Achieving privacy might be tougher than she thought. “Thanks. You didn’t have to unpack my things.”
“It was nothing.” Ruth scoffed. “You really like those long dresses. Not many young women do these days.”
“I’ve loved vintage clothing since college. I’m always on the lookout for quality garments.” Vena cleared her throat and glanced at them both. “Well, ladies, I have work to do.”
“You’re starting today?” Tootie’s shoulders slumped. “I thought you’d settle in, we’d have a nice ‘catching up’ chat, and you’d begin first thing tomorrow.”
“No time like the present, as they say. You took care of settling me in.” Vena spread her hands wide to encompass the room. “Now, I’m ready to start.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Tootie’s gaze went to the computer case and then met Vena’s again. “Maybe I could help. I used to type the mimeograph sheets when I volunteered for the library.”
Vena had no idea what a mimeograph was, which might mean Tootie had no idea what a tablet was. An arrangement that should probably stay as it was.
Ruth moved for the door. “Come on, Tootie. The girl needs quiet. See you at lunch, Vena.”
Tootie gave her a hug. Bending, Vena hugged her back and caught a whiff of Shalimar. Just like Nana’s. A lump formed in her throat. Although eight years had passed, she still missed Nana Gwen and the great old Victorian house on Cottonwood Street that had been home.
Vena closed the door and debated whether or not to jam a chair under the doorknob. Deciding that could only be interpreted as rude, she comforted herself with sending a black thought Finnian’s way. She pinched her nose to block a sneeze. If he’d backed her up, she’d already be at work and would probably have several ideas sketched out.
****
Clink. Clink.
With a jerk, Finn pulled his pillow over his head. Today he’d done so much hammering, he was even hearing it in his sleep.
Clunk. That was real, and the sound came from his window.
He pulled the sheet around his waist, cinching it with a fist. Yanking up the casement window, he stuck out his head. A blur of white moved in the shadows. “Who are you?” he growled, “and what in hell are you doing?”
“Finn, let me in.”
He recognized Elfie’s voice and relaxed. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“I’m serious. Open the door.” She stepped from the shadows and into a shaft of moonlight, rubbing her arms.
At the sight of her trim figure perfectly outlined under a thin nightgown, he groaned, bracing against the automatic pull in his groin. “Who in her right mind runs around a northern Montana night in only pajamas?” As soon as the harsh words were out, he winced.
Had Tootie been right about Vena’s mental state?
After a step back from the window, he tossed the sheet through the opening. “Put that around you and meet me on the porch.” Cursing, he grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled them on, struggling to button the fly as he walked down the stairs. He flicked on the entryway light, snapped the dead bolt lock, and opened the door. “Do you have something against me getting a full night’s sleep?”
After a loud sneeze, she stepped into the light spilling through the door. “I’m really sorry.”
Standing before him was the vision of a Grecian goddess. She’d twisted and wrapped his sheet so that it hugged her body like a toga. Full breasts, small waist, curvy hips. This sheet revealed more of her figure than her everyday clothes had. Then he noticed the pitiful state of her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and she held a hanky to her nose.
“What’s happened?” He pushed open the screen door, concern rising in his chest. “Are you hurt?”
She stepped inside, held up a hand then sneezed violently. “Sorry. Allergies.”
Finn pointed the way to the living room and watched her ease down on the couch. Poor kid, she looked miserable. He grabbed a tissue box from the nearby bathroom and handed it to her. Lowering himself onto the coffee table, he faced her.
“Thanks.” She blew her nose. “This is all your fault.” Her words were hard to decipher from behind the tissue.
“My fault?”
“Finn, I can’t stay next door a minute longer.” She jumped up and paced the length of the living room, the sheet trailing behind her. “They have a long-hair cat, and the dander’s killing me.” She sniffed then stopped to level a dark glare. “I’m in a room with dead animals.”
“Dead…? Oh, Herbert’s taxidermy.” He stifled a laugh and moved to the couch to avoid getting a crick in his neck.
