His By Design (8 page)

Her eyelids fluttered shut.

With the sound of anguished defeat, Jeff wrapped one arm around her and cradled her head with the other, deepening the kiss until she was dizzy with desire.

Her lips parted and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with hers and eliciting a moan she wasn’t conscious of making. His arms were so strong. His chest was a wall of solid muscle. And that wasn’t the only thing hard she felt as she pressed herself against him . . .

“Hey, guys, I’m back. How’s it going?” Frank’s boots sounded on the stairs.

They sprang apart and Zoe had to grab Jeff’s arm to steady herself. Her heart beat so wildly she didn’t think speech was a possibility. She had been so into their kiss, she hadn’t even heard the door closing downstairs.

Jeff appeared more in control and had no trouble replying. “Well, up to a few minutes ago things were going great. Then ‘Miss I don’t need gloves’ sliced her thumb open.”

Frank rounded the corner. “Oh no. Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Well, not fine, but I think I’ll live.” She tried for humor, but the look on Jeff’s face was anything but happy. Okay, she’d settle for normal. Normal would work. But normal had receded to the distant past in the last few minutes. Now she felt . . . heck, she didn’t know how she felt right at this moment, but it wasn’t normal. Nonetheless, considering this was Jeff’s father, she’d act the part. She held her hand up, per Jeff’s instructions. “Did you get the water heater?”

“I did. Got a good deal, too.” Frank handed her the receipt.

Less than she’d expected. Good. Amanda wasn’t going to give her the gimlet eye for this.

Jeff pointed a finger at her. “No more work for you. Can I trust you to get that taken care of at Marjorie’s place, or should I come with you?”

Annoyed at his sudden change in attitude, she bristled in response. “Yes, you can trust me to take care of it. I’ve had worse cuts than this one working at my old job. And believe me, there was no one there to take care of them but me.”

“Fine. Dad and I can finish up here and we’ll lock up when we leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He reached down and picked up her gloves. “You can throw these away. You won’t need them anymore. You’re done here.”

She snatched the gloves from his hand. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow morning.”

“Not with me running this show.”

“I think you forget who’s paying who around here,
Mister
Petrosky.” She emphasized the word as she stabbed a finger in Jeff’s direction.

“You want to hire somebody else to finish this, Ms. Silvercreek? Go ahead. They won’t be as dumb as I was and let you play apprentice.” He stormed out of the room and down the stairs.

“Play?
Play!
I was not
playing
. I helped. And you know it,” she shouted at his receding back. The man infuriated her. Who the heck did he think was the boss here? She looked over at Frank, who immediately put up both hands to distance himself from the fray.

Zoe blew out a long breath. Bright red drops of her blood now spattered the piece of drywall she’d been working on. But it wasn’t the sight of blood that had her trembling. She put her hand to her mouth, remembering the feel of Jeff’s lips on hers. As badly as she had wanted to taste his kiss, she knew it had been a big mistake. It had changed everything. And not for the better, either.

Chapter 8

Jeff thundered down the stairs and went to the van. His father joined him there but had the good sense not to say anything about what happened upstairs. Together, they wrestled the new water heater to the utility closet behind the office. He listened for Zoe’s footsteps but didn’t turn when he heard them on the stairs.

She grabbed her purse from the desk and spoke without turning around. “Don’t think this is settled. I’ll be here tomorrow morning. As usual.” She left without another word.

The woman would put him in an asylum. How many times had he reminded her about safety precautions? Fifty at least. And for all the good it did he might as well have saved his breath.

When he saw all the blood on her hand, his heart almost stopped. She was an artist. If she lost the use of her hand it would be his fault. Just like Jen’s injury had been. He’d never be able to deal with the guilt.

Luckily the cut wasn’t deep. Her thumb would be fine. Even knowing that, he couldn’t bear that she was hurt. He never should have agreed to let her help out. Well, she wouldn’t help him anymore. He’d stand his ground in the morning. And hope she didn’t fire him.

But who was he kidding? She had no idea the power she held over him. If it came to a choice between buckling under to her demands or losing the chance to get Bug’s paintings in the gallery, he knew he’d cave.

He needed to stay angry with her so he wouldn’t think about their kiss. The one that had rocked his world and destroyed the precarious equilibrium he’d been able to maintain up to now. If he had any idea a single kiss would satisfy his curiosity and scratch the itch building since the day he met her, that hope was dust. A single kiss? Twenty kisses? Hundreds of kisses wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him now.

He wanted to hit something. Hard.

The rest of this renovation would be hell. But he would do it. He could do all the work himself, or hire a temp if he really needed a second pair of hands. Now that those skylights were in, there wasn’t anything else he’d really need help with. It would take him a bit longer to do it all by himself, but the work would keep his mind off the petite bombshell who’d turned his world upside down.

Frank watched her leave and when the front door slammed, he turned to Jeff. “Zoe’s pretty upset. Was the cut bad?”

“Bad enough. It shouldn’t have happened. It was my fault.” He sliced angrily through the carton holding the heater with his box knife and the parallel with what happened upstairs wasn’t lost on him. He felt his balls tighten in response.

