Condo Mania Excerpt

When Greg walked through the doorway, her heart did the funny little skip that his presence always seemed to bring on. What was there about him that robbed her of every smattering of her good sense and judgment? For a long time, she had tried to deny any attraction to this man she knew to be in love with someone else, and who, according to his own son, would soon be getting married. And yet, in spite of all her best efforts to the contrary, Greg Cunningham had the maddening ability to turn her steel willpower into mush.

The minute she stood to greet him, her knees started shaking like two leaves on a windy day. She tried to keep her voice steady. “You must have thought of what it was you wanted to say to me this morning,” she said, recalling his strange behavior when he came in earlier to give her his maintenance check.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Can I sit down and talk to you for a few minutes?”

Libby sank back into her chair, grateful for an excuse to take the weight off her wobbly legs. Now that Michael had shown her a copy of Sunday’s newspaper, she suspected Greg might have come to apologize. But the damage from that picture had already been done, and it was too late for apologies now.

“I wanted to explain about the other day when I asked you to come out and see my new house.”

“Oh, yes,” Libby said, trying to focus her eyes anywhere other than on Greg’s face. “I remember. You, uh, hung up rather abruptly before I had a chance to explain why I couldn’t go.”

“I was wrong to do that, Libby. I’m sorry I was so rude. I guess I just knew how much I wanted you to go with me, and . . .”

“And tomorrow you’re moving. That’s a big job, isn’t it?” Libby groped for a comfortable level of conversation, steering him away from mention of anything personal.

“Not so bad in our case, because Danny and I don’t have any furniture to move. Just our clothes and a few other personal belongings. We’ve known from the get-go that this was a temporary living arrangement, so we haven’t unloaded all of our junk in Mom’s apartment. We have a storage unit across town for most of our stuff.”

Greg shifted positions in his chair and leaned forward, trying to establish eye contact with her. “We’re already packed, and we’ll be out of the apartment before Mom gets here next week. Say, I don’t suppose you could go with us to look for furniture this weekend, could you? I’m going to need some new things, and I’m afraid Danny and I are kind of domestically challenged.”

“Oh, no, Greg. I really couldn’t.” Apparently he still did not understand.

“I’m not talking about going during your working hours. I thought maybe Saturday afternoon, we could . . .”

“You never did give me a chance to explain when you called the other day, but the company I work for, Four Star Management, has a strict policy that forbids its employees from fraternizing with the residents of the condominiums in which they work. And to be perfectly honest, I’m in so much trouble with them already—”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble could you possibly be in, Libby?”

Libby heaved a deep sigh and reached inside her desk drawer to pull out the incriminating newspaper. “Have you seen this?” she asked, spreading the page so that Michael could see the picture and its caption. And from the expression on his face, she knew for certain she had caught him totally unaware.

“Oh, my!” He held the paper up for a closer view. “I had no idea. But it’s really a very nice picture, if—”

“Nice!” Libby rose to her feet and fairly screamed at him. “Greg Cunningham, do you realize this picture has probably cost me my job here at Blue Dolphin, and all the things I have worked for over these past two years?”

All color drained from Greg’s face. “No! Oh, they wouldn’t!” Then seeing the desolate expression on her face, he reached across the desk for her hands. “Libby, I am so sorry. Don’t you know the very last thing in the world I would ever want to do is to make trouble for you? Libby, I lo—” He stopped short of saying the words on the tip of his tongue, words that came as a surprise even to himself. Where did those words come from? “I—think highly of you,” he finished lamely. “I would never knowingly hurt you.”

Libby pulled her hands free of his and sank back onto her chair. “It’s all right, Greg. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. I think this was just one more nail in my coffin.”

“Look, Libby. I want to make this up to you. I don’t know how I can do that, but I’ll think of some way. And please say you’ll let me take you out for dinner this weekend. By then, I won’t be a Blue Dolphin resident any longer, so you won’t be breaking any rule.”

And what would Tiffany say about that? As much as Libby longed to accept his invitation, she felt a pang of disappointment that he would be so disloyal to his fiancée. “No, Greg, it—it just wouldn’t be right. But thanks for asking me. I know you’re just trying to compensate for the damage done by the picture, but really, that was just as much my fault as yours. I had no business going to that art show in the first place.”

Greg did not try to disguise the hurt on his face. He looked as though she had given him a resounding slap. “Okay, then. I’ll just run along. I doubt I’ll be seeing you again, Libby, because Danny and I are clearing out of here tomorrow.”

Their eyes met and held as she stood to bid him goodbye. Libby fought back her tears. She wouldn’t let herself be humiliated by showing him how much she cared. She started to circle her desk to walk him out when he suddenly exclaimed, “Stop! Don’t take another step!”

A cold chill enveloped her body. Was there a snake loose in the office, or what was the big emergency? “What? What is it, Greg?”

“My contact lens,” he explained. “I brushed a t—, um, a speck of dust out of my eye, and the thing just popped out.” He bent and groped around on the carpet. “Don’t take a step. You might crush it. Just stand there for a minute while I find it. It has to be right here.” He shed his shoes, dropped to his knees, and began raking his fingers through the carpet.

“I’ll help.” Libby slid out of her pumps, and in her stocking feet, edged her way around the desk on all fours, running her fingers through the soft nylon pile.

“I found it!” Greg exclaimed, at the precise moment when their heads met and collided with a gentle thud. “We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” he quipped, looking up into her shining eyes.

The accelerating sounds of their merriment grew, fueled by emotions held too long in abeyance, carried into the outer office and probably beyond. When the office door opened, both Libby and Greg in their stocking feet, faced each other on all fours, with tears of laughter streaming down their cheeks.

“What in the world is going on in here?” Libby recognized the high-pitched voice. Lifting her eyes to the doorway, she looked up into the shocked faces of Michael Phillips, Selena Watson, and Adam Ridgefield.