Corner-Office Courtship

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…

Chapter Three

“I brought lunch.”

“I’m so glad! I’m starving,” Nati told her friend when Holly arrived at the shop around noon on Saturday. “Did you get your errands done?”

“Every one—thanks to you being here to share shop duties now. How was the morning?”

“You made a couple of nice sales. I’ve only had a few looky-loos, nobody bought anything.”

“But now you’ll have the money from doing the Camden wall—you were smart not to turn that down.”

Nati shrugged, unable to decide whether working for Cade Camden was good or bad. Certainly the money was good. The fact that she was working for a Camden—whom she’d actually had dreams about all night long in which one or more of them was hot and bothered and not entirely clothed—didn’t seem like such a good thing.

“What’s for lunch?” she asked, changing the subject.

“My throw-everything-in salad with the homemade dressing you like.”

“Yum. Thanks for this—I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to fix lunch. I was going to skip it,” Nati said.

“Another sleepless night because of The Camden?” Holly guessed.

Holly was a childhood friend who was more like a sister to Nati. They’d always told each other everything, so Holly knew that Nati was suffering doubts about having anything to do with a Camden. Holly also knew that Nati had been up half the night after her Thursday meeting with him. But last night? Holly didn’t know about last night yet.

“I had trouble falling asleep again and then when I did the dreams I had were… Wow!” she confessed to her friend.

Holly laughed. “Cade Camden is the stuff ‘wow’ dreams are made of,” she concurred.

Holly had come in just as Cade had left on Thursday so she’d seen him.

“Have you decided yet if you’re going to tell your grandfather you’re working for a Camden?” Holly asked as they ate. Nati’s friend had gone to her side of the door that connected their shops.

“No, I still don’t know if I should tell him or not,” Nati said.

“He gets home tonight?”

Nati’s grandfather, Jonah Morrison, was on a brief vacation in Las Vegas with some of his lodge buddies.

“Late tonight. I have until tomorrow to think about it, I guess,” Nati answered.

“I think you should tell him. I know you—you’ll be sorry if you don’t. You’ll hate lying—even by omission—and you’ll worry that he might find out. And I don’t think he’ll care, anyway. What went on was a lifetime ago, and your grandfather will be glad you have the work. He’ll say good for you for taking some of the Camdens’ money.”

Holly had grown up across the street from the Morrisons, so she knew Nati’s grandfather well.

“Yeah, I could see him saying that,” Nati agreed.

“Because he’s the sweetest guy in the world. He’d give you the shirt off his back. He’s so tenderhearted that he tears up at the sight of puppies and kittens, and he’ll just be happy that you have money coming in no matter who it’s from.”

“Right—it was more like my great-grandparents to rant and rave about the Camdens, not my grandfather.”

“Although he might feel guilty because you need the work—” Holly cut herself off. “No, forget that. It’ll be fine. You need the money, and your grandfather won’t care who you’re working for. Just do the job, take the check, then wash your hands of the Camdens.”

“Yeah,” Nati agreed, unsure if she was doing the right thing.

Or if washing Cade Camden out of her thoughts when this was all over with would be as easy as Holly made it sound.

“It’s just me…”

Nati heard Cade’s voice coming from the entrance as he let himself in. It sent a tiny tingle up her spine.

It was after five o’clock on Saturday and she’d been expecting that he might show up any time. And maybe hoping—just a little—that he would. She couldn’t help it.

She was cleaning up the remnants of the mess made from tearing off wallpaper, cleaning the wall and then priming it, when Cade came into the dining room.

Apparently working on Saturday didn’t require him to dress up because he was wearing a pale yellow sport shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. A pair of jeans that he wore to perfection slung slightly low on his hips. Nati’s jaw dropped for a split second before she forced her eyes up to his face, which looked remarkably sexy with a five-o’clock shadow.

“Hi,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.

“Hi. I’m so glad you’re still here.”

She didn’t know why he should be glad but his words gave her a wave of satisfaction anyway.

“Five minutes later and I wouldn’t have been,” she informed him as she stuffed the last sheet of wallpaper into the trash bag she’d brought with her. “The contract is there on the dining room table,” she added with a nod in that direction. “I was just going to leave it for you.”

“Any chance you could stick around for a while? I can sign the contract and then there’s another job I’m hoping you might take. If you don’t have to be anywhere in a hurry maybe we could talk about it….”

“No, I don’t have to be anywhere—in a hurry or otherwise,” she said, realizing only after the fact that it made her sound like a dud.

But what difference did it make if he knew her social life was nearly nonexistent? In fact, it was better that he think she was a dud, she told herself. Maybe it would act to deter any interest in her.

As she pulled the drawstring closed on the trash bag, she said, “I’ll take this to my car and give you a minute to read the contract, then come back.”

“Okay,” Cade said with more enthusiasm than seemed warranted.

Outside the sun had gone down and taken the warm autumn temperature with it, so after putting the trash bag into her trunk Nati opened her car door to retrieve the overblouse she’d brought with her.

Slipping it on, she tried not to think about the fact that while she’d worn a perfectly work-appropriate beige crewneck T-shirt and jeans, the overblouse took the outfit beyond work clothes and made it a tad dressier. It was fine-gauge wool in deep cocoa brown, with long sleeves and an asymmetrical front opening that fastened at her hip with one large button.

Yes, it added another layer and a bit more warmth, but just a bit. Its primary purpose was to spruce her up a little. Which was what had been in the back of her mind when she’d brought it with her.

And when she took a brush from her glove compartment, ran it through her hair, and then applied some lip gloss, it was hard to deny her intentions—she wanted to look her best now that Cade Camden was home.

But only because she wanted to be presentable when dealing with a client…

She called herself a liar and went back inside.

