The trouble with picking a paint color was twofold: too many choices, then there was the what-if-this-looks-hideous-on-the-wall factor. Normally Tess could get past these minor roadblocks in about fifteen minutes. In her five years with NRR, she’d chosen color for over a hundred walls, but this morning she’d been at Hardy’s Hardware for an hour, unable to make a decision.
Tess stood in front of the paint chips and stared at the blur of color, a shiny bald-headed Frank Hardy beside her. She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
“You could go white,” Frank suggested.
“True…”
“What’s the plan for the house?”
“I’m not sure.” Maybe that was part of the problem here—no clear goal. Damien still hadn’t told her what he was going to do with the house after she fixed it up.
Frank took a chip labeled Basic Eggshell off the board and held it out for her. “Neutral is good.”
Sure. Good, but kind of boring. “The thing is, Frank, the man who owns the house is just not a neutral guy, and it’s not a neutral house.”
“Do I know this guy?”
“Probably.”
“Who is it?” Impatience with the nutty woman was starting to register on his face. “Maybe if I knew who you were working for I could be a better help to you.”
Maybe, but she wasn’t experiencing the greatest luck with the people in town who knew she was working for Damien. Best to keep that information to herself. “I think I’m just going to go for it.” She started handing over paint chips. “I’ll take the Ryegrass for the kitchen, Toasty and Svelte and Sage for living room and dining room, Buttercream for the bathroom and Ramie for the bedroom.”
He looked relieved. “And the exterior will have to wait for warmer weather.”
“Yes. But even then, the house will always remain red.”
The man’s voice came from behind them, and both Tess and Frank turned to see Damien standing there. He looked very tall under the store’s low ceiling and very handsome in jeans, black sweater and wool coat.
“For a project that’s supposed to be done by me and only me, you’re around an awful lot,” Tess said, only mildy irritated. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m in dire need of a rake,” he said with complete seriousness, walking toward her.
“Yeah, right. You were spying on my paint choices.”
Damien smiled lazily. “I’d like to see what I’m getting for my money.”
Tess gave him a look of mock disgust. “Where’s the trust, dude?”
His brows went up. “Dude?”
Sticking out his hand in Damien direction, Frank grinned. “So, you’re the not-so-neutral guy, huh?”
Damien shook it and grinned. “She was talking about me?”
“Didn’t know it was you, but now that I do, I get it.”
“Get what?” Tess asked Frank.
Frank shrugged, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his stained overalls. “Why it took you so long to decide. Mr. Sauer does that to all the ladies.”
Tess snorted. “What? Make them crazy?”
“In a word, yup.”
Tess cocked her head to the side and said in a high, breathy, girlie voice, “Well, I just can’t decide anything, you make me too crazy.”
Frank burst out laughing, pointing at Tess. “I like her.”
“Yeah.” Damien’s sapphire gaze moved over her face in a hungry, possessive way, sending an electrifying jolt of awareness right into Tess’s core. It had been so long since she’d felt something stir her up that way. She hardly remembered how good it was to feel turned on. How unfortunate it was that the man who had done the stirring was also the man who wanted to punish her, then put her behind him and forget she ever existed.
Frank cleared his throat. “All right. Give me a half hour for the six gallons.”
Tess thanked him, then walked outside with Damien beside her. It was a crisp, winter morning with just enough sun to make being outside moderately tolerable. From lampposts to street signs to shop windows, the town was dressed for Christmas, and, feeling in pretty good spirits that day, Tess suggested they take a walk down the sidewalk to enjoy the sights.
As Damien walked beside her, he said, “I stopped by the house.”
She was about to ask him once again about his ongoing involvement in the renovation but decided against it. He was here, in town, and had made himself involved. He was a man who did what he wanted and got what he wanted. Trying to stop him would surely prove fruitless.
“And how’s the drywall looking?” she asked.
“Satisfactory. I see you found Jamie and Max.”
She nodded. “Best drywallers in the county.”
“So they say,” he said as they rounded the corner. “Where are you off to now?”
“I have a date.”
He came to a dead stop on the sidewalk. “What?” His eyes were fierce and practically black as he stared down at her.
A shiver of satisfaction moved through her at his reaction. But she mentally flicked it away. “I have a date with a flooring salesperson.”
She watched him process this information, then make a satisfied grunt before continuing down the street. “Driving into Jackson?”
“Yep. They have a flooring outlet there. I’m thinking maybe some prefab oak.”
He sniffed imperiously. “Prefab? No. Absolutely not.”
She looked him over. “You know, you’ve turned into quite the snob, Sauer.”
“Why? Because I like good quality, natural materials?”
“Prefab can be really nice.”
“I only want the best materials used on this house.”
“Why?” A sudden gust of snowy wind assaulted her, and she pulled the collar of her coat tighter around her neck. “What is the plan for this house, Damien? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’re going to do your thing and flip it, isn’t the rule to put in the best product for the cheapest price?”
