Читать книгу Wife In Disguise - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 11

Del Scott climbed the front steps of the old Miller place. It was nearly eleven in the morning on the kind of day designed to make every person not living in Beachside Bay want to sell their house, pack up their belongings and move to the oceanside town. The sky was a perfect California blue, the temperatures promised to reach into the mid-seventies and a faint tang of salt scented the sweet breeze.

Del paused to study the porch and front door of the old place. Both were in need of repainting, but the structure was fundamentally sound. He’d been through the house enough times to be able to picture every room and imagine the possibilities. At one time he’d even thought he might live here. The plans he’d brought along with him were proof of that. That dream had disappeared along with his wife. Although he could regret losing the house he could honestly say that he didn’t have the same feelings about Josie. She was out of his life forever, and he was glad.

As he raised his hand to knock on the front door, he frowned. He hadn’t thought about his ex-wife in months. Maybe not in the past year. Why had she turned up in his mind now? Was it being back at the Miller place? After all, they’d often talked about buying it. But every time they’d toured it, they’d ended up arguing about remodeling, just like they’d argued about everything else.

Forget it, he told himself firmly as he knocked.

As he waited for a response, he listened for the slow step of the soon-to-be owner. Rose. He frowned as he realized she hadn’t given him a last name. She’d intrigued him, which was strange. They’d exchanged only a handful of words. Maybe it had been the way the light had caught her pale-blond hair. Josie’s hair had been that color, but she’d always worn it as short as a boy, while Rose had soft, feminine waves that slipped down to her shoulders. With her big blue eyes and full mouth, she reminded him of a 1940s movie star. Curvy, sultry and a dozen kinds of trouble.

Before he could tell himself that sexual attraction to a client was a serious mistake, the front door opened. If he’d been hoping that seeing his potential new customer in person would erase the image he had of her as a temptress, he’d been mistaken.

Yesterday she’d worn a light-green dress. Today’s was pink. Short sleeves in a gauzy material flirted with her upper arms. The floral print fabric skimmed over full breasts and hips before falling gently to her calves. Makeup accentuated her big eyes and full mouth, and the fact that she was leaning heavily on a cane did nothing to stem his male interest.

“Good morning,” he said, forcing his voice to sound professional rather than husky with yearning. What on earth was wrong with him? He’d given up unrealized crushes on women about the time he’d turned seventeen and Betty Jo Lancaster had let him go all the way in the backseat of his Mustang.

“Mr. Scott.” She gave him a brief nod and a quick smile. “You’re very prompt. I appreciate that.”

“Just part of the Scott family service. We’re on time and we come prepared to do work. The same applies to my crew. If I tell you they’ll be starting at eight, they’ll all be here then. And please, call me Del.”

“All right. Del.” She stepped back to let him into the vacant house.

A beautiful chandelier hung in the foyer. He knew that it and the marble tiles underfoot had been shipped over from Italy in the early 1920s.

“I’ve been reacquainting myself with the house,” Rose said, closing the door behind him and turning slowly toward the main living area, keeping her cane close to her side. “I’d forgotten how much work the house needs.”

He was surprised to experience a stab of disappointment. He told himself his feelings came from having wanted to fix the old place for the past ten years, not from the realization that Rose might drift out of his life as easily as she’d drifted into it.

“Have you changed your mind about the remodeling?”

“Not at all. I’m prepared to see her looking as lovely as she did when she was first built.”

Her comment surprised him. “Have you seen pictures?”

“A long time ago.”

Before he could ask when, she started through the foyer, pointing to the front parlor. “I thought that room could be a combination living room and library. What do you think about bookshelves on a couple of the walls?”

He tapped the large case he carried. “You read my mind. I already have that design drawn up. Which leaves this as the main living area.”

They stepped into an oversize room about twenty-five by thirty. The ten-foot ceilings and crown molding added to the grandeur of the room. The hardwood floors were in need of refinishing but otherwise in good shape. On the right, bay windows let in morning light. To the left was the entry to the kitchen and dining room. A huge fireplace dominated the north wall.