She hoped Cade wouldn’t notice that she’d done anything. But he glanced at her the minute she rejoined him in the dining room, giving her a quick once-over.

He seemed to approve, though, because the faintest of appreciative smiles brushed across his lips before he handed her the signed contract.

“That was quick,” she said with raised eyebrows. “You didn’t have any questions or problems with it?”

“Nope, looks just right to me,” he said, almost as if he was commenting more on her appearance than on the contract.

Then he switched his attention to the wall she’d spent the afternoon working on.

“This is already an improvement,” he observed.

“It’s only primed but just losing that gaudy wallpaper was a big step.”

“Did you have any problems with it?”

“Only in a few spots. Nothing big. And I got everything off without doing any damage, so I think we’re good to go from here.”

“I told my grandmother about what you did with the frame on that mirror I saw in your shop and it reminded her that she has her grandmother’s hope chest.”

“That would be your great-great-grandmother’s hope chest. How old is that?”

“GiGi—that’s what we call my grandma—is seventy-five. If we stick with round numbers, let’s say GiGi’s mother would have been twenty years older than her, add another twenty years to get GiGi’s grandmother’s age, so the hope chest has to be…” He laughed. “Really old.”

Nati laughed, too, at his failure to come up with a precise number.

“I’d never seen it before,” he went on, “but GiGi made me root around in the attic until I found it this morning. It’s kind of like a wooden steamer trunk. The overall finish has survived pretty well, but the design painted on the front, around the latch, and on the very top has faded nearly into oblivion. GiGi wanted me to ask you if you could redo it the way you redid the mirror frame.”

“I’d have to check it out to know.”

“It’s a leafy vine motif with some hearts and flowers—”

“That’s the kind of thing I do. But I can’t say if the original design is restorable until I see it.”

“There are some spots that are gone altogether,” he warned. “Especially around the latch—”

“Sure, where hands brushed against it over and over again. But if there’s enough of the pattern left in other places I can usually figure out what’s missing and fill it in.”

“You just have to see it first to know,” he repeated. “What about now? If you don’t have anywhere to be, we could go over there and take a look…”

“Oh. Now? To your grandmother’s house?”

“It doesn’t have to be now. We can set it up for later. I just thought that since we’re both free, and you’re already on this side of town, and GiGi’s place is just over on Gaylord—”

Saturday night and he was as free as she was? He didn’t have a party or an event or a date with some drop-dead-gorgeous socialite? That was hard to believe.

“Sure, I can do that,” she answered after a pause.

“We can take my car or you can follow me over and go home from there—your choice,” he offered.

The thought of riding in a car with him seemed a little awkward and at the same time too appealing, so she said, “I’ll just follow you in my car.”

“Okay. Then if you’re all finished here, why don’t we go? We might be just in time for you to meet GiGi before she leaves for her dinner plans.”

GiGi. Every time he said it there was affection in his tone. Georgianna Milner Camden. Nati’s grandfather’s old love.

Nati’s curiosity suddenly ran high.

“Okay,” she agreed, worrying all over again that this whole thing might smack of disloyalty in some way. But she couldn’t stop herself now.

Cade ushered her out the front door and back to her car. It was parked beside his in the driveway.

“Just follow me,” he suggested.

“Okay,” Nati agreed, hoping her old clunker could keep up with his sleek black sports car.

As they drove the short distance, Nati saw him repeatedly glance into his rearview mirror to make sure she was there. But he drove conservatively enough for her not to have any problem following him.

After a few minutes, Cade turned onto a driveway that ran through the gap in a ruddy redbrick wall bordering an enormous estate.

She followed him up the stone-paved drive and around the fountain that formed the centerpiece of the front grounds. They came to a stop near a five-car garage. It was attached to an expansive house that would have made her former in-laws drool with envy because it dwarfed theirs.

The Tudor mansion curved out from the garage in a two-story semicircle of brick, stucco, wood trim and arched windows. The classically steep roof was dotted with dormers, two sculpted brick chimneys and gables under which thick green ivy grew.

Nati was embarrassed by the sound her car made when she turned off the engine but she pretended not to be when she got out.

“This is beautiful,” she said with unveiled awe as Cade led the way up the three steps onto the wide curved landing that stretched out from the house’s entrance.

Cade didn’t knock on the huge single door with its stained and leaded glass in the upper half. He merely opened it, held it and motioned for Nati to go in ahead of him.

She did, stepping as gingerly as if she were walking on eggshells, into an enormous foyer with a vaulted ceiling and a crystal chandelier centered over a round entry table large enough for a family of six to eat around had it been a dining table.

Cade followed her in, closed the door and shouted, “GiGi? Are you still here?”

“In the den,” a voice from somewhere farther into the house shouted back.

Having been married to the heir to an airline fortune, Nati had had the occasion to see some pretty impressive places. But nothing had compared to what she saw as she followed Cade to the left of the foyer, through double doors and into an oak-paneled den where two women were standing at a curio, one of them dusting antique watches, and then handing them to the other woman who carefully placed them on display.

Nati judged the woman replenishing the display to be about sixty years old—too young to be Cade’s grandmother. She was short, plump, with rosy round cheeks. She was dressed casually in knit slacks and a sweatshirt, her ash-blond hair cut close to her head all over in a low-maintenance cap style.

The other woman was older—more the age of Nati’s seventy-five-year-old grandfather and more likely to be the matriarch of the Camden clan. Like the sweat-shirted woman, she was also not much more than five feet tall and had a somewhat fluffy figure that said she enjoyed her food and robust good health, too. She was the more attractive of the two women, with a lined face that still bore the signs of glowing beauty. Her hair was salt-and-pepper colored, and she wore it short and curly. And despite the fact that she was dressed in a stylish black evening suit with a lacy white blouse and several strands of pearls, she was doing the dusting.