Trust by Design

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “What do you prefer?”

  “It’s your room.”

  He stepped closer, and she forced herself to hold her ground as he reminded, “I am paying you for your opinion.”

  “I’d do pine.”

  “Really?” A wrinkle of surprise creased his forehead. “Wouldn’t that be too much with the pine logs?”

  “No, but that’s just my opinion. What do you want?”

  His mouth widened into a full smile. Three feet had separated them, but now suddenly it was one. “You sure you want my answer to that?”

  His low voice was smooth as satin, but warmer than wool. It added another dimension to the flashback vying for dominance in her head. She swallowed hard and focused on the collar of his T-shirt. “Only if it’s appropriate.”

  He gave a dramatic sigh. “Pine, you say? I had been thinking mahogany, but now you’ve aroused my curiosity.”

  She stepped to one side, away from the heat emanating from his large body. She tried to gauge if he was making fun of her or if he was serious, but didn’t want to look at him for too long. That’s when her imagination turned traitor and threatened to lay them both on the bed again.

  Earlier, she’d sworn he was uncomfortable, but he’d switched to sensual flirting without missing a beat. The man was good at whatever game he was playing because she was hopelessly off-balance. She needed to take control.

  “Mahogany would be too dark and heavy,” she said as she walked toward the back of the store. “So, starting with the bed…”

  “Best place to start,” he murmured directly behind her.

  Chapter 10

  Dean saw Gina’s shoulders stiffen, but she continued walking without a reply. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on the subtle sway of her jean-clad hips. She’d grabbed a jacket on her way out of the office, but left it in his SUV. The snug fit of her lavender sweater made her look sweeter than cotton candy.

  Melt in his mouth sweet, and he was dying for another taste.

  When she stopped a moment later, he lifted his gaze from her ass to the king-sized sleigh bed in front of them.

  “This is it,” she said. “Natural pine, simple and understated except for the iron detailing. To compliment that, I’d accent the room with iron lamps and fixtures. Same for the curtain rods, with very minimal material in burgundy, and some gray that is a couple shades darker than your carpeting. I’d pick that up again in the comforter and pillows.”

  The footboard was no higher than the mattress, and both it and the higher headboard featured a six-inch wide strip of iron scrollwork that ran from one side to the other. The wood was beautiful and the contrast of the black iron created a bold, striking effect.

  Dean leaned forward to slide his hand across the curved surface of the low footboard, then trailed it back the opposite direction. He enjoyed the feel of the cool, varnished wood beneath his fingertips. A subtle trace of Gina’s light perfume immediately refreshed the heat-invoking memory of when he’d laid her on his bed and skimmed his hand along her exposed thigh. Her skin had been as smooth as the wood, but much, much warmer.

  Sonofabitch, if he continued that line of thinking, he was going to be as hard as the damn wood.

  “I like it.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her head jerk in his direction. He kept his attention focused on the bed, even though he noticed color rise in her cheeks. Was it possible she’d been reliving those same moments? God, he hoped so. He shouldn’t, especially since he still didn’t know if he could trust her, but that didn’t keep his body from twitching in response to the possibility of recreating that memory and taking it further.

  “The whole set, or the idea?”

  He drew in a breath to steady his pulse and redirect his thoughts. “Both.”

  “Do you want me to find you some other options to choose from?”

  “Nope. You’re on a roll with things I like, so why ruin a good thing?”

  He barely caught her smile as she turned for the front of the store. “Then as long as you’re here, let’s buy it and schedule delivery.”

  They met up with a sales person at the desk, and Gina took charge of the conversation. He discovered she had some sharp negotiating skills, and was impressed when she managed to get him a decent discount for the suite of furniture and a new mattress set.

  While the paperwork was being drawn up, his phone rang in his pocket. Recognizing the ringtone, he let her deal with the particulars, and stepped back to answer the call. “What’s up?”

  “Where are you?” Mike asked. “I tried your home line, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I’m in town right now. Furniture shopping, of all things.”

  “Furniture…? Wait—is Cindy with you? Did you find anything out?”

  His fingers tightened on the phone as he casually moved out of earshot. “Yes, Gina is with me. No, I didn’t find anything out.” Yet. He grimaced at the thought of milking her for information during dinner under the guise of charming flirtation. His rational mind was having absolutely no luck keeping his body in check where she was concerned. “What’d you need?”

  “I was going to have you look something up, but don’t worry about it. I’ll find it here.”

  “I can call you when I get home later.”

  “Later? It’s almost eight. How long do those stores stay open?”

  “We’re going to grab some dinner afterward,” Dean admitted.

  Mike chuckled. “Perfect.”

  “Not really.” He glanced toward the desk. “I know why I need to do this, but the more I get to know her, it doesn’t feel right.”

  “Hey, if she’s working with Jack, then she deserves everything she gets.”

  “And if she’s not?”

  “Then she’s not. It’s not a big deal, Dean. She said he’s her ex, so get her to open up about him. Offer a sympathetic ear.”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” It’d be awkward as all hell, but he could at least try.

  “By the way…did she call you to meet with her tonight?”

