Читать книгу Sultry Nights - Donna Hill - Страница 11

Chapter 3

Dominique opened the door onto the first floor that had once upon a time been an apartment.

“Here we are.”

Trevor took in the space. The wood floors were warped and coming up in spots and some of the boards were missing. It was clear that there had been major water damage from the stains on the ceiling and the buckling walls. The kitchen would have to be ripped out completely along with the bathroom. The two back rooms that must have served as bedrooms were in no better shape. He took pictures as they walked through the space. Then they went up to the top floor that was in a similar state of disrepair before returning to Dominique’s office.

Dominique stood in the center of her office and folded her arms in front of her. “So…what do you think?”

“Anything is doable. It will take some work but it can be done.” He walked past her and caught another whiff of the scent she was wearing before sitting in the chair she’d been in earlier. He could almost feel her warmth.

Dominique perched on the edge of the couch with her delicate ankles crossed.

“I’ll take a look at the pictures, talk it over with my partner and put some sketches together based on what you say you need. I can get back to you in about a week.”

“A week…is great. How long do you think it will take to complete?”

“Once work is started, barring any surprises, about two to three months.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea it could be done so quickly.”

He pushed up from his seat. Her gaze followed his rise.

“As I said, barring any obstacles.” He gave her a half smile. He tucked his iPad under his arm and extended his free hand.

Dominique placed her hand in his. “I’ll get the contracts drawn up as soon as I see the design,” she said, sounding a little breathless even to her own ears.

“Fair enough.”

“Can I offer you some coffee before you go?”

“Thanks. But no. I have another appointment.”

She offered a tight smile. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m good. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Inwardly she flinched. Was she being blown off?

She crossed the room to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Jackson.”

Trevor met her at the threshold. “I look forward to doing business with you, Ms. Lawson.” He walked out, stopped then turned. “You really should get some ice on that knee.”

The air got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed or ticked off by his offhanded comment. It wasn’t so much what he said, it was the delivery, as if he had one up on her.

She spun away from the door and her knee screamed. She slammed her office door shut, limped over to the couch and plopped down. For the first time she took a peek at her knee. It was already obviously swollen. Tenderly she placed her hand, the hand that was still warm from holding his, over the knee that throbbed beneath her touch.

Trevor’s half grin and probing eyes seemed to tease her as she replayed their meeting behind her closed lids. There was nothing special about Trevor Jackson. She’d been with much more handsome men, men with money, class and prestige, men who would do just about anything to be with her. So, what was it about Trevor that had gotten so quickly under her skin?

He’s just not that into you.

Her eyes fluttered open. Hmm. Not on her watch.

* * *

Why he drove around in pretty much a circle for nearly twenty minutes, he would never tell anyone. He couldn’t get her scent out of his head or the way she ran her tongue across her lips. He considered himself well educated, comfortable in any situation and articulate. But for the life of him he’d barely been able to string a full sentence together.

Finally, he wound his way back onto the right road leading out of town to his office in New Orleans. It was a miracle that he hadn’t run over someone’s cat.

He pulled into the angled parking space in front of the three-story brick building that housed his construction company. There are some things you know in life, and the one thing that he’d known since he watched his uncle Reggie, who was a carpenter by trade, hammer a nail, was that he wanted to build things. Once he was old enough he spent his summers as an apprentice on construction sites, learning the trade, working, sweating, getting his hands dirty and loving every minute of it. But as his uncle had told him over and over, having brawn wasn’t enough. He needed brains to go with it. So he went to school, got a BS degree in Construction Management and an MBA in Economics, both from Louisiana State University. Within two years of getting his construction management degree, he worked out a business plan, presented it to the bank and landed a small business loan that launched his first storefront office. At the time he was his lone employee, other than when he needed an extra set of hands, until Max came on board and signed on as a partner. That was nearly ten years ago. He was twenty-five and still wet behind the ears. Now he had a permanent staff of fifteen artisans, and subcontracts with dozens of other tradesman. He had one of the most successful privately owned construction companies in the state. He had more work than he could handle, but the one job he never turned away was his community service work, his way of giving back. Otherwise, he and Ms. Dominique Lawson would have never crossed paths.

Max Hunt was stepping out of his office door with a handful of blueprints when Trevor came in.

Max and Trevor had been best friends since grammar school. They liked the same things, sports, fishing, good music, hard work, a stiff drink and beautiful women. They’d been dubbed the Black Knights back in college, a reputation they seemed to have maintained into full manhood, matching each other stride for stride in the looks and sexual charm department except that Max resembled the clean-shaven Shamar Moore.

Max briefly glanced up then returned his attention to the blueprints. “Hey, man, how’d it go?” he asked, walking to the industrial copy machine.

Trevor took the camera from around his neck. “Pretty good.”

Max lifted the cover of the copy machine and placed the blueprints facedown. The machine hummed and began spitting out copies. Max frowned and turned his head in Trevor’s direction. “Pretty good. That’s it?”

Trevor shrugged slightly and took the memory card out of the camera. “Took a tour, she told me what she needed. Said we got the contract. I told her I’d get back to her in about a week with some design ideas.” He shrugged again. “That’s it. Nothing to tell.”

Max gave him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, right, my brother. What really happened?” He half smiled.

“What are you talking about? That’s it.”

“What did she look like in person?”

Trevor’s eyes flashed for a moment but he couldn’t stop the smile that slowly moved across his mouth. “Edible.”