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Phoebe’s bright yellow dress was beautiful. A little unusual for this time of year. Maybe she had plans? Maybe she had somewhere else to go today? His stomach gave another flip as he followed her into the kitchen. Could she have a date?
Why was the coffee he’d drunk an hour ago suddenly gurgling around inside him?
It was amazing how a few subtle changes could transform a place. The large Belfast sinks were definitely the focal point. Phoebe gave him a minute to look around. “You’ll see the sinks are now finished, the cream kitchen units have been revamped, some have been moved around. The walls are now a pale yellow to add a hint of color.” She ran her hand along the new countertop. “And the dark wooden countertop is just the perfect finish, don’t you agree?”
The way she phrased her words was almost as if she was challenging him to disagree. But he couldn’t. The kitchen looked impressive. As did the laundry room, and the storage room.
Phoebe led him through to the main room. “You can see how the color palette worked out,” she said. The drapes at the window were striped, the sofas and chairs covered in soft gray leather, with a large gray and yellow rug dressing the light oak floor. Most other houses he’d visited over the years were almost bland. Everything either white or cream.
But Phoebe had a good understanding of color. The room was light enough to still enhance its size, but the color added something else—a sense of life. A sense of harmony. With a citrus scent in the air.
He pressed his lips together as she led him through to the sitting room at the back of the house. This room had glass doors that opened out to Mecox Bay. Here, the drapes were minimal, tied back to let the choppy waters of the bay be the focal point. The colors in here were slightly different. More pale blue than gray. It was almost as if, instead of dressing the house, Phoebe had been dressing the bay. She understood even more than he’d given her credit for.
She flicked on a small lamp in the corner. He sucked in a breath. “Is that a Tiffany?”
She laughed. “Of course not. I didn’t spend that much money. It’s a reproduction. But I thought it helped. There’s very little color in this room, just cream and pale blue. Can you imagine, at night, sitting here, staring out over the dark bay, and flicking on this lamp, having the reflections of the blue, yellow and red glass across the walls? It would be almost magical.”
For a few seconds, Matteo held his breath. He could almost picture it in his head. The trouble was that picture seemed homely. Warm. Inviting. Things he just couldn’t associate with this house anymore.
He kept his voice steady. “Interesting. I think you’ve done a good job in the house, so far.”
Phoebe made the tiniest movement. Did she flinch? Her face appeared a bit pinched. He’d thought he’d just complimented her work, but maybe not.
She swept past him and kept going. “Let’s move up to the second floor.”
They moved back out to the staircase, and Phoebe practically ran up it—obviously trying to shake the memories of being caught dancing on it earlier.
The bedrooms were all finished to a high standard, each with a few unique or quirky items just to personalize the rooms. The bathrooms were similar. Sparkling white, with some yellow or pale blue accessories.
Phoebe walked at speed, moving from room to room and talking constantly. Her work was impeccable. He’d already had a call from the realtor, who had gushed and complimented him so much he’d actually wondered at one stage if she was going to offer to have his baby. The realtor loved the house and had hinted that she predicted a sale would be quick.
“This is obviously the master bedroom so it’s been dressed a little more demurely than the others. Again, since the view is a pivotal part of this room I’ve kept the color palette sedated.”
She was tugging at a little bit of hair at the nape of her neck. She’s nervous. Of course she was. The last time he’d seen her they’d been kissing.
His fingers crackled the paper in his pocket. He’d come here to question her about the expenses. But, as he walked from room to room, he could see exactly where every single cent had been spent. The house wasn’t completely transformed. But it was different.
It felt different. Even to him. There was no question he was still haunted by the memories of his mother. But at least now he could start to dissociate himself from this place. Phoebe had made everything look new. It even smelled different.
Phoebe was still talking. Still tugging at her hair. “So, there’s only a few other rooms. But I don’t think you need to see them.” She turned to face him.
“As you can see, my job here is complete.” She gave him a bright smile that seemed forced. “Maybe we should talk about my payment?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe we should talk about Rome? That is our agreement. Complete both houses, not just one. I can arrange plane tickets for tomorrow. Once I’ve shown you the house, and introduced you to the staff, I can leave.”
Phoebe visibly blanched but Matteo continued, his hands in his pockets as he walked around the room. “You’ve done an excellent job. The look of the house is much improved.” He gave a little smile. “Even though you might have broke the bank this last week.” He moved over to the window and stared out at the bay. Even in the middle of winter, the choppy sea was a mixture of blues and grays. There were a few boats out on the bay. The view was entirely spectacular and would probably be the selling point of this house. “I think it’s time to move forward.”
He turned back around to face Phoebe. She was staring at the floor, fumbling with her hands. “I think that Rome might not work. It would make more sense for you to deal with an Italian interior designer who has a good idea of the best selling points for the Italian market. And the best tradesmen to work with. I have absolutely no grasp of the Italian language. I think I’d be far more of a hindrance than a help.”
Matteo frowned and stepped forward. “But we had an agreement. I asked you to do both houses for me.” He dug his hands a little deeper in his pockets. “And wouldn’t a house in Rome be good for your CV? As well as the house in the Hamptons?” Matteo wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly how much kudos doing this house would give her. He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to also have an international mansion on her portfolio.
Phoebe still refused to meet his gaze. She was shaking her head the whole time. Did she even realize she was doing it?
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “Let me book the flights. When you see the house, you’ll love it.” He started flicking through the contacts in his phone.
“No.” The word was almost a whisper.
His head jerked back up. “What?”
“No.” The word was now a little less shaky. She lifted her head and finally met his gaze again. It was almost as if she were struggling to get her breath.
“What are you talking about?” He moved even closer. He was starting to get annoyed. “I employed you to dress both house
s, the one here and the one in Rome.”
“I know that...” she started, “but...”
“But what?” He threw up his hands. “Why on earth are you stalling? We had an agreement.”
“I... I... I...”
There was something about the way she was stuck for words. That didn’t seem normal for Phoebe. Her eyes filled with tears as he watched her.
He stepped over and touched her bare arm. “What on earth is wrong?”
She glanced down at his hand on her arm and he frowned. Something shot through his head and he was flooded with panic. “Is this about us? Is this about this kiss?”
Darn it. He knew he’d handled things badly—probably closest to a hormonal teenager. It was ridiculous. He was a grown man with a world of experience in kissing women.
But he’d never kissed a girl like Phoebe. He’d never kissed a girl who’d made him feel as if the fireworks going off outside were actually part of him. He’d never wanted to continue a kiss more than he’d wanted to that night. But it had been an impulsive thing. A lapse of judgement.
So why couldn’t he get it out of his head?
Phoebe met his gaze again. “It’s nothing to do with the kiss.” She sounded exasperated, and a little bit sad. “It’s just a whole other part of my life that I’m just not ready to deal with.”
Matteo pulled back a little. “Phoebe, what is going on? Is something wrong?” The mark on her face the other day? Was this something to do with that? It was amazing how instantly protective he still felt about her.
She took a deep breath and he let his hand fall from her arm. Physical contact between them wasn’t a good idea. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
He was getting impatient. “Then I’ll see you at JFK airport tomorrow. The flight takes around eight and a half hours and it’s a red eye. Dress comfortably.”
