No Tan Lines (12 page)

Nicole was so happy, she didn’t mind the sugar sand that trickled into her white ballet shoes as she crossed the wide stretch of beach back to the boardwalk.

Shaye had warned Nicole that Kai’s day started early, and he was already working at the shop. Nicole hadn’t realized his
working
would include mussed hair and a bare torso. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.

She hated the fact that sexy thoughts continued to run through her mind when she looked at him. He was a tool-man fantasy. His belt was slung low, and every time he moved, it inched his jeans down lower.

He finally looked up but didn’t speak. He gave her no more than a quick once-over, as if he was inspecting a piece of drywall. He immediately went back to removing cracked, chipped paint off the wall.

The nerve of him,
Nicole thought, chewing on a fingernail sparkling with gold Midas Touch polish. She wanted to discuss specifics on the renovation, and Kai needed to listen. Yet he’d tuned her out. She wasn’t used to being ignored.

Miffed, she popped the beads off her neck with a loud
snap
. Kai glanced at her with a slow, quizzical look, then went back to dragging the squared-off scraping knife up and down the wall with long strokes. His shoulder muscles rippled, and his biceps bulged.

Nicole frowned. She refused to get sidetracked by him, even if his profile was strong and masculine. And was that a smirk she saw turning up the corners of his mouth?

Like he was enjoying her discomfort?

Nicole snapped the beads back together, then stepped over boards and debris as she crossed to the display case. She traced her fingers over the spidery cracks in the glass. Dust fluttered, and she wished it were fairy dust.

She needed more than magic to get The Jewelry Box open in time to attract the summer crowd rolling into town over the Fourth for the volleyball tournament. She’d chosen the shop name with great care. It came with childhood memories, some hurtful, some happy. She still had the plain walnut box her mother passed down for her jeweled keepsakes.

If only she could wave a wand and the shop would be finished. Kai, on the other hand, seemed in no hurry to get the job done. He slid his hand up and down the wall to check for holes as if he were in slow motion.

She couldn’t help staring at the smooth muscles of his back. He knew she was watching him, but he made no effort to put on his T-shirt. It sat in a rumpled heap in a corner.

She cleared her throat loudly.

He squinted in her direction. “Problem?”

He was her problem. She opened her purse and pulled out a notepad. She’d written down twenty-two concerns. She planned to address each one. Right there, right then.

She started with, “How long will the renovation take?”

He scratched his chin. “A day or two, possibly a week. The more interruptions, the slower my pace.”

She had every right to interrupt him. This was her store. A mere few days’ work gave her pause. How could he create her dream shop in such a short time? “I don’t want shoddy craftsmanship.”

He widened his stance, then slowly hooked one thumb inside his tool belt. “I’ve brought the electric up to code and will fix the plumbing next. You’ll get new drywall and a coat of paint. The rest is up to you.”

“I feel shortchanged.”

“Take your feelings and leave.” His tone was low and dismissive.

She dug in her heels. “I’d be happy to assist you.” She would watch him closely, be sure he didn’t cut corners.

Kai narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re wearing white. Not a good color for construction work.”

She looked down on her white satin halter and front-pleated walking shorts. A narrow red patent leather belt circled her waist. Sterling silver stars dangled from the buckle. “I don’t mind a little dirt,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

“You can—” He stopped himself from saying whatever he might have said. His jaw shifted, his temper barely banked. He nodded to where she stood. “Hold down that spot,” he said. “I’ll holler when I need you.”

He went back to work. Had amusement darkened his eyes? She swore he was silently laughing at her.

She stood and stood, then stood some more.

No hollering from the man.

“Did you call?” she finally asked.

His “no” was muffled.

He stripped the last of the drywall, then dragged the broken pieces to the back of the store. He stepped into the restroom, leaving the door cracked open. She heard clanking, banging, and the grinding twist of pipe. Slipping her notebook back into her purse, she hunted him down. She found him crouched by the sink. His back was to her. Once again he ignored her. She hovered in the doorway. Her left foot itched, so she took a moment and shook the sand from her ballet shoe.

