Chapter #2
"You wanted us to stay here, and you said you were going to fix the place up." He wondered if she would shy away from him, if he took her hand in his and decided to risk it. When she did not say anything or even attempt to pull away, he twined his fingers through hers and guided her to the left.
The weeds had been pulled and the grass cut. The large oak tree at the front had gotten a much-needed facelift, giving the appearance of more space. Her aunt's prized and well-tended daffodils and peonies had been pruned and reshaped.
She felt a lump in her throat as she looked around. The house, now restored to its former glory, seemed to be brimming with new life and old memories. Jordan had truly outdone himself. He had transformed a place that had once been a reminder of loss into a sanctuary of hope and love.
"It's perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
"I'm glad you like it." He squeezed her fingers lightly. "There's more."
"I'm not sure my heart can take it."
"Why don't we go inside and see?" he teased.
With a nod and her heart in complete turmoil, she allowed herself to be led back to the house and up the steps.
The key had been left under the welcome mat.
Fishing it out, he opened the door, swinging it open and stepped back so she could see the full effect.
And he wanted to see her reaction. It had taken a week to get it ready, but he had commissioned a team of carpenters to get it done and paid for any overtime necessary.
"Oh my." She stepped into the foyer which had been wallpapered in apple green silk and wandered into the open space of the living room.
"Caleb helped by offering suggestions. He thought you'd like the new look."
He stood behind as she turned a slow circle around the room. The old, faded sofas were gone to be replaced by graceful antiques of muted tan and yellow. A lovely redwood table stood in the middle and the rug echoed the theme of the room, with touches of green and red.
Curtains, with the same colors fluttered at windows that had been replaced.
"What happened to the old furniture?"
"Donated to the shelter. Look, I don't know if I overstepped-"
"No." She shook her head, unwilling to meet his eyes. He had done this for her, and she had no idea what to do about it. She did not want to feel obligated to him and was scared that what had started out as an arrangement was swiftly becoming something else. Something she wasn't ready for.
"It's perfect." She forced the smile to her lips. "Upstairs?"
"The same."
"You got this done in just a week?"
"More or less." He was watching her closely and saw the hesitancy in her features.
"If you don't like what was done, it can be discarded."
"Then I would be ungrateful." She walked towards him then. "Thanks. This is quite a coming home surprise."
He was not convinced that she was grateful but left it at that.
"Hungry?"
"Starving. But I want to see upstairs. Then I'll rustle something up for us to eat."
"We could go out."
"No. I want to cook."
*****
She prepared a delicious vegetable stew and warmed up the homemade bread that a neighbor had left for them.
And insisted on having the meal in the dining room with the proper place settings.
The tour of the rooms upstairs had left her speechless.
Her old bedroom had been transformed-the pearl pink wallpaper a perfect complement for the matching curtains and stained white furnishing.
The other bedrooms had been done in rich blue and green, the old furniture replaced by new ones that somehow looked as if they had been there for years. The floors had been stripped and polished to a high gloss. The bathrooms had also been redone.
She wanted to ask how much everything cost, but that would have put a damper on the mood. She decided to leave it for now and was determined to show him how much she appreciated what he did.
A bottle of Chianti went well with the meal, and she had even found some raspberry tarte that had been left in the freezer.
As they sat down to eat, the atmosphere grew warmer, more relaxed. The wine seemed to loosen their tongues, and soon they were sharing stories, laughter punctuating their conversation. The stew was delectable, the bread soft and fragrant, and the tarte a delightful finish.
After dinner, they moved to the living room, where a fire crackled in the hearth.
She curled up on the sofa, feeling more at home than she had in years.
He sat beside her, close but not too close, respecting her space.
They continued talking, the hours slipping by unnoticed.
And he found her a delightful source of information. And a rather charming wit.
She had a way of spinning stories around the people she had met during her travels. He loved the sound of her laughter and how she loosened up as soon as she soaked up the wine. Kicking off her shoes, she curled her feet beneath her and entertained him with stories of her agent.
"I would like you to meet him."
"Why's that?" They were on the porch, with the slightly chilly spring breeze dancing on their skin. It was so quiet-the ambiance perfect with the scent of flowers blooming and a hint of rain in the air.
"He's this portly gentleman who looks very much like a scholar but has an Irish temper and a habit of getting his own way." She shook her head with a laugh. She was feeling slightly tipsy, but did not mind it one bit. "When I called him, he invited me to lunch at his place."
"And you went just like that?" he asked with a frown.
"Of course not! Even though I was desperate to get someone to notice my work, I was also cautious. I googled him at first and then asked my brother to do a deep investigation."
He burst out laughing, his insides melting as he stared at her. "That was very clever of you."
"Oh, please don't give me the credit. Caleb insisted on it."
"And I'm assuming he found nothing in his background to send up a red flag."
"Nothing at all."
"Then you went to meet him," he prodded.
She nodded, smiling whimsically. "He has this quaint little house, more like a cottage. He's single by choice and enjoys golfing and gardening. And having tea parties."
"I don't get it."
She laughed at his confused expression.
"Like Alice in Wonderland tea parties. His garden is a treasure trove.
Henry loves books and wanted to be a writer, but according to him, he never had the talent.
So, he made up for it by becoming an agent and decorating his immense yard with themes from several of the classics.
Hell of a guy. We had tea and crumpets served under a striped umbrella, with a breathtaking view of a small bridge arching over the lake. And he speaks with a British accent."
"Let me guess, he's American born and bred."
She nodded, eyes dancing. "He spent a year in London and never lost the accent. Told me it makes him feel posh."
"Sounds like quite a character."
"I had my doubts about him representing me and getting results, but he came through big time. He's very tenacious and if he believes in you, he will work his butt off to get things done. I owe a lot to him."
"You've made him a hell of a lot of money, so I'd say the score is evened," he pointed out.
"He took a chance on me and that's something I'll never forget."
Leaning forward, he poured more wine into the glass and had her squinting at him. "By any chance are you trying to get me hammered?"
"Hammered?" His brows lifted, a smile tugging at his lips.
"You think I don't know street slangs?" She took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes. "Might I remind you that I have a brother who's a cop?"
"Something I try my best to forget."
"You haven't answered my question." She gestured with the glass and managed to spill some of the wine over her top. "Oh crap. Look what I did. Lucky for me, this top is on its last leg." She looked over at him and grinned. "I have an idea."
"And that would be?"
"Why don't I take it off?"
He went still in the middle of reaching for his own glass, eyes darting to her face.
"Uhm."
Grinning at him, she settled the glass carefully on the gleaming hardwood table.
Keeping her eyes on his face, she rose a little unsteadily and started to unbutton the blouse.
It was a slow strip tease that had his blood boiling in under a minute.
He could not take his eyes off her movements. It was as if he was hypnotized.
Finally, she shrugged the blouse, and he watched it fluttered to the floor. Her bra was a wine-red silk with lacy edgings, just barely cupping her breasts.
He swallowed, his pulse quickening. "You sure about this?"
Her gaze was unwavering as she nodded. "Absolutely."
The electricity in the air was palpable as she reached out and trailed her fingers lightly over his hand. He responded with a touch that was both tentative and deliberate, tracing the smooth skin of her arm. She felt a shiver run through her, intensifying the connection between them.
"I want you in bed," he growled. She sighed when he simply picked her up and cradling her in his arms, headed out and up the stairs.
His heart just stopped when she turned her face into his throat and started nuzzling. "You smell so good. I like the cologne, masculine and very sexy."
He knew it was mostly the wine talking, but he did not care. He was lapping it up like cream. Laying her down, he practically tore at his clothes, before joining her, his hands all over her.