Del pointed at the bricked opening. “That was imported from a castle in England. The stained glass in the dining room came from a chateau in France. There are bits and pieces of the world all over the house.”

“That’s one of the things that intrigues me about the place,” Rose told him. She paused in the center of the room, leaning heavily on her cane. “I don’t agree with the current construction philosophy that if it’s new it must be better. Sometimes what’s old has a unique charm that can’t be duplicated.”

“I agree.”

He noticed that her movements were slow and deliberate, the way they’d been the day before. He wondered if her disability was new—the result of an accident—or if she’d been born with it.

He grabbed a couple of straight-back chairs tucked in a corner of the room. There was also a folding table, flattened and leaning against the wall opposite the fireplace.

“Have a seat,” he said, putting the chairs in the center of the room, then retrieving the table. “Let me show you my plans.”

She settled into the chair and smiled at him. “You noticed me weaving. I’m a little tired, which always affects my balance.”

“Actually I didn’t,” he said, and it was almost the truth. “My mom raised me to offer a lady a seat. This is the best I can do under the circumstances.”

He straightened the table legs and locked them into place. After placing it in front of the two chairs, he opened his large briefcase.

“What do you know about the house?” he asked. “Any of the history?”

She shook her head. As she moved, the long, blond strands swayed back and forth, the gentle wave causing a curve of her hair to brush her cheek. He was once again reminded of a forties movie star…and his ex-wife, which was a strange combination. It was the hair color, he told himself. And the eye color. They were startlingly similar. But Rose and Josie had little else in common. Rose was quiet, elegant and feminine. Josie had been an argumentative whirlwind. Not exactly restful.

He opened his case and slid out the large sheets of paper, then set them on the table. But instead of showing them to her, he took the spare chair and sat down facing her.

“This house was built by a San Francisco shipping tycoon in 1910. It was a wedding gift for his second wife, whom he married shortly after the death of his first wife. Apparently, the first time he married for money and connections, and the second time he married for love. Local legend says they were very happy together, as were the next three couples who owned the place. The Millers were the last. Mr. and Mrs. Miller lived here for fifty wonderful years until they died within a few days of each other. Eventually their heirs decided to sell the house. There have been several interested parties, but no one has been serious about buying it until you.”

Rose raised her pale eyebrows. A slight smile teased at the corners of her full lips. “So if I buy the house, I’m joining a long line of happy marriages?”

“Something like that.”

“I guess I need to start dating,” she teased.

“Absolutely. It doesn’t pay to mess with a legend.”

A legend that explained why he and Josie hadn’t bought the place. By the time they could afford to purchase the Miller place, their marriage had been in trouble. There were many things they had, but “being in love” wasn’t one of them.

“I have great respect for tradition,” she said, then sighed. “I must remember to put ‘get married’ on my to-do list.”

He chuckled even as he tried to ignore the sense of relief at finding out there wasn’t a husband in the picture. Not that it would make any difference to him. He didn’t get involved with clients. Besides, he was seeing someone. Sort of. Actually the relationship was going nowhere. Jasmine was a nice woman but she was too young. They’d reached the awkward stage where she wanted to talk commitment and he wanted to move on.

“But I’ll wait until Mr. Right comes along,” she said, leaning toward the table. “Tell me about your plans for my house.”

He shifted his chair closer to hers and pointed to a drawing of the front elevation of the house. “I think it’s important to maintain the integrity of the original design. The house was built by master craftsmen brought in from all over the country. The stair banister itself is a work of art. There are carved moldings, hand-fitted wood floors, and three exquisite chandeliers. My goal would be to work with everything that can be salvaged and saved, while making the house more modern and convenient.”

She gazed at him while he spoke, her expression intent, as if she hung on every word. “Would you be deeply offended if I said I wanted to remodel the kitchen and bathrooms?”

