His By Design (6 page)

“Yeah,” she responded to Amanda’s declaration of freedom, “let’s head over to the marina and indulge ourselves in a couple of margaritas. Great. Seven-thirty, then? I’ll meet you there.”

That would give her enough time to clean up and change into clothes that would make her feel like a woman instead of a workman.

Two could play the ‘I’m not interested’ game.

Chapter 6

By the time Zoe arrived at the marina bar, Amanda had already snagged them a booth overlooking the bay. The last rays of daylight were turning the sky electric blue along the horizon and a few of the brighter stars pricked the evening sky.

She slipped her jacket off and slid onto the seat opposite her friend. “Thanks for joining me. I hate to drink alone.” She smiled up at the waitress, “I’ll have a margarita, please. Rocks. Salt. Patron.”

“And you, Miss?”

“A glass of pinot grigio, please,” Amanda replied, keeping her gaze on Zoe. “So. What’s up?” she asked as soon as the waitress was out of earshot. “You sounded . . . annoyed when you called this afternoon. Is anything wrong?”

“Other than me fantasizing about the hunk I hired to do the renovations?” She looked heavenward, then shrugged. “How stupid is that? The first time I spoke to him I thought he was a cocky, smart-aleck asshat, too confident in his animal magnetism for his own good.” She sat back as their drinks were delivered then picked hers up and took a healthy swallow. “Now I see why he’s so confident. I might as well be made out of iron, because all I want to do is get as close to that magnetism as possible. Preferably without any clothing cluttering things up.” She took another swallow.

“Well, I guess . . . There’s nothing innately wrong with those feelings. We all have them.” Amanda stared down into her drink. She blinked a few times and squared her shoulders. “Is it just that you don’t want to have a relationship with the hired help?”

“Well, yeah. I spent a lot of effort setting boundaries the first couple of days we worked together.” She toyed with her almost-empty glass. “Now I’m the one who wants to jump his bones and he’s the one keeping me behind that line I drew.” She raised her glass at the passing waitress and who responded with an affirmative nod. “I’m a mess. If there is one thing that pissed me off when I was an employee, it was fighting off my boss’ advances. Especially since I had to do it without getting him mad enough to fire me. I do not want to turn into my old boss,” she finished emphatically.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait until the renovation is done before you jump his bones.” Amanda sounded amused but her humor seemed forced.

Zoe sipped her second drink. “I guess that’s the only solution.” She let out a sigh. “So, tell me, do you have a boyfriend around here? Or a secret lover?” She raised her eyebrows, anticipating a few details about Amanda’s love life.

“No. No . . . boyfriend.” Amanda swirled the wine in her glass. “My fiancé was killed in Iraq this past April.” She took a sip of wine and avoided Zoe’s gaze.

“Oh damn! I’m so sorry, honey.” Zoe reached across the table and took Amanda’s hand. Now she really felt like a jerk, complaining about her lust-filled thoughts about Jeff while Amanda coped with— She couldn’t imagine the grief. Probably a lot like she’d felt when her mom died. Lost, alone, depressed, only more so. When you lose your soul mate . . . oh god. She squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Just forget about my bitching. If I’d have known, I’d never have even brought it up.”

Amanda shook her head. “No. Don’t apologize. How could you have known?” Her eyes intense, she continued, “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, Zoe. My heart may be broken, but I have to get past this and move on with my life. That’s why I moved down here from Annapolis. There were too many memories back there. I’m so glad you asked me to come out tonight. I was turning into a hermit and I needed something to think about besides my troubles.” She flipped her hand over and gave Zoe’s a squeeze in return.

Zoe winced and snatched her hand back. “Splinter.” She peered at the spot and gently explored it with her other index finger. “Jeff bought gloves for me to wear, but they’re so bulky and they make me really clumsy, so whenever he’s not looking, I take ‘em off.” She ducked her head guiltily. “If he catches me without them and safety glasses, I get a lecture. An occasional splinter is the price I pay for disobedience.”

“It’s nice to know he’s so concerned for your safety.”

Zoe nodded as she started in on her second margarita.

