by Janet Eaves
She slid her eyes away from his. “No. I’ve just been teasing…”
He put his arm along the back of the couch. “Teasing. That’s it? Just in good fun, huh? Well, you’re lucky I’m a man with a lot of restraint. I can deal with it. Soon as we’re finished with your building, I’ll walk out of there and never step foot in it again. Nothing against you, but art galleries aren’t my thing. I like my art to fold out of the middle of a magazine. You would look pretty good there, I bet.”
She looked shocked, then smiled. “That’s a compliment, right?”
“Damned right.” He leaned closer. “You look amazing in those jeans and t-shirt right now, Chloe. I’d love to see how you look out of them.” Standing up, he put his hands in his front pockets. “I have a job to do.” He retrieved his measuring tape from his jacket pocket and measured St. Mary’s up to the top of the cross on the steeple. “I’ll call Billy and see if he can take on a rush job. I’ll give him the height and depth measurements, and the yardage for the run around the perimeter. That work for you?”
She looked confused for a moment. Maybe he’d lost her in the switch from talking about taking off her clothes to taking measurements for Plexiglas. “Um. Okay.”
Greg left a few minutes later with a container of leftovers. He and Chloe had plowed some new ground tonight. If he talked Billy into taking on the project, maybe Chloe would be grateful enough to plow a little more. He’d never expected to see a positive side to working for a woman, but this woman was working on him, in more ways than one.
Chapter Seven
On the morning of August 30, Billy Sanders was due to arrive in Legend with The Case. Chloe had begun to think of it as The Case when she realized how important it was to everything. The gallery was ready for hanging the paintings, bringing in the furniture and the few other items of décor, but she wanted to wait until The Case was installed before any of that happened. There might be sawdust, or something might have to be rethought at the last moment once The Case was up. Greg and the guys had cleaned up their mess pretty well, but Chloe was running a large rental vacuum through the gallery. The hardwood floor wouldn’t require waxing or polishing, but it needed to be clean. She turned off the vac and stood in the middle of the floor with her eyes closed. Opening day was almost here. Surely, everything would come together. She still needed to put all of Little Legend on display and then hang the paintings. She had most of her belongings yet to pack, and all of that had to be hauled to town and dragged upstairs. She had promised the new owners possession of the cabin on August 31. For now, she didn’t care what her apartment looked like. She’d eventually dig everything out and get settled. The only thing that mattered was the opening on September 1. Chloe had never disliked calendars until recently, when her life had begun to depend so strongly on what day it was and how many remained.
A delivery truck pulled up outside. “Sanders Woodworking.” Okay, this was it. Chloe wiped suddenly sweaty palms along the sides of her jeans before heading out onto the sidewalk. The man who walked around the front of the truck and greeted her was tall and broad with auburn hair. She smiled and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Chloe McClain.”
“Good morning. Bill Sanders.” He shook her hand and sized her up, a slow smile lighting his face. “I didn’t know what to expect—or, that is, who to expect to see here. Since Greg called me, I thought maybe he’d be around. No, huh?”
He didn’t look disappointed at all. Chloe didn’t mind that Bill—or Billy—Sanders was flirting with her. As long as he did the work she needed done, personal opinion did not matter. She had learned that with Greg.
“Hey, Billy. You going to stand there all day?” Greg appeared next to Chloe.
“Hey, man. Didn’t see you.”
“I know. I could have walked up and punched you in the nose, and you wouldn’t have known what hit you. Mind on the project, Sanders. Got it?”
Billy smiled and slugged Greg in the shoulder. “Got it.” He winked at Chloe. “For now anyway. Give me a hand with this, will ya, Andrews?”
Greg sent Chloe a smile and an eye roll and followed his compatriot to the back end of the truck. She opened the gallery’s door wide and eagerly anticipated the unveiling of the first bit of The Case. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and Chloe knew it was the perfect way to show people Little Legend. Mike came in soon after the cases were unpacked, and when Chloe had agreed with the appropriate height, the three guys quickly installed them. Chloe wrote a check for the statement Billy presented to her, and Greg practically escorted him out of the building. Mike went outside with them, too. Greg seemed to be explaining something to Billy—something Billy wasn’t enjoying—but finally he nodded, shook hands with Mike and punched Greg in the shoulder again. Greg returned the favor, and Billy closed the back of his truck, climbed into the cab, and drove away. Men.
