“Nothing big. I helped his grandson out of a jam this past winter is all.”
“More like he bailed the boy’s sorry ass out of jail,” Erik said, bursting through the swinging door. “You’re all set,” he said to Sophie. “I checked all the faucets, and they’re working fine.”
She suppressed the urge to hug him. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say so. You forget how much you depend on running water until you don’t have it for a few hours. Thank you so much.”
“Anything for a ‘friend’ of Grant’s,” the older man replied with a knowing grin. Sophie was so grateful for his assistance, she let the misunderstanding slide. “Besides, my wife would have killed me if she ever caught me making a lady wait for her shower.”
“You’re wife’s a wise woman,” she told him.
After having her coffee offer declined and promising she would call him for all her plumbing needs, Sophie walked Erik to the door. She assumed Grant would leave with his friend as well, but he surprised her, hanging back in her doorway.
“Still have half a cup of coffee,” he pointed out when she shot him a frown.
Sophie tried to work up some indignation but couldn’t. He did, after all, get her water back. “You really didn’t have to make the man come by so early,” she said, pushing open the kitchen door.
“You’d rather wait all day?”
“Absolutely not. I love the fact he stopped here first.” It saved her from having to trek all her belongings to David’s apartment, along with keeping her from wasting part of her morning on the phone.
She contemplated the liquid in her cup, thinking once again how the color resembled Grant’s eyes. There was a question she’d wanted to ask since Erik spoke earlier. “Was he telling the truth? Did you bail his grandson out of jail?”
He waved off the incident as though he was chasing off a fly. “Kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time is all. Erik and I were working on a project together at the time, so when Bryant couldn’t reach his grandfather, he called me.”
And Grant rode to his rescue? She thought of other late-night phone calls. The shrill ringing of the phone shattering whatever temporary calm had settled in the apartment. The pleas for help. The promises that this time would be the last time. Didn’t matter which parent made the promise because there never was a last time. There was only chaos and drama. So much drama it made you sick. Until you moved as far away as possible and hoped those phone calls would never find you again.
“He’s lucky you took the call,” she said quietly.
A dark look came over his bright features, so dark it made her forget her own shadows. “That time, anyway,” he said over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Bryant gets into trouble often?”
“What?” He looked surprised she’d spoken. “No,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “Not at all. That was a one-time, stupid kid mistake. He learned his lesson.”
What then caused the shadow that crossed his face? The bleak, distant state that killed the sparkle in his eyes. Grant Templeton wasn’t as laid-back and carefree as he would like the world to believe.
Conversation over, they stood and sipped their coffee in quiet. A strange kind of silence, it was, too. Unnerving and serene at the same time. For while she was far too aware of his presence—the way he breathed through his nose, the rustle of fabric when he raised his arm, the soft slurp when he sipped his coffee—she found the sounds strangely natural. They were the kinds of sounds she always imagined a home would be full of.
In the back of her mind she knew she should get to her much anticipated shower, but she didn’t move. It was the need for more caffeine. Two nights with too little sleep had her needing extra fortification.
Keep telling yourself that, Sophie.
“Behind you.” Grant’s voice broke the silence. “That’s where I’d put the window.”
Sophie looked over her shoulder and straight into a cabinet door. “You think? What happened to not touching the original fixtures?”
“Guess old habits die harder than I thought.” His attention returned to his cup, a little more somber than before. “It really is the perfect spot for a window, though.”
Sophie studied the space, trying to picture a window instead of a wood door. She only saw cabinet.
“Would I get sunshine?”
“Enough.”
Enough sounded good. “Tell me more.” She was starting to get excited. A voice in the back of her head suggested part of her enthusiasm was to brighten his voice again. Even so, she wanted to hear what he had to say.
And boy did she hear. For the next several minutes he laid out suggestions, weaving a spell of mental images that left her captivated. Although to be honest, if asked, she didn’t think she could repeat a single idea. What seized her attention was the authority with which he spoke. Clear, strong-voiced. There was no doubting his vision. And the way he demonstrated each idea with his hands—gesturing about the small space with grace and surety—she could easily imagine him making those suggestions reality.
Bet he could do a lot with those hands. She had to bite her lip at the thought.
“Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought,” she said when he finished. A lot. Plus he spoke with a knowledge she was ashamed to admit she didn’t expect from a young, live-in-the-moment contractor. Another layer to ponder. It was clear he had much more expertise than she gave him credit for.
“More than I should,” he admitted. Was that a blush or a shadow on his cheeks?
“Regardless, your ideas are amazing. Too bad I don’t know a good contractor.”
“Too bad indeed.”
