Chapter 8

Dean didn’t avert his eyes, and then her gaze met his and the air crackled to life between them. The flush of awareness tinting her cheeks echoed the heat that suddenly made even his simple T-shirt and jeans feel like too many clothes.

Before the tension built to uncomfortable intensity, he broke eye contact and picked up the white legal pad he’d pulled from his desk drawer. “Will this do?”

She gave a quick nod. “That’s fine.”

He handed it over, along with a pencil from the container next to his monitor. “Based on your previous notes, you’ve seen everything but the lower level.”

“I’d still like to go through the whole house so you can answer some questions.”

The whole house. Something told him that would not include his bedroom. Which was probably for the best. “We’ll start with the downstairs.”

Once again, he led the way. At the bottom of the stairs, she asked, “How do you want your house to be perceived?”

“What do you mean?”

“Pretend I’m a first time visitor and I’ve never met you.” She wandered into his home gym, but turned to face him. “Rounding the corner of your driveway, my first impression is, wow, this guy’s loaded. I see an enormous log house, extensive landscaping that I’m sure you’ll have done later this spring, and while I’m standing by the entrance waiting for a servant to answer the door, I wonder…what is he going to be like?”

Dean wondered if she was describing her first impression. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the stairway railing, curious to see where she was going with her little story.

“Let’s say you open the door and I think…oh, I don’t know…” The corners of her mouth curved up in a little smile. “Self-serving, arrogant jer—”

“Whoa,” he protested. He didn’t like the probability that that was her opinion of him. “Did I even say hello yet?”

She waved her hand at his raised eyebrows. “This is after a minute of conversation.”

“Only a minute? What about later, after we’ve talked longer?” He gave a hopeful smile. “Say, after I’ve given you a job?”

“This is purely hypothetical.”

Yeah, right.

“My point is, do you want your house to be a home, or simply a house?”

The question brought his mother’s words back to him. Something about a pile of logs and empty rooms.

When he didn’t answer the question, Gina prompted, “Do you want me—your guests—to feel welcome in your home, or do you want your house to assert a position of power?”

Dean frowned at the explanation. “Of course I want you to feel welcome.” The instant he said it, he was surprised that despite everything, he meant it. For regular guests, but more specifically, he wouldn’t mind her feeling at home.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. Next question…do you want to show off as you welcome, or understate your already obvious wealth?”

“Already obvious?” he echoed.

“Yes, the size of the structure alone makes that statement. I was awestruck the first time I drove in here. And even if I didn’t know anything about architecture, a closer look at the design would’ve been enough to clue me in on what you’ve invested here.”

He pushed away from the rail and walked to the center of the windows to look outside. The house and land had cost just shy of two million. He hadn’t purposely set out to build a place that screamed he was rich, but the plans had taken on a life of their own. Now that she’d stated how obvious it was, maybe subconsciously that had been his intent all along.

He’d grown up with next to nothing, had never known what having money was like until his mother married Wesley when Dean was ten. But even then, he hadn’t felt like he was entitled to anything.

His stepdad had taught him to work hard, and he was proud of the fact he’d put himself through college without any help. He and Jack Brady had started their software company while in school, and once they graduated, released their first product that put them in the game. Their next major success put them in the national spotlight and won awards, and that’s when the bastard maneuvered a takeover so expertly, Dean was left with no legal recourse.

Once he’d started over and made Daley Solutions a success, he’d built the house. He couldn’t deny the look on Jack’s face when he saw it had crossed his mind a time or two, but now it wouldn’t be half as sweet if the sonofabitch bankrupted him.

Behind him, Gina asked, “So, show off or understated?”

“Understated,” he quietly replied.

He saw her reflection nod, and then she turned her attention to the state of the art work-out facility and indoor pool he’d installed—his favorite place to work off excess energy after long hours at the computer. He wasn’t looking for much in those rooms, so after only a few minutes, they moved on to a game room. After that was the area he intended for a home theater, complete with tiered seating.

For the most part, he kept his attention on the house and focused on her questions. But when she took a moment here or there to sketch and add notes to the paper, he couldn’t help but study her slim form.

She looked very young today, but based on her online bio, he was pretty sure she was at least twenty-six. After the allure of her sexy dress last night, he was surprised to find her equally tempting in a snug pair of low-rise jeans and a loose sweatshirt.

Her shiny, auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, drawing attention to the graceful line of her neck and giving him full view of her face whenever she glanced up. Either she wasn’t wearing much make-up, or the freckles he’d noticed last night stood out a bit more in the natural light of day. With the casual clothes, they gave her a girl-next-door air that appealed more than he’d anticipated.

“Now that this is all getting done, it would be nice to have the company party here for the release of the new program,” he mused. “How long do you expect it will take to get everything completed?”

“A month. Longer if anything you want is backordered. When is your release scheduled?”

“End of April.”

“That gives me just over a month. I’ll concentrate on the great room, kitchen, and guest bathrooms first to make sure the main rooms are completed in time.”

