“I’m not the kind of woman who has a one-night stand.”
“It wouldn’t be one night.” The whisper startled her. She hadn’t heard him moving to stand right behind her. “I’d need a lot more time than that to sate myself with you. That will take days, maybe weeks. I want to take you fast and hard. Then I want to fuck you slow and easy. I want to pound into your sweet flesh until you scream with pleasure.”
Amanda swayed. The pictures he was putting in her brain threatened to overwhelm her totally. “I can’t think.” This was outside of her realm of experience. Hot guys like Jonah didn’t say things like this to a frizzy-headed woman with freckles. Sleek, sophisticated blondes were more likely to be the target of all this potent testosterone. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” He pressed closer and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection against her ass. “I want you and you want me. We’re both single, healthy adults.
What’s the harm?”
He stepped back then and went calmly to his toolbox. “I’ll have an estimate for you by tomorrow.”
She faced him, unable to believe he was just going to drop that bombshell and then leave. “You’re going?”
“Unless you want me to stay?”
The way he said it left no doubt in her mind that if he stayed it would be for one reason only. As attracted to him as she was, she’d just met him. She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.” He hefted the heavy red box in his left hand. “I’ll keep asking.”
His work boots rang against the hardwood floor as he walked calmly down the hallway. Amanda heard the door open and close.
She stood in the center of the kitchen and stared at the plain white walls. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Four
Amanda decided that work was the best way to get her mind off Jonah. Setting up her office chair in what would be her new workspace, she pulled Elizabeth Sutter’s boxes of books alongside it. With her laptop perched on a couple of stacked boxes, she started to work.
She muttered to herself as she opened book covers, checked bindings and dust covers, and gauged overall condition before logging the book title, author, year of publication, publisher and any other pertinent information into Elizabeth’s file.
Most of the books weren’t worth much. She would list them in her online shop, but she’d also put them on display when she opened her little bookshop here in her front room. She tried not to think how long that might be delayed.
There was no point in hurrying to paint until the electrical work was done. Although she was going to take her paint chips when she went over to her friends’ house for supper. Both Cyndi and Shamus had a good eye for color and she wanted their opinions.
Cyndi had turned her family home into a first-rate B & B that was both classy and homey at the same time. And Shamus worked in the construction industry. He was sure to have ideas about what would work in a home like hers. She wanted to try to keep the colors as authentic to the original age of the house as possible.
Amanda pulled open another box of books and began to sort through them. When she was finished logging the books into her computer, she lightly penciled in a number code just inside the front cover. That was how she kept track of her inventory. Customers had a specific number and each one of their books was logged accordingly. When she finished with each book, it was put in one of two piles—inexpensive hardcover or absolute gem.
She was still excited about the copy of A Clockwork Orange and she’d added four more books to that pile. One was a science fiction classic from the seventies, which she knew would sell for a pretty penny. The other three were hard-to-find original hardbacks from popular authors. Not overly priceless, but certainly able to fetch around a hundred dollars each.
Whenever she was uncertain, she made a note to do a check of her online sources and compare prices. Amanda made it a point never to be at the top end of the pricing range unless she had something super rare. It was better to be just below the top price.
More chance of selling the book that way.
She was at the final box when she found it. Amanda immediately knew that it wasn’t a regular book, but a journal. And it was old. The leather binding and the gold-embossed lettering on the front told her that. Her fingers hovered just above the name. She didn’t touch it though, not wanting the oils on her fingers to damage the old lettering.
“Cecilia Sutter.” Sitting back in the chair, Amanda carefully opened the cover on the journal. The writing was ornate, yet neat. It harkened back to an age where a person’s penmanship mattered.
“Eighteen-Eighty-five.” The journal was more than a hundred years old. Amanda’s stomach twitched with excitement. She loved old journals. Most of them were filled with the kind of mundane things that people didn’t bother with today.
She’d read journals that were filled with weather and crop reports, town news, family triumphs and tragedies. She’d even read journals that were filled with such household tidbits as how to best butcher a hog and preserve every bit of the meat for future use, to how to mix the best wood cleaner. Journals were a treasure trove of information.
Turning the page, she read the first entry. “I got married today. The sun was bright and the roses in Mama’s garden were in full bloom. Henry looked so handsome in his new suit it was all I could do to listen to the minister as he performed the ceremony.
Henry Sutter is the most handsome man in the world.” Amanda lowered the book, commiserating with the long-deceased Cecilia. “If Henry looked anything like Jonah, I understand completely.”
She’d definitely have to return this to Elizabeth. It was a family treasure, probably a wedding gift because Cecilia’s married name was on the cover. Still, a part of her hoped that Elizabeth wanted to sell this family journal. Amanda would buy it for her private collection.
Journals had been her passion ever since the first day she’d stepped into Seymour’s shop. Over the years, she’d collected about three dozen of them, ranging in age from the seventeen hundreds right up until the nineteen-forties.
