Corner-Office Courtship

That seemed very trusting of him. But Nati was trustworthy; plus, the Camden’s probably wouldn’t expect anyone to dare do wrong by them.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Then I can be here Monday until about one—I have to watch both shops Monday afternoon—and we’ll take it from there?”

“Sounds like a plan,” he confirmed.

“So let’s talk colors, textures and finishes,” Nati suggested.

He pulled out a chair for her, and then took the one next to it at the head of the table for himself. Sitting back in the seat, he brought one ankle to rest atop the opposite knee and held on to his shin with a big, powerful-looking hand. Then he laid his other elbow on the table. Nati had an inordinate awareness of the masculine forearm exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeve, of the thickness of his wrist. Of all things…

Thoughts—these are only thoughts, she reminded herself. They don’t mean anything. Just go on with what you’re supposed to be doing… .

She opened her notebook and set out her pamphlets and color choices, telling him what each texture entailed and how it would look.

“I can leave the pictures and the samples with you if you have someone whose opinion or input you might want—a fiancée or significant other.”

The thought that there might be someone else had just occurred to her. She’d been assuming that he was on his own because everything he’d said about this project, about this house, had made it sound as if it were his and his alone. But looking at him—nearly drooling over how gorgeous he was and having the mere sound of his voice send goose bumps up her arms—made her realize suddenly that he probably had any number of women he could pick and choose from, and possibly someone he’d already chosen in the wings.

And, yes, she was curious. Even though it didn’t matter to her one way or another if he were involved with anyone.

“It’s just me,” he said. “No fiancée, no significant other.”

Nati wondered if she might have stepped in it. “I’m sorry if that sounded like I was prying. I just thought that it’s a big house for one person and—” Then she had another thought and instantly said, “Oh, maybe you’re recently out of a relationship. Or a marriage. Maybe that’s why you bought this place—” She stopped herself when she realized she was really being nosy. “It doesn’t matter, I was just saying that if there’s someone you want to consult with, you don’t have to make a decision today.”

He was smiling. Her verbal scrambling was funny to him. “I bought the place because I felt like I was ready to take on a house. I liked this one, and it’s ten minutes from my office, from my grandmother, from most of my siblings and cousins. I’ll rely on your advice when it comes to what would go best in here—I can tell from what’s in your shop that you have good taste, I just don’t want—”

“Anything frilly. You want something understated and classy.” She was repeating what he’d said the day before.

“Right.”

“I can do that,” she assured him, and went on to make her recommendations, showing him pamphlets that displayed a variety of textures.

“Yeah, I think I like the Venetian plaster the best, too,” he said when she’d finished. “In the light gray. And you do the plastering, too, huh? Because this can’t be done with just paint, right?”

“Right. It’s actually paint, then a light layer of plaster applied just so, then some sanding and potentially more paint or polishing. And, yes, I can do it all,” she assured.

“Did you go to school to learn this stuff?” he asked.

“No. In college I studied art history and conservation. My grandfather was a housepainter, though, so I grew up helping him and learning the basics—and cleaning a lot of paint brushes.” She laughed. “The tole painting in the shop and the murals and stenciling and wall finishes sort of combine what I learned in college with what my grandfather taught me. And I do some restoration, too—like the frame on the mirror you saw yesterday.”

“So you got a degree in art history and conservation but you didn’t want to work as an art historian?”

“There aren’t a lot of opportunities in the field—it wasn’t the smartest choice in terms of degrees that can be translated into a job. When I graduated from college I went to work for a company that did art restoration but—” She paused, feeling as if she were talking too much. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“I do, though,” he said, sounding genuinely interested. “Did you get to restore paintings or—”

“I was mostly just the gofer—I did a lot of cleaning brushes then, too,” she said. “It was a trainee position but I didn’t stay long enough to actually get any hands-on experience, so it didn’t really do me any good.”

“Why didn’t you stay long?”

“I quit to get married….” But she didn’t want to talk about that so she quickly continued, “Then when I needed to get into the workforce again, I had the degree but no experience, and without any experience the degree was just a dusty piece of paper that didn’t do me any good.”

“So you opened your own shop.”

“Holly and I have been friends since first grade—Holly owns the pet supply store next door—and she talked me into the shop. I came up with the idea of doing outside work, offering services as a restorer and doing jobs like this one—the fancier, more specialized things that my grandfather wouldn’t have done as a housepainter.”

Cade nodded. “Are you doing okay—financially, I mean?”

Nati laughed. “Are you afraid I’m going to charge you an arm and a leg for this?”

He laughed. “No, I’m just wondering if you’re doing okay.”

