by Beverly Farr
It was also fun to buy without worrying about keeping within a budget. “Buy whatever you want,” he’d said. “If you come close to breaking the bank, I’ll let you know.”
Ginny winced at the phrase.
“What are you thinking?” Derek asked.
“I’m thinking about Innovative Designs,” she said honestly, then changed to a lighter subject. “Maybe I should brand myself as the speedy decorator, like some of those reality television shows.”
“Transform your home in one week with Ginny Russell, Dallas’ quickest decorator?” He considered the slogan for a moment. “I like it.”
Ginny’s heart warmed at the praise, then she told herself not to be ridiculous. Derek was merely making conversation, not giving her a detailed business analysis of her company.
“What made you study interior design?” he asked a few minutes later as she measured a maroon couch with a measuring tape.
She looked at him. He sounded like he was interested in her answer. She thought for a moment, then said, “When I was a little girl, I had a miniature doll house, built to scale. I spent hours creating the rooms, designing wallpaper, building furniture out of cardboard. I had a little set of dolls that went with the house – two parents, two grandparents, two children, a baby and a dog.”
“The perfect family.”
“Absolutely. They never fought; they never yelled.” Ginny suddenly realized how pathetic that sounded. He didn’t want to hear about her dysfunctional childhood; he’d asked about her career. “I went into interior design because it’s creative, and I get to work with beautiful things,” she said, changing the tone of the conversation. “And it’s easier to work with things than with people. If I don’t like the colors of a room, I can repaint it. If a couch bothers me, I can have it re-upholstered.”
“That’s a little difficult with people.”
Ginny smiled. “I know a few who could benefit from re-upholstering,” she joked.
“So do I.”
“Of course, I still have to work with clients, but now that I have my own firm, I have control over that, too. I have a policy of only working with people I like.”
“Thank you,” Derek said dryly.
Ginny looked at him sharply, then looked away. Did she like Derek? That seemed a tame word for the mixture of feelings she had for him. She bent down to measure another couch.
While she was looking at area rugs, Derek found a plush chair and sat down. He put his feet up on a matching ottoman and relaxed. “I want this one.”
“No you don’t.”
Derek laughed. “So much for my veto power. I knew I shouldn’t trust you.” He pounded his fist on the armrest melodramatically like a two year old throwing a tantrum. “If I want it, I want it, and we’ll get it.”
“Careful,” Ginny warned. “If you break it, you’ve bought it.”
Derek surveyed the armrest for damage. “I think it’s fine.”
“And you still don’t want it. Miranda has one just like it, and everyone who sits down, leaves a rump print.”
Derek stood and looked at the print he’d left.
“So unless you want to use it as a party game, letting guests match prints to various derrieres ...” She let her voice trail off.
“Let me guess -- does Crandall go around after your mother’s parties, smoothing the cushion with a little brush?”
Ginny nodded.
“You’re right. I don’t want a high maintenance chair. Not unless I can bribe Crandall to leave your mother.”
“It’s worth a shot. He might be ready for a change. I’m surprised he’s lasted as long as he has. Miranda’s help usually has a quick turn around time.”
“I could use a butler,” Derek said thoughtfully. “Either that -- or a wife.”
Was he thinking of getting married again? She didn’t know why the thought should make her pause. He was a successful businessman, with a new beautiful house. It was natural for him to want to settle down with a wife and have a few kids.
She had a quick mental picture of Derek with two toddlers tugging on his pant’s leg. He’d be a good father -- the kind who would carry the kids around on his shoulders and play games with them. He wouldn’t be too busy to read bedtime stories. Back when they were married, he had said he wanted half a dozen kids.
But enough wool gathering. If she didn’t say something soon, he’d think something was wrong with her. She said, “You expect your wife to go around brushing the furniture? No wonder you haven’t remarried.”
“I haven’t remarried,” he said distinctly, “because after you, I didn’t want to settle for second best.”
Did he mean that any other woman would be second best to her? That was difficult to believe, but she didn’t want to think about it. “Let’s go look at beds.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Ginny growled. “Watch it, Derek.”
#
In the bedroom section, Derek was impossible. He lay on each bed, considering them. “Too fussy,” he’d say. Or “too medieval.”
“You’re testing the mattress, not the bed itself,” she argued, a little embarrassed by the looks they were getting from other customers.
“I want to know what the furniture will look like from this angle.” He lay on his back, his hands casually behind his head, looking up at her. “Beds are to be enjoyed. I’ll spend more time in them, than looking down at them, so I should know what I’m getting.”
“All right,” she said, admitting defeat. He was the client, after all. “I assume you’ll want a king-sized bed.”
“I don’t know,” he said with a slow, intimate smile. “We got along fine with a full sized mattress.”
Yes, they had, but she didn’t want to think about that. There was more to marriage than sex.
