I pulled a cloth off one of the shapes, and a light-blue brocade settee emerged. At least I thought it was a settee. It was the sort of thing someone like me, whose main experience with furniture was thrift stores and Rooms To Go, would call a settee.
“Must be original to the house.” Landon hopped off the bottom rung of the ladder and wandered over to look at it.
The settee was pretty but stiff-looking, and the fabric hadn’t held up well. New upholstery, I wrote in my notebook. “Definitely not the kind of thing you sit on comfortably while reading a book.”
“What’s this?” Landon pulled the cloth off another piece. “Library table! Oh, this is excellent work,” he said as he examined the corners, carved drawers, elegantly turned legs and what looked like brass casters on its feet so it could be wheeled around. He stroked the wood of the six-by-four table. “Oak, I think.”
I pulled a cloth off another blocky shape. “Ah, here ya go.”
“Now that’s a man’s chair,” Landon said of the brown leather club chair.
“Is not!”
We exchanged a glance, a challenge, and then we ran for it.
Landon reached it first, laughing, and when I tried to put on the brakes so I didn’t crash into him, he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap. “I think there’s room for both of us.”
“No, there isn’t!” I squirmed, but I laughed even harder as he held on tight. Whoa. He had hard, muscled thighs, but that wasn’t the only hard thing I felt under my legs. “You win!” I said lamely as I wrenched myself away and tumbled onto an old Oriental rug.
He sat there, still chuckling and maybe just a teeny bit mortified.
“That’s a good whiskey-drinking chair,” I said as a distraction, then clambered up, dusting off my jeans. When I looked up, Landon was staring at my butt.
Yeah, so much for the distraction. I looked around. “Does that wall look broken to you?”
“Broken?” Landon hoisted himself out of the comfy chair, and I tried and failed not to notice the bulge in his jeans.
Gulp.
He approached the wall in question. On either side of the stone fireplace were elegant wood panels, a break from the bookcases. “Looks like some well-made wainscoting to me.”
“That one looks … off.”
He went closer and touched the indented panels to the left of the fireplace, then pressed his palms against the wood and rattled it.
“Don’t break it!”
“I won’t,” Landon said. “But it doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s what I thought. I mean, it didn’t look right. Maybe the house settling pushed it out of whack.”
And then he began pushing the wood. Sideways.
“What in the hell?” I came up next to him to stare as the whole panel pushed in and rolled to the left behind a set of bookcases. “It’s another door!”
“You mean two other doors.”
And so it was. Behind the sliding panel — the pocket door — was a more traditional door, oak with brass fixtures, set back just enough to allow for a doorknob.
“OK, that’s creepy,” I said. “Closet?”
“Good guess. But why hide it, and behind a second door, no less?”
“Maybe because the sliding door wasn’t secret enough. Maybe they wanted to lock it.”
He looked at the fluted glass knob, and then he looked at me. “Want to try it?”
I swallowed, reached out my hand gingerly and turned the knob. The door didn’t give at all. I pulled out the house key and inserted it into the keyhole. This time, there was no joy, even when Mr. Muscle tried it.
I frowned. I was tired and had to pee. But after seeing this awesome library, I was desperate to know what was behind the door. “Now what? Do we break it down?”
“That would be a shame. It’s a beautiful old door, and that hardware is gorgeous.”
“You and your hardware.”
“I’ve never heard any complaints before.” He shot me a sideways glance, eyebrow raised.
I couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Well, what do we do?”
He gave the door a good once-over. “The hinges look to be on the inside, so we can’t pop them … ”
“Locksmith?”
“You’re not in a hurry, right?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Then let’s try a skeleton key.”
“You have a skeleton key?”
“No, but most of these old houses have locks that can be opened with one of just a few keys. That’s how they did it back then. You can order them online.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’ll order them.”
I shook my head. “This is my project. I’ll order them.”
“My treat. Look, you never know when I’ll need them for a house refurb.”
“Yeah, while you’re building your Tuscan-tropical McMansions.”
Landon put a hand to his heart. “That hurt.” And actually, he did look sort of hurt.
“I — oh. I’m sorry.” I blinked away his hypnotic gaze. “OK. You can order the keys if you want. Now I’m dying to know what’s in there.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. The next question is, what are you going to do with this place?”
“The whole house, you mean?” I took a few steps into the room, sighed and shrugged. “Oh, hell. I have no idea. I mean, look at it. It’s a mess.”
He glanced around. “It’s a treasure.”
“The kitchen and bathrooms alone are going to cost a fortune.”
“You can go retro. Get some deals.”
“And then what? Live here? I mean, no offense, but I can barely afford to live with you, and I only did that because I couldn’t afford my own place and my mom’s house is way too small.”
“You own this place. Plus, you didn’t want to live with your mom,” Landon said.
“True.” My smile was thin. “Not after being a grown-up in the real world.” And after my introduction to the real world completely sucked.
“And you like me.”
I laughed, pushing down the memory of my disaster in Orlando. After today, I liked him a lot better than I used to. “This is highly impractical.”
