by Susan Hatler
I slumped back in my chair. “You can erase this day so it never happened. Well, not the entire day. Jenna loved how I designed Greg’s den. She said I have a unique flair and took a gazillion photos for her magazine article.”
And that kiss with Greg will be forever etched in my mind. . . .
“I don’t know if now is the right time to say this.” She bit her lip, then eyed me cautiously. “But maybe this will end up being a good thing. Maybe it will help you make the transition into decorating faster.”
“Except that I have no clients.” Then I remembered that Jenna had asked for my business cards. Guess I needed to have more printed than I thought. “I have a lot of thinking to do.”
She nodded, then handed me a white envelope. “Your final check.”
I picked up the envelope, gripping it between my fingers. “This was a nice place to work . . . for awhile, anyway.”
“It’s rapidly going downhill.” She curled her upper lip. “Who do you think is getting all of your job duties?”
“Better too much work than no income.” I gave her a meaningful look, then sighed. I suppose if I had to get canned, better that it come from a friend. Although Kaitlin’s sympathetic gaze made me want to make her feel better. What a mess. I inhaled deeply, slapped my hands on my thighs, then stood. “I wonder why Rich is making all of these changes. Not that it concerns me anymore.”
“No idea.” Kaitlin rose to her feet, then skirted around to the front of the desk, her delicate features downcast. She pulled me into a hug. “I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.” With my chin on Kaitlin’s shoulder, my head began to spin. Greg’s kiss circled my mind. Jenna’s praise. Getting fired. I’d worked so hard to keep my life organized and practical. Then, in one day, a tornado had hit and everything was spinning out of control. My eyes burned. “I’ll be okay.”
“I know.” She patted my back, pulled away, then sniffled. “Do you want help collecting your things?”
“Sure.” Sucking in a deep breath, I dabbed the corners of my eyes. “That would be great. Thanks.”
My legs felt like bricks as I trudged to my soon-to-be former office. I’d been fired. Canned. Kicked to the curb. This totally threw me off guard. Suddenly, my nerve-racking decorating project had become a do or die situation. The pressure was on to make it more sensational than ever in order to acquire clients. Fast. If not, I’d be out on the street.
****
Although I’d had the strong urge to waste the rest of Friday afternoon in bed with the covers over my head—man, that sounded good right about now—I forced myself to drive to the office supply store and purchase blank business cards.
When I got home, I carried the framed pictures from my ex-office into my condo, and set them against the wall next to the couch. Then I popped two aspirin, hoping to get rid of the raging headache I’d acquired, and plodded to the corner of my bedroom where my tiny desk sat next to my easel.
Needing an original logo for my business cards, I picked up a piece of charcoal and sketched design after design, trying to come up with something I liked. After several hours, I’d drafted a bunch of squiggly lines that didn’t add up to anything remotely appealing. How could my muse desert me at a time like this?
Suddenly, I heard a quick rap-rap-rap on my door, before it burst open. Mary Ann sailed in, snapping bubble gum. “You’re home early.”
“Yep.” I set the charcoal down, rubbed my black fingertips together, then turned to face my sister.
She wore her honey-blonde hair pulled back in a bun, a pink blouse tucked into gray slacks, and looked business-casual—just like she dressed for the office every day. She held down a good job in property management, and it suddenly burned me up that she couldn’t be bothered to pay rent every month. I needed to check my tally to see how much she owed me by now, assuming I could count that high.
“What gives?” She plopped down across my bed, then propped her chin on her fists. “And what’s with all those pictures in the living room? Are you redecorating?”
“They’re from my office at work.” I stood, scuffled into my bathroom, and pulled the faucet on. “My former work. I got fired today.”
“What?” Her shout came from the other room, but seconds later she appeared right next to me, waving a stack of envelopes. “You can’t lose your job. We’ve got bills and I’m short on cash. Electricity, water, Internet . . .” She flipped through the envelopes, then smacked the top one. “This one is due by next week. Maybe you could apologize for whatever you screwed up on.”
“Great idea.” I place my hand on her shoulder, then tilted my head with a mocking grin. “I’ll just tell him we need high-speed Internet. That will get him to hire me back right away.”
“At least I’m trying to come up with ideas.” She brought her hands to her chest. “I don’t want to have to take cold showers in the dark because you blew something at work. What did you do wrong, anyway?”
Irritation washed over me. This was so typical of Mary Ann. All she could think about was how my sad situation affected her.
“Thanks for your faith in me, but I didn’t mess up.” I pumped liquid soap onto my fingers, then rubbed them together under the warm water. “The company’s cutting costs so they laid me off.”
She stared at me wide-eyed. “What are you going to do?”
Ah. The question I’d been worrying about since Kaitlin had given me the ax. “I have no idea,” I said, turning the water off and drying my hands on a towel.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” She followed me back to my bedroom, leaned back on my bed, then smiled. “At least you have a hot date tonight. That should be a nice distraction. Huh?”
I groaned. “I totally forgot about Trenton.”
