able to contact him wherever he was.

  "R & R Construction. Ryan McCall speaking."

  "Hi, Dad. It's me. I'm over at Tess's."

  " Again? I thought you got her place straightened up yesterday."

  "We did, but today I'm helping her hang curtains. I just wanted to let you know that we have to make a quick trip to the hardware store for some bolts. Just in case you called looking forme."

  Ryan sighed impatiently. "All right. But look, son, be home early, okay? The Astros are playing in the Dome tonight. I thought we'd take in the game. How about it?"

  "Aw-right! You gotta deal. Dad! See you about six."

  "Damn." Ryan slammed the receiver down. At the same time he brought the Cherokee to a sliding halt in front of the office.

  "Something wrong?" Reilly asked, but his brother was already out of the vehicle and striding for the trailer. When Reilly followed him inside he found Ryan sprawled in his desk chair, his face like a thundercloud.

  "An Astros game? Since when? You said earlier we were going to stay late and work up a bid on the McElhaney project?"