“Sounds good.”

She jotted more notes as they exited the home theater and walked up the stairs in the game room that led to the main floor by the foyer. He was one step ahead, and as he reached the top, his front door opened. He didn’t keep the security alarm on when he was home, so Liz simply pocketed her keys as she greeted him with her usual friendly grin. In her hands was the telltale takeout bag from their favorite Chinese restaurant. Mouth-watering aromas filled the air in seconds flat.

“Hey, we brought you some lunch.”

“We?”

Mike followed her inside, speaking as he turned his back to shut the door. “I wanted to see how things went with Cindy, and you didn’t answer any of my texts. You did call her—”

Gina stepped into view the same time Mike turned back. His eyes widened, then flicked to Dean’s in apology.

Yeah, dipshit.

“Who’s Cindy?” Liz’s narrowed gaze shifted between him and the brunette beside him.

“No one, forget it,” her brother quickly said.

Better get the introductions in and drum the correct name into his buddy’s head. No more Cindy, or Cinderella. “Liz, you and Gina met last night, but Mike, this is Gina Allen, my new decorator. Gina, Mike Hollister, my vice president. He handles all the stuff I don’t want to be bothered with so I can work at home in peace.”

“Which means I do most of the work while he plays at being a creative genius.”

“You’re just jealous because you have to dress up every day.”

Suit coat in hand, Mike smoothed his tie as he laughed. “That’s not completely untrue.” He turned his grin on Gina. “Since we didn’t get the chance to actually meet the other night, it’s nice to meet you today.”

Dean noted right away that her cheeks had turned pink at the first sight of his friend. With the blatant reminder of the scene at Club 9, the color deepened a few shades.

“Any chance you’d be willing to pretend we’ve never seen each other before right now?” she asked his VP with a sheepish smile.

“Sure, I can do that.”

Dean had no intention of forgetting that night. Neither would Mike. However, there was a growing possibility it would be for much different reasons.

“Thank you.” Gina’s relief became a teasing grin. “You’re a real gentleman.”

Liz laughed while Dean fought the upward pull of his own mouth. “Give it some time,” he advised. “You’ll revise that opinion.”

“Ignore both of them.” Mike took the bag of food from his sister’s hand and backed toward the kitchen. “Come join us for lunch. We have plenty.”

The invitation produced conflicting emotions. He realized he wanted to spend the time with her, and yet the thought of sharing that time with his two friends did not appeal one bit.

“Thank you, but I can’t. Once we finish the walk-through of the house, I have to get back to my office to take care of some things.”

Her reply sparked more conflict in the form of relief and disappointment.

“We’ll be in your office when you’re done, Dean,” Liz called as she followed her brother.

He turned back to Gina. “Guest rooms or great room?”

She motioned down the hall, and they made their way through the two regular rooms and the larger suite. He liked her idea to do each one with its own distinct color scheme and subdued theme. Nothing quite so exotic as say, The Zebra Room, but maybe more like The Arizona, or Vermont.

Back in the great room, she took a few minutes to explain her vision for the expansive space, and he made a few suggestions based on how he’d pictured everything in his mind. They were very much in sync, and he was doubly impressed with her instinctive talent.

She finished the last of her notes and then folded her arms with the pad of paper against her chest. “This is good for now. It gives me enough to work with for a couple weeks, and we can go through the upstairs once you see how things turn out down here.”

“After the last hour, I’m not worried at all.” He glanced toward the kitchen and his office beyond. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for lunch?”

She shook her head. “I really need to get going.”

“Before you go, your sketches from the other night had a note about a table for the kitchen.”

She looked surprised that he’d remembered. “They did. I can email you a link, if you’d like.”

“Or you could show me now.”

“Your lunch is getting cold.”

“I’ve got a microwave.”

Liz and Mike both looked up from their seats at the conference table as they entered Dean’s office. The smell of the food made his stomach grumble. All he’d eaten so far was a bowl of cereal before his swim at six-thirty a.m.

“May I?” Gina tossed the question over her shoulder, indicating his computer on the way to his desk.

“Uh…” He’d intended to look up the address while she watched, but she’d already sat down. Other than himself, no one used his computer, not even his friends sitting twenty feet away. He snuck a glance toward them and saw Liz’s astonishment turn to a frown while Mike’s became a thumbs up.

Determined to ignore them, he focused on the woman in front of him. The leather executive chair dwarfed her small figure as she perched on the edge of the seat. A jiggle of the mouse unlocked his screensaver, and the page of program code he’d been debugging earlier appeared on screen.

Shit. He’d forgotten that’s what he was working on when he’d heard the doorbell.

“Can I close out of this?” she asked.

“I probably should save it.” He moved in close, bracing a hand on the arm of his chair while automatically reaching for the mouse. When their hands touched, a spark of static electricity caused her to jerk back. He managed to control his reaction to a flinch.

“Sorry,” they mumbled in unison.