But I definitely remembered Greg’s kiss. The feel of his arms around me, his mouth ravaging mine. Shiver. No matter how hard I’d fought my attraction, there was only one man who interested me. The thought of going out with another guy felt wrong. “I’m going to cancel my date.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Because you have the hots for Greg. He’s an even better distraction. Are you finally going to stop over-thinking everything and go for it?”
“No,” I said, but my heart rate kicked up a notch just thinking about it. “I need a paycheck, not a distraction. Must be fun to have your carefree life.”
She shrugged, then popped to her feet. “It’s Friday night. Liam’s taking me to this new club that just opened. Yes, he actually made it to date number two. I’ll admit it had something to do with how hot he looks with his goatee.”
“Have a good time.” I dropped down into the chair at my desk. Great. Mary Ann would be out rocking the dance floor, while I’d be struggling to invent a creative logo design. As always, I chose to act responsibly while she got to act on her whims. This didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies.
Mary Ann hesitated by my door, eyeing me up and down. “You look really depressed, Ginger.”
My brows furrowed. “Gee, you think?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She rolled her eyes, then propped a hand on her hip. “Come dancing with Liam and me tonight. That’s sure to snap you out of your funk.”
Great idea, in theory, but I had work to do. Besides, dancing would only remind me of Greg, anyway.
I gestured toward my drawings. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a project I’m working on. You have fun, though.”
“I’ll be around for a few more hours if you change your mind,” she said, then sauntered away. Her invitation actually touched me. She may be a flake, but she tried to take care of me in her own way, and I loved that about her.
I glanced at the clock. Five-thirty. Since Trenton was supposed to pick me up at seven, I needed to call him pronto. Taking a deep breath, I dialed his phone number. Canceling our date was all kinds of awkward, but I managed to stumble through it. He mentioned his ex again, which confirmed he probably thought about her as much as I thought of Greg. But he
was trying to be rational about things. Just like I was.
Too bad we both seemed miserable.
Maybe I should listen to Mary Ann, stop thinking so much, and go for it with Greg. She threw caution to the wind all of the time and she was the epitome of happiness. The idea enticed me, but reason took over. I had no job. My livelihood rode on this magazine article generating clients for me. I needed to go upstairs and decorate, but that would be mega uncomfortable considering the debacle I’d created earlier by kissing Greg.
Then a terrible thought sliced through my brain. Greg was an incredibly hot doctor with an amazing personality to boot. What if he’d asked someone else out tonight? What if she showed up at his condo while I was painting?
The idea made me sick to my stomach.
But I had no choice. I needed to impress Jenna like never before. Gritting my teeth, I picked up my phone and drafted a text to Greg: Mind if I come up and paint? I have your key if you’re not home.
I shut my eyes and held my breath. He was probably out with some gorgeous doctor from work, who was gainfully employed, and couldn’t wait to pop out a dozen of his babies. I wondered if The Skipper would like her. . . .
Ping! Ping!
Squeezing one eye open, I slid my finger across the screen: Not a problem. I’m here and the door’s unlocked.
I let out the breath I’d been holding, then typed back: Thanks. I’ll be right up.
I pulled my long hair back into a ponytail, then changed into my painting clothes—a white tank and old black yoga pants. Then a terrible thought occurred to me. Just because Greg was home didn’t mean he was alone.
Chapter Six
Ten minutes later, I trudged upstairs to Greg’s condo. What were the odds that a gorgeous, single doctor would be home alone on a Friday night? Oh, so slim. Seeing him with another woman would be torture. Why did Greg have to win my auction item? Was the universe exercising a sick sense of humor at my expense?
At least Greg was quieter than my previous upstairs neighbor. I supposed that should count for something.
I stepped onto the “welcome” doormat that I’d picked out—a gorgeous camel-brown straw rectangle with chocolate-brown script and green bay leaves that reminded me of Greg. Actually, the leaves reminded me of a dream I’d had about the two of us running together on a forest trail at sunset, smiling and happy. Clearly, the mat represented my inability to accept what was healthy for me.
Greg had said the door was unlocked, but I knocked anyway. I mean, did I want to walk in and find him cuddling on the couch with some random woman? Um, no.
The front door opened and there he stood, looking incredibly hot in gray, athletic shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. Not exactly date-wear. Maybe he’d been working out? Hopefully alone. . . .
Sucking in a breath, I forced a smile. “Hello.”
“Hello, yourself.” He held the door wide, so I could slip past him. “The door was unlocked.”
“Was it?” I used my most innocent tone as I moseyed inside, and he shut the door behind me. I scanned his living room for any sign of a date. No woman’s jacket hanging on the antique coat rack I’d brought over yesterday. No lipstick-stained wineglass. No heady perfume. And, most importantly, no woman. “Are you alone?” I finally blurted, the suspense tormenting me.
“No.” He smirked, seeming pleased by my question. “The Skipper’s here.”
Whew. Only The Skipper. That was a load off. Even though Greg deserved to find a nice woman to settle down with, I sure didn’t need to catch the show.
As if recognizing his name, the little gray kitten came prancing into the living room, then hooked his neck around my ankle. Mew. Mew.
“Hey, boy.” I bent down, then scratched behind his ear. He made a purring sound that vibrated against my hand, and he seemed happy to see me. “Aw, you love that. Don’t you?”
