Unfinished Business (30 page)
The door swung open, and I jolted back a step, gripping the wrought iron railing for support.
“
You
’
re late.
”
I squeezed the railing harder as I took in the man who owned the voice from our conversation earlier. It was a word that was given new definition.
Own.
He owned the air, the space he occupied, the floor beneath his feet. His presence was large and controlled as though he took up more room than the average person.
The first thing that hit me was his build
—
tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist. The long sleeves of his T-shirt were pushed up to below his elbows, revealing thick, muscled forearms. The well-fitting jeans wrapped around strong thighs and I could only imagine how well they would mold to his ass.
And black Chuck Taylors on his feet. He was nothing like I
’
d expected, in every way.
But it was his face that made my breath catch, my knees buckle and my stomach clench. Dark, poker straight chocolate hair, short and stylish. Warm whiskey-brown eyes topped with two drawn together eyebrows, a frown creasing his forehead.
“
Do you want to see inside, or is the hall enough for you?
”
That voice did lethal things to my insides
—
a deep, low Scottish brogue, perfectly articulated but with an almost animalistic undercurrent that seemed hardwired to my sex drive. I took a breath, considerably deeper than needed to hopefully jump start my brain.
“
I
’
m sorry. Yes, I would like to see inside. Thank you.
”
He stood aside and gestured for me to enter. As I moved past him, I realized the top of my head barely cleared his shoulders and the sharp, masculine scent of him hit me everywhere it counted. Shutting the front door, he walked brusquely past me.
The sound from our shoes echoed on the smooth, shiny oak flooring of the vast entrance hall. He led me to the rear of the house and up bouncy, carpeted stairs.
“
There are two bedrooms on this floor. You can have either, though I recommend this one.
”
He pushed open a closed door and I was hit with a sensory overload. The smell of fresh paint hit me first, the pale green walls too perfect to be anything other than freshly finished. A large walnut sleigh bed dominated the space and four tall sash windows had views of the street I
’
d stood on just minutes before.
I couldn
’
t help but smile as I moved farther into the room. Everything from the plush rug to the bronze and dark umber Georgian chandelier screamed wealth and luxury. It was a place so far removed from me that I felt as though I
’
d momentarily stepped into another world.
“
This one has the en suite. Only a bath, but there is a shower room on the half landing if you prefer.
”
He grasped the door handle and stepped back.
I took his hint to leave the room. Across the landing he opened another door and let me briefly glance inside.
“
Sitting room, TV, whatever. Downstairs has the bigger lounge. The top two floors are mine.
”
He was already halfway down the stairs before I realized, and rushed to catch him up.
I followed him into an impressive kitchen complete with open fireplace and an enormous piece of artwork, which looked as though nothing supported it bar the mantelpiece. It blurred the lines between modern and traditional, all the latest appliances polished and sparkling, but the flooring continuing from the hall and the wooden cabinets warmed the room.
He gestured to a stool at the large island and I perched perilously on the edge, watching his graceful, confident movements as he worked a coffee maker that I never in a million years would be able to fathom.
“
There
’
s a small study down here. Poky patio area outside. Rent includes all utilities, so don
’
t worry about working out phone calls or hot water.
”
Already done at the coffee maker, he placed a wide, round cup in front of me.
“
Sugar?
”
I shook my head, already knowing it was delicious, just by the aroma.
“
Do you want the room?
”
His question was so abrupt it took me a moment to formulate my answer. I let out a breath, sure that at any moment I would be unceremoniously kicked out of his house.
“
I
’
m truly sorry, but I think I
’
ve wasted your time.
”
The frown deepened between his eyebrows.
“
You didn
’
t like it? I told you there was another room.
”
“
No, it has nothing to do with the room. The room was beautiful, really, I
’
ve never seen
…”
A lump hardened in my throat. The sudden wave of emotion took me by surprise and I squashed it down before it was written all over my face.
“
The room was gorgeous. I
’
m afraid I just can
’
t afford it.
”
“
Didn
’
t you read the rent price before you called?
”
“
Yes, but I thought it was a mistake. And after seeing the room, I definitely know it was a mistake.
”
“
What paper did you see it in?
”
I pulled the battered newspaper from my bag and slid it across the island to him.
He turned quickly to the housing pages, scanning the ads until he found his. For a minute he was still and quiet. Then he folded the newspaper and tossed it in the recycling bin.
“
Do you want the room or not?
”
“
But, it was a mistake, wasn
’
t it?
”
“
You came to see a room advertised at that price. You
’
ve seen it. Now for the last time, do you want it or not?
”
This could not be happening. No way did this kind of thing happen to someone like me.
“
What about credit checks? References? Employment history?
”
He huffed out a breath.
“
You do remember me telling you I had a meeting?
”
“
I
’
m sorry, it
’
s just
…
you don
’
t even know my name. Why would you offer me that room without knowing a single thing about me?
”
“
So tell me about yourself.
”
His eyes flickered to the clock.
“
Quickly.
”
“
Oh, um, my name is Jo. Jo Carpenter. I
’
m twenty-six, I
’
ve lived in Edinburgh for a few months. I work the night shifts in a bistro bar in Grassmarket so I
’
m out late most nights. I
’
m clean, tidy. No pets. No boyfriend.
”
He raised his eyebrows.
“
Why would I care if you have a boyfriend?
”
My cheeks warmed.
“
The last place I looked at the landlord said I couldn
’
t have it if I had a boyfriend.
”
He snorted a laugh.
“
Slimy pervs. Bring men back or don
’
t, I really don
’
t care. I only have one rule
—
treat my house with respect or leave. Simple as that.
”
I took a gulp of coffee, wincing as it burned my throat.
“
You can
’
t be serious. Isn
’
t there another applicant better suited to your
…
lifestyle?
”
“
Every person that has come to view the room has been so far up themselves I don
’
t know how they walk. Either divorcees looking for a pad similar to what they
’
ve been kicked out of or posh brats sponging off Daddy.
”
He rose and set his cup in the sink.
“
You need a place to live. I want a tenant. I travel for work, so it would be nice to have someone here for security.
”
“
But you
’
d lose so much rent money.
”
He shrugged.
“
I don
’
t really care
—
or need it. So. Very last time. Do you want it?
”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say no. Thanks, but it
’
s not for me. I didn
’
t need the sort of distraction a man like Nate Harding would be. But my mind drifted to the beautiful bedroom above us. I saw myself sleeping in the big sleigh bed, relaxing in the bath
…
chilling out in the living room after work.
I could squash my attraction for him. To stay here, I would have to. Unable to speak, I gave a soft nod.
Reaching into his pocket, he tossed a set of keys across the island.
“
Move in when you like.
”
The keys were warm from his body and I closed my fist around them, as though afraid they would disappear.
“
Thank you, Mr Harding.
”
For the first time since arriving, his face softened, though almost imperceptibly.
“
Call me Nate.
”
About the Author
Thrill-seeking risk takers, heroes with a dark past, sexy locales, untamed women! Isabelle Drake writes stories featuring men and women who aren’t afraid to go after what they want. An avid traveller, she’ll go just about anywhere—at least once—to meet people and get story ideas.
Email:
[email protected]
Isabelle loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
.
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