“Chloe, you ready to move the other stuff in here?” Greg asked. “Mike and I have the rest of the day.”
Chloe was very particular about her paintings and the little town. All of those things would be transported in her Jeep. The rest of her stuff could ride in the guys’ pickup trucks; she was fine with that. So she gladly accepted the offer. When she pulled up at the cabin with the pickups behind her, she saw Midnight’s little sports car. She was happily surprised to find Betsy and Midnight packing her household into neatly labeled boxes.
“Just thought you could use a little help. You’ve been swamped,” said Betsy.
“Thanks. I don’t know how I thought I could move all this in the time I have left. I haven’t moved in over ten years, since I built this place.” She looked around at her beloved kitchen and was suddenly hit with the enormity of the fact that she might never see it again.
She swallowed hard. “Sorry girls. I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff. Probably should have gone through and purged some of it.”
“No worries,” said Midnight gently as she wrapped an art glass vase in newspaper. “We’re packing. You can purge at your leisure.”
Between her family and Greg’s crew, everything Chloe owned was at McClain Art Gallery by midnight. The crew was completely finished now, and as they left, everyone gave Chloe a hug and wished her good luck with the opening. Betsy had exited earlier to pick up LizBeth Ann at Mike’s parents’ house and take her home to bed. Now there was just Greg and Chloe in the building.
“You want help hanging the paintings?”
Chloe covered a yawn. “Not tonight. I know where each one will go, but I’m pretty exhausted. I appreciate everything you’ve done, Greg. Or to be honest, I probably don’t appreciate it because I don’t know that much about what your work encompasses. What I do know is that you took a derelict building and turned it into a beautiful gallery. It’s as nice as anything in the city. It really is. And the way you designed the case for Little Legend, and found someone to do it for me at the last minute. Well, I just doubt there’s any way I can repay you for that. It was above and beyond.”
“You’ve paid plenty for the project.”
“That isn’t what I mean, and you know it. You really came through, in spite of not wanting to deal with any of it. Not wanting to deal with me, even. Just—thank you. Thank you so much.” She laid a hand on his forearm. It was strong and warm. Some crazy part of her mind wondered what it would be like if he wrapped his arms around her right now. She wondered how she would react. She’d teased him enough, but that had all been in fun. She didn’t seriously want a physical relationship with Greg Andrews. She would never settle for that kind of arrangement, and he wasn’t interested in any other kind. After tonight, he was done with her, and she’d just see him around once in a while like she did any citizen of Legend. Wave at him driving down the street, that kind of thing. Wonder who his current fling was and whether it was anybody she knew.
Wishing she’d given him a try when she’d had the chance.
Greg smiled. “Well, I guess there’s just one thing I need to do then. The bed.”
“Excuse
me?”
He headed toward the stairs. “We carried it in but didn’t set it up. Just as well put it together for you so you can have a good first night’s sleep in your new place.”
“It’s no big deal. I can sleep on the mattress on the floor. I could sleep on the floor itself, I’m so beat.”
“No need for that. Just take me a minute.” He took the stairs two at a time, and when Chloe got up there, he had the bed half assembled. “You want to hold this rail for me? Doesn’t seem to want to go in straight.” She held the rail, and he slid it into place. The antique wrought iron bed had been hers since childhood. Greg slid the plywood platform onto the base then added her mattress. “Sheets?”
“Greg. I’ve got it. Please don’t worry about the rest. I am capable of making my own bed.”
His face fell. “Kind of thought if I helped, you might invite me…”
She laughed. “You have got to be kidding. I just want to take a shower and fall into bed.”
“I could go for that.”
“And sleep! I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”
“I’m something, but exhausted isn’t the word I’d use. So you really want to be on your own now?”