Greg watched us for a moment, then slid his hands into his pockets. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks.” I stood, snuggling the sweet kitten, who kept burrowing his soft cheek against the back of my hand. “After the day I’ve had, it might put me to sleep.”
His brows came together. “Everything all right?”
“I got fired,” I blurted, before I had time to consider keeping such personal information to myself. Whatever. Not like my being canned was a big secret or anything.
“Oh, man.” He came toward me, lifted my hand, and held it in his own. “What happened?”
“Laid off, actually. Cost cutting, I think.” Butterflies danced in my belly from the feel of his skin against mine, dimming the horror of losing my job slightly. His thumb caressed the back of my hand, shooting tingles up my arms, and my breath caught in my throat. “They combined my position with someone else’s.”
“I’m sorry.” He gazed at me, wearing a concerned expression. Then his brows rose, and he gestured toward the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want that glass of wine?”
Alarms exploded in my head. My gaze whipped to his, searching. Was drinking how he dealt with stress? Did he have bottles of Scotch on hand to get through his demanding job? Or was I being majorly paranoid? So many possibilities and, sadly, none of them were shiny bright beacons of light.
I shook my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a ton of painting to get through.” I slipped my hand away from his, immediately missing the warmth of his touch. “I’d better get started. I’ll already be up late as it is.”
The crease between his brows remained. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
I nodded, then ambled down the hallway, setting The Skipper on the carpet outside the bathroom door. “I’m going to start prepping to paint,” I called out, then stepped into the bathroom. When I flipped on the lights, my gaze darted around the room, and my mouth dropped open. “What the . . .?”
When I’d left earlier today, the bathroom had been a generic white. Now, every inch was covered with the rich, olive-green paint I’d left here.
“Surprise.” Greg leaned against the doorjamb, watching my stunned expression with a satisfied look on his face.
I fought to close my mouth, which felt like a ten-ton rock. “You painted this yourself?”
“Yep.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “It was a good distraction from the pain of your earlier rejection.”
I almost blurted out that I’d felt the pain of my earlier rejection, too. I still did.
“Greg, I . . .” I hugged my belly, dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe he’d taken the time to do my job for me. “I’m speechless.”
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth turning up. “You haven’t even seen the other bathroom yet.”
I gaped at him a moment, then darted through the master bedroom, and into the master bathroom. Olive green. The entire room. Unbelievable. I heard him come up behind me and I spun around. “Why did you paint the bathrooms yourself?”
“To make you happy.” He tilted his head, giving me a side-glance that sent shivers through me. “Wish I could bottle your expression. I’d love to see that smile every day.”
I shook my head, unable to believe what he’d done. For me. Especially when he’d thought I was going out with another guy tonight. It made no sense. “You’re crazy.”
“Must be.” He stepped forward, that crease reappearing between his brows. “What happened to your date tonight?”
I backed up against the counter, then averted my eyes. “I canceled.”
He stopped in front of me, lifting my chin until my gaze met his. “Why?”
Staring up at him, with only inches between us, I said, “It didn’t feel right, so I didn’t want to lead him on.”
His fingertips brushed my jawline. “No man could accuse you of leading him on.”
“I don’t know about that,” I whispered. After all, I’d kissed him this afternoon, and that was pretty much all I wanted to do right now.
His gaze dropped to my lips, as if he were thinking the same thing I was. His mouth
lingered only inches away and invisible force tugged at me, drawing me toward him. Unable to resist, I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.
As soon as my mouth met his, my heart raced, and my worries disappeared. All that remained was Greg and me, in this moment. Olive-green walls closed around me, holding me like comforting arms, and the world felt warmer. Fuller. When his mouth opened, his tongue tasted mine, sending electric darts rippling through me. Oh, my. . . All I could think of was more.
Our mouths melted together in deep, endless kisses, and endorphins coursed through me like they did during a long run at sunset. My fingers skimmed over his muscular shoulders, up his neck, then threaded into his soft hair, and I pulled him even closer—unable to get enough. My legs turned liquid, but Greg held me steady against him. He trailed soft kisses along my jawline, then paused close to my ear, and whispered, “Sunshine . . .”
Tingles raced through me. The connection between us gripped every cell in my body. I breathed in his scent, fresh soap mixed with paint fumes. The stringent paint smell suddenly yanked me from the heavenly haze, bringing back the stress of bills, finding income, and all that rode on this decorating project. And, of course, my certainty that Greg and I could never be together.
I angled back, lightheaded, and blinked up at him.
Breathing hard, he brushed his fingers along my cheek, then leaned his forehead against mine. “Remind me to paint for you more often.”
I wanted to smile, but pressure mounted inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. “This was really sweet of you, but I need keep working. I have a lot more to do. If this article doesn’t go well, if I don’t get this advertisement for my business . . . I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Then let’s get to it.” He pressed his mouth to my temple, then laced his fingers through mine and led me into the hallway. “What’s next on the agenda?”
Biting my lip, I had to admit the offer was tempting. “Furniture shopping. But you’re not getting the way this works. You’re the client so I’m supposed to do the work for you.”
