by Annie Seaton
“To the ceiling.”
“It’s a very big job.”
“If it’s too much for your firm, I’ll get someone to come down from the city.” He went back to the entrance and stood in the doorway with his arms folded, leaning on the doorframe.
“No, there’s no need to do that. It’s quite within the scope of the store.” Georgie pulled out her tape and walked across to the far side of the room. “Some of the walls may need reinforcing to carry the weight of shelves to the ceiling.”
A look of astonishment crossed his face, as if he was surprised that she knew what she was talking about. “So you do the measuring, and the builders come in and do the job?”
“No, Blake—the owner—asked me to do this job.”
“Why? Because you live next door? You are a builder?”
“Yes, despite being a woman, I am a builder, and Blake asked me because this sort of job was—is—my specialty.” Irritation at his obtuseness burned in Georgie’s gut and she stared at him, waiting for him to come up with some sexist remark. “Living next door is purely coincidental—and temporary. So don’t worry, I won’t be bothering you.”
Why the heck she’d said that, she didn’t know. Georgie slipped a professional mask over her face, tucked her tape into her jeans pocket, and turned to him. “Working with wood and creating features that match the age of the house is part of the restoration work that I’ve done for the past few years. I was in partnership with two others in our own company, and I’m very good at what I do. If you want to see my work, I can give you some addresses to check out.” She pulled out her notebook and her pencil. “Now, while I measure up, I want you to think about what you want.”
“I want bookshelves.”
“What sort of bookshelves?”
“Ones that hold books.” If he hadn’t been scowling at her, the conversation would have been comical. Like something from a comedy sketch.
“Heavy books? Light books? Big books? Little books? Encyclopedias? Paperbacks?” Georgie refused to let him bother her and she grinned. “They certainly won’t hold e-books.”
“Ah, a comedian. Just what I need.” He scowled at her. “Just book books.”
He is so rude. She hoped he would stay out of her way while she was working here. It was such a big job; it would certainly fill up the whole month before she left on her trip.
“Fancy edges? Deep shelves? Different heights? And isn’t there a second room on the order, too?” She stared at him and tapped her pencil against her notebook.
God forbid. This room alone was going to take a few weeks’ work. There wouldn’t be time for her to do both rooms, but she’d call Blake and sort that out later.
“Just this one will do, for the time being.” He was obviously going to check her work out before he got her to do the second room. Georgie shrugged and turned away from him. Didn’t matter, she wouldn’t be around to do it, anyway.
Distant, aloof, and totally full of himself. It was a shame Blake and Ana would have to put up with him for a neighbor when they came home from New York. He was very different from sweet old Joe Humphries.
Georgie wondered what sort of books this Liam Wyndham wrote and why he’d moved to Nebbiton to write them. Apart from falling off kayaks in the cold ocean, that was. He was in for a shock if he thought he could get away with keeping to himself in this community. She swallowed a grin. Maybe she would drop a hint to Thelma and Mitzi that there was a new person in town…well, almost in town.
Focus. She turned her attention to the job in front of her.
“Okay, now I want you to think about what you’d like. You’ve hired a restoration firm through the store, so I’m assuming you want to keep it in line with the style of the house.” She straightened her shoulders and looked at him. “You don’t want me to go and buy a set of ready-made IKEA bookshelves, right?”
He waved his hand and his disinterest was clear. “Do whatever you think will suit the house. As long as it holds my books—of all shapes and sizes—I’ll leave it up to you. I don’t want to be disturbed. I’ll leave the front door unlocked each morning. There’s a bathroom at the end of this corridor.” His voice was short as he turned away from her. His final words reached her as he disappeared through the door. “Send me the bill when it’s finished.”
Georgie snapped her mouth shut. The ruder he was, the happier she would be. His amazing good looks were at such odds with his personality that the attraction that had initially tugged at her was doused with cold water. And to completely kill it, all she had to do was remember her new mantra.
I value my independence. Georgie grinned. It was getting easier every time she thought the words.
It was of no concern to her that this guy looked like a film star. She needed no man…and this rude guy who wanted bookshelves would get just that and no second thought or consideration from her. If she could let herself in and out each day and pretend he wasn’t around, that would suit her just fine. She would do the job and prepare herself for her big adventure. The size of the job would help. She’d have no time to worry about Mr. Kayak Man, and get the shelves done before she set off.
Hmmm. Liam. Nice name. Suits the good looks.
Georgie shook herself and pulled out her measuring tape.
Chapter Three
Liam leaned back in his chair and looked around the small room he’d set up as his temporary office. The desk was clear, apart from the laptop computer; his essential reference books were in a box on the floor within reach; and the bulletin board was covered with glossy photos from Nepal. The floor in this room had a slight slope to it, and there was an ominous crack in the molded arch above the door. He had known when he’d bought the place that it was in need of repair, but the location had appealed to him. Knowing it from his childhood had also brought a measure of security with it. Private and perched on top of the cliff overlooking the bay, it reminded him of some of the houses from Alfred Hitchcock movies. He’d hoped the mysterious atmosphere would feed his muse.