“I don’t have a retirement fund. Or savings. But I’m only six months into this and I’m meeting my operating expenses. Arden’s city council is putting a lot of resources into getting people into Old Town—there are all kinds of events planned like the Scarecrow Festival. Plus, with the holiday shoppers and word-of-mouth bringing in jobs like this one of yours, I think I’m about where I should be with a new business.”

“Well, you are pretty far from retirement age so there’s time yet for that, but the no-savings part worries me a little.”

Nati laughed again. “You’re worried about me?”

“Oh, you know… I’m just saying that you should have savings….”

“Believe me, it’s one of my goals. But for now, I like what I’m doing and I feel good about it, so I’m okay with things. And as for charging you an arm and a leg—you’ll pay for the materials and my labor will be my standard by-the-hour fee. You can check with whoever it was who recommended me and you’ll find out that I charged them exactly the same rate. For this job…”

She did some computations and then passed him her figures.

“… this is my ballpark bid.”

Cade barely glanced at it before he said, “That seems fine to me.”

“You can get another bid. Or two or three if you want,” she said.

“No, you’re who I want—” He cut himself off as if something about that had come out wrong. Then he said, “—for this job. You came highly recommended. And I realize if you get into this and it takes longer than you think, your labor charge will be higher and that’s okay, too—I know this is only an estimate, it isn’t carved in stone.”

“Sooo, we’re in business?” Nati asked.

“We are definitely in business,” he said, seeming more pleased and enthusiastic about it than he needed to be. He was looking so intently at her that she had the oddest sense that there was something more personal to this than getting his wall fixed.

She told herself that she had to be imagining it, and began to gather her samples.

“Shall I pay you half now, half when the job is finished, or how do you want to work this?” he asked then.

Oh. She’d forgotten about getting paid. Where was her head?

As if she didn’t know…

“You can just write me a check for the estimated cost of the materials and we’ll settle up the rest when I finish,” she said, pretending she hadn’t completely overlooked an important detail.

“Let me get my checkbook,” he said, leaving the dining room. He was gone only a moment before he returned with checkbook in hand.

While he was writing the check, Nati said, “I’ll bring the formal paperwork with me tomorrow. If I don’t see you, I’ll leave it for you to sign and then pick it up when I come on Monday. I probably won’t see you then, either, because I assume you’ll be at work.”

And why was she feeling slightly disappointed at the thought that she likely wouldn’t encounter him much—if at all—while she was doing this job?

No, she didn’t want an answer to that question. She just shooed away the feeling.

“I’m sure I’ll be here at various points,” he said as if it were a promise, looking into her eyes as he handed her the check. “But for now I’ve probably kept you longer than I should have—I know it’s Friday night and you must have a date or something planned with your… husband?”

She’d told him she’d quit her first job out of college to get married. She hadn’t said anything else about that. Was he as curious about her personal life as she’d been about his? Because that was how it sounded.

“I’m not married anymore. I’m divorced.”

“I’m sorry. For long?”

“It was final six months ago, but there was a year before that when it was… in process. And no, there isn’t a date, or a fiancé, or a significant other or even a whoever for me, either. But I do have a new bottle of bubble bath waiting for me….”

She stood, holding her materials like school books.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow or Monday… or maybe I won’t,” she said as she headed for the front door.

“Tomorrow or Monday,” he repeated.

Cade opened the door when they reached it and, as Nati stepped outside, he peered over her head and said, “Where’s your car?”

“I parked on the street.”

“Ah…” he said, following her as if he intended to walk her to the curb.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to come all the way out here,” Nati said.

“It’s after dark—this neighborhood is relatively safe, but still…”

He had manners. That was nice. He went ahead of her to her car door and waited while she unlocked it, then leaned in to open it for her.

“It sticks,” she warned.

But for him it opened just fine.

“From now on go ahead and pull into the driveway,” he instructed as she got in behind the wheel. “Use the side closest to the house—I’ll use the other side while you’re working here so you won’t have to carry things as far.”

Also nice. And considerate.

Not that that mattered, either. She was just doing a job for him. Here and gone. Don’t get sucked in.

“Drive safe,” he said as he closed her door.

Nati nodded and turned the key in her ignition, willing the aging car to start on the first try since Cade was still standing there, watching her.

Luck was with her, because the engine turned over instantly for once and allowed her to put the car into gear to leave.

But not before she let herself have one last glance at Cade standing there as if he were keeping her safe until she could get on her way. Tall, broad-shouldered and so handsome…

Nati raised a hand in a little wave and finally gave the car enough gas to actually put it into motion.

All the while unable to prevent herself from fantasizing about being back in that big Georgian house again.

And spending the rest of her Friday night alone there with Cade Camden…

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