Heart of Glass

When magazine writer Kate Donovan is assigned to profile the building and architectural firm of her first and only love, she heads back to the South Carolina Low Country to face the demons she left behind. Nothing about Danny Flannery’s life is what Kate thought it would be, and as the truth is revealed she longs for a big fat do-over.

Danny’s made a success of his building firm but is hesitant to participate in a flashy magazine spread. He’s dead-set against it when he realizes the journalist sent to interview him is the only woman he’s ever loved and lost. Under pressure from his business partner, Danny agrees to sit down for an interview with the girl he once knew as Kat Fordham and realizes her name isn’t the only thing that’s changed. Everything he thought was true about the past is a lie.

When Danny discovers Kate still wears the heart shaped sea glass necklace he made for her years ago, they clear the air and their passion reignites. But Kate’s still keeping secrets to protect their fragile new relationship. With her family estranged and her career on the line, will she come clean before Danny finds out the truth, and can Danny risk his heart again for the only woman he’s ever loved?

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Prologue

Kate Donovan watched her boss, Michael Evans, founder and managing editor of Design & Build magazine, through the glass doors of his office. When he looked up and saw her, he waved her inside.

“Kate, come in and sit. I’ve got news,” Michael announced with a beaming smile. Nearing forty, he was often referred to as striking, thanks to his dark hair, aristocratic features, and a deep tan he’d earned aboard his sailboat.

“Your piece on Frederick Balsted was genius. I’ve moved it up to the May issue. It’ll be the cover story.”

Kate threw her exhausted body in the chair facing his desk. Her flight back to D.C. from Oregon had been delayed due to bad weather and jet lag lay heavy on her shoulders. She tried to stifle a yawn, but gave up when the effort proved too much. “Balsted’s a night owl,” she said. “I got my best material from him in the middle of the night.”

“So the four a.m. cruise on his yacht wasn’t an embellishment?”

Kate jerked her eyes open wide and shoved her long bangs from her face. “You know I don’t embellish. The man needs a film crew. The written word doesn’t do his eccentricities justice.”

“You know the written word is made for people like Balsted,” Michael said. “You’ve captured him perfectly—celebrated his artistic flair in a way that doesn’t make him seem mad.” He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “We’ve landed a coup while you were away. You’ve been requested.”

Kate nearly bolted from the chair and faced Michael, exuberant as a child on Christmas morning. “You’ve got my attention, Michael. Between the layover and the jet lag, I was going on auto pilot, but I’m awake now.”

“We were contacted by a firm in the Low Country. We’ve been given an exclusive.” He rubbed his hands together and pushed away from his desk to roam the office while he explained their good fortune. “A brash young builder and his architect partner I’ve only recently been made aware of. Their work’s brilliant, Kate, and the best part is they’re a naturalist firm. They’re using all kinds of green materials like sand and mud up and down the coast from Savannah to Maryland. I’ve managed to dig up some background on the architect, but finding anything on the builder has been difficult.”

“Daniel Flannery.” Kate said his name in a whisper only seconds before Michael. She reached for the necklace she’d worn every day since he’d given it to her in an unconscious gesture of comfort. She’d rubbed the sharp edges of the sea glass heart smooth over years of touching. For the very first time it felt like a noose around her neck.

“You’ve heard of him then? I’m not surprised.” Michael stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of Kate. “What’s with the long face? I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“I knew him. It’s been years, a lifetime really, but…”

“Perfect. That’s absolutely perfect. Your ability to pry into the motivations of self-proclaimed recluses, coupled with a familiar background…this could be more than I’d imagined.”

“Michael, I…I can’t do it.”

“What? Why?”

She didn’t answer, but she knew he’d made up his mind.

“Damn it, Kate. I’m your editor as well as your friend, and I’ve just given you an assignment.”

“My relationship with Danny was…it ended badly. There’s no way he’ll talk to me.”

Michael slid a hip on the corner of his desk and frowned at her. “Kate, they asked for you by name. I know you’re the best, and obviously Mr. Flannery is willing to overlook—or he’s forgotten about—whatever happened between you. The man’s a professional and he’s requested our very best. That’s you. He knows it and so do I.”

Kate flung her head back in the chair, let her eyes drift closed. Her name wasn’t the only thing that had changed since she’d last seen Danny. “He may expect the best, but he’s not expecting me.”

Chapter One

Six Years Earlier

Danny Flannery used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his brow and the dust from his goggles when he heard the pong-pong of flip-flops moving toward the staircase. Standing on scaffolding fifteen feet high, Danny looked down and forgot all about the hot sun and the nail gun in his hand.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You can’t be in here.”

