“It’s easy. You know me. And this place is a mix and mess of furniture that doesn’t match. Other than a couple antiques that belonged to my grandparents, everything goes. I want to settle down, raise a family someday, so all I’m looking for is something functional.”
“Really.”
She tapped her pen against the clipboard. He fought back a smile. “Yeah. Really.”
“So you want to redecorate to parade the prospective brides around in something a little fancier than what you have now.”
Oh, she was getting pissed. He wished he could laugh. “Not fancy. I’m a simple man. I just want it nice.”
“Define nice.”
He loved the way her bottom lip twitched when she was annoyed. He wanted to grab it with his teeth and pull her against him. His cock ached. Damn, he wanted her in the worst way. But he wasn’t going to have her. Not tonight, anyway. “Decorate it in a way that would please you if you lived here.”
“Fine. I’ll make sure the litany of brides-to-be approve.”
“Great.”
“You’ll need to move out for a couple weeks.”
“I can stay down at the jail. There’s a bedroom and shower there.”
She stood and smoothed her skirt, pulling a sheet off the clipboard. “I’ll need you to list and tag the items that are staying. Someone from my office will call you in the morning to notify you what day we’ll start.”
“I hope it’ll be soon?”
She pursed her lips and studied him. “Have a candidate in mind for Mrs. McKay already?”
“You might say that.”
She had trouble disguising her surprise at his comment. “I’ll do my best to hurry things along for you, then. Wouldn’t want to keep the impending bride waiting.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
With a sharp inhale through her nose, since her lips were cemented shut in a tight line, she scooped up her things and stalked to the front door, practically pushing the screen off its hinges as she slammed through it on her way out.
Oh yeah. She was damn mad now.
He had her right where he wanted her. Furious, jealous, and confused.
God, he loved her.
redecorate. parade of brides-to-be. blair drummed her fingernails on her desk and tore through her catalogs, wishing she could redecorate Rand’s house like a sultan’s harem. Jewel-colored pillows, hanging swags, draping silks in every color of the rainbow. It would serve him right if she did.
Too bad she had professional scruples.
Asshole. Prick. Degenerate. Dickhead. She hated him. Hated, hated, hated him. With a passion that made her blood boil.
How dare he be so nice, so professional, so accommodating.
So utterly and completely unpredictable. She’d fully expected him to have a detailed outline of every piece of furniture he wanted and where, every color, every fabric, allowing her no leeway whatsoever. Instead, he blew her away by telling her to do whatever she wanted.
Her father had allowed her to redecorate one room in their house once. Right after she’d graduated from college. She’d made suggestions, but nothing she’d offered had been good enough for him. He’d changed everything. And his choices had been hideous, but of course he had to have control. Her mother hadn’t said a word. So typical. Blair hadn’t bothered to argue with him. It was his dime, after all. He’d wanted Early American ugly, and that’s what he’d gotten. The colors were dark, not a feminine touch at all. And it was their master bedroom. By the time Blair had finished, there had been nothing left of her mother in that bedroom.
Except her mother.
And her mom had pronounced it just lovely, had praised Blair for her work and told her father that his taste was wonderful.
Sickening.
But Rand, instead of doing what Blair’s father had done, had just given her free rein over his entire house. Had told her to decorate it the way she would if she lived there.
Except she wasn’t going to be decorating it for herself. She was going to be decorating it for some other woman. He’d just fucked her, while he was obviously already entertaining the idea of marrying someone else.
Son of a bitch. How could she have let her heart get involved in one night of glorious fucking? Because it sure as hell hurt at the thought of Rand marrying another woman, of some other woman having that backyard with those kids and dogs and that swimming pool.
Stupid fantasies, anyway. It had been a bet. And she’d done her part and fulfilled it. Now it was over. She and Rand were over.
And when she finished this project, she never had to think about him, see him, or speak to him again.
But she would do a good job on his house. She would design it as if she was the woman who was going to move in there, as if she was the woman who was going to have his children and create a life with him.
She’d show him he could trust her with his faith in her.
Because she was a professional who was damn good at her job.
Not because she cared about him.
seven
the house turned out perfect. blair’s stomach squeezed with both excited anticipation and bittersweet regret. She could live in this house, could be comfortable and happy here.
It was gorgeous, a place she would consider every woman’s dream, yet a house a man could enjoy living in.
And Rand was due any minute. She cruised through every room to make sure nothing was out of place, then ran to the front porch when she heard him drive up, her stomach twisting in knots.
She was never nervous about presenting her finished product to clients, but she was today. Nevertheless, she smoothed her skirt and presented a calm, professional demeanor, leaning against the door as he came up the stairs.
And tried not to drool as he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and stopped at the front step, resting his hip against the porch railing, whistling.
She’d done the front porch, too. Not much, of course, but enough that he’d notice. Or she’d hoped he’d notice. She’d left the porch swing, because she really liked that. Added extra-wide wicker chairs with cushions, a few hanging plants with colorful blooms, and a couple cement floor plant stands that greeted him as he walked up the stairs. They’d painted the porch, too, so it gleamed a bright white now.
“Damn. This is nice,” he said, tilting his head back and resting his palm against the butt of his pistol in his hip holster.
“It just brightens up the front porch a little.”
Her throat had gone completely dry. She hoped he couldn’t tell she was shaking. Honestly, why was she so nervous?
“I’ll take you on a tour of your new place, if you’re interested,” she said with a casual shrug.
“Sure. I can’t wait to see it.”
Rand didn’t know who was more nervous, him or Blair. She might be trying her best to hide it, but he saw it in the furtive glances she threw his way while she acted nonchalant and shrugged her way into a near fit.
For two damn weeks he’d been cooling his heels at his office, dying to sneak out here and see what she was doing, but holding true to his word and staying away. It took enormous willpower and lots of jacking off.
He missed her. Missed being around her, missed her scent, her smile, even missed annoying her. He really liked annoying her. He liked her riled up and angry, all miffed at him with righteous anger. Her face glowed when she was pissed off, her eyes sparkling with passion.