“While I’m building the walls to separate your bedroom, bathroom and studio, you will be scrubbing the brick wall we’re leaving bare with a solution of dish detergent and salt to brighten up the bricks and remove twenty years of dirt. Since the grout looked pretty good, when you’re done and the wall has dried you can roll on a coat of sealer.” He started in on his own cinnamon bun.
“As usual, it sounds like you get all the fun jobs. Can’t I help you build the walls?”
“No. You can’t.” He took another bite.
“Why not? I can use a circular saw, you know. It’s not that hard.” She gave him an eye roll.
The thought of her using power tools, particularly anything that she could hurt herself with, made his stomach knot. But she was a stubborn wench and if he simply used the “because I said so” reason, she wouldn’t let it go.
“Okay, how many walls have you built before?”
“Um, none.” She pouted.
“How far apart should the studs be?”
“Uh, about that far.” She held her hands about two feet apart.
“Wrong answer. You’re scrubbing the bricks, I’m building the walls. End of discussion.” He turned away so she wouldn’t catch his grin.
“But—”
Able to muster a sterner expression, he jabbed his finger in her direction. “If you think for one moment I’m letting you use the pneumatic nail-gun, think again.”
“How do you know what I’m going to say before I say it?” she asked, curious and grumpy at the same time.
He raised a brow. Damn, she’d really been thinking of using it? “I’m a mind-reader. And I’m not letting you near any tool you could use as a weapon.”
This time Zoe laughed. “I wasn’t even thinking of that. So your mind-reading isn’t perfect.”
He leveled a gaze on her and held it long enough to make her blush and look away. Jeff Junior woke up and began to explore the escape route from his jeans. How in the hell was he going to keep his hands off her for the next two-and-a-half months?
By remembering Bug and the surgery she needed, that’s how. Grateful Zoe couldn’t read his mind, Jeff took a big gulp of hot coffee and let the scalding of his tongue get his mind off her body and back to business.
Tomorrow he would add the new electrical wiring to the upper floor while Zoe sanded the trim around the windows. Downstairs, his father would begin roughing in the plumbing. The thought made his palms sweat.
Asking his dad to help with this project had been difficult, mostly because they hadn’t really spoken since his sister moved out of his dad’s house and down here with him. That had been almost two years ago.
He knew it had broken his dad’s heart when Bug moved out, but she couldn’t handle his constant calls to check on her during the day, then treating her like an invalid when he got home from work. He’d beg her to go outside for some sunshine, then get angry when she refused.
Finally she had called Jeff and asked if he could find her a place to stay in Blue Point Cove. He arranged for the extra unit with George and put the connecting door between it and his studio so she’d never have to go outside if she didn’t want to. It was the cheapest solution, since every spare dime went into his savings account to pay for her operations. Besides, he could keep an eye on her, make sure she ate. She’d become so thin since the accident he spent a lot of time encouraging her to eat more.
Things would be touchy for the few days his dad bunked in with him. Bug told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to fuss over her. His dad had agreed and offered to do the work for free with the understanding it would help Jen sell her paintings at the local gallery. Swearing him to secrecy about Bug took a lot of persuasion, but in the end his dad had capitulated.
He just hoped his dad didn’t accidentally spill the beans. He was a naturally sociable guy and liked to chat with his clients while he worked. If he could have figured out a way to keep Zoe out of the building for the next three days, he would have. Since that wasn’t an option, his plan was to keep her so busy she wouldn’t have time to say more than hello and goodbye to his dad. So, while Dad was doing the plumbing downstairs, they would work upstairs. When his dad got to the upstairs work, he’d . . . have her help him put the drywall up in the gallery. Yeah, that would work.
“You’re awfully deep in thought there, Jeff. Is there a problem I should know about?” Zoe smiled but her eyes stayed serious.
“Nope. No problems.” He drained his coffee cup. “Let’s get to work.”
The next morning, Zoe paced back and forth between the back office and the front doors. She slipped her phone out to check the time. Eight-fifteen. Jeff was late, for the first time since they’d started working together. Maybe he’d had some trouble with his bike.
Or maybe this was the first slip that would lead to a downhill slide in the dependability department.
Ever since their first meeting, she’d had nagging suspicions about why he had wanted this work so badly. The man was a player, no doubt about it, and she, his latest target. She’d been in those cross-hairs before. She recognized the signs. If it took a sincere, hardworking, serious man to break down her resistance, he’d morph into one until she fell for all the laid-back charm and woke up next to him one morning. Then, mission accomplished, Jeff Petrosky would be off to his next conquest.
Well, he could think again, cause that wasn’t gonna happen.
Still, she hated to admit how much she looked forward to seeing him each morning. Her coffee, his pastry, and the planning of the day’s work had become the best fifteen minutes of her day.
After downing the coffee and pastry they worked non-stop until lunch. Most days she hardly saw him at all because somehow her jobs were always as far away from him as she could get and still be in the same building. It annoyed her that she seldom got to watch those incredible muscles flex and bulge while Jeff ripped up linoleum or pulled down ceiling tiles. It only took about thirty minutes before the beat-up flannel shirt came off and sweat glistened on the skin the wife-beater T-shirt left exposed.