“Not at all.” He flipped through his papers and put a kitchen design on top. “That’s completely possible while working within the existing measurements of the room.”

He leaned toward the page. “I would suggest ripping out all the existing cabinets. They’ve been replaced twice before, so they have no connection with the original construction. I can make custom cabinets myself, combining a slightly old-fashioned design to match the feel of the house, while giving you modern conveniences such as pull-outs, granite countertops and new appliances.”

“Sounds terrific.”

A faint, sweet, floral scent drifted to him. He inhaled sharply, savoring the feminine fragrance. He wasn’t much of a perfume kind of guy, but like everything else about her, this suited Rose. A knot of tension formed low in his belly—that had nothing to do with his desire to get the job and everything to do with his need to get to know this woman better. He wanted to slip his fingers through her sleek blond hair and feel it slide against his skin like cool silk. He wanted to taste her and touch her and—

He resurfaced to find her staring at him expectantly.

“What?” he asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot. “I mean, sorry. What were you saying?”

“I asked about plumbing and electrical. Will fixing them break the bank?”

“Ah, no. Not at all. Both have been completely redone in the past twenty years.”

“Good.”

She tapped a finger on the plan of the second floor. Her nails were oval and painted a light pink. Josie had never painted her nails. She hadn’t had time. Between her job as a PE teacher, her exercise program and her coaching, she’d been on the run literally and figuratively. She had considered things like long hair, makeup and nail polish a waste of time. When he’d asked her to make time on special occasions, she’d rolled her eyes and told him if makeup was so darned important to him, he could wear it himself. She was what she was. Why did he want to make her over?

He hadn’t been able to answer that before, and he still couldn’t. He didn’t expect a woman to be perfectly groomed at every moment of the day, but he also enjoyed knowing that she’d taken a little extra time for him.

“Now about this second floor.”

Rose stared at the plans. There were three bedrooms and two baths. One of the bedrooms was larger than the other—obviously the old master suite.

She looked at him. “Why do the rooms seem smaller upstairs?”

“Because of the balcony.” He showed her the front elevation again and pointed out the balcony encircling the entire second floor. “It looks terrific from the outside, but it eats up square footage.” He hesitated, not sure he should butt in, but she had agreed to look at his plans. “There is a solution. The attic.”

Rose glanced back at the front elevation, then ran her finger along the windows on the third floor. “What’s there now?”

“Nothing. But it’s plenty big.” He flipped through pages and set the one he wanted on top. “I had this drawn up about four years ago.”

“Why?”

It took him a second to figure out what she meant. Why did he have plans for a house he’d never owned? “At one time I thought of buying this place, but it didn’t work out.

“Any regrets…about not owning the house?”

“Not even one,” he said honestly. He and Josie would have killed each other during the remodeling. “This design turns the third floor into a master suite with a sitting area and another smaller bedroom.” He shrugged. “It could be used for an office or a nursery for the baby’s first couple of years. Until he was old enough to go to the second floor.”

Rose nodded. “It could be a girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said until ‘he’ was old enough to go to the second floor. I’m assuming a female child would get the same treatment. Or would you make her sleep out back with the dog?”

“No. Of course not. Any child. Or you could use the room for something else.”

“No. I like the idea of a baby.”

She looked at him as she spoke, her expression serious. But he saw the humor twinkling in her deep blue eyes. She liked the idea of a baby. Josie never had. They’d fought about that the last time they’d come to see this old house. He’d wanted to turn the third floor into the master suite. She’d wanted to use it as an exercise room. Kids hadn’t been a part of her plan. They’d—

He rose to his feet so quickly, the chair tipped back and slammed into the floor. Del barely noticed. He rubbed his forehead, as if he could erase thought of his ex-wife from his mind. Why was he thinking about her so much? Damn. She’d been gone nearly three years, and he was happier without her. He wouldn’t want her back on a bet. So why was she suddenly haunting him?

