Chapter 5 #2
“I know,” Phil said, unable to suppress the nostalgic grin that drew across her lips.
“According to the stories I’ve heard, my mom’s grandfather had anticipated a large family, but after three wives and several mistresses, he only managed to produce one son.
The largest brood was my grandfather’s generation.
There were four of them, but all of their descendants left Gauthier a long time ago.
So the house passed down to my mom, and, eventually”—unfortunately, she thought—”to me. ”
Jamal assessed her for several long moments. “You hate that I’m the one who bought this house, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she answered, not even considering lying, but was solicitous enough to soften the blow with a modest chuckle. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but our styles differ a bit too much for my comfort. When I heard you were the new owner, I fully expected to find a wind turbine in the front yard.”
Jamal’s brow dipped with his chastising frown. “Everyone knows the wind turbine goes in the backyard next to the gazebo.”
Phil nearly choked on her tea. She started to speak, but he stopped her with upraised palms.
“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “There will be no wind turbine. I promise. What do you have against saving the environment, anyway?”
“I don’t have anything against saving the environment,” she answered. “I just don’t like it when people ruin historic properties with their new-wave, save-the-trees green technology. Belle Maison has been standing here for more than a century and a half. It’s fine just the way it is.”
“And I’ll bet the utility bills are through the roof in the winter.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, this is south Louisiana, not Alaska. It may drop below freezing one week out of the year.” Phylicia reined in her indignation, cautious of allowing her emotions to get the best of her.
Jamal held his hands up, as if he too recognized that things were getting too heated.
“Look,” he started, “I get that you’re big into restoration, but I’m just as passionate about my work. Can you at least try to embrace what I want to do? I promise I will not disturb the integrity of the house.”
“If you say so,” Phil replied, unable to stanch the skepticism that dripped from the words, despite her best effort. “But I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jamal rolled his eyes, chagrin blanketing his face. “You just wait,” he said. “You’ll hardly be able to tell the difference between my eco-friendly improvements and the original structure. That’s what will be unique about my architectural firm, making the green technology unobtrusive.”
“How long before you get your firm off the ground?” she asked.
He shrugged again and stared at the house across the street for some time before answering. “Soon. I’m in no big hurry. My main priority is getting Belle Maison opened on time.” He scooted off the back of the tailgate. “Which is why we should probably get back to work.”
Something about the change in his tone gave her pause, but Phil didn’t want to dig any deeper. The less she intruded into Jamal Johnson’s life, the better.
She hopped down from the tailgate. “Were you planning to strip the paint from the woodwork in the parlor?” she asked.
“I figured I didn’t have a choice,” Jamal answered.
“Let me see what I can do,” she said. “I may be able to get it cleaned with the materials I have with me. If not, I can bring it back to my shop. Can you lay out some of that plastic sheeting over there?” She pointed to the area just off the gazebo.
He nodded, and she went inside to grab a section of the wainscoting she’d removed.
As Phil dabbed at the scuff marks with her least abrasive solvent, she surreptitiously studied Jamal as he sawed through panels of strawboard.
Even though it was late September, the temperature was still hovering in the upper eighties, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung deliciously to the muscles that undulated with every push of the saw.
It was mesmerizing, watching the sinuous motion of his shoulders rise and fall. Her hands itched with the need to glide along the moist, hot skin underneath.
He turned abruptly and caught her staring. Phil jumped, nearly knocking over the bottle of solvent.
“Careful there,” he called, a knowing grin pulling at his lips.
“Oh, great,” Phil muttered. Mortified, she lowered her eyes and got back to work.
A half-hour later, Phil had managed to remove every scuff mark from the wainscoting without marring a single inch. Jamal walked over to where she stood and dropped to his haunches, observing her work.
“Unbelievable,” he said with an awed breath. “How did you manage to get it clean without ruining the paint job?”
“I have my ways,” she said.
He looked up at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I can’t wait to see what else you can do.”