Damien was quiet for a moment, then he said neutrally, “I won’t be flipping the house.”
Okay. So, he wasn’t selling. Why did that make her feel so relieved? Why did that make her feel anything at all?
The town was small, and soon they ran out of sidewalk and shops, and they were headed into the park. Neither one of them suggested turning back, and as they neared an abandoned, snow-covered swing set, Tess turned off the path and made a beeline for the swings. She brushed off the tuft of snow covering the plastic red seat and sat. Damien stood nearby and watched her swing back and forth gently.
“If you could choose anything for the floors,” he said evenly. “Never mind the cost, what would you choose?”
“You mean, my fantasy floor?”
He nodded.
She thought for a moment, then sighed. “Oh, let’s see. Probably, thick planks, antique wood, maybe barn wood.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Do it.”
She laughed, continuing to swing back and forth even though it was starting to make her nauseous. “That kind of floor can run twenty dollars a square foot.”
“Just order it, but make sure it’s here at the end of the week.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible. Pay whatever they ask for the shipping and they’ll get it here in a week.” His cell phone rang and he glanced at the number, seemed to deem it unimportant and slipped it back in his coat pocket. “In fact, I want you to pick everything for the house with no thought to the cost. Make all your choices fantasy choices.”
She put her feet down and skidded to a stop. “Come on, Damien.”
“What?”
“Make all the choices fantasy ones? To what end?”
“I’m not following.”
She shook her head. “I don’t get this. What are you doing?”
“Is there something wrong with enjoying your work?”
This went past enjoying her work. “Is this some show of how much money you have?”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t put on shows.”
“You have to know that I’m not interested in your money and what it can buy. It doesn’t impress me. It means nothing to me. Less than nothing.”
He laughed bitterly. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It’s why you went with a man you didn’t love.”
“What?”
“Henry offered you security,” he said, walking over to her. “With him you believed your future would be set, financially and otherwise. Isn’t that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“And what did I offer you?” He stood before her, his face taut, his gaze searching hers. “Not much—just a hope for a future.”
“Do we really need to do this?” She pushed herself off of the swing. The paint was probably done.
Without another word, she walked past Damien. But she didn’t get very far.
“And now look at us,” he called after her. “Your future, your security is in my hands.”
She stopped, just feet away. The past wouldn’t rest as long as there were others still living in it. And Damien clearly was. He sounded so cruel, so unhappy, so delighted. It was disgusting and foolish, and she couldn’t stop herself from turning around and walking right back up to him. When she was there, in his face, her breathing unsteady and her jaw trembling, she blurted it out. “Do you want to know why I went with him? Why I left you?”
“Yes.”
“I loved him, Damien.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She said the words slowly. “I was in love with him.”
His jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might snap. “You were in love with what you thought he could give you.”
“It’s all the same.”
“No, it’s not.”
“How would you know?”
She turned around to go, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face him. “If you loved him, what was it you felt for me?”
She lifted her chin. “Lust.”
His eyes darkened with rage. “Then you won’t mind this.”
She didn’t have time to react as he leaned in and covered her mouth with his, his free hand cupping her nape.
His kiss was hard, punishing, and she wanted to be repelled by it, by him, but she wasn’t. Every muscle, every inch of her skin trembled and ached. Yes, it had been a long time since she was touched this way, but it wasn’t that, it was Damien. He was an artist, always had been. The way he held her, his lips taking greedily one moment, then pulling back to nibble and slowly suckle.
Tess sagged against him, her fists wrapped around the collar of his coat, her hips pressing into his thigh.
Her pulse slapped against her rib cage. She wanted more, so much more. If only they were back at the red house, not outside in the park….
Delicious, mind-numbing heat quickly turned to anxiety as she realized where she was and what she was doing and who had started it all. She released him, pushing him away as she stepped back. Her brain felt foggy and she shook her head.
“That will not happen again.” She didn’t look at him, couldn’t, her body was still humming.
This time when she turned and walked away, he didn’t reach out to stop her. But his words echoed through the snow-covered park, a dark, delicious warning…
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Slow down, Damien, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re going to choke.” Her hands planted on her formidable hips, Wanda Bennett watched Damien devour the plate of food she’d just set in front of him. Inside her food store, there was a diner counter where she served the basics, from grilled cheese to pancakes. It all depended on her mood. Today her mood had run in the direction of everything egg related. Eggs weren’t really high on Damien’s list of favorite foods, but he never tried to persuade Wanda to do anything else but exactly what she wanted to do. She was just like him, arrogant and stubborn as hell. If there weren’t such a difference in the colors of their skin, he might wonder if they were related.
“Aren’t you going to Minneapolis this afternoon?” she asked him.
“Yes.” He had a four-o’clock meeting with an investor. “I have to be at the airport in twenty minutes.”