“You’re making a mess,” Kai said.

Mess?
He had to be joking. Paint chips littered the floor, along with slices of drywall, bent nails, and picture hooks. The sand barely covered a square inch. She slipped on her shoe and went on to clean up. She swept the sand beneath a loose floorboard with her foot. The toe of her shoe got scuffed.

“You left your spot,” he pointed out.

“I thought you called me.”

“You heard wrong.”

She clenched her fists in frustration. The man had fooled her into standing still for an entire hour. Her cheeks heated. “Not funny.” She liked him less and less.

One corner of his mouth turned up before he removed the U-shaped pipe from under the washbasin. He then pushed to his feet. Faced her. “You’re in my way.”

Yes, she was. She blocked his exit. She stood nose-to-pecs with the man. His scent was masculine heat with a hint of sweat and not the least bit offensive. Her heart fluttered. “New drywall,” she forced out. “When will it be delivered?”

“The truck usually arrives within two hours once I place an order.”

“You’ll make the call today?” she pressed.

“Soon as I can find time.”

“Find time now.”

He raised his arm, pipe in hand, and she jumped back. She doubted he’d actually strike her. But there was significant threat in his dark brown eyes. “Go back to your spot.”

She moved in that general direction but purposely stopped short of where she’d originally stood. Rebellion felt good. From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head.

Kai set the pipe on a board between two sawhorses. He pulled his cell phone from the ripped back pocket of his jeans and made the call. A short call; the man wasn’t long on words.

He disconnected, then told her, “We need to toss the old drywall into the Dumpster to make room for the new sheets.”

We
. He’d requested her help! She took Zumba classes and was fairly fit. Any activity was better than “holding down her spot.” She was ready to work.

He shoved open the back door and carried out the largest piece. Nicole followed his lead. The cut-up drywall wasn’t heavy, but it flaked and separated, and loose particles dusted her halter and shorts. She struggled to keep her balance on the back dock that oversaw the alley. The slabs were broken and uneven. She missed the Dumpster on her first toss. The drywall landed in the dirt, six feet below.

Kai locked his jaw and waved her off. “I’ll get it.” He climbed down a ladder, then returned within seconds. The man was agile.

Her second attempt was a washout as well. She stumbled into Kai with a corner sheet. The sharp edge stuck him in the ass. He grunted, glared, and took the drywall from her.

Her “sorry” was ignored.

She was quite pleased when she hit the Dumpster with her third throw. She dusted off her hands and smiled at Kai.

“Major accomplishment,” he muttered. “You deserve a bronze medal.”

His sarcasm deflated her efforts. She let it pass.

He crossed to a small storage shed that was attached to the back of the building. He fished a key out of his pocket. The rusted hinges creaked when he jerked the door open. He pointed to several five-gallon buckets on the lower shelves.

“Three colors of leftover paint. Make your selection.” He snagged one bucket and pried the lid off with a screwdriver. “Army khaki.”

She almost gagged.

He returned the bucket and produced a second. “Mustard.”

The condiment color was not to her liking. She shook her head.

“Lawn green,” he read from the next label.

The color was more crabgrass than freshly mowed yard.

“The paint is fast-drying,” he said. “Once the new drywall’s up, I can slap on a coat in under an hour.”

Slap it on
sounded incredibly messy.

She turned on her heel and walked stiffly back into the shop. She heard his heavy footsteps close behind her. She went straight to her purse, flicked the clasp, and found her paint wheel. She held up the desired shade.

“I want antique white,” she said. “It’s pristine and will make the perfect backdrop for my jewelry designs.”

Kai rested a lean hip against the wooden counter, then crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head. “New paint isn’t in the renovation budget.”

“Expand the budget.”

“It’s stretched to the max already,” he said. “I’m installing a new glass top for the counter and a set of shelves. Anything further comes out-of-pocket.
Your
pocket.”