“Yes, Herbert’s taxidermy. I’m probably allergic to those critters, too.” She pointed her hands above her head. “You’ve probably never experienced twenty-eight beady, amber eyes staring down from the shadows. I was afraid to discover whatever was moving around in the corner of the room.”
Finn fought to keep a straight face, but the images she presented sounded anything but serious. “I’m sorry. How was I to know Tootie still had Herbert’s things? Didn’t you ask them about pets?”
Hands on hips, she bent and glared through narrowed eyes. “I don’t remember being given a choice.”
His guilt over not giving her an option had nagged at his conscience all day.
“Do you know what just crawled in my bed?”
An act he wouldn’t mind performing. He forced his thoughts away from the image of her figure backlit by the moon.
Both hands waved in the air as she paced. “Some furry creature that I think was a ferret. I didn’t stick around for a detailed survey. The way my allergies are acting, it’s probably a member of the cat family. I’m sure that critter’s dander was all over the bedding. That’s the reason I didn’t grab a coat. In fact, I probably shouldn’t still be wearing this nightgown.” She sneezed and ripped at the knot in the sheet.
“Wait.” Testing his resistance to the unveiling of another inch of her enticing skin was not a good idea. “Vena, calm down.”
“Calm down?” She sucked in a deep breath and sat on the table across from him. “Finn, I don’t want to fight. More than the animals, there’s no privacy. The ladies kept interrupting me with offers of tea or reminders to take breaks. Lunch lasted an hour because they wanted to chat. For some inexplicable reason, Tootie had to teach me every vegetable in her seedling pots.”
He cleared his throat and glanced away for a moment. The ladies were worried about her health, but he hesitated about mentioning that fact until he figured out what was really going on with her. “Yeah, I saw you with a rake in your hands. I figured you wanted a break.”
“How could I go back in the house while they worked out in the sun?” Vena dropped to her knees in front of him, tugging the sheet from under her foot. “You owe me, Finnian.”
A bewitching woman kneeling before him appealed in a basic way that tensed every muscle in his body. He took in a slow breath before answering. “Maybe I do.”
Her small hands rested on his thighs and the sheet fell off one shoulder, exposing creamy white skin. “I’m begging you. Let me move back to The Shamrocks.”
Chapter Four
AS FINNIAN LOOKED INTO Vena’s imploring eyes, he knew he couldn’t deny this woman anything. What worried him more, he didn’t want to. His chest tightened. She made an oddly appealing sight—puffy eyes, red nose, hair in wild curls around her pale face, sheet barely covering her curvaceous assets.
His thoughts battled between her unpredictable behavior and his pressing need for privacy. If she stayed under his roof, he could keep a close eye on her. Plus, to be convincing as an engaged couple, they needed to develop their ‘relationship’.
He ran a hand through the hair hanging over his forehead. Housing one small person couldn’t be too much trouble. Although she’d surprised him at every turn. If he sent her back to a house that set off her allergies, he’d be drummed out of the Quaid family.
Stifling a yawn, he pinned her with a stare. “My priority is th
e renovations. If the water is off for several hours, I don’t want complaints you can’t wash your hair or soak in a bubble bath. Or when we have to use propane lanterns.”
“The kind you light with matches?” She nibbled on her lower lip and peered from under her lashes. “Will that happen often?”
The movement drew his gaze to her full lips, and his blood sped through his body, a reaction that continued to surprise him. This was just Moira’s friend, Thia’s little sister.
“Not too often.” He ran over the inn’s schedule in his mind. What was he forgetting? “With Ma gone, meals won’t be provided. I keep coffee brewing, but that’s it.”
“I’ll manage my own meals from what’s available. Agreed.” Her hand shot out between them. “Let’s shake.”
His callused hand swallowed her silky-soft one, and a peculiar warmth washed through him. A perfectly natural, brotherly feeling. But the slow tightening in his gut told him otherwise.
