For a guy who hated shopping, Hersch had never enjoyed a shopping trip more. Mila was so fun to be with, made everything seem easy, and had a very discerning eye. Or at least it seemed so to a man who had no eye at all for color or fashion or design.
As she unlocked the door to the new property, he recalled that moment when they’d bumped into each other while she was holding a wedding dress and he’d thought she was married. His relief at learning she was single had flooded his veins and filled him with hope that something could happen between them. At the same time, she’d so instantly laughed off the very idea of marriage and said it wasn’t for her. This should have been music to his ears, because that was his position too, but while he hadn’t even kissed her yet, she was all he could think about. There was a secret part of himself that had begun thinking of her as The One.
What a strange reversal that he, who had always been the commitment-phobe, was now faced with somebody at least as bad as he was. The universe had a fine sense of humor.
With an accepted offer in place and hopefully only days before he moved in, Hersch considered himself to be entering his own house. It was a great feeling to look around the gorgeous space and know he’d be living there soon. He noticed little touches he hadn’t seen before—the nice recessed lighting and the way the late afternoon sun lit up the trees at the back of the property. He loved that he didn’t have to do anything but bring his toothbrush and a few clothes, and he’d be home. Naturally, he’d ship over some of his possessions from his other house. Mostly, he liked the idea of some of his photographs upstairs in that big bedroom. He didn’t care at all about views of the ocean, but he always wanted a view of the sky. There was a skylight in his bedroom as well as in the bathroom, and even though there was some fancy roller blind thing on each that worked by remote control, he didn’t think he’d ever use it. He liked the idea of going to bed at night looking up at the stars, and waking up in the morning with the day breaking overhead.
They unloaded the duvet and pillows and things they’d bought earlier that afternoon, and then Mila practically ran up the stairs ahead of him. He loved her enthusiasm.
“I don’t know who likes this house more—me or you,” he joked.
She turned to him, and he was struck by her silhouette in his bedroom doorway, tall and strong and incredibly sexy.
“I just like that I found it for you,” she replied with a smile.
He wanted to race over and pull her into his arms, but before he could act on that impulse, she turned and disappeared into the room.
When he walked in, trying to calm his unsteady breath, she was attempting to spread the enormous duvet on the bed.
“Let me take the other side,” he said, picking up the heavy fabric. Without words, they maneuvered around the bed, smoothing down the duvet in its new sheets, slipping the cases on the brand-new pillows, and resting them against the headboard.
“The color looks great,” she said. “And when you paint the walls that smudgy gray, it’ll look even better.”
“It’s already beginning to feel like this place is really mine.” Saying the words aloud brought a new sense of satisfaction and pleasure. Suddenly, he had an idea. “I’m going to pull out the carpet and have wood floors laid, stained a very dark color.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” she said enthusiastically. “It’ll look sleek, modern, and go really well with your framed photos. And you said you have no design talent.”
He laughed and put a hand to his chest in defense. “It was in the picture I liked. It had dark wood floors.”
“Well, it’s a good idea.” She went back to the bed and began to rearrange the pillows. “There,” she said, stepping back and admiring her handiwork. “It looks perfect.”
“Very inviting,” he agreed, wondering how long he could stand not taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply, over and over again.
And then Mila appeared to take him at his word. She slipped off her shoes and pretty much jumped onto the bed. He couldn’t stop himself. He kicked off his own shoes and lay beside her.
They stared up at the skylight for a moment, and then he said, “This is the worst mattress in the world. It was more comfortable to sleep in a pod in space.”
She turned to him and nodded. It was adorable.
“I’m so glad we went to the mattress store today. It would be criminal for you to have to sleep on this.” She looked up at him from under her lashes and said, “I, for one, wouldn’t want to be rolling around on this bed. I like your new mattress a lot better.”
His let out his breath slowly. The tension between them was undeniable. And it was delicious. As their eyes connected, he felt so strongly the urge to lean forward and kiss her he had to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself. Again, he had to remind himself she was a professional. She was technically working right now, not inviting him to kiss her. Even though she was a really hot woman lying on his bed, he had to act honorably.
So, instead of ravishing her, he lamely said, “I think my telescope would look really good in that corner.”
She followed his gaze and murmured her agreement. Was she disappointed that he wasn’t reaching for her?
After a few moments, she rolled off the bed and said, “Let’s take a look at these swatches against the walls.”
The switch was so quick it took him a moment to catch up. “Sure,” he said, sounding as puzzled as he felt.
She was already rummaging around in her bag and pulling out paint swatches. He couldn’t believe how many colors could be called gray.
He didn’t pay much attention as she talked through the swatches, holding them this way and that against the light. He told her he trusted her judgment, deferring to her excellent taste and decisive manner. Since the magazine photo he’d liked had conveniently listed all the paint colors used, they’d picked the same swatches. Now that they were here, Mila suggested that they go a little bit either way on the color spectrum, or whatever she called it, to make the most of the way the light hit the walls. Just like Ted at the mattress store, she narrowed it down to three, all of which he liked.
She said, “The best thing to do is buy little sample cans and paint squares on the wall so you can decide which one’s best. Look at it in the morning and in the afternoon and in the evening.”
That sounded sensible to him, so he agreed and said he’d go and buy the paint.
After a pause, she said, “Normally, I never do this, but if we get my dad or Finn to buy the paint, they’d get a discount. They’re in the business.”
He perked right up at that. “They’re not in the business of painting walls, are they?”
She shook her head. However, she told him that they had lists of tradespeople they used. She’d ask her dad who was the best and get Hersch a couple of numbers. He smiled. Was there anything Mila Davenport couldn’t organize?
“Your family are a pretty talented bunch.”
She paused to think about it. “I guess we’ve all got our thing. If you want a hit song written, go to my brother Damien. We all know that Archer is only too ready to play your fine self in the biopic that Jay Malone is dying to make.” She pretended she didn’t see his shudder of revulsion. “And my dad and Finn can build you a great house, renovate the one you have, or build you a movie studio in your basement. Nick can develop an app for you. Actually, chances are you already use one of his. Erin will probably interview you when you move in.”
“It’s like a one-stop shop at the Davenport house.”
She chuckled. “You’d be surprised. And if you need any tutoring in the classics, my mom’s an expert.”
“Duly noted.”
She grinned, and he could see how full of love she was for her family.
Soon, they left the house. As a mark of confidence in his ownership, he left the new bedclothes behind.