Destiny Unknown Read online

  "No need to be sorry. It wasn't your fault." He touched her arm, the mellow tone of his voice a soothing balm.

  She glanced down at the hand resting on her sleeve, then at him. In the darkness, she could barely make out his silhouette. Her heart racing, she returned her gaze to the road ahead. "We both know it was my fault. If you hadn't come into the bedroom when you did, hadn't stopped him, he wouldn't have bashed in your window and radiator."

  "Bern, you are not responsible for him acting like an animal."

  Again, she glanced his way. "I led him on."

  "You talked to him. You didn't lead him on."

  "Before dinner, I was flirting with him." To upset Cody. It seemed so childish now. "I obviously took it too far. I'll pay for the repairs to your truck."

  "If Bartlett doesn't pay for the damages, my insurance company will."

  "I owe you something for what you did."

  "You're giving me a ride home."

  "As if—" She slowed at a stop sign. Perhaps it was better to leave things as they were. "Which way?"

  "Turn left."

  She followed his directions to a part of Forest Hills she hadn't driven through before, her thoughts in a jumble. All evening, she'd tried to avoid Cody, and here she was taking him home. Every time she thought she understood him, she discovered a new side. He wasn't her type, but she had to admit, he had some very good qualities. Prince Charming had come to her rescue.

  It was crazy.

  He pointed toward a mailbox by the side of the road. "Turn there."

  She turned onto a paved drive that led into a corps of pines. The enchanted forest? she wondered. How far had he taken his fairy tale? Would his house be a castle?

  Once through the trees, she laughed. Straight ahead was his house, and it was anything but a castle.

  "You laugh?" He chuckled himself. "My stepfather always said I'd end up living in a shack, so I decided to prove him right."

  "A shack," she repeated. The structure in front of her did look like a shack, like a bunch of boards randomly nailed together to form an over-sized, not quite plumb clubhouse.

  But the longer she looked, the more she saw. Although the boards of mixed widths and wood grains appeared to be randomly put together, they actually created a subtle design of texture and shape, color and tone. And though the windows were set at varying angles, defying common tradition, and the outside edges of the house were not even, the house wasn't about to fall over. It simply did not fit architectural terms such as Colonial, Cape Cod, or Queen Anne.

  "Would you like to see the inside?" Cody asked.

  Bernadette didn't hesitated. "Yes."

  Even the stone steps leading up to the front door were different, no two alike. "They come from all over Michigan," he explained. "Farmers are always glad to let you clean out their fields."

  "I imagine. And the door?" She pulled off a glove and touched bas-relief carvings in smooth dark wood. Flora, fauna, and figures filled six squares. The panels told a story, one she now knew, of a man, a princess, and a gold chain.

  "A friend created this door. If you'll note . . . " Cody touched a central figure, the wood stained green.

  "Your green princess." Bernadette eyed him curiously. "And once I step through this door, will your shack be transformed into a castle?"

  "I suppose that depends on your definition of castle." He opened the door.

  Cody's house wasn't a castle, not by her definition, but it certainly wasn't a shack. Two stories high, open and airy, it had modern recessed lighting, an intercom system, and a computer that welcomed him home in a sexy, female voice. It was the traditional that was missing, and she could imagine their decorating department at Morgan's trying to figure out how to handle windows and walls set at angles.

  In many cases, Cody had solved the problem by doing nothing. His windows were not covered, and natural woods were allowed to express their own beauty. Floors were wood or slate or carpeting, sometimes all three in the same room. An uneven clicking sound caught her attention, and she looked to her right. Cody's German shepherd came limping out of the kitchen.

  The mud was gone, the dog's coat a healthy combination of grays and browns, and the underwear that had been wrapped around his leg had been replaced by a neat bandage. She tried to remember the dog's name.

  "How you doing, Thor?" Cody knelt and rubbed his dog's head. "Do you remember Bernadette?"

