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15
MARYPAIGELOOKEDaround the gorgeous subway-tiled modern kitchen with the fading light of the day tumbling in through the high skylights. “This is truly beautiful.”
“Thanks. I used the entry floor for my workout space and theater room, but I wanted high ceilings and lots of light in the space. I went through a lot of websites to find a way to mix the historic elements with something modern and energy efficient,” Brennan said, pouring pinot noir into a wineglass and handing it to her.
She wasn’t much for red wine, but her nerves were humming so she took a sip. “Really? So, you took a big interest in the restoration?”
He smoothed a hand across the wood of the center island. “This wood was reclaimed from an old ship that went down in the Mississippi River. I got it at a salvage yard and worked with a carpenter to get the right patina.”
“It’s beautiful.” Cripes. She couldn’t stand there like mud on a fence post saying everything was “beautiful,” but her tongue felt stuck to the bottom of her mouth. She took another sip of wine, hoping it would help her relax.
After all, she didn’t have to have sex with him.
“And then I found some reclaimed porcelain tiles that had been hand painted, so I got the contractor to help me install them in my bathroom before the stucco guy came and put in the plaster.”
“I’m impressed. You like to get your hands dirty.”
“Surprised?”
“What?”
“It’s just you have this image of me you won’t let go. Rich playboy waited on hand and foot. I like doing things for myself, sometimes.”
“I don’t think you’re waited on hand and foot. I can see how much your job means to you, how hard you work at your office.” She stopped because she really hadn’t seen him working—he’d only accompanied her to all the events lined up for the Spirit of Christmas promotion, so she was making a logical assumption based on the files he had stacked on the coffee table and the way he’d conducted himself thus far. Here was a man who put elbow grease into what he tackled.
He took a sip of wine. “I do work hard…and I always liked hands-on projects even as a small child.”
She smiled. “I built boxes for the wood ducks on the river, and I volunteer every fall for a local church who build wheelchair ramps. We always need good carpenters.”
“And I can weld. Took a welding class when I was in high school. I told grandfather I was out studying.”
“Really?”
“I thought I wanted to be a sculpture artist for a while. It was a phase.” He set the glass down and gestured toward the living area. “Want to see the rest of the place?”
She took another gulp. “Sure.”
They walked slowly through the town house, Brennan pointing out the heart-of-pine floors original to the building and the clever way he’d hidden his state-of-the-art TV and components in a console. Everything was tastefully decorated and screamed expensive, sophisticated and put-me-in-a-magazine.
Brennan stopped in front of the open door of the master bedroom. “We don’t have to have sex.”
“What?” she squeaked, nearly sloshing wine onto the hand-knotting rug.
“You’re just making me feel weird, like I’m trying to seduce you,” he said, taking the glass from her hand, making sure the wine steadied, before handing it back to her.
“I don’t— What I mean is, I didn’t realize I was acting nervous.”
“But you are.” Brennan pointed toward the huge bed centered in the room. “I’m not going to pounce on you as soon as we get in there, you know. I respect the decision to take this slowly, to find our footing before jumping into bed.”
“Well, what if I want to jump into bed?” Her heart felt like it was galloping in the Kentucky Derby and her palms were sweaty.
Brennan laughed. “I don’t have a problem with that. I changed the sheets myself. With these two hands.” He lifted them and wiggled his fingers.
She smiled. “Know what I’m tired of?”
“I don’t.”
She set her wineglass on a built-in shelf in the small hallway. “Talking.”