A psychologist would have a field day with her collection. She had no family ties of her own, no history, so she collected other people’s history. That might be the case, but Amanda figured she was protecting the past from being discarded.
She logged the diary into her computer program and made a note to ask Elizabeth about it. She started to place it in the pile with the other collectable books, but stopped.
There was no denying that she wanted to read a bit more about Cecilia and her new husband.
What would it hurt?
After all, Elizabeth had put it in the box with the rest of the books. For all Amanda knew, Elizabeth wanted to be rid of it.
Laying the diary aside, she closed out her program and shut down her computer.
Standing, she groaned and stretched her arms over her head. She’d obviously been sitting there a while. She tended to lose track of time when she was working.
A quick glance at her watch had her groaning. “Quarter to four.” She’d planned to stop by Delicious Delights, the local bakery, and pick up something to take to Cyndi and Shamus’s place for dessert.
Grabbing the diary, she left the room in its state of organized chaos and hurried up the stairs. If she was fast, she could grab a shower, change, go to the bakery and still get to her friends’ place by four-thirty.
Amanda carefully placed the journal in her bedside table. Ignoring the open suitcases and piles of boxes that mocked her, she headed to the bathroom. At least she’d unpacked the towels.
“That was delicious.” Amanda pushed back her plate and gave a deep sigh of pleasure. Seated in the large, warm kitchen with her two friends, Amanda felt a sense of satisfaction. She’d made the right decision about moving to Jamesville. It was good to be close to friends.
The table was situated in a nook area surrounded by glass on three sides, giving a spec
tacular view of the garden. The late September sun was beginning to fade, but Amanda could see that some of the flowers were still blooming.
Though this was a B & B and there was a huge dining area with a half-dozen tables or so, Amanda preferred the coziness of the kitchen. It made her feel more a friend and less like a guest.
“Thank you.” Cyndi rose from the table, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. “You still have room for any of that cheesecake you brought with you?”
Amanda groaned, but nodded. “I think so.” She really wanted a piece of that chocolate dessert. “I’m so going to have to go back to Delicious Delights.”
Cyndi laughed. “I know what you mean. I love that place, which is why I limit myself to a visit once a week. Their éclairs are to die for.”
“Don’t tell me that,” she groused. “I’ll gain ten pounds the first month I’m here if I’m not careful.”
Shamus snorted, but wisely said nothing. He pushed back his chair and began to help his wife clear the table.
“Let me help with that.” Amanda stood, but Shamus waved her back to her seat.
“You’ve had enough of a shock today. Relax and enjoy.”
“Shamus told me what happened.” Cyndi carried the cheesecake over to the table and went back to the counter and grabbed plates and forks.
“It’s my own fault. I should have paid more attention, but everything happened so fast. Seymour’s death and the fact that he’d authorized his lawyer to sell the building was a blow.” Amanda watched as Shamus carried two mugs of coffee to the table and handed her one. “Thanks.”
“That had to have been devastating.” Cyndi cut a huge hunk of cheesecake, popped it on to a fine china plate and handed it to her.
“It was hard, but it all turned out for the best.” Amanda forked up a piece of the cheesecake and took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate flavor. When she put her fork back down on the edge of her plate, she noticed the intricate floral pattern around the edge. “You know, Linda would love this plate.”
Linda Fletcher was an antiques dealer and the reason that Amanda had met Cyndi and Shamus. When Cyndi had decided to clear out her family’s home, Linda had contacted Seymour and he’d sent Amanda to Jamesville. Cyndi, Linda and she had become good friends.
Cyndi wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Last time she was here, she tried to talk me out of them, but I like them. I think she’s slightly appalled that they’re my everyday dishes.”
“I think she’s afraid I’ll break them,” Shamus added as he carried the final mug over and sat back down. He smiled at his wife as she handed him a thick slice of the dessert.
“No she isn’t,” Cyndi scolded. “Okay, well maybe.” They all laughed and continued to eat. After a minute, Cyndi continued. “Now, back to the house…”
“Umm,” Amanda said as she swallowed her last bite of cheesecake. She wished she’d opted for wearing sweatpants instead of jeans. The zipper was about ready to burst and the button was digging into her belly. She was well and truly stuffed. “As I said, the decision to move here happened so fast.” She raised her mug and saluted Cyndi. “And thank you so much for the suggestion.”
“Hey, I was being selfish. I wanted you closer. A couple trips a year wasn’t enough time to spend with you.”
Tears pricked Amanda’s eyes. The emotion caught her slightly off guard. She was so used to it being just her and Seymour. It was nice to be wanted.
She blinked and changed the subject back to the house. “The minute I saw the house I knew I wanted it. I did check the foundation, the roof and the plumbing, but for some reason I didn’t even think about the electrical system.” Amanda took a sip of her coffee before continuing. “Of course, there was an inspection. I had to go back to Vermont, so the realtor handled it and faxed me the report. I went back and checked all the papers I received on the house and there in black and white on the inspector’s report is the fact that the electrical system needed upgrading. No one hid anything from me. I just wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
“The real estate agent should have made certain you understood everything about the house.” Shamus pushed his empty plate aside and sat back in his chair. “Who was it?”