He did his best to quickly save his work and clear the screen as his heart thumped at an increased rate in his chest. Not only was he conscious of the proprietary secrets right before her eyes, he couldn’t help but be wholly aware of her a mere foot away. With each breath he inhaled, the stimulating sweet scent of her promised to linger in his memory until he couldn’t concentrate at all.

What felt like forever was in reality only about twenty seconds, and he was finally able to click over to the internet search engine. “It’s all yours.”

He straightened as she tapped the website in with lightning fast keystrokes. A few more clicks, and she had the picture of the table in front of them. The rectangle top appeared to be a long, single slab of wood cut from a huge tree that had to have been hundreds of years old. A redwood maybe? The overall dimensions were large by most standards, but in his kitchen, it would fit well.

“What do you think?”

“Nice.” Dean leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look at the description beneath the photo. Redwood was confirmed, and the sales pitch boasted comfortable seating combined with rustic elegance in the one-of-a-kind hand carvings on the high backs. “How many chairs?”

“Ten.”

He nodded and pushed back before her scent impaired all his common sense. “I like it. If it’s available, buy it.”

She glanced up in surprise. “Do you even want to know how much it is?”

Only his VP and stepdad knew the financial situation the company was in, so he shrugged to keep up appearances with the women in the room. “Not really.”

“Okay.” Gina’s attention returned to the screen. “What about seeing some other choices?”

He’d seen enough during the brief time he’d taken to furnish his office space a couple months ago. “Did you have anything else in mind?”

“No, but—”

“Then buy it.”

She huffed out a sigh. “I was going to say, but I haven’t looked yet.”

“I know what I want when I see it.”

From the corner of his eye he noticed Mike’s head swivel in their direction again. He hadn’t meant it to come out like a declaration, but Gina didn’t seem to notice as her chest heaved with another deep inhale.

“It’s twelve thousand dollars,” she informed him, her voice low and stiff. After a quick sideways glance toward the conference table, she said, “Maybe to you money isn’t a concern, but as you know, I don’t have twelve grand to toss around at will.”

Crap. In keeping up with appearances, he’d come across like an insensitive jerk. “Can they bill me like the gallery did?”

“No, because that was a favor for me, not you. These pieces are one of a kind so the company requires payment upfront.”

Force of habit had him reaching for his back pocket, but of course, he didn’t carry his wallet on him when he was home. “My credit cards are in my wallet on my dresser. I’ll have to—”

“You want me to run and grab it for you?” Liz offered from across the room.

Dean glanced up in surprise. Almost immediately, he had to fight a frown at the thought of her casually offering to go into his room in front of Gina. It shouldn’t matter since she not only assisted him with work matters, but she also cooked and cleaned for him—including his bedroom. Still, after Gina’s girlfriend assumption the night before, he found he didn’t like it sounding like he and Liz were overly familiar.

“Don’t bother,” Gina said before he could answer.

He looked down to see her scribbling on a clean sheet of paper. She ripped off the bottom part of the sheet with the writing and left it on his keyboard as she stood with the legal pad in hand.

“I have to go, but you can either call, text, or email me the number. I’ll make the purchase this afternoon.”

Dean followed her from the office to the front door as contradictory emotions once more warred within him. He knew all the reasons he needed to be extra careful where she was concerned. She was desperate for money. She was connected to Jack Brady. He needed to concentrate on saving his business right now. Last, but certainly not least, he was too damn attracted to her. That had been heavily reinforced with the accidental touch of their hands.

Static energy may have caused that spark, but it didn’t cover the supercharged state of awareness he seemed to ascend to whenever she was near.

His brain recognized the danger his body seemed to crave, and yet anticipation made his pulse skip as he asked, “Will you be back tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” She paused with a hand on the door handle. “Much of my initial work for the next couple days won’t require me to be here.”

“Before you do too much, I’d like an estimated budget so I can either set you up with a separate credit card, or an account to make purchases from.” He watched her closely, but her expression gave no indication how she felt about having access to his money.

“Do you have an amount you’d like me to stick close to?”

“Not really.” That triggered a frown, and he quickly clarified his flippant words. “I mean, I trust you won’t waste my money, but don’t bother with anything that isn’t good quality, either.”

“That’s a given,” she assured him with a smile. “I can probably work something up by tomorrow and email it to you.”

“I’ll have my assistant in the office set up the expense account after I’ve reviewed it.” It wouldn’t be quite that simple, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you. I’ll plan on being back out here on Thursday to do some painting in the guest rooms.”

She opened the door and stepped outside as he gripped the edge of the door in his fingers. The spring sunshine picked up fiery red highlights as her ponytail swayed with each step. Not wanting to be caught watching her, he moved back to close the door.

“Dean.”

She’d stopped and faced him, and his fingers tightened as he halted the door mid-swing.

“Yeah?”

“Why did Mike think my name was Cindy?”

The unexpected question left him with nothing but the truth. He grinned with his light shrug. “Cinderella dashed off and left a slipper behind. You left your sweater.”