Dirty Deeds: Standalone sexy romance(3)

 

"So? What does it say?"

 

Tate pinned Val with a shrewd look. "Rich didn't tell you?"

 

"Of course he didn't tell me," she chided. "Attorney/client privilege and all that. Come on, spill."

 

She searched the document again, praying the words had morphed into a different answer. No such luck. "Basically, it says I'm screwed. I have to comply with the rules set in place by the Beautification Committee within sixty days or I will be subject to fines. I am legally bound to meet the requirements before I can transfer ownership of the property."

 

Val sighed. "I'm so sorry. I'm sure Rich-"

 

"Did everything he could. He filed an extension. Thankfully the sixty days won't go into effect until after I've hired a contractor."

 

"What are you going to do?"

 

"No clue. I'm struggling right now to pay the electrician." Tate scowled at the paint cans and buckets of plaster taunting her from every corner. "As it is, most of this is just surface work."

 

"If I might offer a suggestion." Val bent to retrieve her purse, but her extended stomach stopped her progress halfway.

 

Tate reached down and hefted the enormously heavy bag onto the table. "What are you carrying in that thing?"

 

"Everything but the kitchen sink it seems," Val muttered. "Just wait 'til you have kids, smarty."

 

Tate gathered the papers, shuffling through them one last time. Hey, wait a minute. She'd dealt with enough lawyers since her aunt's death to know they never neglected to remind clients of pending charges. "There's no bill in here," Tate said tersely.

 

It was comical, the way Val averted her monkey-eyed gaze to the cuckoo clock above the oak buffet. "Would you look at the time? I've got to run."

 

In her advanced state of pregnancy, Val's escape attempt was pitifully slow. Tate snatched Val's purse from the table and held it hostage. "Nice try. But if I remember correctly, due to your lousy acting skills you were relegated to the concession stand at theater camp. Fess up. Is Rich taking on pro bono cases now?"

 

"No." Val crossly brushed a curl from her eye. "But we agreed this problem wasn't that much work for him, and we-"

 

"Agreed to take pity on me? I am not a charity case."

 

"For heaven's sake, I didn't think you were. We aren't trying to offend you; we're trying to help. People ask Rich for free legal advice all the time. This is no different."

 

"It is different because it's me," Tate reiterated stubbornly. "I don't owe anybody anything. That's why I didn't take out a loan to update Aunt Beatrice's house when I inherited all the problems. Or borrow money from my we-know-what's-best-for-you parents."

 

Val was quiet for several moments. Too quiet. "Fine. Since you're short on funds, we could do a trade, like they used to do in the Old West. Services for services sort of thing."

 

Tate tightened her grip on Val's Coach purse. A trade? What could Val and Richard need? A nanny? Although she dreamed of having children someday, practicing parenting skills on the rambunctious Westfield brood scared her spitless. "Like what?"

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"Stay with the kids after I have the baby. Just until Richard comes home."

 

"What about Grace?" As a counselor at the Girls Club, their mutual friend, Grace Fitzgerald, was better equipped to deal with a hoard of rowdy kids.

 

"She's got enough on her plate. Besides, you can handle them."

 

Alone? For eight hours with four kids under the age of eight? Tate scratched a phantom spot on her elbow; the very idea made her break out in hives. "Umm … isn't your mom coming?"

 

"After the baby is born." Val gnawed at her lower lip and confessed, "Frankly, I could start labor anytime. I'm afraid if this labor goes like the last one, I'll be racing to the hospital. It'd be a huge relief to know I've got someone on call."

 

Tate sighed. Val's anxiety was more pressing than her own petty worries about not being a Mary Poppins type. She extended her hand, grateful Val only had one child in diapers. "Deal."

 

Val's immediate wily grin was in direct conflict with the Madonna-like way her hands clasped over her belly.

 

"What are you not telling me?" Tate demanded. "The kids have rabies or something?"

 

"Pooh." Val waved her hand. "You are so paranoid. This whole trading thing. Pretty good idea, right? Mutually beneficial?"