“Are you all right?”

He turned and saw Rose had pushed herself to her feet. She leaned on her cane. Concern pulled at the corners of her mouth. She looked like an angel standing there. Blond and beautiful. He supposed with her having a cane, some people might think she was also broken, but not him. She looked delightfully approachable and human. He’d had physical perfection once and it came at too high a price.

“I’m fine,” he told her, forcing all thoughts of Josie out of his brain. He swore he wouldn’t think about her again. His ex was gone and Rose was right here—apparently single. A good-looking, personable woman who liked old houses and wanted kids. Talk about perfect.

“Let me show you the kitchen,” he said, crossing to the open area that housed painted cabinets and av-cado-colored appliances. “We’d rip out everything and start from the bare walls.”

He moved as he spoke, using his arms and hands to paint word pictures of wood cabinets, a double oven with a microwave and a center island cooktop. There was room for a pantry and even a desk work area.

“I like the window,” she said, moving over to stand next to him. The greenhouse window had been added somewhere along the way, but it suited the graciousness of the house. “I’d like to grow fresh herbs and pretty flowers. I adore flowers.”

He pictured her standing in a field full of wildflowers, which was crazy. Equally insane was the heat he felt in his blood. Blood that was thickening and moving distinctly south. If he didn’t watch it, he was going to end up with a physical manifestation of his wayward thoughts. Not the polite thing when bidding on a remodeling job.

“The bathrooms upstairs will have to be redone, too, won’t they?” she asked.

“They’re about as ugly as the kitchen. The guest bath has dark and light pink tile.”

She laughed. “Sounds attractive but not worth climbing a flight of stairs to see.” She moved back to the table and touched the design for the third-floor master suite. “I want you to do this for me. All of it.”

He stared at her. Just like that? “Don’t you want an estimate?”

She tilted her head in a way that was so familiar, he had to take a step away from her. What was going on? He had the oddest sensation of being caught in both past and present.

“I heard you were honest, Del. Isn’t that true?”

“Sure, but you don’t want to take my word for it.”

“Why not? I’ve heard you’re good and that your prices are fair. So you’re the one that I want. When can your crew start?”

He did some quick calculations. “I had a big job postponed, so next Monday. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely. However I do have a request.”

“Name it.”

“I’d like the guest bath and one of the guest bedrooms to be done first and finished as quickly as possible. I’m living in a hotel and I don’t want to stay there any longer than necessary. I’d prefer to be settled. If I won’t be in the way, then the remodeling won’t bother me at all.”

Involuntarily his gaze drifted to her legs, hidden by the skirt of her dress. She hadn’t wanted to climb the stairs today. Would next week be any different? But he didn’t ask. Because it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to embarrass her.

“I could have those two rooms ready by the end of the week. I’ll put standard cabinets in the bathroom for now and replace them with custom later, when the third floor is done.”

“Good idea. Escrow will close in ten days. I have their permission to go ahead with the remodeling, probably because I’m paying cash for the house and they already have all my money.”

She smiled as she spoke. A feminine smile that hinted at a shared joke. He felt as if he’d taken an unexpected hit to the gut. All his air rushed out, but that was the least of it. Even more powerful than the need to breathe was the need to haul her close and kiss her. He knew if he didn’t taste her mouth and feel her curvy body against his he would just up and die. Simple as that.

The urge, the desire that had plagued him since he’d arrived a half hour before, bothered him. Women were a welcome part of his life, but they didn’t usually take over. He wanted to ask Rose to tell him every detail of her past. He wanted to find any other man who had dared to touch her and beat the crap out of him. He wanted—

He was crazy, he told himself. She was a client. They weren’t going to have a close and personal relationship. Besides, he’d already had one based on mutual physical attraction. That had gotten him married and then divorced. He didn’t plan to repeat either experience. He didn’t object to long-term relationships as long as they were grounded in compatibility and complementing personalities…not his gonads. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t listening to logic just now.

