She continued her surveillance of the room, noticing that there were candles everywhere of various shapes and sizes, as well as a large fireplace at the far end of the room. She went into the bathroom and was not greatly surprised to see that everything was black marble. The bathtub was the most enormous thing she had ever seen, and she didn’t look forward to cleaning it. With a sigh, she set to cleaning it anyway and moved on into the bedroom once the bathroom was finished.
When she reached the French doors, she stopped for a moment to peer out at the ocean and fog-encompassed trees. She smiled a little. There was no denying that he had picked a beautiful place to build his home. She looked away for a moment to glance at the clock so she could tell him how many hours she had worked. When she returned to the door, he was standing right in front of her on the other side. She screamed and stumbled backwards, falling directly on her butt.
Traevyn casually stepped into the room, trying not to show his amusement. It bothered him that he even felt amusement, but it was impossible not to be amused at his petite, outspoken apprentice flailing her arms and falling promptly on her backside.
“What is the matter with you?” Evie cried.
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t do anything. I was merely enjoying the sanctuary of the sea from my terrace. I didn’t even know you were in here. It’s not like I planned to frighten you.” He extended a hand to help her up.
Evie looked surprised at his display of courtesy, but she took his hand and let him pull her into a standing position. “You were out there the whole time?”
He nodded and his lips turned up slightly at the corners as he took in her haggard appearance. She was sweaty and her brown hair was straying from its ponytail. She reeked of lemon cleaner and it was apparent that some sort of bleach substance had streaked across her otherwise dark blue t-shirt. Something about it warmed his dead heart in a strange way. He was used to rich, spoiled women. No one he’d ever met would have been willing to get their perfectly manicured hands dirty. It was nice to see a woman not afraid or too proud to work hard. He had come from an average family, a middle-working class family. He and his brothers had all worked very hard to get where they were in life. He admired hard work in all its forms. “How much do I owe you?” he asked.
“Two-hundred dollars,” she stated.
He nodded. “Very well. I will give you a check tonight at dinner.” He started to leave the room.
“Mr. Whitelaw?” Evie called.
He glanced at her over his shoulder.
She swallowed. “The books in your office… Are they off limits, or would you mind horribly if I read one?”
He turned back to face her, intrigued. “My boring classics fascinate you?”
“Oh yes.” She grinned. “I love the classics.”
He studied her for a moment. “Do you?”
She nodded. “They are the foundation on which all modern literature was built. A lot of people think they’re boring, but I find them very interesting.”
He regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded. “You are welcome to read anything on my bookshelf, Miss Austin. Also, as it seems you enjoy the view, you may use the terrace in the office at your leisure. It is a good place to read and draw.”
She grinned. “Thank you.”
He gave a ceremonial nod and continued out of the room.
Evie gathered her supplies and slipped back out into the hallway. The first place she headed was the shower, which was immediately followed by a trip to her bed, where she slept.
* * * *
Seth watched Evie cook with boredom and sighed. “It is really dull around here,” he muttered. “There’s absolutely nothing to do.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “You brought enough video games to entertain a small planet.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but still.” He yawned.
“You could have helped me clean today,” she suggested. “That would have been nice.”
He shrugged. “You did fine without me.”
She scowled and bit her tongue to keep from saying something very rude. Her back hurt so bad she could hardly stand and her arms felt like noodles from scrubbing. It was all she could do to set the food on the table. She glanced at her watch and groaned aloud when she saw that Traevyn was five minutes late. Great. Now she’d actually have to exert effort to hit the stupid gong.
“This looks good,” Seth commented absently as Evie set the food on the table. “I love chicken fried steak.”
Evie trudged into the living room and lifted the mallet. She was just getting ready to wallop it when Traevyn came all but running down the stairs. “I’m here!” he shouted. “I’m here, all right?”
Evie smirked and set the mallet down. Traevyn handed her a check and continued into the kitchen. She followed and sat down to eat. She was not all that surprised when Traevyn loaded up his plate and headed out again, leaving Seth and her alone.
It took all her energy to clean up the kitchen. Especially when she had just cleaned it. The thought of doing it twice in one day utterly disgusted her. When she had finally finished, Seth went to his room to watch television and she found herself heading to the office with her sketchpad. She turned the light on and went out onto the terrace, shivering as the foggy ocean air drifted over her. She pulled on a sweater she had brought with her and sat in a chair with a sigh. She couldn’t see the ocean because it was dark, and fog covered everything like a surreal blanket, but she could hear it pounding against the cliffs and she could taste the salt in the air.
Evie leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She rubbed at a huge knot in one of her shoulders and relaxed to the sound of the waves.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?”
She jumped and turned to see Traevyn leaning nonchalantly in the doorway. He was holding a glass of red wine and looked so old world aristocrat to her that she almost smiled. She nodded. “It is.”
He sighed and walked out to the railing. “My house looks spectacular. Thank you.”
Evie stared at Traevyn’s back. She couldn’t help but marvel at how statuesque he was, so tall and proud. “I think I died somewhere around the second guest bathroom,” she grumbled. “My spirit cleaned the rest of the house out of sheer pride.”