The carousel of plastic coffee pods sat on the counter from when Grant first used them. Empty cup in hand, she moved across the room, selected one and popped it into the chamber, all the while trying not to feel Grant’s eyes on her. There was a soft gurgling noise and the smell of dark roast coffee filled the air as the machine began brewing.
It was a bad idea. She knew less than nothing about him, even less about his work skills. Regardless, her next words came out before she could stop them. “I don’t suppose you’re interested.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, sweetheart.”
Oh, but it was way too early in the morning for her stomach to be quivering. “I meant the kitchen. I was wondering if you’d be interested in the job.”
“Oh, that.”
Could his voice be any flatter? She’d heard him let out a long breath. “We’ll see,” he answered finally.
Again with the “we’ll see.” Only this time, instead of being vague, it sounded resigned. “You don’t want the job?” Why spend all this time waxing on with ideas then?
“I’m very selective about the jobs I take on,” he replied.
“You don’t say.” She reached to take her mug from the coffeemaker. “I didn’t realize contractors could afford to be picky in this economy.”
“Historical renovator, and I can,” he corrected, joining her on her side of the counter.
The arrogance in his voice was overwhelming, too much so if you asked Sophie. However, if he was trying to hook her interest, the tactic worked. “Tell me then,” she asked, unable to help herself, a habit she seemed to have developed around him, “what kind of projects do you take on?”
“Ones that interest me, or that are special. A rare building, an interesting concept.”
He was holding something back, but she couldn’t tell
what with all the cockiness wrapped around his answer.
“And my kitchen isn’t interesting or special?” she had to ask.
“Unfortunately, you’re both.”
Sophie frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“Means you could tempt a man into doing most anything.”
Goose bumps ghosted across Sophie’s skin. When had he moved so close? And for that matter, were they still talking about her kitchen, because she wasn’t so sure.
Callused fingertips caught the edge of her jaw, forcing her face to turn right. His breath smelled of peppermint and coffee. Sophie struggled not to lick her lips.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re incorrigible?” she asked.
He lifted her face closer. Light as his touch was, Sophie could feel every bump and rough patch, every pinprick of pressure against her skin.
“All the time.” His eyes dropped to her mouth.
This time Sophie did lick her lips. And held her breath. And leaned closer…
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Sophie slammed on the brakes, bringing the moment to a screeching halt by bolting toward the door.
“Will you look at the time?” she babbled, sounding like a complete idiot since, other than the digital display on the microwave behind her, there wasn’t a clock in view. “I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get into the shower.”
“It’s only six-thirty.”
Figures he could see the clock.
“Exactly. I’m usually on my way to the office by seven.” Some days. Never mind she planned on sleeping in today. Inside her stomach, her nerves were doing the triple jump. Hop, skip, plunge. What on earth had she been thinking?
She wasn’t. That was the problem. Her brain—and body—developed a whole new set of behaviors around him. Ones she didn’t recognize.
Like the way her insides shook just now. “I’ve going to go now,” she announced. As if the flight weren’t obvious. “Feel free to take your coffee with you. No sense wasting a freshly brewed cup.”
“You’re the one who brewed the second cup.”
“Right. I forgot.” Fortunately, she had her back to him so she was spared looking at his amused expression. “Do you mind letting yourself out, as well?”
“If that’s what you want me to do.”
Okay, he didn’t just drop his voice a notch when asking the question, did he? “Yes, that’s what I want. Thank you.”
Her hand was on the door, and she was about to push when she regained a sliver of her senses. “And thank you again for bringing Erik by. I really appreciate it. Especially after I was so…” Oh, Lord, the word faded right out of her head.
“Anyway, I guess that means I—” inwardly she winced, realized what she was stupidly about to say “—owe you again.”
Sophie gasped as his breath tickled the back of her neck. He was standing close again. Whether on purpose or by coincidence, she couldn’t say, but from the spreading heat, her body obviously did. “No problem. We can negotiate how you can pay me back another time.”
Her arm began to tingle as he leaned even closer, his arm tickling the hair on hers as he reached past her and laid his hand on the door next to hers. “Enjoy your shower.” Dammit, but his voice dropped again.
“Oh, and by the way,” he added, pushing the door open. “Erik said you might have to let the hot water run for a bit before it kicks in.”
That’s all right, thought Sophie, rubbing her tingling forearm. Cold water would do just fine.
* * *
That, Grant thought, watching the door swing back and forth, was…interesting. Definitely worth getting up early for. Though he wouldn’t admit it to Erik, he owed the plumber now.
Calling his friend occurred to him last night during the ninth inning. Right after he pictured Sophie banging on his door because the plumber she hired didn’t do a good enough job. And while Sophie on his doorstep wasn’t an unpleasant idea, he figured why not cut short the inevitable glares by getting the one man he knew would fix the problem right the first time? Rousting Sophie from bed had been the added bonus. Gave him a chance to sneak another peek at the Sophie he met last night. The clean-scrubbed, mussed-hair Sophie.