“I wouldn’t say it was all your fault. I’ve heard you remind her about gloves and safety glasses several times in the few days I’ve been here. If she didn’t pay attention, she has to take responsibility for the consequences.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t matter from now on. I’m not letting her help me anymore.” He gathered the shredded carton together and took it to the dumpster. ”You need my help sweating those joints?”

“No, I’m good here. When I get the old one disconnected you can help me take it out to the dumpster. Till then, you go ahead and finish up the drywall.”

Jeff nodded and headed up the stairs.

Two hours later, the remaining drywall was up, taped and mudded. By tomorrow, the seams would be dry enough to sand. He went down and helped his dad lug the old heater outside.

“Okay, the water’s back on, down here at least.” Frank arched his back as he straightened. “A good thing, too. I need to use the restroom.”

Jeff set up sawhorses in the open gallery area and laid a scrap piece of plywood across them. He began to stain the wood he’d use to trim out the new doors and baseboard areas for Zoe’s apartment.

The bell on the front door jingled. A man who appeared to be in his late forties paused in the doorway and looked around.

“Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so. I’m Fredrick Barker, Ms. Silvercreek’s partner. I expected to find her here.”

Partner? Zoe hadn’t mentioned having a partner. He gave the man a closer scrutiny. He stood about five-ten, with the currently popular five-o’clock-shadowed chin, dark hair, expensive suit. Overall a slick, middle-aged lion with an air of possession.

“I’m sorry, Zoe isn’t here right now. Can I give her a message?”

“No. I prefer to speak to Zoe in person. When will she be back?” The man was polite, with a smug facial expression that added to his air of superiority.

Jeff wasn’t buying it. “You say you’re Zoe’s partner? Funny, she’s never mentioned a partner to me.” He went back to applying stain.

The other man chuckled. “Well, whether Ms. Silvercreek mentioned me to you or not is not the issue. Perhaps she didn’t feel you needed to know her business arrangements. You are, after all, only the contractor she hired to do the renovations, are you not?”

Yep, that’s me. Only the contractor.

“I am. And, as you say, your business relationship with Zoe is none of my concern. If you want to find her, I suggest you try over at The Blue Point Inn, across the square. She’s staying there until I finish her apartment upstairs.” He picked up the next piece of trim, dismissal obvious in his action. The other man studied him for a moment, then turned and left the gallery.

“Who was that?” Frank appeared from around the corner of the short hallway that led to the two restrooms.

“Some actor named Fredrick Barker. Says he’s Zoe’s partner.” Jeff continued to wipe dark walnut stain onto the wood. “She never mentioned a partner to me, but as he said, it’s really none of my business.”

“I guess you’re right. I’m going to go grout the tile up in Zoe’s bathroom. You’ll be able to put the sink and toilet in yourself, won’t you? Because after we get back from picking up those cases Zoe bought, I’ll have to head out. I’ve got a job over in Fells Point I’m due to start tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I can do that, no problem. In fact I’ve changed my mind about tomorrow. While you and Zoe go collect those pieces she bought, I’m gonna stay here and get some more work done.”

Franks brows rose.

“Just be careful, Dad. Don’t let anything slip about Jen, okay? You know how important this is.”

“I know, son, I know. Don’t worry, we’ll stick to talking about you. I think that’s what she’s most interested in anyway.” He winked.

Jeff closed his eyes briefly. “Dad, there’s nothing interesting to say about me. Try to find out more about this Barker dude, if you can. He doesn’t seem like a stand-up kind of guy, you know? I’d hate to think Zoe’s gotten herself tangled up with some jerk who’s got a shady past.”

Zoe’s first stop was Mel’s, on the corner. She loved this old-fashio
ned drug store with its soda fountain on one side and pharmacy on the other. The aisles in between were stocked with all the essentials a family on vacation might have forgotten. She picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment, some rubbing alcohol and a box of bandages, then found a pre-stocked first-aid kit that she bought to keep at the gallery.

Outside a chilly wind was blowing in off the bay. Boats at anchor in the marina rocked in the choppy swells. The slate gray water matched the clouds piling up along the horizon. She shivered and hurried across the square to the B and B.

Marjorie was just coming through the door from the basement when Zoe arrived. “My goodness, is it that late already? I guess I lost track of time down there.”

“You’re not late, I’m early.” Zoe held up her hastily bandaged hand. “I had a little accident at work and since our water is turned off while his dad does some plumbing, Jeff sent me home to take care of it.”

“Oh my. Take off your coat and let’s have a look. Come on back to the kitchen, Zoe. I’ve got a pot of tea all ready.”

“Really, Marjorie, I’m fine. I can take care of this. You don’t have to bother.”

“It’s no bother, Zoe. Besides it’s much easier for me to use both hands than for you to use just one. Don’t argue with me now. It will only take a couple of minutes.” Marjorie helped her off with her coat and hung it on the newel post, then shepherded her toward the kitchen.

“Marjorie, you are too sweet to me. You remind me of my mother.” Zoe’s heart pinched at the thought. Her mom had died several years ago but she still missed her terribly.

