Chapter 4 #2
"I have some things to finish up, and I'm sure you have things to do-"
"No." He gestured to the back where she had started renovations. "Do you have time to tell me what's going on there?"
"Oh. I did tell you that I'm extending the store and adding a spot for local artists." When she slipped her hand through his arm, he felt a jolt of awareness shooting through him at her nearness. Her perfume tickled his nostrils and heightened his senses.
"Did you?"
"Yes. So, we're starting with some costume jewelry.
" She led him to the half-finished section where there was a shelf stacked with brilliantly colored stones.
"I found this artist while on one of my tours of New Orleans and was fascinated by her craft.
She's not local, but I could not resist highlighting her talent. These-"
She pointed to the ones on the second shelf. "These are by a sixty-year-old woman who lost her husband and son in a car crash five years ago and is now starting to come into her own. Aren't they lovely?"
"They are." He picked up a chunky necklace made of wood. The etchings were faint and artistic; the stones, which he surmised were garnet, glowed against the dull patina. "I want to purchase this one." He picked up matching earrings and held them against her lobes. "And this."
"Brant-"
"They suit you." He grinned at her startled look. "You're going to tell me that I don't have to." He turned to the hovering Willow. "Box them up and have them ready for me, will you? Thanks."
"You've given me so much already," she protested.
"Are you complaining?" he asked with lifted brows.
"No. I don't know. And you're right, what the hell am I thinking? You just made a purchase; I should be rejoicing."
"Precisely. Now go on about your work and I'll continue to browse."
She stood there for a few pulsing seconds, her heart dipping crazily as she continued to stare at him.
"All right. I won't be long."
"Take your time." He watched her leave, a frown touching his brow.
He had promised her space and after Christmas Day where they had spent the day together, including having dinner at his mother's, he had given her exactly that, thinking that it wasn't appropriate for them to be spending so much time together.
But he realized that he missed her. When he realized that his meeting was in the vicinity of her shop, he had decided to come and see her.
He could have called from his car to tell her about the function, but chose to come here instead, because he wanted to see her.
"Here you go, sir."
He was so caught up in his thoughts, he had not noticed the woman standing behind him.
"I might be interested in buying something else." He handed her his card. "Hold onto that, will you? I think I will go and look at those lamps, and the desk in the window is lovely. Mother would love something like that."
The woman beamed, her eyes widening as she took in the platinum card.
Inside her office, Indigo could not concentrate on the figures. He was a few feet outside her tiny office, browsing in her store. He had taken the time to stop by and was waiting for her.
She needed an emergency session. Picking up the phone, she called her best friend.
"Hey."
"He's here," she whispered.
"Who's here and why are you whispering?"
"My husband. Brant is here in my store."
"Oh. That's good. Why is he there?"
"He came to tell me about a function we have to attend later, and he bought me a necklace and matching earrings. And I think he's buying something more."
"That's a good thing."
"What do you think it means?"
"It means he has the resources and admires your excellent taste."
"Not that." She waved it aside impatiently and pushed away the papers. "Why do you think he stopped by?"
"You said he wanted to tell you about the function. What do you think it means? More importantly, what do you want it to mean?"
Sighing softly, she sat on the edge of the desk.
"I've been trying to tell myself, no, to remind myself that this is just business.
We spent Christmas Day together and had dinner at his mom's, who, by the way, still does not like me.
And after we came back home, he said goodnight and went straight to his rooms.
"It's been four days and I haven't seen him until now. I don't know what to think or even how to act. I like him, Jules. I really, really like him."
"You're attracted to him."
"I shouldn't be. He wouldn't be interested in someone like me."
"I hate when you do that," her friend said sharply.
"Do what?"
"Put yourself down. You're a frigging catch."
She smiled at that. "He's Brant O'Keefe, a man who's been with hundreds of beautiful and rich women from his society.
It's not that I'm putting myself down; I know my worth.
It's that I'm being realistic. He would not be interested in someone like me, and it would be a mistake to think or hope otherwise. "
"You live with the guy, so naturally there will be sparks."
"I don't know. I've been trying to be a friend, to tell myself that's enough."
"But it's not taking. The guy's hot."
"He is." She sighed. "Anyway, I have to go. I will pop around there tomorrow."
"Looking forward to it. Wear something spectacular."
"I'm planning to."
She left the office ten minutes after she spoke to Juliet and stopped short when she noticed the number of packages on the padded seat next to him. He was on his device, fingers moving rapidly, a frown of concentration on his forehead. It took him a while to notice her standing there.
"You bought out the store."
"Well, some of it. You have quite a fascinating collection. I bought a table for my mother, and your employee assures me that it would be shipped to her."
"What table?"
"The one that was in the window display. It's something she would love. Ready?"
"Need any help?" She gestured toward the packages.
"No, I got this." Putting away his iPod, he swept the packages into one hand and took her arm with his free hand.
"It's going to snow," he commented, looking up at the sky.
"They said it would. It's January, so that's to be expected. This is me."
"Drive behind me." He stowed the packages inside the back seat and closed the door.
She got into her vehicle and waited until he had backed out before following him.
The car she was driving was new. The one she owned before had been on its last legs and she had used some of the money he had deposited into her account to purchase a car.
She had done that without telling him and he had been furious.
"We own car dealerships. That's our main interest. I could have given you a vehicle. You only had to ask."
"That's it. I don't feel free asking, and the fact that you've done so much for me already makes it even more difficult."
"Next time say something to me," he had responded tightly.
The streets were slick and wet from the snow and a combination of icy rain over the last few days, which made navigation a little tricky.
It was still the holidays, and the buildings were bright with lights and colorful bulbs.
The uptown area was buzzing with activities and people taking advantage of the sales going on.
She had dropped by the rehab center to bring her brother his gifts and was grateful to see that even in such a short time, he looked much better.
And he was not so bitter and down on himself.
She had brought him some clothes and books to occupy his time.
They had talked, really talked for the first time in years. And he had made some friends.
"It's not so bad here and the food is good."
He was still thin, but he didn't look half dead like before. She had Brant to thank for that. She had him to thank for everything. For the way her life was turning around.
She did not want to believe that it was gratitude that was making her feel this way. Yes, she was attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? The man was gorgeous and sexy as hell. And she had seen him wearing old sweats and a T-shirt. She had seen him with his hair tousled and stubble on his face.
And she spent nights tossing and turning in her very big bed, wishing she had the freedom to march into his room and climb into bed with him. But she didn't.
He was doing her a favor and as much as he wanted to deny it, she was getting much more from the deal than he was. A hell of a lot more. She couldn't and wouldn't be the one to try and make the first move and complicate things between them.
He had helped her out. Simple. He had felt sorry for her and helped her out.
She had to respect his space and the agreement they had.
Even if she wished fervently that it was more- even if she wished he would climb into bed with her and- No!
Shaking her head, she concentrated fiercely on navigating traffic.
They were friendly and that's all she could hope for. It could have been worse, and she should be grateful that it was this easy. But was it? she wondered in despair. Was it easy at all when she had all these feelings rolling around inside her?
Biting off a sigh, she made the turn into the private road that led to their home.