“Darling, I would blow your mind,” she said before she could stop herself.
Way wrong thing to say. Phil inwardly cringed, but she couldn’t deny the shot of molten heat that flashed through her as Jamal’s eyes took on a smoldering look.
She knew she was skirting along the edges of the danger zone.
After that kiss yesterday, the worst thing she could do was encourage his flirting.
Actually, that wasn’t the worst thing she could do. The absolute worst thing would involve them both being naked.
Do not think of him naked, she mentally chastised herself.
Jamal rose slowly from his crouched position, his intense gaze searing straight through her. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with want. “You can try to ignore this all you want, Phylicia. We both know it’s there.”
She didn’t have to ask what it was. It was so apparent, so potent, it had nearly taken on a physical form. The attraction sizzling between them was hotter than her workshop after a full day of working with the blowtorch.
Phil swallowed past the lump in her throat. She wanted to shake her head. She was dying to tell him that she didn’t want to ignore anything.
“That’s too bad,” she said, her voice so husky she barely recognized it. She cleared her throat. “Because I fully intend to ignore it.”
Those sparks of electricity, like the kind zapping between them right now, were dangerous. She’d been burned before, and fear of making those same mistakes terrified her more than Phil thought possible.
This was all too eerily familiar to the severe lapse in judgment that had already caused her so much heartache. Standing here with Jamal, in the midst of a huge home-renovation project, was like a remake of a twisted reality show: The Phylicia and Kevin Fiasco.
How many times had Kevin crept up behind her while she was working and pressed his lips to her neck? It had taken little more than a gentle kiss and some sweetly whispered words before they were both stripping out of their clothes and making love among the dusty construction material.
She so was not going there again.
“Look, Jamal. I won’t deny that there was some chemistry between us during Mya and Corey’s wedding—”
“Not just at the wedding,” he interjected.
“Okay, fine. The chemistry is still there. But I’m just not in the right place. Getting involved with you, with anyone right now…it’s not going to happen. And don’t even think about suggesting no-strings-attached sex,” she added.
The broad grin that flashed across his face was pure sin. “I wasn’t going to,” he said. “But apparently you’ve been thinking about it.”
Phil knew her face was as red as a fire engine. Why did he have to be so damn sexy?
“You’re making a mistake,” he said. “You and I both know that there’s a lot more going on here than just the potential for no-strings-attached sex.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Although that would be a lot of fun.”
Lord, how she wanted to take him up on his offer!
It had been way too long since she’d had fun of any kind.
And despite how doggedly she’d tried to suppress her body’s outright craving for this man, all she had to do was look at him and she went liquid.
More and more, the hazy figure that entered her nightly fantasies had started to solidify in her mind, and its strong jaw and deep brown eyes resembled one man. The one standing before her.
A slightly calloused thumb grazed her cheek then tipped her chin up. Phil stared at his sensually soft lips and stifled a needy moan.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable working here,” Jamal said. “If your answer is no, then I’ll just have to accept it. I’ll survive. This isn’t the first time I’ve been turned down by a pretty girl.”
His noble capitulation only made her decision harder to swallow.
Phil was tempted to apologize for having to take such an uncompromising stance, but with everything else going on in her life, she could not summon the strength to deal with the complications that came with a relationship, even a casual, no-strings-attached kind.
Because she didn’t do casual sex. Her heart always managed to get involved. And eventually broken.
Stupid heart.
“Is this the last time we’re going to have this conversation?” she asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “I won’t bring it up again. I don’t think my tender ego can take another rejection.”
He said it jokingly, but Phil was sure she saw genuine regret ghost across his face.
For a moment she nearly relented, but that self-preservation instinct that had shielded her heart since Kevin’s betrayal came to her rescue.
She knew it was unfair to make Jamal suffer for another man’s wrongdoings.
She also knew she was cheating herself, as well.
But it was a price she was willing to pay.
She would not put herself through the pain and humiliation she’d been through with Kevin. A person could take only so much.