Trust by Design

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  The invitation produced conflicting emotions. He realized he wanted to spend the time with her, and yet the thought of sharing that time with his two friends did not appeal one bit.

  “Thank you, but I can’t. Once we finish the walk-through of the house, I have to get back to my office to take care of some things.”

  Her reply sparked more conflict in the form of relief and disappointment.

  “We’ll be in your office when you’re done, Dean,” Liz called as she followed her brother.

  He turned back to Gina. “Guest rooms or great room?”

  She motioned down the hall, and they made their way through the two regular rooms and the larger suite. He liked her idea to do each one with its own distinct color scheme and subdued theme. Nothing quite so exotic as say, The Zebra Room, but maybe more like The Arizona, or Vermont.

  Back in the great room, she took a few minutes to explain her vision for the expansive space, and he made a few suggestions based on how he’d pictured everything in his mind. They were very much in sync, and he was doubly impressed with her instinctive talent.

  She finished the last of her notes and then folded her arms with the pad of paper against her chest. “This is good for now. It gives me enough to work with for a couple weeks, and we can go through the upstairs once you see how things turn out down here.”

  “After the last hour, I’m not worried at all.” He glanced toward the kitchen and his office beyond. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for lunch?”

  She shook her head. “I really need to get going.”

  “Before you go, your sketches from the other night had a note about a table for the kitchen.”

  She looked surprised that he’d remembered. “They did. I can email you a link, if you’d like.”

  “Or you could show me now.”

  “Your lunch is getting cold.”

  “I’ve got a microwave.”

  Liz and Mike both looked up from their seats at the conference table as they entered Dean’s office. The smell of the food made his stomach grumble. All he’d eaten so far was a bowl of cereal before his swim at six-thirty a.m.

  “May I?” Gina tossed the question over her shoulder, indicating his computer on the way to his desk.

  “Uh…” He’d intended to look up the address while she watched, but she’d already sat down. Other than himself, no one used his computer, not even his friends sitting twenty feet away. He snuck a glance toward them and saw Liz’s astonishment turn to a frown while Mike’s became a thumbs up.

  Determined to ignore them, he focused on the woman in front of him. The leather executive chair dwarfed her small figure as she perched on the edge of the seat. A jiggle of the mouse unlocked his screensaver, and the page of program code he’d been debugging earlier appeared on screen.

  Shit. He’d forgotten that’s what he was working on when he’d heard the doorbell.

  “Can I close out of this?” she asked.

  “I probably should save it.” He moved in close, bracing a hand on the arm of his chair while automatically reaching for the mouse. When their hands touched, a spark of static electricity caused her to jerk back. He managed to control his reaction to a flinch.

  “Sorry,” they mumbled in unison.

  He did his best to quickly save his work and clear the screen as his heart thumped at an increased rate in his chest. Not only was he conscious of the proprietary secrets right before her eyes, he couldn’t help but be wholly aware of her a mere foot away. With each breath he inhaled, the stimulating sweet scent of her promised to linger in his memory until he couldn’t concentrate at all.

  What felt like forever was in reality only about twenty seconds, and he was finally able to click over to the internet search engine. “It’s all yours.”

  He straightened as she tapped the website in with lightning fast keystrokes. A few more clicks, and she had the picture of the table in front of them. The rectangle top appeared to be a long, single slab of wood cut from a huge tree that had to have been hundreds of years old. A redwood maybe? The overall dimensions were large by most standards, but in his kitchen, it would fit well.

  “What do you think?”

  “Nice.” Dean leaned over her shoulder to get a closer look at the description beneath the photo. Redwood was confirmed, and the sales pitch boasted comfortable seating combined with rustic elegance in the one-of-a-kind hand carvings on the high backs. “How many chairs?”

  “Ten.”

  He nodded and pushed back before her scent impaired all his common sense. “I like it. If it’s available, buy it.”

  She glanced up in surprise. “Do you even want to know how much it is?”

  Only his VP and stepdad knew the financial situation the company was in, so he shrugged to keep up appearances with the women in the room. “Not really.”

  “Okay.” Gina’s attention returned to the screen. “What about seeing some other choices?”

  He’d seen enough during the brief time he’d taken to furnish his office space a couple months ago. “Did you have anything else in mind?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then buy it.”

  She huffed out a sigh. “I was going to say, but I haven’t looked yet.”

  “I know what I want when I see it.”

  From the corner of his eye he noticed Mike’s head swivel in their direction again. He hadn’t meant it to come out like a declaration, but Gina didn’t seem to notice as her chest heaved with another deep inhale.

  “It’s twelve thousand dollars,” she informed him, her voice low and stiff. After a quick sideways glance toward the conference table, she said, “Maybe to you money isn’t a concern, but as you know, I don’t have twelve grand to toss around at will.”

  Crap. In keeping up with appearances, he’d come across like an insensitive jerk. “Can they bill me like the gallery did?”