What he hadn’t factored in was that if the house was to be restored—and repaired—there would be a constant stream of workmen—or women, God forbid—through the place. So much for living the life of a recluse. This morning he was blaming the presence of his redheaded rescuer for the desertion of the muse. No matter that he hadn’t been able to write for months. Today, he knew that someone else was in the house, and she would likely come around when she’d finished measuring up, even though he’d told her not to bother him. Waiting for the inevitable interruption was wreaking havoc with his concentration.
It was. That’s all it was. Once the redhead was gone for the day, he’d get some words down. He looked at the blank document on the monitor in front of him and it caught his reflection, and his eyes stared back accusingly at him.
I give up.
Liam pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and blocked all other thoughts from his mind as he crossed to the window and looked down at the untidy backyard.
Another job that needs doing. He’d deliberately set up this room as his study because it had no view over the sea. No distraction. The last thing he needed was to stare out over the water when he should be getting his word count up.
Ha. That’s a joke. It was impossible to count words that were not written. As if on cue, his phone buzzed and he debated whether to answer it or not, especially when he picked it up and his agent’s number flashed on the screen accusingly.
“Hello, Sarah.” Liam stared down at the overgrown lawn below.
“Liam, where have you been? I tried to reach you all day yesterday.”
“I was kayaking.”
The silence on the other end of the phone relayed Sarah’s displeasure. He knew he was letting her down, but somehow he’d get this book written as soon as he was settled in the house. He had to.
“So you’ve got some words down then? You’re feeling better…the block is gone?”
Last month, he’d stupidly shared with her that he’d been suff
ering from a great dose of writer’s block—ever since he’d come back from Nepal. It wouldn’t hurt to stretch the truth a little to get her off his back. “Yeah, I have…and I am.”
Liam straightened and brushed his hair back, accidentally knocking his head, and a deep throb winged across his brow.
“That’s good then. Your new editor wants to meet you in San Francisco next Tuesday and have a look at the first few chapters.” Sarah sounded a bit happier after hearing his white lie. He did have some words down. He’d thought of a title for this adventure story and typed it at the top of the first page. And he’d typed “Chapter One” below that.
Mustn’t forget that. He ran his hand over the back of his neck as panic lodged in his throat.
“A new editor? Why do we have to meet? It takes time away from my writing.” Liam frowned and the bandage pulled again. “And I’ll have to hire a car. I haven’t bought one yet.”
“Yes, I know.” Sarah’s tone was patient and he knew she was trying to placate him. But he also knew she was as hard as nails and would ride him until he finished the blasted book. Sarah had been with him since he’d shopped his first book around to publishers. She’d seen the worth in his story, taken a chance on him, and had sold it in a bidding war that had surprised both of them. Then she had celebrated with him when Guardian of the Soul had made The New York Times bestseller list two weeks after release. When he’d needed pushing, she’d been the one to do it.
And by God, he needed it now.
Sarah had also been a rock when Vanessa had died, and with Mike, her attorney husband, had dealt with all the paperwork. Even though Liam and Vanessa had already separated, Liam had still felt as though he should look after the formalities of her death. Sarah and Mike had pulled strings and gotten him home from Nepal as quickly as they could. So he felt guilty about letting Sarah down now. He was her biggest client, and if this three-book contract went west, she stood to lose a lot of money, too. That thought had nagged at him for the past few days. Sarah and Mike were good people, and he was honored to count them among his friends.
Ha. Probably my only friends. It was amazing who had disappeared after they’d read the crap about his marriage in the papers. None of his so-called friends had called him since he’d been back in the States. Not that he really cared. A private life with no socializing suited him and meant that he had more time to write.
“Do you want me to fly out and come to the meeting with you?” Sarah’s voice was soft and he hated lying to her. “You have been out since you moved up there, I hope? You’re not turning into a recluse, are you?”
Sarah knew him too well. Liam chewed the side of his cheek as he stared down at the garden. The redhead’s dog was stretched out in the warmth of the morning sun. A feeling of nostalgia ran through him. Big clumsy dogs had been a large part of his growing up on the farm. He probably should get a dog, now that he was settled. Vanessa had had one of those fluffy toy dogs and he’d hated the yapping thing. It was one of the many things they’d fought about before things had gone really bad. Crazily enough, when she’d finally left him and taken off with that other guy, he’d missed the dog more than he’d missed her.
“Liam? Are you there?”
“Sorry. No, there’s no need to come.” He turned away from the window and focused on the conversation. “I’ll be fine. Just email me the details of the meeting and I’ll be there.”
“With your chapters?”
“Yes, with my chapters. Look, I have to go. I’ve got someone here measuring the house for some work for me.” He used that as an excuse before Sarah could ask more specific questions about his progress. “Say hello to Mike for me. I’ll let you know how the meeting goes. Bye.”
He disconnected and put the phone in his pocket before Sarah could reply. With an impatient glance at the desk—any desire to write had completely disappeared now—he opened the door and headed outside for some fresh air.