He gave the faintest of chuckles, but kept his back to her. He seemed to lapse into thought and continued to sip his wine in silence.
Evie opened her sketchpad and started to draw him. He made a spectacular sight standing there, his long hair shining down his back, the fog drifting around him. She gave a little sigh. Even though he was rude and surly, his beauty was undeniable. And he was always dressed so elegant. She’d never seen him in jeans or a t-shirt. He was always in slacks and silk, button-down shirts that hugged his lean frame. He always looked to Evie like he had stepped directly out of a different time and somehow got stuck in the twenty-first century.
“Do you like wine, Miss Austin?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “I do.”
He turned to face her, the movement more like an elegant ripple of his body than a turn. “Red or white?”
“White,” she answered. “Red is too dry for me.”
His lips quirked. “Then you’ve never tasted a really good red wine.”
She was surprised at his almost playful banter. She was actually wondering why he was even out there talking to her at all. Was he really that pleased with her cleaning abilities? If that was the case then she seriously needed to rethink her career choice. If her skills with a mop and a duster could soften a man like Traevyn Whitelaw even a little, she could make serious bank if she marketed on it.
She set her sketchpad on her lap and folded her arms. “What constitutes a ‘really good red wine’ then?”
He held up his glass and swirled the contents.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, that tells me volumes.”
One corner of his mouth rose in a wry, lopsided smile and he moved forward, holding the glass out to her. “Try it.”
&
nbsp; She blinked in bewilderment, but complied. It went down surprisingly smooth without the harsh, bitter bite she was used to.
“Merlot is decent, and I enjoy Cabernet Sauvignon, but my preference is Shiraz,” he supplied. “Each vintage is different, of course, but I find it generally enjoyable all the way around.”
She handed the glass back to him and nodded. “It’s good.” She gave a short, nervous laugh and pushed her hair behind her ears in a self-conscious gesture. “I’m used to the five dollar bottle of White Zinfandel that you get at the convenience store.”
He made a face. “That is vile.”
She snorted. “Well excuse me for not being a wine connoisseur. You’re lucky I drink wine at all. When you went to SOU were you living it up at the frat parties with your glass of Shiraz?”
A dry chuckle was torn from his lips and he shook his head. “No. My roommate was living it up at the frat parties with his lips suctioned onto the beer tap. I stayed in my dorm and painted…” He slid his gaze over her with a devilish glint in his eyes. “With my glass of Shiraz.”
She giggled and fell silent, enjoying the conversation, but not knowing how to prolong it.
“Which is your favorite?” he questioned suddenly.
She frowned. “Huh?”
“Out of all the classics you claim to enjoy. Which do you like the best?”
He wandered closer to her chair, and Evie hastily closed her sketchpad, not wanting him to see that she had been drawing him. She thought for a moment. “Wuthering Heights, I think.”
He arched an eyebrow. “The tragic romance type, are you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I just like brooding men.” She blushed as she realized what she had just said.
Traevyn’s lips turned up at the corners. “Brooding men are dangerous.”
She met his eyes and thought that he might be half-teasing, but she couldn’t be sure. “What is your favorite?”
“The Phantom of the Opera,” he replied without hesitation.
She blinked in surprise. “Really?” She had figured he would be more The Old Man and the Sea, or The Grapes of Wrath type. Something depressing and full of symbolism.
He nodded. “I think everyone can relate to the opera ghost in some fashion. Most of us have felt an outcast at some point in our lives. All of us have suffered the sting of rejection.”
Evie nodded, noticing how he stared off into nothingness as he spoke the last part of his statement. “And everyone, regardless of what they may claim, just wants to be loved for who they are.”
He met and held her eyes for one long second of silence, then gave a slow nod and took another sip of wine.
She shrugged. “I would have picked the Phantom over Raoul any day.”
He frowned. “You would have gone with the broken, disfigured man over the dashing hero?”
“In a second.”
He fixed her with a quizzical look. “Why?”
“Well, because,” she shot him a glance, “Raoul was just the dashing hero, but the Phantom was beautiful.”
Traevyn studied her for a moment. She continued to surprise him. Evie saw things most people would look right over. She was proving to have a depth of soul that was rare. It was like she looked at something and saw straight into the very core of it without even pausing to glance at the surface. His eyes narrowed as he saw her wince and start to rub at a spot in her shoulder. She yawned. He sighed, feeling bad that she had gone grocery shopping early that morning, had promptly come back and cleaned for eight hours, then made a delicious dinner and cleaned up the kitchen alone while her brother had spent the entire day wasting space on his couch with a video game console. She deserved a long soak in a Jacuzzi. He sighed again and, though it went against his nature, traveled around to the back of her chair and placed one hand over the shoulder she was rubbing.
Evie’s eyes flew open and she tensed. Her stomach made an uncomfortable flip as she felt his fingers gently knead at her sore muscle.
“I imagine you have a fondness for Pip in Great Expectations as well?” he asked.