  As if recognizing her, Thor wagged his tail and moved her direction. His size alone was frightening, but she resisted an impulse to step back and tentatively held out her hand to let the dog give a sniff. When Thor began sniffing at the hem of her coat, she did step back.

  Cody noticed her reaction. "He won't hurt you. I swear, if a robber came in, Thor would show him around."

  "So why do you keep him?"

  Cody wondered if a woman who didn't like dogs would understand. "He's my buddy." Looking over at the monitor screen mounted on the wall, Cody called out a command. "All lights on."

  Bernadette's surprised "Oh" when the lights throughout the house came on was one of pleasure. He took off his overcoat and hooked it on a peg by the door. "This is it, my vision of home sweet home. My castle, I suppose you could say."

  As far as rooms went, there weren't many. He hadn't seen a need for a formal dining room, separate laundry room, or lots of bedrooms. On the main floor was an entryway with a staircase going up to the second floor, a kitchen, small bathroom, and an expanse that served as his living room, office and gym. Bernadette walked over to the kitchen. Without going in, she looked through the doorway, then turned to look across the entryway.

  In the space to his left was a massive fireplace, made of the same stones as his steps outside. Facing the fireplace was a mixture of furniture and floor pillows. Beyond that was an assortment of plants, a fifty gallon aquarium, and his desk. It was the far section that he enjoyed the most. The basketball hoop hanging on the wall was used for games of one-on-one, and a net could be strung across the middle for volleyball or badminton. On the wooden flooring he sometimes drew squares for hopscotch and circles for marbles. Physical exercise, he'd learned, kept the body fit and the ideas flowing. His best designs had come when having fun, and in the winter, it was nice to have space to play inside.

  Bernadette studied the area in silence, then turned and looked up his staircase. "And up there?"

  "My bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom. My room is a mess."

  She grinned. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

  He watched her start up the stairs. Thor went too, bumping his way past Bernadette to be first at the landing. With the two of them going, Cody saw no alternative but to follow.

  Thor went straight to his favorite place by the bed and plopped down with a sigh, laying his head on the suit jacket Cody had tried on earlier that evening, then had dropped on the floor. Looking at his unmade bed, covered with an assortment of jackets, shirts and ties, Cody knew Bernadette was seeing more than he'd wanted her to know. He tried to make light of it. "I can never decide what to wear to one of Frank and Marian's dinner parties."

  Bernadette looked at him, her gaze drifting down over the suit he'd finally chosen. "It's different, but on you, it looks good."

  Stepping into the room, she went over to his bed, lifted one of the jackets he'd decided against, studied it, then let it fall back onto the bed. "Marian said she invited you two weeks ago."

  She didn't look at him, and he supposed that was as much of an apology as he would get in regard to her earlier snide comments. It was more than he'd expected. "Marian thinks I need to be more sociable. She's always trying to connect me with the right people."

  From his bed, Bernadette walked over to the triangular window facing the field behind his house. "She says you can really be irritating."

  He smiled, remembering some of the arguments he'd had with Marian. "Our opinions differed."

  Facing him again, Bernadette walked toward him. "What she said was, 'You're a pain in the butt, bu
t nice.' She also said you were raised in California and had a rough childhood."

  Cody shrugged and stepped back into the hallway, giving her room to exit his bedroom. He didn't want to talk about his childhood.

  She stopped in front of him. "So rough you left California for Michigan?"

  "I was the brother who headed north, remember?"

  "And your brothers headed east and west?"

  "Stepbrothers," he corrected. "And yes. One lives about five miles west of my stepfather's house and one lives twenty miles east."

  "And your sister?"

  Cody was surprised Bernadette had remembered Karen. He especially didn't want to talk about his sister. "She died."

  "I'm sorry."

  It was an automatic response, one he was used to hearing. Turning away, he walked over to a closed door and opened it. "This is the spare bedroom, but as you'll note, it's not used as that."