She was even more annoyed with herself for wanting to watch.
Eight-twenty. She gave up and poured her coffee. She should have stopped at Olivia’s bakery herself. Mug in hand, she stalked toward the front door.
A white van slid to the curb and Jeff got out. He and the driver went to the back and began to unload long white PVC pipes. Zoe opened the front door of the gallery to let them in.
“Good morning, boss. Sorry I’m late.” Jeff carried the tubes through to the back of the gallery, followed by the second man, older, chunkier, with grizzled gray hair but the same blue eyes as Jeff’s. She instantly realized they were father and son. He gave her a wink on the way by.
“Zoe, I’d like you to meet the real Mr. Petrosky, and your master plumber.”
She put out her hand and it was engulfed in both of his. She could feel the callouses and the warmth in his grip.
“Just call me Frank, Ms. Silvercreek. My son’s told me all about you.”
“Really?” Zoe shot Jeff a questioning look.
“Well, all that I know, anyway.” He shrugged. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.” He went back to the van and returned with a paper sack and a Thermos. “We brought extra coffee since there are three of us.”
“Don’t blame the late start on Jeff, Ms. Silvercreek. I’m afraid I was the cause of the delay this morning. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s not a problem, Frank. And please, call me Zoe. We’re on a first-name basis here.” She smiled as Jeff handed her the sack. “Your son discovered my weakness for sweet rolls and has been feeding my addiction ever since we started working together. Come on back to the office and we’ll have some.”
“You go ahead and have your danish. I’m going to take Dad upstairs and show him ar
ound so he’ll have a better idea what connections he’ll need to make.” Jeff pointed his dad in the direction of the stairs.
“Wait. I’ll come with you.”
“No need. We’re already late getting started. We’ll only be a few minutes.” He nodded toward the cup in her hand. “Don’t let your coffee get cold.” Without waiting for her reply, he herded his father up the stairs.
Zoe took a sip of her coffee and watched them disappear. She shrugged. While she didn’t need to go up with them, she had wanted to see what his dad thought about Jeff’s design. Oh well, she would have plenty of time to chat with Mr. Petrosky over the next few days.
By noon, Zoe was ravenous as usual. Jeff had finished up the last of the new outlet boxes, which for the first time in a week brought him in close proximity. As she sanded the trim around one of the windows, her stomach rumbled loud enough for him to hear. She glanced up and noticed the smirk that turned up one corner of his mouth. It put a dimple in his cheek and her appetite increased exponentially, but not for food. Her gaze went from his dimple to his eyes, to find them studying her.
Was that genuine interest she saw in those blue pools? Or where they shark tanks, home to the eyes of a predator? She wet her lips and his pupils dilated a bit. Heat built in her belly. Her fingertips tingled with the urge to touch his arm, run her palms over his incredible biceps, lift his hand to her mouth and suckle one of his long, strong, fingers.
“Why don’t we order pizza for lunch today instead of you going out to eat?” Her voice sounded unusually high-pitched. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Donatelli’s will deliver since we’re so close. That way I can talk to your dad and find out all those embarrassing secrets from your teenage years.” She gave him a wicked grin.
“Yeah, that’s really nice of you to offer, but, uh, we’ve got to pick up a few more things at the hardware store. I thought we’d do that over the lunch break so we’d be able to start right in up here this afternoon.”
“But—”
“Hey, we were late this morning. You know how you’re always saying time is money and we don’t have any to waste.” He spread his hands out. “I’m only trying to make up for lost time.”
“Well, your attitude is commendable but, once in a while we could bend the rules a bit.” Heck, he made her sound like Simon Legree, always cracking the whip.
“No. I agree with your plan to get this renovation done on time and, if possible, under budget. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it.”
He unhooked his tool belt and shrugged back into his flannel shirt. She pretended not to watch him while she gave a few more half-hearted swipes to the windowsill with her sandpaper. His work boots clattered down the stairs and she heard him talk to his dad. A few moments later they were both out the front door and into the truck.
She tossed the sandpaper on the windowsill and marched down the stairs, the sudden warmth she’d felt quenched by his obvious desire to spend as little ‘free’ time with her as possible.
That was the way she wanted it though. Right? She’d been worried that he would make a play for her so she’d kept their relationship strictly workman-like. Pleasant, but not . . . friendly. Impersonal. Her conscience gave her kudos for that.
But, dammit, the man was gorgeous. Tall. And strong. Yet somehow even tearing up flooring, he had a certain graceful way of moving. She looked heavenward. If his complete lack of interest was all a devious plan to get her into bed, it was working. Two more months of restraint would make her a basket case by opening day.
She sighed and took her sandwich and soda out of the cooler she brought from Marjorie’s every day. The sandwich she would have happily traded for a slice of hot pizza shared with a hot slice of male. She plopped into the chair at her desk and picked up the phone.
“Hi, Amanda, it’s Zoe. Do you have plans for tonight? Cause I think I’m going to need to go for a drink after work.” She examined her nicked, work-abused fingers. Hardly the hands of a femme-fatale. Her long-sleeved T-shirt and ragged jeans were a far cry from couture.