“Speaking of disobedience, I saw an ad in the paper I thought might interest you.” Amanda rummaged through her purse and came up with the scrap of newsprint. “You remember I told you to avoid temptation and not spend your money on anything you didn’t absolutely need?” She handed the ad to Zoe. “Well, I thought this might just be an exception.”

Zoe scanned the ad about an antique store in Cambridge that was going out of business. Then she realized what her friend had noticed. The owner was selling the store’s furnishings as well as the remaining inventory. Old wooden display cases. She glanced across at Amanda. “Oh yeah, I’ve got to see these. They might be exactly what I’m looking for.” Her excitement dispelled the dejection she had come in with, and in deference to her friend and accountant, she added, “And they could be cheap!”

“And absolutely necessary,” Amanda agreed, a small smile banishing the sadness she’d tried hard to hide. “I thought this might put some sparkle back in those eyes.” She grinned conspiratorially. “I can drive us there, but if you do find something you can’t live without, there’s no way it would fit in my Civic.”

Zoe drummed her fingers on the table, then brightened. “Jeff’s dad has a panel van. Maybe I could talk them into transporting whatever I buy. We ought to go tomorrow. I would hate to lose a display case to another eager beaver.”

“I’m free tomorrow, so I could drive us over. That is, if you can get away?”

“Of course I can get away. I’m the boss.” Zoe gave a smug smile.

“Then I’ll pick you up around nine tomorrow. I’d like to meet this guy who has your skirts all in an uproar, anyway.”

“How did everything go today?”

Jen was in
her usual seat at the table, his dad had the other chair across from her and Jeff used the step-stool drawn up between them. Cartons of Chinese take-out cluttered the tabletop.

Jeff helped himself to more kung pao chicken and another crab rangoon. “Good, over all. We were a few minutes late but more than made up for it.” He gestured with his chopsticks. “Dad, you were fantastic. We’ll have the rest of the plumbing finished by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, it’s what I do. All day, every day. After thirty-five years, I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” He winked at Jen.

She winked back. “And that’s why every general contractor in Fells Point wants you on their team.”

“Aaah.” He waved away her praise. “That boss of yours sure is easy on the eyes, Jeff. Seems like a nice young woman, too.”

Here it comes.
He knew his dad couldn’t resist the temptation.

“Don’t go there, Dad. Nothing is going to happen between Ms. Silvercreek and me. I’m not taking any chances that might keep Jen’s paintings from hanging on that gallery’s walls on opening day.”

“Well, of course not. But offering to buy her dinner or take her to a movie seems innocent enough.”

“And what if she sees that innocent invitation as a bribe to get ‘my’ paintings in her gallery? She’ll turn me down flat and that will be the end of a great opportunity.”

“But—”

Jen put a hand on his arm. “Stop it, Dad. Jeff doesn’t need your advice on who to date.”

Jeff shot her a look. Okay for her to give him advice on his love life, but not Dad?

His dad put his big hand over hers. “And how about you, baby girl? Are you doing okay here?” He looked around the remodeled motel room which Jeff’s carpentry skills had transformed into a cozy one-room apartment. “Do you get out much? Meet anybody new?” he asked hopefully.

She just shook her head. “You weren’t going to do this, remember? I’m fine, Dad. I get out as often as I want to. And I don’t want to meet anyone new, so let’s just drop the subject, shall we?”

“You make it sound like taking an interest in my children’s lives is a crime.” He shook his head and concentrated on his plate.

Jen and Jeff shared a look over his head.

For most of his childhood, Jeff had had a difficult relationship with his father. He was never into sports, and his preoccupation with art worried his blue-collar father. He was seven years old when his mom had brought home a can of Play-dough, and the first thing he made was a flower for her. She bought more Play-dough. He made birds. And bunnies. And butterflies. No trucks, no dinosaurs, no Jedi warriors. This, along with his slight build and almost angelic beauty, led his dad to the wrong conclusion.

Jeff spent years trying to allay his father’s fears about his sexual orientation. What hurt him the most was not that his dad thought him gay—he had no problem with gay people—but that the man thought Jeff was a coward for not ‘coming out.’ It wasn’t until the episode with Rusty when he was a freshman in high school that his dad was finally convinced. Still, his dad’s concern with his love life left some lingering doubts. He needed to change the subject before this conversation deteriorated any further.