He forced his attention back to the job. “I’ll have to pull permits for the upstairs remodel,” he said. “I’ll work on the paperwork and get it all filed when escrow closes. In the meantime I’ll have the office draw up a contract along with an estimate of the work. Where should I have the papers delivered?”

She named a local hotel.

“Does someone else need to look at any of this?” he asked.

“Like my dad?”

“No. But a significant other, a lawyer?”

“Ah. Actually, I’m making this decision all on my own.”

He was more pleased than he had a right to be. Figuring that his attempts for control were already shot, he gathered his papers and stuffed them back in his briefcase, then headed for the front door. She followed, walking more slowly. When he remembered the cane and her halting step, he slowed his so she could catch up. She opened the front door.

“I’m looking forward to this, Del.”

“Me, too.”

They shook hands. He ignored the way the feel of her skin against his made him want to rub his palm over all of her. He was disgusting. Worse, he was acting like a teenager. She waved, then closed the door behind him.

As he started down the path, he paused to glance over his shoulder and study the old house. At one time he’d imagined himself living here. Now there was going to be a different owner. He probed his heart and found that he didn’t mind as much as he would have thought. To be honest, he couldn’t imagine Josie and himself living together. His feelings for her were well and truly dead. Which meant he had to stop thinking about her and instead focus on the very appealing Rose. Hardly a difficult job. In fact, he was looking forward to spending a lot of time with her.

Two days later Josie sat in her hotel room studying the contracts Del’s office had sent over. She read through the estimate of charges and a schedule of what would be completed when. Her pen hovered over the line for her signature.

Jan, from his office, had called to get her last name for the contract and Josie had been forced to come up with a fake one. Which was the name she was expected to sign on the contracts. There were probably dozens of legal implications to her lie, she thought glumly. Not that she intended to run out on the bill. It would probably be easier for everyone if she just came clean and told Del who she was. Except she didn’t want to.

Their conversation at the Miller place had been the first pleasant one she could remember. They’d been able to talk to each other like normal people, without screaming or accusing or either walking away. She’d found herself liking Del and enjoying teasing him. She’d liked the freedom of starting over as someone new. As Rose she could explore her relationship with Del from a safe distance, getting to know him again, finding out what she liked and didn’t like. He was still too good-looking, with an amazing body. She’d always thought he was sexy, and that hadn’t changed. But what did he think about her?

Josie leaned back in the club chair in her suite and sighed. She’d seen the spark of interest in Del’s eyes. She knew her ex-husband well enough to know that he’d been attracted to the woman he thought of as Rose. After setting the contract on her lap, she pressed her fingertips to her face. She looked so different, but she thought her new face was pretty—albeit in a different way from her old one. She wasn’t surprised that Del appreciated the more prominent cheekbones and smooth skin. He’d always liked her eyes and probably still did. So that interest made sense. What she didn’t understand was how he could find anything appealing about her body.

She pressed her hands to her legs, feeling the tired muscles quiver slightly. She was broken—nothing like she’d been before. How could he not be repelled by her weakness, her need for a cane? And yet he hadn’t been. He’d been friendly, solicitous and charming. With completely twisted logic, she liked that he found her attractive, despite her disability, and she hated that he was over her enough to be interested in other women. Even if that woman was her.

She wasn’t over him. Just spending an hour or so in his presence had been enough to convince her of that. She hadn’t dated much since the divorce, telling herself she was busy figuring out her new life. But now she thought the truth might be very different. She’d never given herself the time or space to recover from losing Del. Instead she’d put her feelings in a box and ignored them. Being around him every day during the remodeling was going to force her into coming to terms with her past. She didn’t look forward to the process, but she knew she would be stronger for having endured it.

Like physical therapy, her emotional recovery would be slow and painful, with plenty of setbacks. But it was the only way to be free of the man who used to be her husband.