She nodded and tried to keep her focus. Her heart beat erratically and she felt stupid for it. “Like I said, I seem to levitate towards the brooding, tormented men. Dangerous or not, they’re just more interesting.”
He paused for several seconds. “You should soak your sore muscles,” he finally suggested. “Otherwise you’ll barely be able to move in the morning.” He dropped his hand and came around to stand in front of her. “The tub in the guest bathroom is horribly small. My tub has jets in it. Miss Austin, please use my bathroom if you’d like.”
She stared up at him, stunned. The fact that he was being nice disturbed her. Maybe it was because he was drinking wine. Hey, she wasn’t going to complain, and she definitely wasn’t going to turn down a soak in an enormous tub. She stood. “Thank you. I think I will take you up on that offer. By the way, I think it would be safe to call me by my first name. This Miss Austin stuff is killing me.”
He nodded. “Very well. I will remain out here or in the office until you are finished. Have a good night, Miss Austin.”
Evie put a hand on her hip and sighed. “Didn’t we just go over this?”
He gave a small smile. “Forgive me.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Come on,” she urged, “you can say it. Have a good night…”
“Evie,” he answered.
For some stupid reason, she shivered again. Trying to ignore that strange reaction to her name spoken in his deep, velvety voice, she nodded and turned back toward the door. “Goodnight, Mr. Whitelaw.”
He watched her go, then sighed and turned back to the sea. He closed his eyes and let the sound of it soothe him, momentarily easing the ache in his soul.
Chapter Six
The terrace and the office became Evie’s favorite spots as the days dragged on. She spent most of her time either drawing on the terrace or attempting to paint in the studio, which never really got that far. She tended to avoid the studio most of the time anyway since Traevyn was in there nine times out of ten, and he made her amazingly uncomfortable. She would go in when she knew he was elsewhere to sneak a peek at his current projects, but she tried to be out of there before he returned. She felt very inadequate next to his artistic genius.
She was pleasantly surprised to find that Traevyn had become much more cordial to her. She couldn’t really say why, but she wasn’t going to complain. He shared small snippets of conversation with her from time to time, and that was nice. He also joined her often when she was reading in the office. A lot of the time neither one of them said much of anything. They both sat in their respective corners and read until they were tired. At times, Evie would react to something she had read, prompting Traevyn to question her about it. It was during these quiet evenings that she and Traevyn had the most interaction. She came to realize that he loved discussing literature and enjoyed hearing her opinions, as well. Some nights, they would share long conversations on a certain character, or something that one of them thought was particularly symbolic.
Other nights, Traevyn didn’t say much of anything at all, but Evie enjoyed it either way. She had a theory that it was because of these evenings spent together that he had softened toward her somewhat.
She continued to make dinner every night, which Traevyn was always on time for. Most of the time she didn’t mind. There was a side of her that was very domestic. She liked to experiment with new recipes, and it made her feel good to be needed in some small way. Heaven knew Seth would starve if she didn’t feed him.
“Crap!” Seth shouted suddenly.
Evie glanced over at him from where she had been trying to read in the living room. He flung his video game controller across the room. She rolled her eyes. “Smart, Seth. Maybe you could aim at one of Traevyn’s expensive decorations next time. I’m sure you’d love to work it off.”
He huffed. “I’ve fought that thing six times and I still can’t beat it!” he cried in exasperat
ion.
Evie raised her eyebrows. “I’m…sorry?”
“You don’t care,” he grumbled.
She smiled. “What are you going to do when you beat all the games you brought with you?”
“Die of boredom,” he spat. “Seriously, this is, like, the worst summer ever.”
She sighed. She did feel bad that Seth had to just sit around all day. She could occupy herself with Traevyn’s books and her art, but Seth wasn’t interested in things like that. “Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?” she suggested. “We haven’t had pizza in a week and a half.” She flashed him a grin.
Seth looked at her and smirked. “What about Darth Whitelaw?” he mocked. “Won’t he cut your pay if you ditch out on his dinner?”
“Screw that. I’ll just invite him to go along.”
Seth frowned. “I’m sure that’ll go over well.”
She waved his comment away. “He’ll just have to deal one way or another. It’s not fair that you can’t go out and do anything, and I’m sick of being cooped up in here too.” She stood. “I bet the man hasn’t had pizza in years. I honestly wonder what he ate before I started cooking for him.”
“The salesmen that came to the door,” Seth said flatly.
Evie let out a rather loud burst of laughter and shook her head. “You’re horrible. I’m going to find him and ask him to go.”
“Doesn’t that totally defeat the purpose of having fun?”
She scowled. “Seth, come on. Don’t be rude. He’s not completely awful. Maybe if you spoke to him once in awhile instead of just monopolizing his TV you’d know that.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just go and ask the guy so we can leave soon. I’m hungry.”
Evie mounted the staircase, smiling to herself as she heard Seth grumble something about needing to get his driver’s license. She headed to the office, but Traevyn wasn’t there. She checked the studio, but he wasn’t there either. That only left his room, since he never ventured down to her end of the house, and she had just been in the living room. Unless he was in the dungeon of the basement, but she doubted that.
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