****
The firm pressure and rough skin sealed her future, and relief flooded her thoughts. Finn wasn’t tossing her out. In the room upstairs, she’d create the museum’s new living exhibit and grab herself a more exciting job. “You won’t regret this. But how will we explain this change to the ladies?”
Shaking his head, Finn ran a hand over his face, biceps bunching as he moved. “A worry for tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”
Her mouth went dry. For the second night in a row, she stood across from a bare-chested Finn, and attempted conversation. As she stood, the sheet unwound from her body. She gathered it into a ball and held it out, eager to get out of the contaminated pajamas. “Here, this is yours. Could I borrow a T-shirt? I can’t wear this nightgown again until I wash off that animal’s dander.” Ideas for how to start the scene bubbled through her thoughts, and her fingers itched to get them recorded. She gestured toward the stairs. “Actually, that’s okay. I’ll do without.”
“No, wait.” Finn’s gaze ran down her body, pausing on her exposed legs. Then he squared his shoulders and tucked the sheet under his arm. “Be right back.”
At the heated look in his eyes, a tingle ran over her skin. Her comment had obviously sparked his thoughts. That reminded her, she had to phone Nick and call off the engagement. If she truly loved him, she would not be panting after Finn. Tomorrow…and from the inn’s phone. The air in the room was cold. Vena crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched her shoulders. If she’d remembered the temperature difference between Los Angeles and Dry Creek, she would have packed flannel pajamas.
She tried not to stare at Finn as he walked toward his bedroom, but his well-muscled physique was hard to ignore. Ripples moved across his back with each stride, and she bit back a moan. Research. Pure research. The specific details were needed for the scripts. A man of the 1880s would have been just as fit, although maybe not as tall. Her nipples tightened into buds.
“Here’s a shirt. Can you find your way upstairs?”
His deep voice brought her to the present. She blinked hard, his gorgeous chest coming into focus. Dark hair on tight pecs, curling toward the center and running in a fine line down well-defined stomach muscles toward the unfastened snap of his jeans. Her fingers closed into her palm to keep from reaching out.
Mercy, didn’t the man ever do up all the snaps? “Thanks, Finn. Goodnight.” Spinning on her heel, she hurried upstairs before her tongue fell out of her mouth and she made a total fool of herself.
The next morning, Vena peeked into the kitchen. One task accomplished—she’d used the pay phone at Lottie’s to call Nick. No big surprise that he wasn’t too upset about her breaking off their engagement. What a sad commentary on that relationship. Good thing he wasn’t the type to bear a grudge. By the time she returned from vacation, they’d be back to boss and employee—just like before they’d started dating.
Her last suitcase reclaimed from the ladies’ house grasped in her hand, she scanned the room for Finn. So glad the ladies were late sleepers, because there wasn’t a delicate explanation for her hasty departure. Tools lay across the counter, and lumber was stacked on the floor. She grabbed a mug of coffee and headed upstairs, anxious to set up her workspace.
Within fifteen minutes, Vena located a small table in an adjoining bedroom, placed it under the south-facing window, and arranged her tablet with its attached keyboard, reading light, and research materials. Almost ready to turn on the tablet, she thought of one last thing she needed and left the room.
Following the muffled clanking of metal on metal, she searched the downstairs rooms until she found Finn lying on his back, half inside the kitchen sink cupboard. His T-shirt had ridden up his torso. Before announcing her presence, she allowed herself a leisurely look at his tight stomach muscles covered with a dusting of dark hair. A sad commentary on her previous engagement if this glimpse of bare skin gave her a thrill. A loud thud interrupted her enjoyment.
“Damn it. The Devil himself take—”
“Hold on, Finnian Quaid,” Vena teased, “don’t be calling down Irish curses near this innocent English girl.”
Finn inched out of the cramped space far enough to glance from under a raised elbow. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his hand against his temple and grinned. “Morning. Your face is less swollen. How are you feeling?”
His comment made her suddenly self-conscious, and she fingered the skin under her eyes. “I found some antihistamines in the upstairs bathroom. Most of the swelling is gone, and I can breathe well enough. Thanks again for taking me back.”