She had a sudden memory of his coming home from an early morning run and waking her by tickling her feet. “Come on, sleepy head, wake up. The morning’s half over and you’re still sound asleep.”
She, never a morning person, kicked at his hand and burrowed deeper into the covers. “Leave me alone.”
“I can’t, Ginny love.” Then he’d kissed her awake and they made love.
Ginny love. Even now, the memory of his whispered endearment made her pulse beat faster.
She let her breath out slowly, determined to put that memory back in cold storage, where it belonged. She was marrying Phillip. She had no business letting herself get flustered by Derek. “Most of the bedroom sets sold are either king or queen-sized,” she said coolly.
“Coward,” he murmured.
Had he read her thoughts? Was she so obvious? She felt her face flush red.
“We had some good times together, didn’t we?”
She refused to dwell on the good times. Their marriage had been a mistake from the beginning. They’d jumped into it too fast.
She pointed to a simple design in a dark walnut. “I like that bed over there.”
“So do I,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s go check it out.”
He lay down on the right side of the bed and fluffed the display pillow. “Do you still sleep on the left?”
Ginny snapped, “That’s none of your business.”
He rolled over onto his side, facing her. “I just wondered if Phillip has a preference.”
“I don’t —-” She stopped. She was about to say, “I don’t know,” which was true, but then Derek would know that she and Phillip weren’t sleeping together. They’d decided to wait until they were married, and few people respected that these days. She didn’t want him to make some rude comment. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fine, then we’ll talk about us.”
“Us? There is no ‘us.’ The divorce decree made us individuals again. Besides, we agreed not to discuss the past.”
“Then let’s discuss the future.” He patted the side of the bed as if encouraging her to join him.
She
recognized the teasing glint in his eye. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d turned back the clock nine years to when they were married. “My future is that I’m decorating your house, and then I’m marrying Phillip,” she said firmly. “Now do you want this bed or don’t you?”
“It’ll do.”
“Fine, then we’ll take it.” She scanned the price tag. The sooner they were out of this store, the happier she would be.
CHAPTER SIX
Ginny could not get rid of him.
In the next week, it seemed that every time she turned around, Derek was there. He tagged along with her to the Oriental rug store and the lamp store. He offered to help when she hung the art work. “Don’t you ever work?” she snapped after a few days of his shadowing her. She busied herself with opening a large box of candles.
“I do a lot of work from my laptop or my phone,” he explained, apparently not offended by her question. “I can work anywhere. And I have two excellent Vice Presidents who do a better job than I do. So I can set my own hours.”
“How nice for you,” she said coolly. “But I have the opposite situation. I’m not getting my work done because you’re home all day.”
“My presence is stifling your creativity?”
“Let’s just say I work better when I’m not worried about someone sneaking up on me.”
“What’s the matter, Ginny? I haven’t kissed your neck once – or is that part of the problem?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said, absently rubbing the back of her neck, until she saw him watching her. She frowned. “I work better alone, and if you want me to finish your house on time, you need to leave me alone.”
“Can I get myself something to eat during the day, or is the kitchen off limits, too?”
Ginny let her breath out in an exasperated sigh. “Eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I don’t want to turn your house into a prison. I just want to work in peace. Is that asking too much?”
“Fine with me. I thought I was cooperating.”
“There’s a fine line between cooperation and harassment.”
“Really? Tell me about it.” Derek walked toward her and stood too close for comfort, so she backed up a few inches. He advanced again, and she stepped back until her back was flat against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she gasped.
He stood, not quite touching her, but no more than an inch away, so she couldn’t escape without brushing against him. She was trapped.
He ran a gentle finger down her cheek and across her lips.
Ginny shuddered with anticipation. He was going to kiss her again.
Derek leaned forward until his lips were half an inch from hers. “This is what I’d call harassment,” he said very quietly. His eyes gleamed as if he’d like to eat her alive.
Ginny turned her head sharply to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze.
Was it still considered harassment if she liked it? Ginny set that traitorous thought aside. Caveman tactics did not appeal to her. She strove to keep her voice steady as she said, “I prefer cooperation.”
“That’s up to you,” he said simply, stepping back and giving her breathing room. He whistled as he walked away.
That was a close one, Ginny told herself, not daring to take a step for fear that her weak legs would betray her. She let her breath out slowly. She needed to remember that Derek, for all his civilized veneer, was still a male animal. And even the nicest dog could bite if cornered.
#
“Howdy stranger,” Charlotte joked as Ginny came into the Innovative Designs office. “Long time, no see.”
Ginny smoothed her hair back with her hand. “I know, I know,” she said wearily. “It feels like I’m living at Derek Landon’s house, but I’m making progress. I have ninety percent of the furniture in.” Ginny flipped through the mail, separating out the bills. She handed them to Charlotte. “Pay these.”
Charlotte nodded.
“Anything else critical?” Ginny asked.
