Dirty Boy (43 page)

Authors: Kathryn Kelly

BOOK: Dirty Boy

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“I saw part of the house as I walked through to the kitchen. The walls and floors are excellent. The sitting area is a beautiful room. Something for everybody’s fancy. Who did the work?”

Scott’s question caught Jillian off guard. She didn’t want to explain her former contractor refused to complete her work because she didn’t know whether she would be able to pay him right away.

She still had thirty-five hundred dollars tucked away in her own personal savings account. Some form of instinct must have guided her in her decision to have a secret account.

However, that money was for food for the guests and other particulars for the inn. But she’d have to sacrifice part of it to bring the kitchen up to par with the rest of the house.

Gathering her thoughts to answer Scott’s question, she stood and took the mugs off the table, then brought them to the sink. At least, he hadn’t asked her why the same person hadn’t completed the job.

“The contractor was a person my fian…a friend and I decided on. But, at this time, he’s too busy to take on such a small job.”

Scott shook his head. “No job is too small for T & C. No matter how big the company gets, we’ll never get that arrogant.”

“That’s good to know.” Jillian rubbed her hands together in agitation, her heart thumping. Surely she wasn’t turning into a bundle of nerves in anticipation of hearing the cost for the work she needed to be done? And she was loath to think Scott’s virile presence caused the erratic beating. How could she be attracted to any man so soon? She’d vowed never to trust the male species again! She couldn’t be so fickle.

Handing her a piece of paper from his notepad, Scott stood. “You’ll find everything you want done itemized, Jillian. The total is on the bottom of the list.”

Jillian glimpsed the list, and her gaze glued to the last line—where the bid sat. The figures jumped out at her, made her breath catch in her throat. “Twenty-two thousand dollars!” she gasped. “What do you plan to do, decorate in baroque style?”

“I beg your pardon? A baroque kitchen?”

“Well, why not?” she said with a nervous laugh. “It’s an intriguing style.”

Heart sinking, Jillian skimmed over the list and looked at the price again. She couldn’t afford so much money at this time. The kitchen was always tidy and clean. She hadn’t had any complaints from the guests or demands from the Board of Health.

But the kitchen was out of sync with the rest of the house. It wasn’t old-
fashioned
. It was old
looking
. Besides, guests did wander in, and even if they hadn’t protested to her at what they saw, Jillian wasn’t sure what they thought. In the end, it was her guests and their opinions that mattered most.

If she were a guest at an inn and went into the kitchen and found it looking like the Breakfast Nook’s, what would she think? And, better yet, would she recommend it to anyone else?

She needed time to figure out how to pay for the work, work she wanted done
yesterday
. For what she needed, she didn’t think other estimates would be less expensive.

Did you believe that, she scolded herself, or are you telling youself that because of the man who will do the work?

“Actually, the cost would be between eighteen and twenty-two thousand. I gave you the top figure because I don’t like going back for more money over my original estimate. However, most of my customers are delighted to know they’ve spent four to five thousand dollars less than the quoted price.”

“How clever.” Jillian’s smile felt pasted to her face. “But isn’t it a little misleading?”

“A little, perhaps, but no one cares since everyone is usually satisfied.”

“Well, I’m sure I will be too. I…um…will get back to you tomorrow afternoon. I… have to consult with the Board…um…I mean my Board of Directors.”

Scott raised his thick eyebrows. “Your Board of Directors?” he asked with skepticism, glancing around. “A Board of Directors for this?”

“Why not?” Jillian muttered, glaring at him. “May I show you to the door? I have quite a few chores to do.”

“Of course. But I noticed a door right off the hall near the dining room. From what I gathered, I thought all the bedrooms were upstairs.”

Jillian’s face heated and she shifted from foot-to-foot. He
would
notice the stupid BDSM room, even as inconspicuous as she tried to make the door. “Um, that’s my storage room and not important at all.”

“Storage room?” He seemed to consider the words. “Great!” he finally said, advancing toward the room. “If you don’t mind let me see how big it is. That way I won’t have to drag my equipment over every day. If you don’t mind me using it, that is.” Before she could respond, he’d yanked the door open.

“No! Wait…” Jillian’s words ended on a groan. She peeped at him, unable to tell if he was smiling or smirking. The curl of his mouth was impossible to read.

“Why, Miss Riley, you’ve been a naughty girl.” Laughter rumbled from him.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she managed, his now-recognizable amusement not helping her mortification, increasing when Rave insinuated himself between her and Scott.