“Yeah,” she responded to Amanda’s declaration of freedom, “let’s head over to the marina and indulge ourselves in a couple of margaritas. Great. Seven-thirty, then? I’ll meet you there.”
That would give her enough time to clean up and change into clothes that would make her feel like a woman instead of a workman.
Two could play the ‘I’m not interested’ game.
Chapter 6
By the time Zoe arrived at the marina bar, Amanda had already snagged them a booth overlooking the bay. The last rays of daylight were turning the sky electric blue along the horizon and a few of the brighter stars pricked the evening sky.
She slipped her jacket off and slid onto the seat opposite her friend. “Thanks for joining me. I hate to drink alone.” She smiled up at the waitress, “I’ll have a margarita, please. Rocks. Salt. Patron.”
“And you, Miss?”
“A glass of pinot grigio, please,” Amanda replied, keeping her gaze on Zoe. “So. What’s up?” she asked as soon as the waitress was out of earshot. “You sounded . . . annoyed when you called this afternoon. Is anything wrong?”
“Other than me fantasizing about the hunk I hired to do the renovations?” She looked heavenward, then shrugged. “How stupid is that? The first time I spoke to him I thought he was a cocky, smart-aleck asshat, too confident in his animal magnetism for his own good.” She sat back as their drinks were delivered then picked hers up and took a healthy swallow. “Now I see why he’s so confident. I might as well be made out of iron, because all I want to do is get as close to that magnetism as possible. Preferably without any clothing cluttering things up.” She took another swallow.
“Well, I guess . . . There’s nothing innately wrong with those feelings. We all have them.” Amanda stared down into her drink. She blinked a few times and squared her shoulders. “Is it just that you don’t want to have a relationship with the hired help?”
“Well, yeah. I spent a lot of effort setting boundaries the first couple of days we worked together.” She toyed with her almost-empty glass. “Now I’m the one who wants to jump his bones and he’s the one keeping me behind that line I drew.” She raised her glass at the passing waitress and who responded with an affirmative nod. “I’m a mess. If there is one thing that pissed me off when I was an employee, it was fighting off my boss’ advances. Especially since I had to do it without getting him mad enough to fire me. I do not want to turn into my old boss,” she finished emphatically.
“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait until the renovation is done before you jump his bones.” Amanda sounded amused but her humor seemed forced.
Zoe sipped her second drink. “I guess that’s the only solution.” She let out a sigh. “So, tell me, do you have a boyfriend around here? Or a secret lover?” She raised her eyebrows, anticipating a few details about Amanda’s love life.
“No. No . . . boyfriend.” Amanda swirled the wine in her glass. “My fiancé was killed in Iraq this past April.” She took a sip of wine and avoided Zoe’s gaze.
“Oh damn! I’m so sorry, honey.” Zoe reached across the table and took Amanda’s hand. Now she really felt like a jerk, complaining about her lust-filled thoughts about Jeff while Amanda coped with— She couldn’t imagine the grief. Probably a lot like she’d felt when her mom died. Lost, alone, depressed, only more so. When you lose your soul mate . . . oh god. She squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Just forget about my bitching. If I’d have known, I’d never have even brought it up.”
Amanda shook her head. “No. Don’t apologize. How could you have known?” Her eyes intense, she continued, “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, Zoe. My heart may be broken, but I have to get past this and move on with my life. That’s why I moved down here from Annapolis. There were too many memories back there. I’m so glad
you asked me to come out tonight. I was turning into a hermit and I needed something to think about besides my troubles.” She flipped her hand over and gave Zoe’s a squeeze in return.
Zoe winced and snatched her hand back. “Splinter.” She peered at the spot and gently explored it with her other index finger. “Jeff bought gloves for me to wear, but they’re so bulky and they make me really clumsy, so whenever he’s not looking, I take ‘em off.” She ducked her head guiltily. “If he catches me without them and safety glasses, I get a lecture. An occasional splinter is the price I pay for disobedience.”
“It’s nice to know he’s so concerned for your safety.”
Zoe nodded as she started in on her second margarita.
“Speaking of disobedience, I saw an ad in the paper I thought might interest you.” Amanda rummaged through her purse and came up with the scrap of newsprint. “You remember I told you to avoid temptation and not spend your money on anything you didn’t absolutely need?” She handed the ad to Zoe. “Well, I thought this might just be an exception.”
Zoe scanned the ad about an antique store in Cambridge that was going out of business. Then she realized what her friend had noticed. The owner was selling the store’s furnishings as well as the remaining inventory. Old wooden display cases. She glanced across at Amanda. “Oh yeah, I’ve got to see these. They might be exactly what I’m looking for.” Her excitement dispelled the dejection she had come in with, and in deference to her friend and accountant, she added, “And they could be cheap!”
“And absolutely necessary,” Amanda agreed, a small smile banishing the sadness she’d tried hard to hide. “I thought this might put some sparkle back in those eyes.” She grinned conspiratorially. “I can drive us there, but if you do find something you can’t live without, there’s no way it would fit in my Civic.”
His By Design Page 5