  The room was filled with boxes, some containing drafting supplies and files, some books, and some building equipment. Anything and everything that needed to be kept safe and dry was stored in the room. He'd planned on building a storage area outside for some of the equipment. He'd just never gotten to it.

  "Next is the bathroom."

  Cody led her to the last room on the second level and stepped inside. Bernadette followed, Thor by her side, his toenails clicking over the slate floor. The bathroom was enormous, as big as an average living room. There was the usual tub, shower and sink. What was different was the sunken whirlpool that took up a third of the space. The dog went over and sniffed the water.

  "Thor," Cody warned, and the dog looked back at him, his tail wagging.

  "He thinks it's his private drinking bowl. Problem is, he sometimes falls in, and the dumb dog can't swim. Plus I then have to filter out the dog hair."

  She laughed, the sound warm and relaxed. "I told you dogs were messy."

  "But loveable." Thor had come back to her side, and Cody watched Bernadette rub the dog's head. He had a feeling she wasn't even aware of the gesture.

  "It's nice." Bernadette glanced around the room. "All in all, a very interesting shack, Mr. Taylor."

  "Keeps the rain off my head."

  She walked back out into the hallway, and he followed. "So tell me," he said as she headed for the stairs. "What would your dream house look like?"

  She walked beside him down the stairs, taking each step slowly. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. I've never really thought about owning a house. A condominium, yes. In fact, just last month, I talked to a realtor about what's available."

  "We're going to design some condos into this new development I'm working on. Maybe you could give me some ideas what a woman of your income and educational level is looking for."

  He stopped halfway to his front door and glanced toward his kitchen. Bernadette had been giving him lots of ideas all evening, none good for his sanity. The one that had just popped into his head was crazy. Insane. But . . .

  "Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, or . . . ?" He grinned. "Hot chocolate?"

  Bernadette knew she should leave. She'd brought him home, had seen his house, and had thanked him for saving her from possibly being raped. Now was the time to say good-bye, it was nice meeting you but we have nothing in common, it wouldn't go anywhere, and why waste our time.

  Except, she didn't want to say good-bye. Maybe it was the house she didn't want to leave. So totally unusual from anything she'd ever seen before, it fascinated her. Or maybe it was the man who fascinated her. "Hot chocolate sounds good."

  "Two hot chocolates coming up." He helped her out of her coat, hanging it next to his.

  "You picked a drink I couldn't resist," she said, rubbing her hands together and feeling uncommonly nervous. "I think I'm addicted to chocolate."

  Cody faced her, and Bernadette looked into eyes the color of milk chocolate. Her insides turned queasy, and she knew she'd made a mistake in saying she would stay. Chocolate wasn't good for her and neither was Cody Taylor.

  "My ex loved Godiva chocolates," he said and led the way into his kitchen. "Godiva chocolates and bourbon."

  "Well, I like the Godiva chocolates, but not with bourbon."

  "I'll have to remember that."

  She didn't want him remembering her likes and dislikes. She didn't want him thinking about her . . . or to think about him. She especially didn't want her pulse racing, but that was exactly what it was doing. All because he'd stopped by a chair and had slipped off his jacket . . . then his vest. He was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing the muscles of his forearms and the dark hairs that covered his skin, and she was trying to look blasé about the whole thing, all the while butterflies were doing somersaults in her stomach.

  "So what does a single woman with a good job and a concern with outward appearances want—" he asked, looking her way. "—in a condominium?"

  "Want?" She smiled, the answer forming in her head. You.

  * * *

  By the time Cody carried their mugs of cocoa out of the kitchen to the hearth of the fireplace, Bernadette had given him some ideas about what she liked in living space and had learned quite a bit about him. She knew he'd built his "shack" ten years ago, that his ex-wife had almost gotten it in their divorce settlement, and then, at the last minute, had agreed to a large cash settlement. In addition to being able to control the lights with voice commands, he could request music, raise or lower the heat, and turn on the television. She was surprised when he said none in his family had never stepped foot in the place. "As far as my stepfather and brothers are concerned, I'm an incompetent klutz who shouldn't have succeeded as a developer. They are so stuck in the traditional, that even if they did come back here, they wouldn't have a good word to say about anything I've done. Not that it matters what they think. As for my mother—" He shrugged. "She chose sides a long time ago."