“Not if you turned it into something. Bohemia would probably welcome this becoming a tourist attraction or a bed and breakfast.”
I shook my head. “Bed and breakfast? Cook and do laundry all day long? Not for me.”
“You could hire someone to do that stuff, maybe. Or how about an event venue? You do wedding videos, right?”
“Yeah, but — ” I didn’t want to do wedding videos for a living. But to make a little cash while I made films or had a great video marketing job … “I don’t know if I want to run an event venue.”
“You hire someone for the details. It’s a business. You borrow a little, make it work. This place is right on the edge of the riverside residential area and close to downtown. I’m sure the zoning board would approve the plan.”
“But this … this place … I can’t possibly borrow enough to fix up this place. I mean, what would this cost to fix up?”
His eyes narrowed, and I could almost see the numbers flashing in his mental calculator. He shrugged. “Not sure. Half a mill?”
“Half a … of a million dollars?” I sat on the settee, and a spring sproinged as I tried to breathe.
He chuckled and set a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t say a whole million dollars, but then again, you can spend as much as you want fixing up this place. Maybe a quarter mill if you do it smart. You can do it. The city has some historical preservation grant money it’s trying to spend. You can get a business loan. And you can do a really great fundraiser here to get you started. People all over Bohemia want to save this house. If you build it, they will come.”
“Like a bake sale is going to save this place.” I looked up at him but didn’t jiggle too much, because I liked his hand on my shoulder, especially because it had slid toward my neck and was now kneading the knotted muscles there.
“A really good fundraiser gets you seed money. Then you can figure it out. Worst case, you make just enough to get it into salable shape. Though I’d hate to see you get rid of it. It’s — it’s special.” He had a wistful look in his eye.
“Says the home builder-renovator. Though I have to admit that it’s charmed me just a little.”
Just then, a strange creak seemed to shudder through the room.
“I think the ghost likes you.” Landon’s eyes twinkled.
“And then there’s that.” I looked around warily, telling myself that sound was just an old-house noise. “Say I wanted to keep it. I can’t build — rebuild this from scratch without a dime to my name. Just for starters, how am I going to get it in shape for any kind of fundraiser?”
He gave my neck a last gentle squeeze, crossed his arms and smiled knowingly. “Me.”
Chapter 7
After jury-rigging the mansion’s old gate back into place, Landon talked me into lunch at the Diamond. Officially the Double Diamond Diner, it was a mid-century gem in downtown Bohemia with an awesome neon sign and a menu full of hearty classics. I readily agreed, because I wanted to pick his brain. I wasn’t altogether assured by Landon touting himself as the secret to my success with Milkweed Mansion.
The business lunch crowd thronged the place, but a friendly waiter found us a two-top. If my friend Millie still worked here, we would’ve had a nice, cushy booth, but I’d learned the hard way that you have to make the best of what you get.
We both ordered iced teas. I asked for a Reuben; Landon, a burger; and when the drinks arrived, I started my interrogation.
“What makes you think renovating Milkweed Mansion makes any sense for someone as broke as I am?” I asked him.
“It’s not a burden,” Landon said. “It’s an opportunity.”
“Taking on something like that scares the hell out of me,” I admitted.
“That’s because you didn’t grow up with my dad. Business is all about risk. If you want to grow, you have to take risks.”
“A noble idea, but I took a chance on my first job, and it blew up in my face.” I didn’t mention that the man who went along with the job assisted in my personal implosion. “I’d rather go with someone I can” — whoops! — “something I can handle this time around.”
He raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his tea. “Wait a minute. What happened with your first job? You worked in TV, right?”
“Yeah, while I was finishing my master’s. I was an assistant director on a new kids’ show produced in Orlando.”
“That sounds pretty damn good for a first job.”
“Doesn’t it?” I said wryly. “Only the show sucked, and even when I stepped in as director when the first one left, the boss kept blowing off the ideas I had to make it better. Plus he was an asshole on multiple levels.”
Landon’s eyes were a little too penetrating. “You had a thing with him?”
“WHAT?” My tone was all protest, but I looked everywhere except at Landon and drained half my tea to avoid a more reasonable answer.
“Sorry. Not my place to ask. But you can tell me.”
“We live together,” I said, “and I don’t tell you anything. Why would I start now?”
He shrugged. “You haven’t gotten to know me before now.”
Ouch. It was true. He was just this hunky guy who came and went, left his socks on the living room floor, and took my checks for half of the rent. He wasn’t around much. I’d assumed he was partying all the time, mostly because of his jokes to that effect.
“I haven’t given you much of a chance, and I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I’m just trying to start over, you know? And no offense, but getting buddy-buddy with the Don Juan of Bohemia isn’t really good for my head space.”
He chortled. “Don Juan? What do you think I do every night? I hang out with my friends sometimes, but most of the time, I’m working.”
My face heated. “That’s not the impression you gave me.”
“I enjoy Bohemia’s bars, but mostly I’m working.”
“What about all the dates you brag about?”
“What about them? The women do find it hard to resist me.”
“Gah!” I exclaimed in disgust as he grinned. “And you wonder why I think what I do?”