“We don’t want to argue with you, Dad. In fact, I need to ask for your help with another part of the reno.”

That got him a brusque nod. “Sure. What do you need?”

“The skylights for Zoe’s studio came in today. As long as you’re here, would you mind helping me put them in? Zoe can’t help with that, she’s too small and doesn’t have the strength to hold them while I nail them in place. I was going to hire a temp to help me but as long as you’re here . . .”

“No problem.”

“Thanks, Dad, I appreciate it.”

Jeff started closing up the cartons and putting them away in the fridge. Conversation languished and his disgruntled father finished his dinner in silence, until Jen suggested she and he watch
Dancing with the Stars
.

Jeff shot her a grateful look, and she mimed him, “You owe me.” He nodded agreement and excused himself. “I’ve got some paperwork to do next door. Let’s get an early start tomorrow, okay, Dad?” His dad nodded and Jeff retreated to his studio.

He took out his sketch pad and pencil. His ‘paperwork’ was drawing Zoe’s face from several angles. He had a sculpture in mind that wouldn’t see the light of day until Jenny’s need for secrecy was past. These drawings would do for now but sometime in the future Zoe would have to pose for him.

Naked.

How he’d accomplish that he as yet had no idea. But he’d been giving it a
lot
of thought.

Jeff and his dad arrived right on time the next morning, bearing the usual gifts of pa
stry and extra coffee. He hoped they would thaw the somewhat chilly air that had settled in yesterday afternoon after he’d refused Zoe’s offer of pizza for lunch.

The door was unlocked and he assumed Zoe was in the back room. Finding it empty, he called up the stairs. “Zoe? You up there?

“Yes. I’m trying to decide what tile I want to get for the bathroom. Can you come up for a second?”

“Uh, sure.” He handed the bag of pastry to his dad with a shrug and took two coffees up to Zoe’s apartment. He was starting to think of it that way now that the rooms were roughed in.

He found her standing by the windows at the front of the building, the morning sun highlighting her delicate cheekbones and striking gleaming highlights in her dark-brown hair. She wasn’t dressed for work, but wore khaki slacks and a bulky oatmeal sweater that only accentuated her fragile bone structure. He handed her a cup.

“Tile?” he questioned.

“No, not really. I just wanted to ask you a favor, but not in front of your dad, in case you decided to say no.”

He couldn’t imagine any favor she could ask that he’d refuse, unless it was to stop dreaming of her every night. That would be a deal-breaker.

“Shoot.” He sipped his coffee.

“Well, two favors, actually. First, can you two get along without my help for a few hours today? I realize I’m not giving you any notice but this came up rather suddenly.”

Relief poured through him at the thought she would be out of the building while he and his dad did the potentially dangerous installation of the skylights. The idea that he might not be able to get along without her help made him want to smile, but he wisely kept that response to himself.

“Not a problem. Dad and I have quite a bit to do to finish up the plumbing and . . . stuff. We’ll struggle along without you. When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure, but probably after lunch. Which brings me to favor number two.” She hesitated.

“Come on, let’s have it. It can’t be that big a deal.”

“Amanda, my accountant, is taking me to Cambridge to look at an antique store that is going out of business. The owner is selling off the store furnishings as well.”

Again she hesitated.

“I know you offered to build some display cases for me. And I’m sure you would do a beautiful job. But if there are vintage wooden display cases that this guy is getting rid of, and they’re in reasonable condition, I’d like to use them downstairs.” She rushed on. “They would have such a craftsman-like vibe that I think they would add some of the ambiance I’m looking for. They wouldn’t be as spiffy as yours, I know but—”

It dawned on him that she was worried about hurting his feelings over some damned cabinetry. He pressed his finger against her lips to stop the flow of words. Normally he’d have assured her that was no problem. But any bit of guilt he could make her feel, the smallest amount of sympathy he could generate, would be one more reason she would agree to hang ‘his’ paintings.

“I understand.” He spread his hands and kept his voice neutral. “You should do what you think is best for the gallery you’re creating, and if having antique display cases floats your boat, then so be it. We’ll save money on the lumber I would have used for them, so that should help defray the cost of the ones you buy.”