Oh, yeah, he definitely owed Erik.
Things did get a little unnerving when he slipped into his old role rattling off design ideas. Scary how easily that happened. Again, it was Sophie. Something about her description last night triggered his inspiration. He found himself wanting to give her the kitchen she envisioned.
In a way, his desire to do so rattled him as much as the slip. Women didn’t inspire him for the most part, at least not so far as wanting to please them. Designwise that is. Sophie was the first. His disdain for Etta’s kitchen must have gotten to be too much for him to control.
Or it was Sophie. He rubbed his fingers together, reliving the feel of her skin. His neighbor wore flushed well. Real well. Damn shame she backed away before things could get even more interesting.
Next time, he decided. Smiling to himself, he poured Sophie’s untouched coffee into his cup. Next time.
* * *
“Everything all right?” David asked when she called. “You sound distracted.”
Distracted was an understatement. Try horrified, disturbed, off balance. “Everything’s fine.” I almost kissed my upstairs neighbor in the middle of an impromptu job interview is all. “Late night.”
“Figured as much. I caught the early morning financial report. Looks like you’ll have an equally busy day.”
“I’ve already heard from Allen.” His voice mail had been waiting for her when she retreated from the kitchen. An electronic reminder to keep her head on straight. “We have a meeting first thing.”
“Sounds like you’ve become his regular go-to person in a crisis.”
“I think so.” You’d get no complaints from her—Allen’s favor bode well for when the company decided to name a new manager.
In the distance, she heard the click of her front door; the sound of Grant leaving. After his comment about the water, she’d pushed past him and gone to her bedroom so quickly she hadn’t realized he’d lingered. Must have decided to have that coffee after all. Was it her imagination or did the apartment suddenly feel emptier? Had to be her imagination.
“…water back.”
“What?” She hadn’t realized David spoke.
“I said you must be glad you got your water back.”
“Very. You don’t know how much you appreciate running water till it’s gone.” She’d said the same thing to Erik and Grant. “Plus, I don’t have to put you out now.”
“You weren’t putting me out. We could have had coffee.”
“True. We’ll have to wait till this weekend now.” Sophie looked to the floor, a guilty knot in her stomach. Another reason she should be ashamed of her behavior back in the kitchen. She and David had an understanding.
“Which reminds me,” David said. On the other end of the line, there was the rustle of paper. “This Friday, the Bar’s Business Law Division is hosting an event at the Natural History Museum. Networking-wise it makes sense to attend with a guest.”
“Sure,” she accepted, swallowing her reluctance. After her behavior, she felt too guilty to say no, even if going out on Friday did go against their usual routine.
“Wonderful. The event will be good for you, too. You’ll meet some great contacts for when you make managing director.”
“Sounds great.” Sophie smiled a guilty smile.
That was another thing. David understood her priorities. He looked out for her career. He was good for her.
She finished the call by promising to talk with David later in the day. Then, hanging up, she looked at her reflection. The woman in the mirror had a grim expression.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, flirting with Grant like that,” Sophie told her. “The man’s not even your type for crying out loud.”
David was. In fact, he was exactly the kind of man she should be wanting. Stable. Mature. Age-appropriate. He wouldn’t show up on her doorstep by surprise or turn a discussion about kitchen renovations into some kind of seductive game. Nope. With David, what you saw was what you got. The man he was this Friday night would be the same man she would see next weekend, and all the weekends after that. Consistent. No surprises. No hints of unfinished business. Just the way she preferred.
Simply put, David fitted in to her plans. Her neighbor, with his T-shirts and peppermint aura, did not. End of story.
CHAPTER FIVE
SOPHIE and Grant didn’t cross paths for the rest of the week. Sophie told herself the feeling in her stomach was relief, especially on Thursday when she thought she saw him at the mailbox only to discover it was someone from the fourth floor.
Friday afternoon, however, she came home to find a large white bathtub on the sidewalk. On any normal day, the sight in itself would have startled her, but she was too distracted by the sandy-haired man standing next to the tub.
Hands planted on his narrow hips, Grant didn’t notice her approach. Good thing since she needed a moment to recover from the wave of attraction that crashed over her the second she saw him. It was as though the man released pheromones that made her body react as if it had a mind of its own.
Catching her breath, she put on her best nonchalant voice. “Interesting place to install a bathroom.”
Caught off guard, Grant looked up quickly, his brown eyes catching the light and looking so close to golden it made Sophie’s head swim. “I’m waiting for the delivery guy to park the truck so we can carry her upstairs. Apparently he has a thing about leaving the truck double-parked and unattended.”
Mr. Right, Next Door! Page 6