  “No, because that was a favor for me, not you. These pieces are one of a kind so the company requires payment upfront.”

  Force of habit had him reaching for his back pocket, but of course, he didn’t carry his wallet on him when he was home. “My credit cards are in my wallet on my dresser. I’ll have to—”

  “You want me to run and grab it for you?” Liz offered from across the room.

  Dean glanced up in surprise. Almost immediately, he had to fight a frown at the thought of her casually offering to go into his room in front of Gina. It shouldn’t matter since she not only assisted him with work matters, but she also cooked and cleaned for him—including his bedroom. Still, after Gina’s girlfriend assumption the night before, he found he didn’t like it sounding like he and Liz were overly familiar.

  “Don’t bother,” Gina said before he could answer.

  He looked down to see her scribbling on a clean sheet of paper. She ripped off the bottom part of the sheet with the writing and left it on his keyboard as she stood with the legal pad in hand.

  “I have to go, but you can either call, text, or email me the number. I’ll make the purchase this afternoon.”

  Dean followed her from the office to the front door as contradictory emotions once more warred within him. He knew all the reasons he needed to be extra careful where she was concerned. She was desperate for money. She was connected to Jack Brady. He needed to concentrate on saving his business right now. Last, but certainly not least, he was too damn attracted to her. That had been heavily reinforced with the accidental touch of their hands.

  Static energy may have caused that spark, but it didn’t cover the supercharged state of awareness he seemed to ascend to whenever she was near.

  His brain recognized the danger his body seemed to crave, and yet anticipation made his pulse skip as he asked, “Will you be back tomorrow?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it.” She paused with a hand on the door handle. “Much of my initial work for the next couple days won’t require me to be here.”

  “Before you do too much, I’d like an estimated budget so I ca
n either set you up with a separate credit card, or an account to make purchases from.” He watched her closely, but her expression gave no indication how she felt about having access to his money.

  “Do you have an amount you’d like me to stick close to?”

  “Not really.” That triggered a frown, and he quickly clarified his flippant words. “I mean, I trust you won’t waste my money, but don’t bother with anything that isn’t good quality, either.”

  “That’s a given,” she assured him with a smile. “I can probably work something up by tomorrow and email it to you.”

  “I’ll have my assistant in the office set up the expense account after I’ve reviewed it.” It wouldn’t be quite that simple, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Thank you. I’ll plan on being back out here on Thursday to do some painting in the guest rooms.”

  She opened the door and stepped outside as he gripped the edge of the door in his fingers. The spring sunshine picked up fiery red highlights as her ponytail swayed with each step. Not wanting to be caught watching her, he moved back to close the door.

  “Dean.”

  She’d stopped and faced him, and his fingers tightened as he halted the door mid-swing.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did Mike think my name was Cindy?”

  The unexpected question left him with nothing but the truth. He grinned with his light shrug. “Cinderella dashed off and left a slipper behind. You left your sweater.”

  Chapter 9

  Cinderella.

  The name bounced around in her head the next afternoon as she tried to concentrate on the estimated figures in her budget proposal.

  What did that make Dean—Prince Charming?

  Sure, he had the looks, but the rest? Not hardly. She may have set aside her pride and accepted the job to preserve her business, but that didn’t mean she was going to forget one word of his damned accusations. No matter how many times she found herself daydreaming back to that night in his bedroom.

  “I trust you won’t waste my money.”

  Once again, she called bullshit. She didn’t trust that he trusted her with anything at the moment. A smart, successful man like him would have some kind of plan up his sleeve—and if he didn’t, Jackson was going to eat him alive.

  Not your problem.

  Sitting there with half her office packed up in boxes over on her previous assistant’s empty desk, she agreed with the voice in her head. Besides, there was clearly no love lost between the former business partners, so it stood to reason Dean knew exactly who and what he was dealing with.

  Another reason for her to not trust the man. He wasn’t interested in saving her like some storybook hero, he only wanted to take care of himself.

  With renewed determination, she ignored her empty stomach and focused on her spreadsheet. After a fair amount of research, she managed to finish the estimate by late afternoon. She sent the email to Dean with the budget as an attachment, then worked for another hour cleaning out her emails and catching up on some of the Tech Industry News Briefs newsletters before grabbing a new box to start sorting and packing one of her file cabinets. Even though she didn’t work in the computer world, she liked keeping up with industry news from TI.

  She was sitting on the floor when the sound of her office door opening made her pulse skip a beat. Most of her business neighbors went home about four, leaving her floor of the office complex fairly deserted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a visitor, much less one after seven o’clock at night. Usually she locked her door, but it’d completely slipped her mind tonight.

  Her fingers tightened on the edge of the box at her side as she glanced over her shoulder. When Dean’s head appeared above the desk, her heart slammed against her ribs for a whole different reason.