A young woman stood in the doorway, her fall of dark hair swinging past her shoulders. “That’s an awfully big assumption,” she called up to him.

The last thing he needed was another interruption from a curious onlooker, particularly the female kind. Lord knew he’d had enough of those. “What?”

“Your first assumption is that my heart is sweet.” Her words sounded carefully enunciated. “That’s never a safe bet.” She moved to the base of the stairs and stared up at him with her hands on her hips. “Second, how can you be sure I don’t belong here?”

“This is a work area,” he explained. “Unless you’re related to the owners, you need to scram.”

“You mean the Fordhams?”

“Congratulations, kid, you can read. Now out. I mean it. You could get hurt in here.”

“There you go, making assumptions again.”

Danny lifted the safety goggles from his eyes. Without the hazy film of his glasses, he could see long legs showcased by cutoff shorts, high, tight breasts under a strappy tank, and mink-colored hair pulled away from a very appealing face. She was damn-near gorgeous. Having to stop work pissed him off, but his irritation waned as he hopped off the scaffolding and descended the stairs. Her startling bright blue eyes were such a contrast to her dark hair that he really had to work at keeping his scowl in place. “Why don’t you cut to the chase so I can get back to work here?”

“Fordham’s my brother-in-law,” she said. “And this horrific house is on its way to becoming the summer home to my sister and her seriously overindulged daughters.”

“Any more tales you’d like to tell before I kick you out?” He’d seen Fordham and his snooty wife at the site, poking around and making changes. He wondered why they’d bothered to hire an architect when they insisted on changing the plans anyway, especially considering the plans probably cost more than his truck.

“You don’t believe me?” A sly smile snaked across her stunning face.

“Short of a physical description of the guy who owns this place, yeah, I’d have to say I don’t believe you.”

She crossed her arms and struck a bratty pose. “He’s maybe a half inch shy of six feet, dark hair going gray around the temples, and steely eyes the color of…” She poked her finger into his chest. “…this dirt stain right here. He’ll tell you he’s one-eighty, but he’s closer to two hundred, and his Boston accent’s the real deal. He’ll be forty-three in September.” She looked down at her nails before returning her eyes to his. “I don’t know his social security number, but I’m pretty sure I could get it.”

A gorgeous smart-ass. Just what he didn’t need. Danny blew out a breath in concession. “Sorry, kid, but this place draws a crowd. Be careful when you look around and I wouldn’t walk under any power tools if I were you.” He turned and headed back up the stairs.

“If you were me, you’d know how insulting it is to be called a kid when you’re twenty.” She began climbing the boards that served as the staircase.

Dumb girl; the place was dangerous. “The second floor’s off limits until we shore up the floor boards. You’ll have to stay on the main level until then.”

“You’re up there,” she shot back.

“Yeah, Miss, that’s my job. One I can’t finish while I’m talking to you.” He waved her down the stairs with his free hand.

Danny watched as she turned in a snit and headed down the stairs. Sexy from behind, too. He could still feel the chill from the look she’d sent him with her ice blue eyes. He wondered if she had a little tattoo hidden somewhere under those tight clothes. Tattoos were about as rebellious as the rich girls got these days, that and trying to bed a local boy for the summer.

As he methodically nailed the support beams into place, his thoughts lingered on the girl who’d left his line of vision. A girl like that was a distraction. He would’ve felt better if she’d been under eighteen like he’d first thought. Having her legal and poking around the house in those short shorts wasn’t going to help him get through the framing of this house. He hated framing. The finishing work, the detail and steady hand it required challenged him and kept his interest. Not that he cared what he built, but the mansions of Andover meant steady work close to home with decent pay. The money he and his dad made building went a long way towards a better life for his little brother.

Danny saw a flash of dark hair swing by as she made her way through the house. Probably had her nose in the air. His dad had warned him repeatedly to stay away from the summer girls. Patrick Flannery always said Danny’s good looks would be more of a burden than a pleasure. So he’d heeded his dad’s advice and steered clear of the young summer beauties. Most of the time. But a man could look, as Danny did as she passed.

He watched her stroll into the kitchen and stop at the open wall facing the ocean. The Fordhams didn’t have any taste in architecture, but they sure had the prettiest lot in Andover.

* * * *

Kat Fordham paused to look at the stunning view from the rear of her sister’s house, then smirked over her shoulder at the man who’d borne the brunt of her boredom. When she’d first entered the house and glanced up the sprawling spiral staircase to the second story scaffolding, she’d seen work boots and stained jeans molded to a lean butt. The summer, she’d thought with a grin, might not be a total wash.