She stood at the sink and let Marjorie unwrap the makeshift bandage Jeff had applied.

“What in the world?” Marjorie held up the thin strip of T-shirt material.

Zoe turned around to show her the place the material came from. “We didn’t have a first-aid kit, a mistake I remedied on my way home, so he used my shirt. I think he used the back because when you’re working, it’s the back side of your clothes that stay the cleanest.”

Marjorie smiled. “Smart fellow. I told you he was good.”

Zoe nodded. Oh yeah, he was good all right. Good and mad. Their argument still had her back up. But the memory of their kiss kept sliding in front of the one where his face wore a scowl. That thought had her face warming. She banished the mental image before her blush became too obvious.

“Now, this is going to hurt a bit, but there’s no help for it. We’ve got to get it clean or it may get infected.” Marjorie turned on the water and adjusted the temperature, then squirted some liquid soap in Zoe’s palm. “Do you want me to wash it, or can you do it yourself?”

“I can do it. Like I told Jeff, in the gallery where I used to work, run-ins with box knives and giant staples weren’t uncommon. I’ve dealt with worse.” She gasped as the soap and water hit the cut, then gritted her teeth and firmly cleaned the wound.

A few minutes later, all bandaged up, she sat the big farm table in Marjorie’s kitchen and sipped her tea. She would miss this place, and Marjorie’s mothering.

“How are the renovations coming along, Zoe?”

“Marjorie, I can’t wait for you to see my apartment. We put the drywall up today and the rooms are really rooms now. It’s going to be wonderful having my studio back too. Did I tell you that Jeff and his dad put skylights in? Oh, that light. It’s heavenly.”

“I’m glad it’s working out so well for you, Zoe. Though I’ll miss your company this winter. Except for the holidays, I rarely have any customers during the colder months.”

“What do you do with yourself, all alone in this great big house? You must be lonely.”

“Sometimes. But I’m quite used to amusing myself. I read a lot, mysteries and romances mainly,” she confided with a twinkle in her eyes. “Then there’s my jewelry-making. That keeps me pretty busy.”

Zoe’s cup clattered into the saucer. “Jewelry? You make jewelry?” At Marjorie’s nod she gave an exasperated sigh. “Why have you not mentioned this to me before? I’m opening a gallery, Marjorie, and looking high and low for local artisans to display their wares there.”

“I know, dear. But I’m not sure my things are good enough for a gallery. I don’t want to put you in the position of having to tell me my work isn’t up to your standards.”

“Please, Marjorie. Let me see a few pieces. I bet you’re being way too modest about your talent.” She covered the other woman’s hand with her own. “If it isn’t something I’d want to display, I’ll tell you straight up. Our friendship is strong enough to tolerate honesty, isn’t it?”

Marjorie nodded decisively. “It is. So if you really want to see some, there’s a piece right under your hand.” Shyly she slipped a silver ring off her middle finger and handed it to Zoe. It was a small bird’s nest made from fine wire with three tiny turquoise eggs in it.

Zoe’s jaw dropped open. “This is beautiful, Marjorie. I can’t believe you made this. No, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m just so impressed. The workmanship is amazing.” She pointed her finger at the woman. “You are going to be my very first artisan.”

Marjorie beamed. For the next hour she showed Zoe a whole range of pieces. Earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings. Zoe grew more enthusiastic with each piece Marjorie showed her.

They were interrupted by the sound of the call bell at the front desk. Marjorie’s hands stilled, then she rose. “Maybe that’s the USPS delivery man. I’m expecting a shipment of silver wire. I’ll be right back, Zoe.”

A minute later, she returned. “There is a man out there who wants to talk to you. He says he’s your partner.” Marjorie looked confused.

Zoe paled.

“If you want to offer him tea, I can bring some to the parlor.”

“No thanks, Marjorie. He won’t be staying long enough for tea.”

She looked down at her scruffy clothes, then shrugged. What did she care what he thought about her appearance? She wasn’t his employee anymore. Thank god.

She couldn’t make out the man’s features against the bright light coming through the glass door behind him, but she could tell by his stance that it was Fredrick Barker, her former boss, current . . . investor. She had no plans to be his partner, regardless of his take on their arrangement. Still, there were butterflies the size of bats careening around in her stomach.

He appeared his usual sleek, polished, preening self. A diamond the size of a hazelnut on his pinky, a Rolex on his wrist. His suit was a Saville Row masterpiece and no doubt those shoes were Italian leather. He needed all that glitz to camouflage the corruption inside.

She kept the front desk between them. Otherwise he’d figure out some way to put his hands on her. She’d tolerated enough of that when she was his employee. “Fredrick, I wasn’t expecting you. What brings you here?”

“Checking on my investment, Zoe. Did you think I would simply take your word for the progress you’ve been making?”

She huffed. “I understand. That would have required a certain amount of trust, wouldn’t it? No wonder you came.”

“Zoe, let’s not spar. I’m a businessman. It is entirely appropriate for me to oversee my investments from time to time. If you expected less, you don’t know me very well.”

“Oh, I know you. Very well.”
Too well, actually.

His eyes roamed greedily over all of her that was visible above the desk. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”