“You’re mistaken,” she argued. “Trace specified—”

Kai raised one hand, stopping her. “Doesn’t matter what Saunders told you. Your shop is on the Cates boardwalk. I watched Shaye draw up the contract last night. She added an addendum to the customary agreement.”

Addendum?
Nicole’s hand shook as she set the paint wheel on the splintered glass. She retrieved the twice-folded lease agreement from her purse. In her excitement, she’d done no more than scan the contract at the beach. Scanned it far too quickly, it seemed.

She now reviewed it once again, slowly, thoroughly, and, with each word, her chest tightened. There was a paragraph of small print at the bottom that spelled out how all repairs would be made. Barefoot William Enterprises would renovate to the point that the shop was habitable.

In other words, every item outside the basics was hers to provide. That didn’t sit well with her.

Her personal finances were running low.

She’d maxed out her line of credit with her latest order of semiprecious stones. She had jewelry to design and needed to keep a large inventory.

She refused to borrow money from Trace, although he’d lend her whatever she needed without question.

She clasped the contract so tightly, it balled within her fist. She shoved the crushed paper back into her purse.

She forced a calm she didn’t feel.

She was not one to complain.

She refused to run to Trace.

He’d been generous, overly so. He’d kept his word and found her a shop. That morning she’d hurriedly signed the rental agreement on the beach, the sun in her eyes, her soft white ballet slippers filling with sand. Her own excitement had blinded her.

What had she done? She was no pushover. She was smart. A designer with sophistication. But her eagerness had dumped her into a sand trap.

She was stuck working with a man who would slap any old color paint on a wall and walk away happy. She needed to come up with a solution. She couldn’t afford new paint, but she was innovative.

She glanced at Kai and raised the question, “What if we blended the three buckets? What shade would we get?”

He made a rude sound. “Do I look like a color wheel?”

Sarcastic ass
was more like it.

Nicole took a moment and mentally mixed the colors. She discarded the green, kept the brown and yellow. If she were lucky, she might get gold. A dark gold. A Vegas gold. That was better than any of the choices before her now. She could always repaint at a later date. Once she established a regular clientele and money rolled in. She remained optimistic.

She didn’t ask for his help, but Kai followed her anyway, straight back to the shed. She bent, wrapped her fingers over one bucket handle, and strained to lift the five-gallon weight. The paint bucket was definitely heavy.

She struggled, stumbled sideways, finally dragging it all of an inch. She was more relieved than she let on when Kai slid his big hand over hers.

“It’s heavy. I’ve got it,” he grumbled.

His strong grip sent a chill through her, something she wasn’t expecting. A slow shiver went up and down her spine.

She stared at him as if mesmerized; then suddenly, realizing his look was equally intense, she let go of the paint. Kai hadn’t fully secured his hold, and the bucket rolled toward her foot.

In a flash, he pushed her aside with his free hand. He’d saved her from the bucket but not from his foot. His boot heel came down on her right toes. The thick rubber sole left a black tread mark on her ballet slipper.

She flinched and fell against his bare chest. A very hard chest that flexed with their contact. Her own nipples hardened. She blushed.

She never would have worn a sheer bra if she’d known she’d come into such close contact with Kai Cates. She was now “pointing” right at him.

He didn’t seem to notice. He clasped her shoulders and set her aside. “Your foot okay?” he asked.

She curled her toes. Nothing was broken. “I’m fine.”

He nodded toward the shop. “Return to your spot. I’ll deal with the paint.”

The paint was far less difficult than the man, and she wasn’t ready to back off. Sidestepping Kai, she searched the buckets in the shed. She found a clean, empty one at the back. She pulled it free. “I want to mix the khaki with the mustard.”

“Right now?” He looked pained.

“No, next week,” she replied with her own brand of sarcasm.

He glanced at his watch. “We have twenty minutes before the truck arrives with the drywall.”

“We can do this in ten.”

“Damn, you’re pushy.”

“You need prodding.”

“I get the job done.”

“Not fast enough.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Ease up.”

She forced herself to exhale. She was anxious, her emotions overwrought. She’d grown up poor and had waited her whole life for this opportunity.