Her eyes moved about the room with renewed curiosity. There was a nine-drawer mahogany dresser adjacent to the bed, with two cologne bottles sitting on its top. The remaining surface was bare. A blue polo shirt was laid across the chair in front of the small desk at the end of the bed. On the nightstand, a modern digital clock flashed the time in flickering red and behind it sat a silent cheap wooden one. An elegant, welcoming four-poster bed with a silver oval crest nestled in the middle of the headboard anchored the room.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, making her painfully aware of the narrow doorway, and of Patrick, who stood only inches away. She stepped out of the room into the doorway and one side of his body brushed against hers. Looking up, his intense gaze met hers. What she wouldn’t give to read minds. Okay, maybe just his mind.
She took a quick step back.
“Sorry,” he stammered.
She smiled politely, afraid if she opened her mouth the words, bump into me anytime might fall from her lips and embarrass her, him, and give a prospective client the wrong idea. “How many bed and bathrooms?” Focus, Josie!
“Three, and one bathroom.” He led her down the narrow corridor to the next room. “I didn’t have the other rooms cleaned, since I planned to renovate them right away.”
She nodded, despite the urge to lecture him on the dangers of dust and mildew. The other two bedrooms were sparsely furnished, and as dated as his; however, the pine flooring was one good thing going for him. The bathroom was old-fashioned, but large, and had a marble countertop.
“I’d like another bathroom. Is that possible?”
“It’s a challenge given the age of the house, but possible.”
“Good.”
“It might mean giving up space in one of the bedrooms or losing one completely.”
“Good to know.”
The rest of the tour consisted of a basement with cracks in the foundation; rickety, leaking plumbing; dents in the roof of the attic and an electrical panel with wiring from the Dark Ages. The outside had given the illusion of a stable structure and possibly mediocre electrical and plumbing, but it was worse than she thought.
“It’s a lot of work, but that’s why I advertised for a restoration architect and not just a designer,” he stated as they made their way back to the first floor.
His words regained her attention; her thoughts had strayed to the snug fit of his pants.
“What do you think?” he asked when they reached the kitchen.
Her head snapped up. Had he had read her thoughts? She cleared her throat, and realized she’d stopped taking pictures after seeing his bedroom. She hadn’t asked questions about his expectations for renovating the rest of the house. Nothing! Merely moved about each room in a daze as if it was her first renovation and nerves had paralyzed her silent. “It’s beautiful,” she choked.
“Beautiful?” he snorted. “That’s not a word I expected anyone to say. I was thinking in terms of renovations.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Pullman.” She pulled out her notebook. “It’s not often I come across a rarity like this house.” Or such a cute butt. “The built-in mahogany bookcases, stained glass trim above the pocket doors and bay windows are in good shape; however, the walls will need to be stripped, and the electrical and plumbing redone to facilitate the upgrades to the kitchen and the new bathroom. It’s a crumbling mess … ,” she said with delight before her voice trail off.
Stop talking, Josie! The last thing any owner wanted to hear was that their house was falling apart. Just because you love old buildings that doesn’t mean everyone else does. Next you’ll be boring him with its structural history. She cringed when she imagined the words “cute butt” falling out during her ramble, but his unchanged expression meant it hadn’t escaped. “Did you have other expectations, either with the renovations or the design?”
“I was going to gut the place, and completely renovate it to a modern style.”
Her heart almost stopped, and her smile slid off her face.
“I changed my mind.”
Her smile returned.
“Is there a way to incorporate modern elements without compromising the historical integrity?”
“There is,” she assured him. “I can restore its original beauty while combining modern touches that won’t change the charm and uniqueness of the house. I’ve done it with other houses. Excuse me.”
After retrieving her portfolio from the recliner, she placed it on the countertop and flipped through before and after photos of other renovation jobs. “These places were completely renovated inside and out in most cases; however, a lot of the original architectural structure and accents that made the homes unique were restored to their original grandeur.”
“These are fantastic!”
She gave him a half smile. “Thank you.”
He closed her portfolio.
“How long will it take to finish?” He asked, business tone returning.
“My first guess would be eight to twelve months, but I’d have to check a few things to be certain.”
“I need it finished in six months,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Why?” slipped before she could stop it. An invisible wall went up around him. Wow, he did that faster than she ever had.
“Do you really need to know?” his tone that of a politician who’d just been caught in an awkward situation, but adamant he had good reason.
“Not unless it affects the job. There’s always possibility of delays, Mr. Pullman, especially with a restoration as extensive as this one, so I can’t make guarantees. I can promise you, however, that I’ll do everything in my power to meet the final deadline,” she assured him.
Tension that held him as straight as a rod softened. “Thanks for not telling me what you think I want to hear.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence crackled between them.
It was now or never. She squared her shoulders for added courage. “Mr. Pullman.”
“Patrick,” he supplied.
“The truth is, Patrick, I came here to make you an offer.”
Surprise flickered in his green eyes and a devilish grin took over his polite one.
She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. His tabloid reputation with women wasn’t exaggerated after all. “It’s purely professional.” She gave herself a mental high five at the disappointed look on his face before continuing. “I could draw this out, but beating around the bush would be a waste of our time.”
When he didn’t respond or change his expression she continued. “I want you to hire me.”
One eyebrow rose in suspicion.
