by Leslie North
“I believe so,” he said and shook his head, looking dismayed. “They’re terribly inefficient. That, at least, was one area where the historical society was willing to see reason, as long as the new windows look period-appropriate. I have a window company scheduled to replace all the windows next week.”
“Well, you can cancel them first thing tomorrow morning,” she said without pause, still inspecting the gorgeous framework.
“Why would I do that?” he asked.
“Because we’re going to preserve these originals, not replace them with something modern and factory-made.”
She didn’t need to see his face to know that Edward was not a fan of her idea.
“The heating bills here are astronomical,” he complained. “Even the historical society agreed these windows are impractical. I’m not willing to budge on this one, Clem. The windows have to go.”
She spun on one foot and faced him. “Have you even looked into options for making these windows more efficient?” Her voice was even. She knew he hadn’t.
“Well…” he stumbled.
“That’s what I thought.” She rolled her eyes at this most recent display of his bias. “There are several ways to fortify these windows. We can seal them properly, double glaze them, install a special film.”
He seemed to mull over her suggestions for a moment.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just replace them?” he asked, and Clem wanted to slap him. “Do these windows make that much of a difference?”
Hottie or not, this prince was an insufferable man-child, blind to the splendor all around him. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed holding his hand on the walk upstairs, but his behavior right now reminded her of the distance she would need to place between them. “You know, Edward,” she began, “it’s almost as if growing up in the midst of this beauty has spoiled you.”
He scoffed at that. “I am not spoiled.”
“Well, you’re certainly not appreciative of all of this.” She waved a hand at the gorgeous room, spacious and more lavish than anything she’d seen outside of her studies. It was no use trying to get him to see sense. “Replacing the windows is a non-starter for me,” she said blandly. “These are worth a lot of money, actually. And they’re worth restoring. They give a feel to the castle that is altogether renaissance.”
Edward shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “If you want to sink time into fixing them, go ahead.” His nostrils flared, and his dark eyes narrowed. “I’ll leave you to unpack.”
With that he turned coldly and walked out of the room. Clementine’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked at the number and answered it.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
“Everything okay, my little apricot?”
Clementine’s eyes welled up with tears at her father’s term of endearment. He always said she was like an apricot, sweet sometimes, but tart in the best ways too.
“Not really,” she grumped. “I’m stuck here with this man who cares nothing for history and worries only about future planning, budget, and energy efficiency.”
“Play nice, Clem. This job is a gold mine for the business.”
“I know, and I am,” she told him and plopped onto the four-poster bed. It felt overstuffed with the softest feathers. She pulled back the thick comforter and ran a hand across what were easily the poshest sheets she’d ever touched. “At least I get to live in the lap of luxury while I suffer through the torture of working with him.”
“Good girl,” he said.
From the background, Clem could hear Uncle Stoddard wishing her good luck on the job then blowing her a noisy kiss.
“And, Clem, you might be surprised once you get to know him better,” her father said. “Maybe you can sway him to our side, get him invested in a little bit of history.”
“Maybe,” Clem said then told her dad she loved him before saying goodbye.
She didn’t think it was possible for Edward to ever see things the way she did, and she wasn’t going to waste time finding out. She’d do her job well and play nice. She’d get her hands on whatever she could at various demolition sites. But the one thing she would not do was get close to the prince.
5
Edward stood, brows furrowed, staring at two samples of stone that looked identical. The contractor wanted him to choose one for the refortification of the massive castle gate.
“Your project manager requested our chalk and sea pebble blend, but it’s on back order, so I brought a limestone with two different grain sizes in two different hues.” The black-haired woman moved her reading glasses to her nose and looked up at him, waiting for an answer.
“Uhhh.” He didn’t know what to say. The stone samples seemed the same to him. She held out a pamphlet.
“Here is a close-up image of the chalk and sea pebble blend,” she said, pointing to a picture of another yet identical stone. “You can see the similarities.”
Edward threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know,” he said. “You pick.”
With that, he stomped away from the perplexed looking woman. Where was Clementine when he needed her?
In truth, he had to admit that Clem had been doing an amazing job so far on the restoration of the castle. In a few short weeks, she’d tacked down reliable contractors, had successfully overseen specific jobs that had been true thorns in Edward’s side before she’d arrived on the scene. When she’d requested a personal day to help out at her family’s shop, he couldn’t have denied her.
