Page 28 of The Focal Point

She reappeared to the sound of a box being dragged across the floor—it was an oddly-shaped rectangle, and she was out of breath.

“Can you call Liam and set up an appointment with him? He just called and said he has another house for me to design.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Another house? Like a vacation home?”

“Apparently, it’s here in the city.” I shrugged when her eyebrows lifted in confusion.

“All right.” It was her turn to shrug, and she left the box in the doorway for Hank to take care to grab her phone.

It had been an odd phone call, one that had left me with far more questions than answers. But I couldn’t deny I was a little excited to see Liam again.

Chapter 11

Liam

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I HEARD BAILEY HUMMING to herself before I entered the room, and I paused, wondering if I should bother her. The sound had a strange effect on me, one equal parts joy and sadness.

My mother had done the same, the sound a distinctive memory from my childhood

Standing outside the door for a moment, I listened to Bailey moving around the room as she hummed. It was nothing special, but that might have been why it was so comforting—someone moving around in a space, doing ordinary, everyday things, the sound of footsteps and movement. And, of course, the quiet humming.

Although Bailey could carry a tune better than my mother.

Before hovering outside the door could be considered creepy, I stepped into the doorway and knocked on the doorframe. Bailey’s head jerked around, her forward motion wrenching to a halt. But she let out a breath when she saw me, her shoulders slumping in what looked like relief.

“Liam,” she said, her face brightening with a smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Maybe I should have called out when I’d arrived. Being a young woman working alone in a house couldn't be easy.

But Bailey waved my concern away, and I couldn’t help but notice the brightness of her eyes. Warmth spread from a spot in the center of my chest outward, and I had to resist the urge to step toward her and—what? What did I want to do?

Kiss her, probably. Hold her. Revel in the feeling of her pressed against me, in my arms.

At first, my desire had been to get to know Bailey, to understand who she was and why. Then, as I got to know her better, my wish moved to spending time with her. It was almost a need to hear her voice, see her smile, and make her laugh—a sound that sparked something warm, bright, and happy in me.

But as we moved through this second design project, this time without the interruption of a product launch, even that had shifted to something deeper.

Bailey was incredible—there was no other word for it. As I’d told Tom that day, she was talented, funny, self-possessed, and engaging. I might have been the nerd, but she could give me a run for my money when it came to movie trivia, books, and even a video game or two. And there was nothing better than watching her mind work, her anticipation building as she tackled a new project. Bailey’s passion for her job was evident. It was written on her face, movements, and body language as she worked, all excitement and ideas and energetic movement.

I had made excuses to see her in the early days of the first project, but the number of excuses I made kept growing.

Tom knew what I was doing, of course. His face would change whenever I ducked my head into his office to tell him I was leaving for a bit, a glower settling on his features and his shoulders tensing. My best friend had stopped telling me how stupid my idea was. He even stopped trying to convince me to just ask Bailey out. Instead, he glared a warning at me and returned to work without saying a thing.

But he wasn’t there with Bailey like I was. He didn’t see the way she would cut off a conversation if it grew too personal or the way she would make up an excuse and duck out whenever sparks flew between us. I was afraid if I asked her out now, she would say no, and that would be it—I would lose my one chance.

I didn’t think I was imagining the connection between us, either. I couldn’t have wished into existence the warmth between us or the pull, like a magnet, that drew us together and made us so reluctant to leave. It was a feeling of warmth, of kinship, of connection and attraction that had nothing to do with thought and everything to do with something beyond reason and consciousness.

It was that magical sparkle of attraction that made me feel excited, nervous, passionate, and tender all at once, that thrill of a first date and a first kiss and flutters of attraction.

Except over the months Bailey had taken me on as a client, the feeling had moved from first flutter to something so much more.

But did she feel the same, or was I simply the friend she had been searching for? Early in our conversations, she’d admitted that friendship was complicated. She simply didn’t have the time. But I felt it was something else, something about the way she shied away at the first hint of attraction or even a deeper friendship. I didn’t know why or who had hurt her so deeply. I imagined it had something to do with her ex-fiancé, the one she had only spoken of that once but whom I could never get her to open up about again.

My sister, the psychologist, would probably know more, but I knew she would think this venture was as stupid as Tom, and I wasn’t ready to face that reality yet. Maybe if I were no further along by the end of this project, I would think about letting Bailey go. But I had to hang on until then—I had to keep trying. I knew, I just knew, if she got to know me, she might be able to trust me enough to try for something romantic.

And even if it never turned romantic, I was happy to see how her smile and eyes lit up when she saw me—the way they had now.