“It looks like a fuck-em-up-and-down-room to me,” Rave chortled and raised up her tube of lipstick. “I picked the wrong color.”

Studying the room, Jillian found herself speechless. As each new item arrived for the room, Douglas’s had excitement skyrocketed. He’d wanted the two of them to test everything, but, for some reason, she hadn’t been able to trust him enough to bind her or blindfold her. The St. Andrews’ Cross seemed like a torture device. The Tantra chair looked simple enough, but the whips, canes, and belts turned her off completely. One of her main objections to the room was her belief that she at least needed a working knowledge of each item. That way, if she opened it to the public and something went wrong, she’d know why.

Face it, girl. You’re a prude and totally vanilla, like Douglas accused you of being.

Added to her money woes, the thought depressed her a little further. Really, was it so bad that she preferred “vanilla” sex? Different positions were fine with her. Even a little hair pulling and having her ass hand-spanked. Not to mention she absolutely loved reading BDSM romances. Applying it to her everyday life, however, was something completely different.

Rave nudged her shoulder. “You should’ve told me about this little sex hole. My wife and I could really connect in here, Jills. It’s sound proof, isn’t it? We’re a couple of noisy fuckers.”

“Out,” Jillian snapped, her mortification complete at his double-entendre. “Get your correct lipstick and go.”

“Ohhh, poor baby, you’re redder than a beet,” he said, instead of complying. “That tells me who set this room up.”

She nodded. “To bring in more money.”

“Believe me, Jilly, if you market the room right, you can make a fortune.”

“I want this as a family inn. Not as a sex club. Two entirely different markets.”

“A family inn?” Rave persisted.

“I’ve clocked the distances between here and the Zoo. Here and the aquarium. Canal Place. The Riverwalk. It’s no more than a ten or fifteen-minute drive from here to any of those places.”

Rave waved off her explanation. “Get over your prudish ways.” He nodded into the room. “This is the answer.”

Rankled by Rave pinning the same prudish title on her that Douglas had, she shook her head. “Please, go,” she said, and backed away from the two men.

“It’s all right, Jillian,” Scott reassured her, following behind, as if he knew of her turmoil.

“Yeah, girl, it’s fine. But since your creepy partner talked you into having the feel good room, you should make the best of it. Unless he knocked you out and kept you prisoner while he decorated in there, your chance to object is long gone.”

This was so not the conversation to have in front of a man she was trying to hire as her contractor. A man she found quite attractive and charming. “I was well aware of what was going on, but he was supposed to be here to run the stupid room. I don’t know what to do with any of that stuff.”

“You can always learn,” Scott offered.

“Yeah? Who would teach me? You?” The moment the words left her mouth, she gritted her teeth.

“Nothing wrong with a little adventure every now and then,” he returned.

“Is every man into kink now?” she cried in frustration. “Am I the one so behind the times?”

“Yeah,” Rave said as Scott told her, “no.”

“Rave, what didn’t you understand about go?”

“Hold on to your knickers. I’m outta here. Bye again, Scott.” He hurried toward the staircase, whistling.

Her embarrassment acute, she could barely look Scott in the eye as they reached the kitchen. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she mumbled, studying her hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about that room and let me apologize to you for opening the door before you gave me your permission.”

She chanced a glance at him and the understanding on his face eased her a little. “No problem.”

He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more, then seemed to think better of it. “So long, Jillian,” he said at the front door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow for your answer.” He flashed her another smile, showing those impossible dimples, and straight white teeth.

“So long, Scott,” Jillian responded, watching him go to his van and get in. Just as he drove off, her housekeeper, Lucy Stafford, pulled up in the space he’d occupied.

Lucy had promised to help out during the next month and keep Jillian on track, even though she knew Jillian couldn’t pay her. Jillian was grateful to Lucy. One day, she’d repay the older woman’s kindness.

In the meantime, she hoped her Board approved Scott Martin’s price. If
not, just what would she do?

Acknowledgments

The book wouldn’t be what it is without some very important people who assist in making it happen. To Kaylene and Kim Osborn, thank you for your lovely designs. Your style gives my books an awesome edge. To my beta readers, Danni List Wener, Julie Patrizi, and Melanie Cooper, you all are awesome! Thank you for catching what I miss. To Valdas Miskinis, thank you for a lovely book cover. Finally, to my readers, you are all wonderful and you keep my spirits lifted. Without you, none of this would be possible.

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