  She resisted the urge to slump in relief. Grabbing an armload of files, she pushed to her feet as his gaze swept over the partially dismantled room.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  Apparently she had absolutely no dignity left where he was concerned. “Exactly what it looks like. I’m closing my office.” His questioning brown gaze swung to hers and she plopped the files on her desk with a loud thump. “Don’t look so surprised. As you’ve pointed out on more than one occasion, you’re well aware of my financial situation.”

  “Do you need an advance on your fee?”

  She shook her head, surprised by a note of concern in his voice. “No. I mean, thank you, but no. I’ll be fine working from my apartment the next few months since most of the work I do is in other people’s homes anyway. Either that or I’m shopping for them.”

  A quick glance caught his frown.

  “I was paying too much for rent here anyway. Especially without a storefront.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets. There was something different other than the leather jacket he wore over his usual wardrobe of T-shirt and jeans. She swept her gaze up from the brown leather and realized his hair was too short to brush the collar. Though the top remained a bit longer, all the shagginess was gone. Damn if he didn’t look better than ever.

  “So, what brings you to town—other than a haircut?”

  His mouth quirked up as his hand rose to rake through those trimmed strands the rich color of polished walnut. “I didn’t really expect to find you here this late.”

  “Then why’d you stop?”

  “I signed off on the expense account for the house. I’ll have a debit card for you by Thursday.”

  “Okay.” Still didn’t explain what he was doing here, other than making her pulse race way too fast. She searched for a distraction and seized on the notepad she’d used the past two days. “Are you done with work for the day?”

  “No. “

  “Do you have to head back right away?”

  He shrugged as if he wanted to see where she was going with the line of questioning. All she cared about right now was getting him out of her office. The man took up a lot of space, and it wasn’t just in the physical sense.

  “If that’s a no, you’re coming with me.”

  Curiosity flashed in his eyes. “Where?”

  “While I was working up the budget, I came across a bedroom set that would be perfect in your room. The store is only a few minutes away.”

  She was a glutton for punishment, but the way she saw it, it was better to take care of his bedroom now instead of in a few weeks when increased familiarity would only fuel the attraction that sizzled increasingly hotter each time she saw him.

  “I thought you were going to start with the great room?”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll get done. But as long you’re here, I think you should take a look at the bed and let me know if I’m on the right track.”

  Without taking his hand from his pocket, he angled his left arm for a glance at his watch. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes.”

  “Great.” She reached for her purse, keys, and windbreaker. “You can follow me there.”

  He waited in the hall while she shut off the lights and locked the door. “How about I just drive?” he suggested.

  Because then she’d be in an even smaller enclosed space with him, and the subtle scent of whatever cologne he was wearing was already wreaking havoc on her over-eager senses. “I’m going home right after, so I’d rather take my own car.”

  Unfortunately, in that moment, a loud rumble announced the fact that she’d had nothing to eat since breakfast. Damn. She thought she’d moved past hungry.

  “Was that your stomach?” His eyebrows arched and her face flamed.

  “I worked through lunch.”

  “On my budget?”

  “Among other things.” She strode past the elevator for the stairs. Movement was a safer option than standing with him in the tiny elevator.

  “Then the least I can do is buy you dinner.”

  “My skipping lunch is not your fault,” she said as they skimmed down the three flights of stairs to the main floor. “I’l
l grab something after we’re done at the furniture store.”

  “I didn’t eat yet, either, so really, we could just be two people sitting at the same table at this casual little Italian restaurant not far from here.” He moved ahead of her to hold open the door leading outside. “Or we could really go crazy and maybe talk and get to know each other.”

  At face value, the idea itself was dangerous, but she didn’t actually believe he intended to be the one revealing anything. At some point, he would have to realize whether he accused her outright, or tried to charm the information out of her, it wouldn’t make his suspicions true. Right now was a perfect opportunity to establish a connection that would gain his sincere trust.

  She met his gaze and smiled as she stepped past him into the parking lot. His gaze wavered, and he ran his hand through his hair again. The man looked so uncomfortable with his subterfuge, she didn’t even have the heart to be annoyed. Besides, knowing what she was walking into gave her time to mentally prepare a good defense.

  “I like Italian,” she said by way of agreement. “If we happen to end up at the same restaurant, the same table, I guess that’d be okay.”

  He laughed, his tension eased. “Let’s guarantee it. I’m parked over here.”

  After he surprised her by opening the passenger door like a true gentleman, she gave him directions to the furniture shop. Thankfully, it was a short ride and she was able to suck in a discreet breath to restore a normal level of oxygen in her lungs as they walked inside.

  Then she was faced with a whole showroom section of beds, and a memory that wanted to pick up where it’d left off.

  “Which one did you want to show me?” he asked.

  “Look around first. I’m curious to see what you pick.”

  His gaze switched from one set of furniture to the next. After a long, silent minute, he turned, and those brown eyes fixed on her. It felt like she was in the close confines of his vehicle again, pulse racing, oxygen at a premium.

  Desperate for a distraction, she asked, “Do you have a preference for a certain type of wood? Oak, pine, cherry, mahogany…”