“Not really.”
“Have you heard anything from The Retreat committee?”
“No, they haven’t announced their decision, yet.”
“I hate the wait, but it’s probably a blessing in disguise. If they made the decision today, I’d be too busy to start work.”
“Oh, I think you’d find a way,” Charlotte said. “You’d probably go without sleeping.”
Ginny yawned. It felt like she was doing that already. When she finally did get to bed, she was often too keyed up to sleep, and when she did sleep, her dreams were a crazy mixture of the past and present. She felt like she was being torn three different ways. She was afraid she was going to be the most haggard looking bride in history. “Has my mother called?”
“Only to remind you of your last fitting.”
Ginny frowned. “I already have that scheduled, don’t I?”
Charlotte nodded.
“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” Ginny said gratefully. “Remind me when this is all over to give you a raise.”
#
Ginny measured the living room drapes three times. Of the six panels, only two were the same length. The other four varied as much as three inches in length. She’d have to send them back and start over. This is what she got for dealing with a new custom draper instead of her old favorite. Her favorite drapers had been too busy to do the rush job Derek needed. Ginny could have cried in frustration.
Derek walked into the living room. “How’s it going?” he asked, surveying the piles of fabric.
“Don’t ask.”
“That bad, huh?”
Ginny sat back on her heels. “Worse. These curtains won’t work. They’re all different lengths, and there’s no way I can have new drapes custom made before your interview.”
“So I won’t have drapes. Don’t stress yourself over it. I’ll survive.”
“It’s my job to stress over it.”
“Then it’s time to rewrite your job description.”
Ginny smiled. Maybe he was right, and she was overreacting. She had a bad habit of working one hundred percent on a project and then crashing later. “All right. No living room drapes.” She started folding the uneven drapes to put them back in the boxes they had come in.
He sat on his new couch. “You’re working too hard,” he judged.
“You’re the one who needs this house finished in twelve -” she counted. “No, eleven more days.”
“Relax. You’re doing a wonderful job. You’ll get it done.”
“I hope so.” She stood up and stretched. She tilted her head from one side to the other, trying to relieve the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. Unpacking boxes and climbing all over, putting things away, had stressed her back as well.
“Do you want a back rub?”
“No, thank you,” she said coolly. Derek had magical hands, but she wanted to keep her distance. She was not going to let herself be confused by physical attraction again.
“What you need is a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.”
That sounded wonderful, but impossible. She sighed. “Instead I’m going to have a dinner at a restaurant and attend a symphony at the Myerson.”
“Is Phillip taking you out?”
“Actually, Miranda is. She has season tickets and is taking us both.”
“How nice,” he murmured. “Do you need a fourth?”
“No. She invited Phillip’s mother, too.”
“That’s too bad. I could have provided a shoulder for you to sleep on during the concert.”
“I am not going to fall asleep!” She snapped, then yawned, irritated that his talk of sleep had made her sleepy.
“Want to make a friendly little bet on that?”
“No.” Derek had an uncanny ability to guess the odds on future events. He used to say it was a matter of observation and common sense, but she knew a good measure of luck was also involved. It was too bad he hadn’t known how their marriage would end – t
hen perhaps they could have avoided all the pain.
He said idly, “I’ve always wondered -- you call your mother Miranda. Didn’t you ever call her Mom?”
Ginny was surprised by the change of subject. “I called her mother or Mom until I was about ten, and she was dating Nicholas. She didn’t want him to know she was old enough to be my mother, so she pretended I was her step-daughter. She asked me to call her Miranda, and the habit stuck.”
Derek shook his head. “Amazing.”
“I know you don’t approve, but she is still my mother.”
“Technically.”
Ginny tried to make him understand. “She can be irritating and self-absorbed, but underneath that, she wants to be a good mother. She tries to make me happy. The problem is that we’re two very different people and we don’t always see eye-to-eye.”
“Talk about making lemons into lemonade. You must be the champion.”
“I try to give people the benefit of the doubt.”
“Except me,” he said quietly.
The words seemed to burn through her. Had she misjudged him? “Derek, I –” She didn’t know what to say.
He stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. She sensed that he was pulling back from her, keeping his distance. “I have to get back to work, and you do, too. If I don’t see you before you go, have a good time tonight.”
“Thank you, I will.”
#
Ginny sipped a glass of iced tea as she stared at the computer screen, comparing prices of one 600 count thread cotton sheet set to another. What time was it?
Nearly midnight. She yawned, stretching her arms and looking around her bedroom. She should go to bed, but she was determined to finish stocking Derek’s linen closet before she went to sleep.
Sheets, pillows, towels. Why did anyone need a house with five bathrooms?
At least she was nearing the end of decorating Derek’s house. And after the evening she went to the symphony, Derek had spent more time in his corporate office, and less time bothering her. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity to tell him that she had managed to stay awake.