“Why aren’t you eating on the plane, then?”
He shrugged.
“Steak and champagne is a helluva lot better than my greasy egg sandwich.”
“No, it’s not,” he said sullenly.
She glared at him expectantly. “What’s the problem? Is it the girl? The redhead?”
Damn right it was the girl. Always that girl. Why couldn’t he be done with her? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from going there, kissing her, tasting her. Now all he wanted was more. “I need a napkin. Or a hose.”
Wanda ignored him. “Yeah, I figured she wasn’t just an employee. But she’s not really your type, either.”
“I don’t have a type.”
“No? I suppose it’s just a coincidence that every woman who’s ever followed you up here has weighed less than a toothbrush with a figure to match. And,” she pointed out dramatically, “I swear a couple of them have shown up on the covers of those rag mags over by the register.” Wanda shook her head. “Never understood why a man like you would take company with women who don’t know their nose from their elbows…but it’s none of my affair.”
“No, it’s not.” He stood and tossed money on the counter. “Truth is, Wanda, those women are wonderfully uncomplicated. No strings, no—”
“No real feelings?” she interrupted.
Damien shot her a defensive look. “I have to go.”
She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Okay, go.”
Wanda was the one woman in his life who never pressed him for anything more than what he wanted to give. “She is my past,” he said with far too much irritation. “She made me what I am.”
A slow smile touched Wanda’s full lips. “And what is that?”
“A soulless, uncompromising pain in the ass.”
She grinned broadly. “A devil in the bedroom and in the boardroom?”
Damien’s brow lifted, and he matched her grin with one of his own. “You’d never marry me, would you?”
“If you were ten years younger…maybe.”
He leaned over the counter and gave her a peck on the cheek. “It’s supposed to snow tonight. Be careful going home.”
It was nearly midnight, but the last thing Tess felt like doing was sleeping. She was running on Double Stuff Oreos and diet cola, and had just finished the demo of the kitchen and bathroom floors, removing all the old tiles. The installers were coming tomorrow with the antique hand-hewn limestone she’d found through Frank at the hardware store.
She cranked up the stereo she’d bought that afternoon. She had a thing for eighties music, especially Prince, and as she poured the old tiles from the dustpan into the garbage can and hauled them outside, she danced. She was in the middle of the livingroom, on her last load of tile, when it happened. The floorboard beneath her creaked, then cracked, then suddenly gave way.
She had no time to react as her slipper-clad foot dropped through the subflooring. For a moment she just stood there, one foot on the floor, the other in a hole.
“Damn dry rot,” she muttered, dropping onto her backside and easing her foot out. But as she did, the pain came on fast. Then she noticed her slipper had fallen off, and her naked foot was sporting a good deal of blood. Confused, she cupped her foot and rotated it so she could see the ball and heel, find the source of the blood. Her stomach clenched when she saw it. There was a nasty-looking gash on the ball of her foot.
“Crap.” She took off her other slipper and pressed the soft side against the open cut, then she hobbled to the bedroom where she kept the emergency kit. After cleaning the wound with hydrogen peroxide, she grabbed a butterfly Band-Aid. She tried to get the cut to close well, but every time she moved, it hurt like hell and blood seeped out everywhere.
She was going to need stitches. How in the world was she going to make that happen?
“Tess?”
Her heart leaped into her throat as fear gripped her. Then she recognized the voice, and relief spread through her. Before this moment, she’d never thought she’d be so happy to hear his voice. “I’m in here, Damien—the master bedroom.”
He walked in, looking cold, tired and thoroughly pissed off. “Are you completely insane?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“It’s after midnight and the front door is wide open.”
“I was working.”
“If I hadn’t been driving by—” Then he saw the blood on her foot, on the slipper, on the floor. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Rotting floorboard.”
“I saw it when I came in, but I thought it was demo.” He squatted down and inspected her foot.
“I think I sliced it on the edge of the board next to the one that gave way, or maybe there was something sharp on the subflooring—I don’t know.”
“Did you clean it with anything?”
“Yes and I tried a butterfly bandage, but nothing’s stopping the blood. I think I need to go to the emergency room.”
He got up and went to the bathroom, came back with a roll of toilet paper. He used nearly the whole thing, but in seconds he had her entire instep wrapped up like the foot of a mummy.
She gave him a nod and a smile. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” Then without warning, he lifted her up and gathered her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the emergency room,” he said, walking out of the bedroom.
“I can call—”
“Get serious.” He stepped around the rotting floorboard and walked out the door. “An ambulance takes forever. I’m here and I’m taking you.”
“Are you sure this won’t mess up your plans to punish me?” she said dryly. “You know, by actually helping me?”
His jaw tightened as they headed for the black sedan in the driveway. “You got hurt on my watch. There’s nothing else to say. Now, just shut up and put your arms around my neck, you’re starting to slip.”