“Yes. Thanks. I’ve got to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Another one.”
“And it’s probably not going to be long enough for me to get everything done exactly right.”
“You’ll do fine. The big hurdles are crossed.”
Chapter Eight
Although she got a shower, thanks to the fact that Midnight had put her bathroom stuff in place, Chloe ended up sleeping without any pjs, wrapped in her comforter on a bed with no sheets. The next morning she awoke to the sound of knocking on the door. The gallery door, downstairs. It was pretty loud knocking for her to hear it in her apartment. Then her phone rang.
“Chloe. It’s Greg. You okay in there?”
“Mmm. Not awake yet. Is that you at the door?”
“Yeah. Came to help you hang the pictures and stuff. It’s past seven.”
She yawned. “Ugh.” A yawn silenced her. “Hey, I’m not dressed.”
“Not a problem for me. Oh—I still have the key. Okay if I come on in?”
“Well. If you could just wait…” But he had ended the call. She knew he had come in, but didn’t hear the door open and close. She needed to get a bell for the door so she’d know when a customer arrived. Something else for the never-ending “To Do” list.
Thank goodness for girlfriends who put clothes into drawers. Chloe scrambled for jeans, t-shirt, and sandals then headed downstairs.
“Greg, I’m sorry. I’m really not prepared.”
“Not a problem. I am.” He held out a white paper bag.
“Be still my heart! Donuts from Sydney’s Sugar High?”
“You got it. And coffee. I figured you might have a rocky start this morning. Nothing like some sugar and caffeine to smooth it out, right?”
“Absolutely right. Come on, I think I can find my kitchen table.” Not only had he gotten donuts, they were Chloe’s favorite kind. Obviously, the man was doing his homework. Seemed as if he was trying very hard to get on her good side. She knew what that meant—he wanted her. The problem was, she wanted him too, but no way would she give in and let her libido take over. Sex was great. She loved it, as she recalled. Without a loving relationship, she wouldn’t. Absolutely would not. No matter how handsome the guy was, no matter how much she wanted to yank him by that blonde braid and pull his mouth down to hers…
Nope. Not going there. Back to business as usual.
It took longer than she’d expected to hang the paintings. Greg was a willing helper, and visibly tamped down his frustration at Chloe’s perfectionism. They broke for lunch and went to Burrito Bungalow. Martin came in to get a bag of carryout and saw them at the small corner table. He ambled over to them, smiling.
“So it’s true. I heard the two of you were actually on speaking terms. Word on the street is that Greg showed up at the gallery this morning at seven with donuts and coffee.”
Chloe sighed. “I love how everybody knows everything around here. Do you know what kind of donuts?”
“Your favorite, Greg’s favorite. And a couple of grande coffees. Want me to recite the blends?”
She held up a hand. “No, thanks, Martin. That’s just scary. Not surprising, but scary.”
“Tongues’ll be wagging about the two of you having lunch together.”
Greg scowled. “Let ‘em wag.”
“As if I could stop them.” He turned to Chloe, his gaze softening. “How’s it going? Need any help this afternoon? I had a closing this morning, but Betsy can keep the place from sinking if you need me.” Betsy McClain was Martin’s receptionist and was also working toward earning her real estate license.
“I think we’re okay, Martin. Pictures are hung. I have to put out the Little Legend pieces and that’s about it. I’m amazed, but it’s not going to be crazy today after all.”
“Huh. You must have decent help.” He winked at Greg.
She smiled and looked at Greg, too. “I can’t complain.”
“Of course you can, Sis. Been doing it all your life. Smart people just stopped listening.” He reached down and mussed her hair as he’d done when they were kids. “You gonna go around with bed head all day?”
That’s when Chloe remembered she hadn’t done more this morning than put clothes on. No combing of hair, brushing of teeth, applying of makeup. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself it didn’t matter. Martin knew what she looked like underneath the makeup. Most of Legend probably did too, and didn’t care. And Greg?
Greg looked at her, appraising. “It’s her new style. I think it’s called ‘Just got out of bed after a night of great sex.’ Looks good on her, huh?”
