Page 4 of California Dreaming

A tall man came over with a tray of drinks—white wine, red wine, and sparkling water with chunks of lemon. Margaret reached for a glass of red wine, and Tessa chose sparkling water. Maybe later she’d have a small glass of wine, but for now she felt she ought to keep her wits about her. Although Margaret had insisted that this was a night off, she intended to keep an eye on her client. And a sober one at that.

As she wrapped her hand around the glass, she glanced up at the man holding the tray and actually blinked as though her eyes might be playing tricks on her. Archer was movie-star gorgeous, but this guy was in a whole different league. Eyes that were dark and smoldering, with a black rim around the iris. Wavy dark hair that he clearly hadn’t brushed, but seemed even more glorious for being messy. Beneath his can’t-be-bothered-to-shave stubble, she saw the sculpted jaw, the perfectly bladed cheekbones. He wore jeans so old they’d worn through at the knees and were clearly too big, but somehow that only enhanced his build. Beneath an old gray T-shirt, she was aware of powerful muscles.

Margaret said, “Finn, good to see you. I see your dad’s got you working as usual.”

Finn chuckled. “I think that’s why Dad wanted so many kids. He needed the free labor.”

“Tessa, this is Finn Davenport. He’s the good-looking one.”

He flinched at the words, but Margaret had only spoken the truth. If she’d ever seen a more beautiful man, she couldn’t remember where. Finn ducked his head, mumbled something that might have been pleased to meet you, and walked to the next chatting group with his tray of drinks.

Poor guy, he wore his looks like they were a curse.

People were ebbing and flowing, and while she recognized a few who’d either come by to see Margaret during her convalescence or had bumped into them on the beach, there wasn’t anyone she really knew to talk to. She sensed, though, that Archer Davenport wasn’t in the crowd.

She stood beside Margaret, listening to golf stories, noting how a couple of the older men seemed particularly attentive to her, and then she felt the air change. So slightly that only she noticed.

She glanced toward the patio doors that were wide open to the garden and watched as Archer Davenport came in. He was holding a beer in one hand and laughing, his arm slung around the shoulders of an older man who had to be his father. They were of a similar height, and one day she thought Archer would look very much like Howard Davenport.

As he walked through the door, it was as though everybody else in the room disappeared, as though they were in an alternative European movie. She was only aware of Archer. She ought to tear her gaze away, but she couldn’t seem to stop staring.

He glanced up as though feeling her gaze on him. How embarrassing. She quickly turned to Margaret, mortified that he’d caught her.

But in only a minute, he was right there beside her. “Tessa, Margaret, glad you could make it.”

She couldn’t believe he was talking to her. Of all the beautiful women in the world, of all the beautiful women in Carmel, of all the beautiful women in that room, he was talking to her. She was certain it was kindness. He must be aware she didn’t know anyone, and he obviously had a soft spot for Margaret Percy. Still, for just a moment, she let herself indulge in the pleasure of having her twelve-year-old crush—that seemed to have turned into a thirty-two-year-old crush—standing there talking to her.

“You look beautiful.”

As practiced as that compliment must be, in that moment as he gazed at her, she really did feel beautiful. And she wished quite suddenly that she wasn’t wearing her best jeans, but some designer frock from Paris that she’d never be able to afford. That was the kind of woman he should be with. The kind who didn’t totter in high heels and was on a first-name basis with couture designers.

She managed a soft, “Thank you.”

“Margaret’s obviously found her tribe. Let me introduce you to my family.”

She was so surprised and speechless at the idea of Archer wanting her to meet his family that she let him lead her away. When she finally found her voice again, she said, “It’s okay, I’m sure you have lots to do and lots of people to speak with. It’s your father’s birthday after all.”

“Trust me,” Archer said with a grin—one that was so sexy it made her heart beat even faster than it already was. “He’s had his pound of flesh and more. He had me gardening this morning, and I’ve been fetching and carrying pretty much since I left you on the beach. Even I’m allowed a dinner break.”

She hid her smile and decided that if he wanted to introduce her to his family, she wasn’t about to argue. He led her first to where a tall, athletic-looking woman stood in a corner with a petite strawberry-blonde. The tall woman had hair so blonde it was nearly white. Tessa guessed that she must spend a lot of time in the sun—or in the beauty salon. But something about her suggested the former. Her toned shoulders and arms were set off to advantage by a short black dress. Her legs weren’t slim, but they were muscular and gorgeous. She stood as though she were on the prow of a ship. No, as though she were on a surfboard. One foot slightly back, the other forward, her body inching ever so slightly toward the center of the room. She had eyes the color of the sea, blue-green, and was obviously in a good mood as she and her friend laughed together.

Archer said, “Mila, I want you to meet Tessa. She’s new to Carmel.”

The woman’s eyes lit up as they shook hands. “New to Carmel as in looking for a house?” There was determination and focus in the gaze that assessed Tessa.

Arch nudged Mila’s shoulder. “We’re not here to sell anybody a house. It’s Dad’s birthday.”

She shrugged, not seeming at all bothered by his comment. “A Realtor’s always doing business.” Then she grinned. “That’s how I got to be one of the top Realtors in Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

“She’s modest too,” he said to Tessa with a fond shake of his head.

Tessa had never met anyone who seemed so fearless. Even though she felt intimidated by this dynamic woman, at the same time she wanted to know her better. Because Mila was so bold, she felt she could be too. “I’d have guessed you were an athlete.”

For an instant, pure pain crossed Mila’s beautiful face, and Tessa wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She knew all about private pain, but it was too late. The words were out, and she couldn’t call them back.

“I used to be,” was all Mila said.

Before the silence could grow more awkward, Archer said, “And this is my youngest sister, Erin.”

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