She bit her lip nervously. “My business is new and having a job with you would help establish it.” She left off that it was failing miserably. Her old boss was making it difficult to drum up business since she left him six months ago. Calling him a jerk would be a compliment.
“What about the clients for these jobs?” He pointed to her portfolio.
“They’re outside of Chicago, but more importantly, those jobs are affiliated with the company I used to work for, not my own company.”
His laughter didn’t reach his eyes. “Let me get this straight. You want me to give you this job, knowing it’s the first your company has done?” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I like what I see, but as I mentioned, I’m on a tight schedule and I can’t take a chance. A proven company is my best choice.”
“Those other companies have more than one project. You’ll be my only client, so you’ll have my full attention.” It wasn’t going to be easy, she had known it the moment this idea had come to her, but this was her only chance to set herself apart. Being overly confident was a risk she had to take.
“And please call me Josie.” She gave him the smile she used on clients to persuade them to use he
r design ideas. “I’ve been in this business for fifteen years and my abilities as a restoration architect are evident from my previous jobs.” She pulled out work references from a pocket in her portfolio. “These are statements from satisfied clients that confirm my reliability. My personal references verify my integrity and I’ve known my construction crew for years. They’re the best.”
The intensity of his gaze didn’t change.
Okay, this guy is going to need a little more coaxing than usual, but what did she expect, he was a lawyer. “I can attempt to dazzle you with wit and charm to convince you I’m the best choice for this job, but I’d rather let my work speak for itself.” She held her breath when he closed the gap between them.
Emerald eyes tried to read her mind, see if she was telling the truth. She welcomed it; whatever it took for him make him consider her offer.
“Accept my offer, Patrick. You won’t regret it.” She ignored her racing pulse, she wasn’t sure if it was nerves, or his closeness. The smell of his cologne that had tickled her nose when she first inhaled it now engulfed her senses, along with the faint scent of his skin. It was spicy, exotic, and masculine.
He leaned closer, and their faces almost touched. “Maybe you’ll regret your offer.”
His intimate tone made her toes tingle. “Not a chance.”
“Two other companies are bidding for this job.”
“You’ll choose me.” She squared her shoulder. “I’m the best at what I do. Neither have my experience or the diversity you need.”
He took a step back and her senses recovered. Oh, he was good. Too good.
His face remained expressionless as his eyes studied her further. What could be left? He’d stood close enough to hear her heart race and to check her bra size.
Gone were his mischievous eyes. In their place were the professional ones that greeted her at the front door. “I’ll call you when I make a decision.”
“I have some final checks to make that I’ll need for the estimate.”
“All right.”
She smiled, and quickly shook his hand, ignored the pull to be close to him again, and left. Well, that certainly hadn’t played out how she planned.
Half an hour later, she resisted the urge to slam the car door and instead, threw her clipboard on the seat. She took a deep breath and squeezed the steering wheel tightly. A job with a powerful Pullman would not only give her business the boost it needed, but open the door to high-end clients. However, if he didn’t choose her, she’d have to renegotiate with the bank, and wait for another suitable client. She could lose her business by then. “Damn it!”
Another client was probably better. The connection and unexpected attraction she felt with Patrick could make working with him — distracting. She had too much at stake for things like getting involved with clients … possible clients.
• • •
Patrick watched Josie’s blue Honda pull away from the sidewalk and frowned. He knew her, although he couldn’t put his finger on how or from where. He’d searched through the sea of faces he’d dated since Sharon, but none matched hers.
When they shook hands in the doorway, something strange happened. Heat had spread over him; his senses were bombarded by her presence and visions of her looking up at him, smiling, and reaching out to touch his face.
He was stunned and struggled to find his voice to ask her inside. She had walked past him so calmly she couldn’t have seen or felt what he had. That alone was enough not to hire her. He didn’t like complicated relationships.
Then there was her unwavering look when he attempted to intimidate her. She hadn’t backed down or had the decency to stammer the way most people did. Instead, she had stood there, and let him study her like an open book. The problem was, he liked what he saw, and not just the sincerity and confidence in her eyes, but the soft curve of her face, delicate caramel skin, and sexy, kissable lips.
He sat in the recliner she’d touched earlier and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He’d flirted with her. It was … unexpected. Decorum always! his mother’s words reminded him.
Josie’s offer had surprised him. He knew all about people wanting to use him or his family’s name. He swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat. At least Josie had the decency to offer him something tangible in return.
She had over fifteen years of experience, so that would make her well into her thirties, but she didn’t look a day over thirty. He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring on her finger, or signs that one had been there. Not that it mattered.
Her passion for restorations was evident along with her pride of prior projects. He’d watched her smile and stroke pieces of furniture in a way that had unnerved and excited him at the same time. Another stoke against hiring her.
She’d been right. With her diverse background, she could handle the restoration, the contractors, and the designing; she was the best person for the job. He loved this old house as much as his uncle had and didn’t want just anyone handling the restorations. It was his playground as a child and a place of comfort as a teenager.
Sadness squeezed around him. With his uncle gone, the last of the happy memories that lingered in the house were being choked out. Sorrow had plagued his uncle for as long as he remembered. The cause was a dirty secret no one could speak out loud, or even behind closed doors.
The knot in his stomach — and each complication that raised its head — said he needed to hire someone else. He hoped to God one of the other companies was just as qualified.
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