“Couldn’t leave you outside in the cold.” Finn dipped his chin. “Are you here just to watch or do you need something?”
With a start, she wondered if he’d caught her ogling. “Is there an extra extension cord I can use?”
Extending the wrench he held, he pointed across the room. “Check that corner drawer next to the pantry or the top shelf of the hall closet.”
Vena rummaged through what must be a junk drawer, her gaze straying to his well-muscled thighs covered in faded blue jeans. Men with tools. An age-old tradition. Maybe she should consider this for one of her exhibit scenes. An image of Finn wearing a tool belt low on his hips like a gunslinger’s holster flashed through her mind. And if that holster was the only thing he wore…
Her heartbeat increased and warmed her from the inside out. Concentrate on your project. She had to swallow hard before speaking. “Not here. I’ll check the closet.” As soon as she left the room, she sagged against the hallway wall, pressing a hand to her thudding chest. This reaction proved beyond a doubt that she had never been in love with Nick. Sharing living space with Finn when her fantasies kept threatening to take over might prove impossible.
Ten minutes later, she reentered the kitchen and gazed at Finn’s muscled back and long legs as he leaned over the sink. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other caused solid muscles to flex under the soft denim. Her hands itched to cup those muscles, and a sigh escaped.
“That you, Elfie? Hey, hand me that pipe on the counter.”
Vena scrambled to grab the metal tube. If she wasn’t more careful, her gawking could make him change his mind about letting her stay. “This faucet assembly? Do you need the washers, too?”
In the transfer of the hardware, Finn’s fingers brushed hers, and she flinched. A few reactions like that in public, and no one would believe they were truly engaged.
“How’d you know what those are called?”
Leaning elbows on the counter and twirling a washer on a pinkie, she grinned. A safe topic of conversation. “I know my way around basic repairs. I do own a condo, you know.”
“Okay, Ms. Goodwrench, pass me the channel locks.” His eyes narrowed in challenge.
Bending to the metal box, she took only a moment to pick through the tools, pull out the right pliers, and pass them to his waiting hand.
“Not bad. Maybe you do have some experience.” He used the pliers to point at the faucet. “How about holding this while I tighten it
?”
With a hip braced on the counter, she leaned over the sink and steadied the fixture. Heat emanated from the proximity of his body, and awareness flickered deep in her belly. Something basic and female wanted to soak him up. “What was wrong here?”
“Years of accumulated mineral deposits.” He twisted the wrench a few turns and paused. “The Elfie I remember sat back and watched. When did you become a doer?”
“You’re remembering the person I was ten years ago.” She laughed. “Paying for a plumber’s emergency call is a great motivator. Do you know how much those guys charge?”
Finn straightened and shot her a look, one eyebrow raised.
“Of course you do.” This close, she could see the navy ring outlining his light blue irises. She inhaled and recognized the same woodsy aftershave he’d worn in high school.
God, she was so aware of this man. Clearing her throat, she lowered her gaze and forced herself to concentrate on each word. “Being single doesn’t mean I’m helpless. I wanted to fix the little things around my condo. So I bought a set of home repair books and taught myself. Most jobs are just common sense.”
“Is that right?” His forehead wrinkled. “Maybe your common sense can help with a bathroom sink problem.”
No, her logical side urged. In this large kitchen she was having trouble getting enough air into her lungs. She’d suffocate if they were crammed into a tiny room, working this close together.
An alternative did exist. She could go upstairs and face an empty screen where a blinking cursor waited.
Share time with Finn or sit alone in her room? No contest.
“Sure. But aren’t we supposed to be developing our stories?” Maybe not her smartest choice, but one she’d never forgive herself for not taking.
“We can do both.” Finn’s gaze ran the length of her body. “Do you want to change so you don’t get your dress dirty?”
Vena glanced at her pastel dress. Not everyone included flapper-style dresses in their everyday wardrobe, but she loved the loose fit. “I don’t plan on getting messy.”
Rekindled Dreams Page 5