“A guy named Jim Brown.”
Shamus frowned. “Damn, I should have known. He probably didn’t want to lose the sale.”
“Something wrong with him? He seemed like a nice enough guy.” In his late thirties, Jim Brown had been professional and amiable enough. “He gave me all the papers. It’s my fault for not reading them as closely as I should.”
“He’s Elizabeth Sutter’s ex-husband, and Jonah’s ex-brother-in-law. It wasn’t exactly an amicable divorce.” Shamus’s expression was grim. “It would be best if those two were never in the same room together.”
Amanda shrugged, not quite knowing what else to do. “It’s a small town. Not like they can avoid each other.” It would be awkward as hell though.
“No, it’s impossible to avoid someone forever in a town this size.” Cyndi hesitated as if she wanted to say something, but then changed the subject. “You brought paint samples with you?”
“I did.” Amanda accepted the change of subject, reached behind and grabbed her bag. Digging into it, she pulled out a handful of paint chips. “I’ve narrowed it down, but I’d like a second opinion. I also want to know how long you think this project will take?”
She directed her question to Shamus.
He tilted his head to one side and thought for a second. “Go ahead and buy your paint. I don’t think it will take Jonah long. He does quality work, but he’s fast. I can come by in the evenings once he’s finished in a room and make any necessary repairs to the drywall. That way you can start priming and painting a room at a time.”
“That’s a lot of trouble for you.” Although, Amanda couldn’t deny she was more than ready to get started painting.
“It’s no problem.” He hesitated. “It might be none of my business and feel free to say so, but are you okay money-wise? I mean you just bought a house, paid for a move and now this. I can talk to Jonah if you need some time to pay him.”
The tears were back in her eyes and there was a huge lump in her throat. No one in her life, other than Seymour, had ever shown such care and concern for her.
“And I’ll help you paint.” Cyndi picked up the paint chips and started to spread them across the table. “Show me what you’ve picked out.”
She cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine, but thank you so much for asking, Shamus.” A thought occurred to her. “I can pay you too if that’s what you were worried about earlier today.”
He held up his hand. “That’s not open for discussion. Our helping you is our housewarming present to you.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say in the face of their generosity, so she picked up a paint chip. “I thought I’d put this cozy forest green in the front room I plan to use for the shop. I think it will contrast well with the bookshelves I’m going to have built.”
When she unlocked her front door, Amanda was still feeling warm and fuzzy and stuffed from the wonderful supper that Cyndi had cooked for them. She closed and locked it behind her and just stood there, allowing the peace to surround her.
The house still felt empty, but that would change once the renovations were done and all her furniture was in place. At the moment, the bulk of her belongings were in what was the dining room. Thankfully, the older home had a formal living room as well as a front parlor. That allowed her to turn the parlor into her shop, while letting her keep the living room as a private space. It was confusing right now, but Amanda had it all planned in her mind.
Kicking off her shoes, she padded up the stairs and into her bedroom. She’d left the upstairs hall light on when she’d left, so she could easily find her way up the stairs without having to worry about tripping.
She stifled a yawn as she walked into her bedroom and dumped her large purse by her bed. It had been a long day. She’d
managed to get Elizabeth’s books catalogued and she’d checked her online store and completed several transactions.
She’d have to go to the post office to mail the books to their new owners. Her life and work didn’t stop just because she’d moved. All the boxes for her shop had been carefully marked and coded so she knew exactly what inventory was in each of them. If only she’d done the same thing with the boxes for the rest of the house.
Not that she had a ton of stuff, but she’d collected more than she’d thought over the past few years. At least Seymour had hired a company to deal with his stuff after his death. The man had been ruthlessly organized to the end. She’d been allowed to pick out what she’d wanted before the rest was either sold or donated to charity.
Even with weeding out her belongings before she packed, she had an impressive amount of boxes.
Tomorrow, she promised herself as she pulled off her clothing and tugged an oversized T-shirt over her head. Tomorrow, she’d sit down with Jonah and sketch out a timeline for the project. That would give her an idea of when she could do what. She’d have him do the front room first, if possible. That way she could get the walls painted, the shelves built and her shop up and running. She might be doing okay financially, but it wouldn’t pay to be lax with her business. She had customers depending on her.
Amanda removed her glasses and placed them safely on the bedside table. She rubbed the pads of her fingers over her eyes and stifled another yawn. It had been a long, eventful day.
Padding to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth, washed her face and went through her nightly routine. She was proud of the fact that she’d managed not to think about Jonah all evening.
Closing her eyes, she groaned. “He’s back.”
Glancing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she scowled at her slightly blurry reflection. “The man is sexy as all get-out, but he only wants to sleep with you.”
What’s wrong with that?
By the Book j-6 Page 4