Martin frowned and smiled at the same time—an interesting sight. He muttered something about delivering lunch to Midnight and Betsy and escaped out the front door.
Greg was smiling at Chloe with a challenge in his eyes. “You want to say something about that. I know you do.”
“No, I don’t think so. I think I just want to finish this tamale and go put Little Legend where it belongs. The real one? I can’t control that.”
It was no surprise that family and friends stopped in during the afternoon to chat and see the completed gallery. Chloe enjoyed showing the place but definitely didn’t have time for visitors.
“You ought to get a ‘Closed’ sign for the door and lock it. Never going to finish this with people trooping in and out all day.”
“I can’t do that. These folks are part of the project, after all. It’ll be okay.” She sincerely hoped. It was nearly dark by the time all the Little Legend pieces were where she wanted them. Just as Chloe secured the lid on the last section of the case, the front door opened and in ran a princess.
“Chloe! Trickertreat! I a fairy princess.” LizBeth Ann twirled. “See my fairy wings? See my pretty wahhhhhn?” She held out a silver-painted dowel rod with a twinkly star on the end, trailing silver streamers.
“Oh, LizBeth Ann, you are a perfect fairy princess.” She looked at Betsy. “What’s the occasion?”
Betsy took a step forward. “One of the neighbors had a yard sale. Hey, we’re ready for Halloween a little early, but that’s okay. We just wanted to stop in for a sec.”
“Chloe? I’ll be back in a minute.” Greg walked out in a hurry.
Betsy watched his quick departure. “What’s that about?”
“I don’t know. He’s been wonderful help to me, and he’s off the clock now.” She was sorry he’d left, though.
LizBeth Ann was looking at one of the display cases. “Ooh. Looky at the little houses and the little tiny people. Can I have one?”
Chloe walked over and joined her, thrilled with the look of rapture on the child’s face. “These have to stay here, honey, so everybody can see them. It’s Legend. Let me show you some of them.” The little girl was soon naming the buildin
gs she recognized and the people she knew. If LizBeth Ann was any indication, Little Legend was going to be a big hit.
“Arrgh, matey! What be this princess’s name?”
Greg Andrews, the hunkiest pirate Chloe had ever seen. He’d evidently ducked over to his place a couple of blocks away. Now instead of the t-shirt, he was wearing a long sleeve white shirt, tucked in but unbuttoned. He’d tucked his jeans into his work boots, and was also sporting a black eye patch. A red bandanna was tied around the top of his blonde head, and in his hand, he held a plastic shopping bag from the Piggly Wiggly.
LizBeth Ann’s forehead wrinkled as she took it all in. “Why you look like that?”
Greg gave her a dazzling smile. “Decided I’d do some trick or treat, too.”
She tipped her head and spoke even more softly, but she was clearly captivated by Greg. Chloe hadn’t realized this side of him existed.
“Do grownups s’posed to trickertreat?” LizBeth Ann asked him.
“Arrgh. Some do, some don’t, fair lady,” he growled with a smile. “Does it work better for you if the grownups hand out candy? ‘Cause I’ve got that covered, too.” He glanced at Chloe.
Greg had never seen Chloe McClain move that fast. She was up the steep stairs to her apartment and, after making a lot of noise opening boxes and rummaging around, back down the stairs carrying a teakwood bowl.
“Candy. Put it in,” she panted, setting the bowl on the counter. Greg dumped in the candy, then lowered the bowl to LizBeth Ann’s level.
“Your pick, Princess.”
Which was why, as the citizens of Legend, Tennessee arrived at the brightly lit art gallery to ooh and aah over the paintings and at the miniature town, there were “refreshments” of a sort. Many people had brought their children along, and each one got a sucker or miniature candy bar as they left. Greg got many interested glances as he remained dressed as a pirate all evening. Chloe glowed the whole time, accepting compliments and plenty of hugs. There’d be a little cleanup after the place emptied, but Greg figured it was totally worth it, even if he had to do it himself. He loved seeing her so happy.