“You’re just so easy.” He waved a hand when he saw the steam coming out of my ears. “Not that kind of easy. I mean you’re so easy to tease. Sensitive, I guess.”
My reply was brittle. “Ever think there’s a reason I’m sensitive?”
“The guy, right? Your boss?”
“Will you stop doing that?”
“What?”
“Reading my fucking mind. Oh, shit.” I cradled my face in my hands.
He lowered his voice. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but you can talk to me, you know. I’m not judging you. Tell me about him.”
“I don’t want to tell you about him. I haven’t even told my mother about him.”
“She’s nice,” Landon said. “Maybe you should talk to her.”
“I don’t want her to know I fucked up the way she did.”
Now both of his eyebrows shot up. “You did? Do you — did you have a — ”
“No, no.” I couldn’t help a bitter laugh. “No babies. I know how to use birth control. Of course, the best birth control is saying no to assholes like him. And in case you’re wondering, he wasn’t married. He was just a guy with a lot of power.”
“Power is attractive to girls, I guess.” There was something grudging in his tone.
“Hell, no, that’s not why I — look. He sold me a line, OK? I hadn’t really had boyfriends before him. I was too busy going to school. Getting a master’s that so far has turned out to be less than helpful and going into debt besides. If anything, the power difference — him being my boss — was a complete turn-off, and eventually it totally burned me when he blacklisted me with all his contacts in Hollywood. But before that happened, he told me everything I wanted to hear.” I bit my lip, trying to shut myself up.
Landon seemed awfully interested in my lip.
I plucked the lemon slice off my iced tea and threw it at him.
“What?” he exclaimed, looking up to my eyes again. “What did he tell you that you wanted to hear?”
“Looking for pointers?” I asked dryly.
“Baby, I don’t need pointers.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and just then our food arrived, so we spent a few minutes sampling the delicious fare. The sandwich was good, but the fries were perfect, and I knew from past experience they were excellent hangover food.
“So what did he tell you?” Landon pressed after we’d made a dent in the food.
“You want the full guide to seducing Kayla Fetherole?” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“How about a milkshake?” he asked.
How did he know about my thing for vanilla shakes? “Get out of my head.”
“No, really. Can we get milkshakes? My treat. I love them here.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “But it’s good to know they turn you on.”
“Oh, geez.” I tried not to be hypnotized by the Fireworks. Gawd, that smile. “Shut up. Yes on the milkshake.”
“Good. Vanilla OK?”
“Vanilla is mandatory.”
Landon chuckled, waved our waiter over and ordered them. “Now tell me what the guy said to you.”
“Really?” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to go into the grisly details, but he told me how talented I was. How he had projects going in Hollywood that I’d be perfect for after we had a couple of years of the kiddie show in the can. He had money and means. He could’ve made it happen. I killed myself going to school and working for that show at the same time, thinking it was all building to the next step. But right after I got my degree last December, his crappy show got canceled and I got canceled, too. He went back to California, burning down my hopes as he went, telling everyone I was the reason the show tanked.”
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“But you had a relationship.”
“Not like I thought. I think he resented that I had better instincts than he did. He rejected my ideas that would’ve saved the show. He had an ego as fragile as a moth’s wing. As ratings went downhill, I was a constant reminder of his failure. And it turns out the relationship was just him wanting to fuck the latest young fool in his orbit, so there’s that.”
Landon looked angry and uncomfortable at the same time. “I’m not sure what to say to that. He was a dick. I guess he couldn’t resist taking advantage of someone as pretty as you.”
“That’s hardly flattering.” I glowered at him. “He used me. And then all he cared about was saving his reputation at the expense of mine. He was calculating and selfish. Not unlike the Sperm Donor, I figure. The absentee father who had one last way to make sure I didn’t get a share of his fortune, and that was to make sure he gave me the worst piece of it.”
“Milkweed Mansion?” Landon gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s the jewel in the crown. Worth taking a risk on.”
“Optimist.”
“Guilty,” he said, polishing off his last fry. He looked at me curiously. “Would you want his fortune?”
“No. Not from someone who never wanted me. Though any of old Max Kantera’s money would have gone a long way toward helping me get back on my feet. My salary on the TV show was pretty good, but I spent most of it trying to pay down my student loans.”
“I’m grateful I don’t have those. I took a few courses in architecture and design, but I never got my degree.”
“Architecture? Design?” I cocked my head at him. “Why aren’t you doing that now?”
“I’d really like to run my own firm specializing in restoring old houses, but I have family obligations.”
“Aren’t your ideas worth taking a risk on?” I echoed his words.
“Touché. I’ll be doing more of my own thing in the future if I get my way. Ah, here we go!” The snowy vanilla shakes had arrived in tall, curvy glasses, the sides gleaming with condensation, the tops fluffy with whipped cream and kissed by a bright red cherry.
I ate the cherry and used the long spoon to scrape off the whipped cream, relocating it to my plate in spoonfuls. I liked whipped cream, but mostly I saw it as a barrier between me and the frozen goodness of the shake.
Bohemia Chills Page 4