  “No.” He frowned at the odd question as he looked out the showroom windows to the lit street outside. “I came in to finalize the house expense account for her and took a chance swinging by her office. Why?”

  “It just crossed my mind maybe she was looking to get you out of the house.”

  “Definitely not the case. In fact, I think I actually scared her showing up so late.”

  “Huh. Maybe she’s got something there to hide.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t discard the possibility so quickly,” Mike cautioned.

  He pictured the boxes she’d been packing in the office and was struck with a suspicion he hadn’t considered before. Just because he didn’t want her to be hiding something, didn’t mean she wasn’t. Maybe she was moving out because of rent, but maybe the real reason for the boxes was to get rid of evidence in case she had to leave town fast.

  A glance over his shoulder caught Gina’s gaze for a brief moment. She held up a finger to indicate one more minute, then returned her attention to the man at the computer.

  Damn, he hated not knowing.

  Dean ran a hand though his newly trimmed hair, then instantly forced himself not to think about the fact his decorator had noticed the change right away. Her business centered around details—of course she’d notice.

  “Anything new on Ty?” he asked to change the subject.

  “No. Quinn said not a word or period out of place in any of his communications.”

  “I guess that’s good news, but I can’t help but feel like the storm is just on the horizon.”

  “He’s not getting this one, Dean. I promise.”

  Mike’s assurances did nothing to lessen the tightness in his gut. Across the room, business cards were exchanged along with handshakes. “Listen, I gotta go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  He disconnected the call and then smiled as Gina joined him. “All set?”

  “Everything will be de
livered a week from Friday.”

  “Great. And since I already know you’re just as hungry as me, let’s go eat.”

  Her laugh eased the knot in his stomach. Instinct or stupidity? He had no clue.

  She kept up a steady conversation about the house as he drove to Bella’s Italian Grille. The animation in her voice made it abundantly clear she enjoyed her job and added strength to his wavering doubt over her guilt.

  He reached ahead to grab the door to the restaurant, then nearly bumped into her when she halted only two steps inside. Soft violin music and the gentle glow of a pair of tall, tapered candles on each table created a romantic atmosphere that brought him up just as short. What the hell?

  “This is your idea of casual?”

  Did he detect suspicion mixed with the dismay in her voice? He hadn’t intended this to look like a seduction and grimaced as he cast a swift glance at the other diners. “Evidently, I don’t get out enough. They must’ve remodeled since the last time I was here. We’re dressed fine, but we can go somewhere else if you’d prefer?”

  Her gaze met his as if gauging his sincerity, and he didn’t look away even when the young, dark-haired hostess arrived behind her. “Table for two?”

  Gina swung around. “Yes, please, as long as there’s not a long wait.”

  “Only a couple minutes.”

  “Then definitely, yes, please.” A sheepish grin curved her lips as she looked back over her shoulder at Dean. “It smells too good in here to go anywhere else.”

  “You won’t be disappointed. The food is amazing.”

  A few minutes later, they draped their jackets on the back of their chairs and settled across from each other at a small table tucked somewhat out of the way. The seclusion added to the intimacy, and he had a hard time concentrating on the menu with the candlelight playing across her face. Luckily, the entrées remained mostly the same, so he was able to take advantage of her downcast gaze while he admired her beauty.

  Long lashes were lowered over her unusual eyes. The freckles he’d noticed the other day had him wondering if he’d find more in other places on her body. His gaze dropped, and with her menu resting mostly on the table, he could see a few faint speckles above the neckline of her sweater. How much lower did they extend?

  The question ignited a slow burn in his veins. Yeah, no need to look at the menu. He knew exactly what he wanted, in more ways than one.

  Their server arrived, a young, dark-haired man named Angelo who flirted with Gina as she placed her order of parmesan shrimp baked with ziti pasta. Hardly able to blame the guy, Dean quelled a spurt of jealousy and voiced his own choice of lasagna primavera with grilled chicken. He approved the wine the man suggested, and then it was just the two of them again.

  When those flame-lit, violet eyes met his, his heart thumped in his chest. She leaned forward a bit to prop her chin on the palm of her hand and smiled. The effect was positively lethal. His blood pumped faster. He was a drowning man, and he didn’t even want a life jacket.

  “So, what is it you’d like to know about Jackson that you don’t already know?”

  After a split second of surprise, his stomach dropped and his libido sat back in disappointment. He unfolded his napkin across his thigh while considering how to respond.

  “Oh, come on,” she challenged. “You don’t expect me to believe this dinner is just about you being nice, do you?”

  It was a combination of him wanting to be nice while doing what was best for his company. But her the-best-defense-is-a-good-offense approach had caught him off guard. Smart girl. Then again, since she’d opened the subject, he might as well see what she had to say.

  He relaxed back in his chair. “Now who’s accusing who?”

  She sat up straight and lowered her hand just as Antonio arrived to pour their wine. She waited until Dean approved the selection and the waiter had gone before picking up where they’d left off. “I notice you didn’t deny ulterior motives.”

  As he sipped his wine, her gaze held his in the candlelight and he felt the weight of the moment. She’d already guessed his motives, so being truthful with her—to a point—shouldn’t jeopardize anything. It might even invite her to do the same.