She’d been out since dawn on the beach bike she’d found in the garage of the small rental cottage she’d call home for the summer. She had heard the South Carolina coast could be muggy, but nothing could’ve prepared a Boston girl for the kind of heat she’d encountered. As she’d pedaled her bike along the streets of Andover Island, sweat inching down her spine, she’d wondered what had possessed her sister Julia to build a house down here. But the quasi-Italian villas and European gabled stucco mini-mansions she passed explained it all.

The under construction Fordham house sat along a stretch of beach past the private club where the marsh met the ocean in a seamless wedge of beauty. With its baroque detailing and monstrous size, the house provided the finale in the true parade of prosperity. In her sister’s usual haste to impress, Julia had directed the architect to create the most pretentious beach home in all of Andover.

The overbearing heat and how much time she’d have to spend in it was another negative on her ever-growing list of reasons not to spend the summer in paradise. And then she’d seen the builder. Beneath all that grime was a serious hottie. He’d shoved a pair of protective goggles onto his forehead and gripped a nail gun as if he could use it on her as a weapon. His sea foam green eyes were so brilliant she could make out the distinctive color from ten feet below. When he’d shaken his dirty blond hair to dislodge the wood dust, Kat had actually felt her mouth go dry. What was it about a man with a tool belt?

He’d called her a kid, but she could practically feel those green eyes admiring her backside. She didn’t flaunt her looks like a lot of her college classmates, and she certainly didn’t tuck them neatly into the sweater sets and tennis outfits her sister preferred. The fact that her wardrobe grated on Julia’s nerves only heightened Kat’s enjoyment of dressing as she pleased.

She looked at her watch and grimaced. Julia would undoubtedly be beside herself when she realized Kat had disappeared. It was time to get back.

She meandered through the bare studs and tried to sneak a peek at the builder before she left. Kat breezed under the staircase, thankful the nail gun had ceased firing, and looked up into eyes as mesmerizing as the ocean view out the window. “See you around.” She waved and couldn’t help but smile at his frank appreciation of her.

“See ya, kid.”

Kid, again! From the looks of him he couldn’t have been much older than her.

As she mounted her bike, Kat thought about the next two months of her life, stuck on the small island all summer. Her only reprieve was the part-time job she’d already secured at a local bar. Her tips would go a long way towards earning her freedom from Julia and Len. The babysitting depressed her the most, because until she’d stumbled upon the gorgeous guy she’d just sparred with, she’d had no more to look forward to than hours of beach and pool time with Alexis and Grayson.

Kat felt a twinge of guilt at passing her nieces off as brats. They were spoiled, yes, but they weren’t brats. As much as Julia lamented having to care for Kat as a child, she doted on her trophy twins, proudly parading them around as the chosen children of wealthy industrialist Lenard Fordham IV.

As soon as she turned the corner at the end of the street and saw an unfamiliar car in the cottage drive, she remembered Julia’s appointment with the decorator. Shit. There’d be hell to pay for being late.

Chapter Two

“No, not floral, Rochelle,” Julia said with as much patience as she could muster. The air conditioning inside the tiny cottage couldn’t compete with the heat. She tossed the fabric swatch into the growing reject pile. “And the color is all wrong.”

“Mother,” Alexis interrupted, “I told Grayson I was wearing my pink bathing suit with the little blue fish and now she’s wearing it, too. I don’t want her dressing like me anymore!”

Julia sighed and looked at her watch. Ten minutes into her appointment with the island’s most sought-after designer and Kat was nowhere to be found. She’d have to tighten her leash a bit.

She knew Kat had wanted to stay in Boston for the summer. But the mangy group of friends she’d made at college hadn’t met Julia’s standards. And since the girls had managed to go through more than their share of nannies in the last ten years, it hadn’t been so hard to stretch the truth a bit and force Kat to come along with them.

“Alexis, you and Grayson are going to have to work it out. I’m busy with Ms. Calden now. As soon as Kat gets back—”

Kat opened the door out of breath. “Sorry I took so long.”

“Rochelle, would you please excuse me for a moment?” Julia rose and led Kat by the arm into the kitchen. “Where have you been? I told you yesterday that Rochelle was coming at nine this morning and you’ve been gone since I got up.”

