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“How many?” His brain was beginning to throb. It was clear that even though he could manage multiple dealings in his company, across different time zones and continents—the minutiae of dealing with preparing a house for sale were beyond him.
She gave a smile and arched one eyebrow. “But hey? How long does it take to buy some fabric and some vases?” There was a twinkle in her eyes that he knew he deserved.
He couldn’t help but smile. In the last two days she’d literally sketched designs for every room in two color palettes, organized refitting of the kitchen and some of the bathrooms, decided what pieces to keep and which to refurbish, all without any help. He held up his hands. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t really know what it was that you did.”
“But you hired me for a quarter of a million dollars anyway?”
He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, but Phoebe was already off again, talking to the assistant. “Is this the way to the leather?”
An hour later Matteo had seen, touched and smelt more varieties of leather than he’d ever really known existed and, even though he had no experience, it felt as if Phoebe had chosen well. She was still talking though. “I have a van parked outside. Can I get everything transferred into that?” she asked the assistant.
Matteo interrupted. “You brought a van? You’re not getting everything delivered?”
She shook her head. “Why would I do that? I want to take everything back to the house myself. I want to check I’m happy with the fabrics before I get the drapes and furnishings made up. The leather will be delivered direct to the upholsterer, and tomorrow the chairs and sofas will be taken to his workshop so his team can get started.”
Matteo pulled his credit card from his pocket and settled the bill. Yes, it was large. But no more than he’d really expected. The whole inside of the house needed a facelift, and he knew it.
Phoebe was still chattering away. She was very self-effacing but also extremely efficient. She had a way of getting things done. And she’d certainly moved with speed.
Something inside him was twisting around. It had to be the house. It had been so long since he’d actually been there, that it was only natural returning would be unsettling. But that didn’t explain why he couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from the girl in the bright pink coat, with the mad curls and coffee-tinted skin.
She bent down and talked to a toddler in a stroller while the mother was paying for her purchases, tracing her finger around the little one’s palm as she sang “Ring-a-Ring o’ Roses.”
All of the women he’d been involved with spent their lives dressed in suits and formal dresses. Phoebe was wearing jeans, boots and a pale blue jumper under her coat. He liked her like that.
Like. A word he hadn’t contemplated in a while. He could almost hear the roaring in his ears. When was the last time he’d actually liked someone?
He pushed the thoughts from his mind. His phone signal was still poor, and he still had to put the alarm code into Phoebe’s phone. He had work to do. Being around Phoebe seemed to permanently distract him.
“Phoebe, do you want to grab some lunch? We need to find a place with a better signal so I can put the alarm code into your phone.”
Phoebe looked surprised. “Well, sure. But don’t you need to go back into the city? Because I was going to head down to the Hamptons.”
Why was he doing this? His head wasn’t entirely sure. The logical part of his brain was telling him this made perfect sense, it was all about an alarm code. If Phoebe had her own set of keys and the alarm code, then there was no reason for her to bother him again.
But even the rational part of his brain could sense this was a smoke screen. Whether he wanted to admit it, or not.
Phoebe licked her lips. They were painted pink today to match her coat, but the truth was she didn’t need any makeup. Her natural beauty shone through. From the glow in her cheeks, to the shine on her springy curls and the sparkle in her eyes.
Matteo nodded. “Let’s head toward the Hamptons. I’ll get the driver to follow you. We can pull in at the first café we see in Westhampton.”
Phoebe gave a nod. “You’ll need to give me time to get the van loaded.”
More time. There was only one thing for it.
He gave a nod of his head and held out his hands. “What am I here for?”
* * *
She wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Matteo Bianchi was still as confusing as ever. One second he was a pleasant guy with a spark in his eye and a sense of humor, next second he was a grump, with dark shadows sweeping across his face. She wasn’t sure whether he really found her a hindrance or a help.