  “There’s a lot at stake. Not just for me, but my employees as well.”

  Her delicate brows drew together, concern evident in her expression. “Is your company in trouble?”

  Dean reached to set his glass down. Then he adjusted his silverware on the table. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over each other on the table. “They’re all personal where Jackson is concerned. But sure, why not?”

  “How could you have stayed with him for two years?”

  Emotion flashed in her expression. Embarrassment? Chagrin? She covered by reaching for her own drink. After what he’d call a fortifying gulp, she set the glass down and used her thumb and forefinger to spin it back and forth on the linen tablecloth.

  “I will admit, I’ve asked myself that exact question more than once after I broke up with him. I did figure it out, but before I tell you all my secrets, I’ve got a question for you.”

  Happy to hear she’d been the one to end the relationship, Dean didn’t even hesitate. “Shoot.”

  “How long were the two of you in business together?”

  Touché. “Three years too long.”

  “Then I believe it’s safe to assume you know Jackson can be exactly the person you need him to be to get him exactly wherever and whatever he wants at any given time.”

  Dean nodded in agreement. “He’s an expert manipulator.”

  “Well, the sad truth is, he was the first person, other than my friends, who seemed to truly believe in me and my dreams. I was a rebel on the outside, put on a brave face, but inside, I needed what he offered at the time—unconditional support that I very quickly mistook for love. It took a lot longer to realize I’d fallen into the same controlling pattern with him that I’d been in with my parents.”

  “What did he use you for?”

  “My software engineering degree. It started out as a question here or there, and then—”

  “Hold on, I thought you were an interior designer?”

  His abrupt tone brought her head up. “That was my minor.”

  The jolt of alarm that’d followed her little information bomb had left behind an unpleasant tingle. “Why go to college for a career with computers and then not even use it?”

  “I use it,” she told him. “It’s saved me a ton of money in service fees.”

  He gave a wry laugh. “But…?”

  “I don’t…” She sighed. “I didn’t really have a choice, okay? I was always fascinated by computers and decorating, and my parents saw more of a future in computers. It’s the only way they’d pay for my education.”

  He studied her expression. Much as he wanted to get back to the subject of Jack, he couldn’t help but ask, “You’re serious?”

  “Why would I make it up?” She sat back as Antonio arrived to set their steaming plates in front of them. Once he’d retreated, she picked up her fork. “Anyway, being an only child with no one to back me up, I did what I needed to satisfy my parents while taking some extra courses on decorating on the side. I’d been working summers in Estes Park during college, and as soon as I graduated, I moved here and opened GAllen Designs.”

  That’s right—his mom had mentioned her parents lived in Michigan.

  “What did your parents say to that?” he asked after she’d had a chance to taste her food. His was delicious as always.

  “My father’s exact words were, don’t come begging to me when you fail.”

  Dean shook his head. “That’s cold. At least I had the offer of help from my mom and stepfather.”

  Her gaze remained downcast as she stabbed a couple ziti noodles. “I called them last week about borrowing some money. My dad had no problem reminding me of his previous warning—right after he said I told you so
.”

  “That’s why you took the job.”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn. Here I thought it was my charming personality that convinced you.”

  His teasing brought forth the smile he’d been hoping for. It didn’t last long, though, and she picked at her food some more. Watching her attempt to mask the hurt caused by her parents, he didn’t have the heart to bring Jack up again.

  “You’re not going to let him ruin your dinner, are you? Bella’s food is too good for that.”

  She squared her shoulders the tiniest bit and smiled again. “You’re right. This is really good.”

  After a few moments of eating in companionable silence, she rested her fork on the edge of her plate. “Your turn.”

  He swallowed his mouthful of lasagna and reached for his wine glass to wash it down. “For what?”

  “I’ve met your mom, but who else is in your family?”

  “My stepdad, Wesley, and his two daughters. My step-sisters are twenty-two and twenty, and they’re both finishing up a year of studying abroad.”

  She hesitated, then asked, “And do you mind me asking about your father?”

  “Never met him.” He was careful to keep his voice even. “My mom raised me by herself until she met Wesley when I was ten.”

  Another frown marred her smooth brow. Dean read her expression and downed the rest of his wine in one swallow. It slid down his throat and settled in his stomach. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, I don’t care. My mom is great. So is Wesley. He’s a lawyer and has given me lots of invaluable advice and moral support over the years.”

  She nodded, and as they finished eating, thankfully she didn’t pursue the subject. Talking about his biological father when there was no hope of the conversation solving anything made no sense to him.

  When Antonio returned, Dean echoed Gina’s request for a take-home box, and also ordered a piece of Tiramisu and Limonchello Bread Pudding.

  “Oh, no. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “Box them up, then,” he told the waiter. “We’ll have them with lunch tomorrow.”

  Gina grinned. “Now that I can do.”

  On the way out, he decided to take advantage of their newfound camaraderie to find out the answer to something he’d been wondering about since Saturday night. He set their leftovers and dessert in the back seat on the passenger side before grabbing her burgundy sweater from where he’d tossed it a couple days ago.