“I’m sorry, Julia. I took a bike ride and got a little turned around.” Kat searched the refrigerator, pulled out a carton of orange juice, and reached for a glass. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You agreed to watch the girls this summer and I expect you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“I said I would and I will.” Kat flashed an angry scowl. “I gave up my whole summer for you at the drop of a hat, so just chill out if I’m a few minutes late.”

“I gave up more than a summer for you, young lady. You’d think, after taking care of you since I was fifteen, I wouldn’t have to beg you for a favor.”

“Mom.” Grayson stormed into the small kitchen. “Alexis ripped my pink suit!”

Julia looked at Kat and grinned. “They’re all yours. My meeting with Rochelle will last at least another hour, maybe two. I’ve got tennis at the club this afternoon.” She turned and held the door open for Grayson to exit. “Darling, that pink suit makes you look fat. Wear the navy one-piece I bought you before we left Boston.”

Grayson swung the door shut as she left. “Jeez, Jul,” Kat said. “Why don’t you show her how to throw up after a meal and get her started with bulimia?”

Julia looked over at Kat, leaning against the counter with her mouth full of muffin and crumbs on her unsightly tank. “They weren’t blessed with our metabolism, Kat. You know Len’s family is a bit on the portly side. Speaking of which, I’ve set the pool entrance tags and charge cards in your room. As you can see, the girls are anxious to get to the club. They can have whatever they want, but no junk food.” When Kat’s mouth fell open, Julia took a step closer, waved her finger in her face. “I mean it, Kat. No ice cream, no chips, and no fries. I won’t have the girls porking out this summer like last year. Grayson still hasn’t lost all the weight she gained.”

“It’s called baby fat, Jul, and you’re warping their already-demented little minds.”

Julia ignored Kat’s barb. “Have them back and dressed for dinner by six.”

After a cleansing breath, she ran her hands over her hair and tugged her linen shirt into place. She knocked off all the hints of unpleasantness dealing with Kat and the girls produced. She took her seat with the decorator and tried to focus on the future summer residence of the Fordhams.

“I recommend either of these grouts for the tile you’ve picked in the master bath.” Rochelle handed her the samples to line up with the tumbled marble.

As she considered both the ivory and amber colors, she couldn’t shake lingering doubts about Kat. Julia had worked hard to bring them both out of the go-nowhere existence they’d led before becoming Fordhams. She wasn’t about to let Kat run wild in Boston or on Andover without supervision. And what did she get for her troubles? Nothing. Kat never appreciated or lifted a finger to help herself to any of the things Julia wanted for her: a well bred young man with a trust fund and several generations of standing and position behind him; a wardrobe, for God’s sake, that didn’t scream Target or some other discount store. Was it too much to ask from the girl she’d given up her youth for?

“That’s a lovely ring, Mrs. Fordham,” Rochelle commented. “So unusual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“Yes, yes, it is lovely.” Julia fingered the blue opal stone on her right hand and recalled how Len had said it reminded him of her eyes. “A gift from my husband on our anniversary.”

“He must be very thoughtful.”

Julia nodded. When it suited him, she supposed Len could be thoughtful. He was often distant and focused on the family business. When they’d first met, his distance presented itself as the kind of good breeding only the genuinely wealthy could wear.

Len had said he’d be hard pressed to even make a perfunctory appearance during their summer in the small cottage. Good thing, she thought, as she showed Rochelle to the door and headed upstairs to change for her tennis lesson. He would hate the close quarters and the heat. She carefully stepped over the bathing suits the girls had dropped in the hall and entered her room.

Their growing estrangement surprised her, considering Len had gone against the family patriarch to marry the poor girl from Virginia with a toddler sister to care for. When she’d asked Len about their disconnection, he’d mumbled something about what it takes to run an empire. The same empire, he pointed out, that provided her and the girls with anything their hearts desired.

Was he right? She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Was it essential for him to be so removed from the family in order to continue their lifestyle? And if given the choice, would she choose to have Len around more often or encourage him to continue working in the name of the family fortune? The truth of it was she didn’t know.

* * * *

“Here, eat these quick so nobody sees.” Kat shoved two popsicles at Alexis and Grayson as they sat under a sprawling canopy at the club pool. “And for God’s sake, don’t tell your mother.” With stifling air and temperatures hovering in the mid-nineties, it only seemed decent to let them have a cool treat.

Kat looked at her watch. They’d been at the pool for three hours and she could feel her skin burning. Surely the girls would be ready to head home soon.

“I dropped my popsicle,” Grayson said as she stood at the end of Kat’s lounge chair, her mouth stained red.

“Sorry, kiddo, you were nearly done.”