…
Georgie frowned as she tucked the pencil into the back pocket of her jeans. The walls were out of alignment and she was going to have to find Mr. Kayak Man and talk to him about the design. She couldn’t think of him as Liam—it was too soft a name for someone with his hard and implacable demeanor. Liam—the name—should belong to someone kind and creative. An artist, although Sienna’s Jack was an artist and Jack wasn’t a name they would have picked for one. Georgie grinned as she stepped into the hall. She and Sienna had always thought up characters for guy’s names when they were in their teens. Liam had been one of her favorites…and now it just proved her poor judgment. This guy was a sullen and rude jerk, not the soft and dreamy Liam of her teenage imagination.
Before she sought him out, she’d go down and check on Mutt. It had taken longer than she’d thought to measure, and she hadn’t left him much water. At least he wasn’t howling; that would really set the guy off. Apart from the creak of the stairs beneath her heavy boots, the house was quiet as she hurried down to the bottom level. There was no sign of Liam, and she put her notepad and pencil on the table beside the front door before she went out quietly, leaving the door half open so she could come back inside after she checked on Mutt. Her footsteps were quiet on the grass, and Georgie breathed deeply as she walked along the side of the house. A stiff breeze blew in from the sea, and the salt gave the air a sharp tang. She’d always loved it out here. The fragrance of the orange blossoms on the breeze was amazing.
If she did come back to Nebbiton after her year away, she’d look for a place on the cliffs along Highway 1. Even after she paid for her air ticket, she still had a tidy sum put away from the sale of their restoration business, and the generous salary from Blake for working in the store office had added to it over the past couple of years. Her trip was going to be economical; she was planning a backpacking tour, much to her travel agent’s dismay. The round-the-world ticket alone had cost her enough as it was, without going the five-star-hotels route. That way she’d save her money and have more options when the year was up. Nerves jangled in Georgie’s stomach and she pushed away the thought of her planned trip.
Plenty of time to think about that.
As she neared the corner of the house, the muted tones of a soft voice reached her. She paused with her head tilted to the side and listened. It was coming from the backyard. She stepped forward quietly, put her arms on the gate, and looked across the unkempt lawn. Liam was sitting on the ground beneath the hanging branches of a large tree, and had his arms around Mutt. His face was in Mutt’s fur, and his voice was sad as he spoke to the dog.
“Just like you, boy.” His words were muffled, but Georgie could make them out. She stepped back, feeling as though she was intruding on his privacy—and he’d made it quite clear he wanted privacy, no matter what.
“He was a good dog, my best buddy, and he died.” Before she could step back far enough, Liam lifted his head and looked out to the ocean, and the naked grief on his face slammed into her chest like a physical pain. She put her hand up to her mouth and took another step back before he could see her. Her foot rolled over on the edge of the path and Georgie gasped as her legs went out from under her. Her butt hit the ground with a solid thud, and her elbow hit an empty pot, which tipped over onto the path with a loud crash.
By the time she caught her breath and righted the pot, she was looking up into eyes that were dancing with amusement. The sadness on Liam’s face had gone and she wondered if she’d imagined it.
He opened the gate and Mutt bounded past him and licked her as she tried to push herself to her feet.
“Are you okay?” His voice was almost kind as he held his hand out to her. She was pleased to see he’d put a T-shirt on and she didn’t have to look at his bare chest anymore. Georgie reached up for his hand and pulled herself up, dropping it as soon as she was on her feet. She brushed the back of her jeans and tried to ignore the heat that filled her cheeks.
What a klutz.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She tried to keep her voice businesslike
and brisk as her eyes met his. A warm, familiar feeling curled in her stomach as he stared at her. It had been dim in the kitchen, and she hadn’t noticed the tiny smile wrinkles that fanned out beside his eyes, despite putting the bandage on his head. He was older than she’d first thought, and altogether too good-looking for her peace of mind. He was much easier to deal with when he was being rude to her.
“I was just coming to check whether Mutt had water before I came to find you. I didn’t plan on making such a graceful arrival.” Georgie chuckled.
One dark eyebrow quirked in a question and she rushed on. “I know you didn’t want to be disturbed but I need to ask you about the design. There’s a problem with the room.”
Mutt slunk away from her toward the track to the beach, and she wagged a finger at him. “Uh-uh, no beach today, Mutt.” She reached out and grabbed his collar. “I’ll just check he has water and I’ll meet you up there. Okay?”
“It’s okay. He can come inside with us. I’ll get him a bowl of water on the way through the kitchen.” Liam reached down and patted Mutt’s head. “He’s a friendly dog. How old is he?”
“I’m not sure. I’m only minding him for a friend before I—”
Liam looked at her curiously as he walked beside her along the path to the front door. “Before you what?”
“Before I go away.”
“Where are you going?”
Where had the taciturn man from this morning gone?
“I’m going on a vacation.” She wasn’t going to share all of her personal business with him.
“And so what happens to Mutt then?” Liam stood back and gestured her through the door in front of him. Mutt pushed past as though he belonged inside. “Where will he go?”
“He goes to my uncle’s house until Ana and Blake come home. I’m minding the house—and Mutt—for them while I do your job. And Sooky the cat.” She swallowed and followed him to the kitchen. Chatterbox, wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve Georgie was back and telling the world her business. God, she could feel the blush stealing over her cheeks.