  Bernadette heard the regret. "How old were you when your father died? Your real father."

  Cody began stacking kindling in the fireplace. "I was two."

  "And when your mother married your stepfather?"

  "Seven." Cody shook his head. "She finally had her dream man. Never mind that she thrust her children into a living nightmare."

  "You make it sound terrible."

  "For Karen and me, it was. You see, we were Charlie's kids, and Charlie Taylor had stolen our mother's heart when she was in college. Stole her right out from under Bill Pardue's nose.

  "He didn't waste any time before he got married and had Keith and Kevin, but I guess he never got over Mom, and by the time I came along, Mom had realized she'd married the wrong man, that Charlie Taylor was a good-looking dreamer who would never give her the money or prestige she wanted. When my father died in a factory accident, Bill was working in Europe. I'll admit, life wasn't easy for Mom. Money was tight, and we had to move in with Grandma Cody. We lived with her for four years, then Bill Pardue moved back into town. Within a year, he'd divorced his wife, gotten custody of his boys, and married my mother. At last, they were together."

  "And you and your sister were the outcasts," she said, understanding.

  "You got it. Keith and Kevin picked on us from day one. It was as if their father's hatred of our father and us was transferred genetically to his offspring. We couldn't do anything right."

  "And your mother?"

  "Wanted the life she now had, so she pretended it wasn't happening, that everything was fine. She's still pretending."

  "When was the last time you saw her?"

  "Not that long ago, actually. Twelve months, next week." He built a nest of the kindling. "I go back once a year to visit my sister's grave. Because I am dumb, I stop in and see my mother."

  "Was your sister older or younger?"

  "Older. Karen was six when I was born. She was my little mommy. My protector. She'd tell me not to listen to them, told me it didn't matter if they called us dumb, that one day we would show them."

  "Just like Dumb John in the story."<
br />
  "Exactly. She even gave me this gold chain for my high school graduation—" He touched the chain around his neck. "As a reminder. Problem was, she didn't listen to her own words. Like you, she cared what others thought and said, and that made her vulnerable to them."

  Cody lit a match, a wad of crumpled paper igniting the kindling. In silence, he stared at the flames.

  Bernadette also watched the fire. There was a question she had to ask. "How did she die?"

  He sighed his answer. "She stopped trying to please them."

  "She took her own life?"

  "Took it. Gave it away." Cody shrugged, his gazed locked on the fire. "I didn't like being called dumb and having them laugh at me, but it just made me stronger. With Karen, the need to please ate away at her self-confidence. The irony was, she reached the end of her endurance the night she should have been celebrating. She got a promotion. An office of her own. A big raise and stock options. Instead of opening a bottle of champagne, she opened a bottle of pills. One of her friends found her the next day."

  Bernadette closed her eyes. The pain and anguish in his voice cut through her too. "How old were you at the time."

  "Nineteen."

  In college. She understood him better now. He wasn't a rebel without a cause. Every stand he made was for his sister.

  She felt his hand on her arm. "Enough about me. What about you, Bern? I don't want you feeling guilty about what happened at Frank and Marian's."

  She opened her eyes. He'd moved next to her and was studying her face. She had a feeling he wanted to change the subject . . . needed to change it. She needed to thank him. "It's difficult not to feel guilty, but I also feel very lucky. I don't know why you came to my rescue after the way I'd been treating you all night, but I'm glad you did."

  "Strange how things happen." He shifted his body down onto the thick wool throw rug in front of the hearth, his head suddenly lower than hers. Reaching back, he grabbed his mug of cocoa. "I kept telling myself to leave you alone, stop pestering you."

  Staring into his mug, Cody laughed. "Thing is, I couldn't stop. Pestering you was too much fun."