Grayson cocked her hip and threw her arms in the air. “Mom said we could have whatever we want. I want another Popsicle!”

“If your mom were here, we’d both be in trouble for you having just one Popsicle. And from the looks of your face, we’re going to have a hell of a time hiding it.” She searched her bag for a wet wipe. “Wash off that mess and sit down.”

“I’m telling Mom you used a bad word,” Grayson said as she stormed toward the snack bar. Ha, Kat thought with a smile. This wasn’t like their club at home where a number got a member whatever they wanted. Kat had the charge cards and nobody around there even knew who the Fordhams were. Yet. Grayson would be back in a jiffy.

Kat looked around the pool at the island’s other summer residents. The charge cards may have been different, but everything else was the same as the exclusive club in Boston where the family usually spent their summers. Cushioned lounge chairs and tables under massive canopies, young children with young nannies, and a smattering of teenagers plugged into music or cell phones, all whiling away their day in the sun.

Kat had spent her whole life around people whose only ambition in life was to marry well, with her sister as the ring leader of that particular circus. Life as a Fordham fifth wheel, while never pleasant, had become intolerable. But she couldn’t say no to her sister’s pleas for her to join them at the beach this summer. She owed Julia, always had and always would. The burden of raising Kat was a responsibility Julia reminded her of whenever she needed a favor.

And if every day passed like today, hours at the pool jockeying for authority over the twins, she didn’t know how she’d make it through the summer. Her scholarship had to come through. So far there’d been no word from the small liberal arts college Kat had secretly applied to. The scholarship to Riverside would set her free—free from her sister and free from Boston and crowds like this, where Kat couldn’t be anything other than Julia Fordham’s cross to bear.

“They won’t let me get water without the charge card.” Grayson strode up and held out her hand for Kat to pass over the card.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Gray. Water’s free in the jugs over there. You were trying to get another ice cream.”

“I was not,” the girl bellowed. “I’m thirsty and I’m not drinking out of a jug! I wanted bottled water.”

“Here.” Kat pulled one out of her bag. “You can have mine. If you two want to swim anymore do it now. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”

Both girls jumped into the deep end and began to swim. Once she got the girls ready for dinner, she’d have just enough time to shower and ride her bike over to the little bar between Andover and Echo Bay. She’d found a bike path that would make the ride easier and she wanted to give it a dry run before she started work.

The Second Street Tavern sat not far outside the gates of Andover. Kat felt her time at work would be her only opportunity to mix with normal people. She craved regular interaction with people after being sucked back into the vortex of her privileged upbringing. She thought of Gus, the scruffy owner, and his warning to her. “We get a bit of a dicey crowd in here,” he’d said. “Maybe you ought to work over in Andover. It’s more your scene.” Not likely.

She’d waitressed in Boston at a pub Julia had called seedy, but Kat had loved her job and the lessons it had taught her. Real life was dirty. There wouldn’t always be a maid to pick up other people’s messes. Couples fought by yelling, not simply by freezing each other out. People in love showed affection for one another, and with the help of alcohol, the affection was often public and sometimes graphic. Until college, and especially her job at the pub, she hadn’t realized how sheltered she’d been.

She eyed the time and packed up her bag to leave. “Grayson, Alexis, let’s go.”

“Katherine?”

Kat turned around to see Julia in her tennis outfit standing with another woman. Whenever Julia referred to her as Katherine she knew they were in the company of someone Julia wanted to impress. “Julia, we were just leaving.”

“So I heard.” She waved her hand at the blonde. “Lauren, I’d like you to meet my sister. Katherine, this is Lauren Dunahoo.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dunahoo.” Kat smiled at the very young Lauren Dunahoo. She had to wonder if she were the original Mrs. or a trade-in.

“Lauren’s son Brett is a junior at Brown. He’ll be arriving in a few days to spend the summer here.”

“Brett’s my stepson.” Lauren’s too-perfect, Botox-injected face barely moved when she spoke. Bingo. Definite trade-in.

“I look forward to meeting him,” she said.

“Mom!” Alexis came up to Julia to give her a hug and Julia sidestepped to avoid her.

“Darling, you’re soaked and I haven’t had my lesson.” Grayson came up to join them. “Girls, say hello to Mrs. Dunahoo.”

“Hello, Mrs. Dunahoo,” they said in unison.

“Dinner’s at six,” Julia called over her shoulder in the same voice she used to instruct the gardener to trim the hedges and prune the trees. “Have the girls ready.”

“The girls will be ready,” Kat called after her, “but I’ve got a few errands to run.” Why did she bother? Julia was already gone.

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