Here he was now, though, at ten in the morning, feeling lost without her. First the painters asking about window frame shade, and now this woman with the stone.
“Prince Edward.”
He heard someone calling his name and turned around to see a small man holding a bucket in his hands. He was waving at Edward with his other hand.
What now?
“I’m here to refinish the tray ceiling in the master suite,” he said. “I was wondering if you preferred a wax-based paint or oil-based.”
Dear God.
“I’ll be right back,” he lied and sidestepped around the man.
“Lance,” he called into the front office where his driver tended to camp out during the day with his favorite coffee and crossword puzzles. “I need to get to Wicke Salvage, post-haste.”
Lance emerged from the office, a half of a pretzel rod hanging out of his mouth.
“Can’t seem to live without that young lady these days, can you, sir?”
Edward shot Lance a dirty look as he slid into the car…but he didn’t try to deny it. It was true. He needed Clem. He’d called her numerous times and texted her, but she hadn’t responded, which was completely unacceptable. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the back door until they arrived at the pristine storefront on the dingy street.
“I’ll be back,” he told Lance and slammed the door.
Upon entering the shop, he immediately spied Clementine at the counter on the phone. She caught sight of him but showed no reaction to his presence.
“Yes, sir,” she said into the phone. “I understand your frustration with—”
Edward could hear a man’s voice, yelling and using foul language, on the other end of the line. He fought the urge to grab the phone from Clem and defend her against this rude asshole.
“I’m so sorry you feel that way, sir,”
Edward had yet to experience this calm, collected side of Clementine. She lost her temper daily with him when he suggested something that she found abhorrent.
“Is there something I can do to—”
But the man hung up, leaving Clem to shrug and place the phone down.
“Why didn’t you tell that idiot to sod off?” Edward asked.
“Wicke Salvage isn’t exactly in the position, financially, to be turning customers away, no matter how rude they may be,” she told him and ran a hand through messy hair.
Edward felt a pang of sympathy for Clem and the pressure she was under to keep her family business afloat.
&n
bsp; “We need all the work we can get,” she continued. “Especially since most people out there are like you, seduced by whatever is the newest thing. People want modern and flashy, and here we are offering antiques. We’re barely staying afloat.”
Clem’s shoulders sagged, and Edward placed a hand over hers. He’d never really thought about the impact modernization had on companies like her family’s. “I’m sorry, Clem. I didn’t realize it was that bad here.”
Clem gave him a sad smile. “Business is bad, but working here isn’t. I’m proud of this place,” she said. “And I love the stuff we work with, as you know. Old things have stories written into them.”
“Want to show me around?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “But I’ll bet that all you’ll see is trash.”
“So, tell me why you see treasures,” he said and squeezed her hand.
Clem ushered him into the back room and began pointing out cherished pieces. She stood in front of a scratched wooden wheel and grinned. Edward had no idea what he was looking at.
“This spinning wheel is the only thing that survived a raging fire that destroyed an entire block of homes in the 1700s,” she told him.
“Why do you like it?” he wondered aloud.
“It reminds me of my favorite fairy tale,” she said.
“Sleeping Beauty,” he guessed, and she beamed at him.
“Maybe your childhood wasn’t as bleak as I pegged it to be,” she said, and he laughed.
“There’s so much merchandise,” he observed.
“Lack of demand,” she explained, and once again, guilt pulled at Edward’s heart.
He looked around the storage room, impressed once more by Clem’s passion and expertise. “I may not be fascinated by old things, Clem, but I have to admit, I’m more than a little fascinated by you.”
She blushed and looked away, but he took her chin in his hands.
“And I don’t mean just because you are a picture of loveliness.” He heard the intake of her breath and liked that his words had surprised her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and serious. “I mean that I admire the way you take such care of the things you appreciate.”
He tilted her face up toward his and leaned toward her. He could almost taste the sweetness he’d craved since that fateful night in the schoolyard. Heat swam between them, as he touched his lips to hers. At that same moment, someone called Clem’s name from the front of the shop, and Edward pulled back before their kiss could become anything more.
Dirk Wicke plodded through the door to the storage room and eyed the two of them. They were still standing too close.
“Clementine?” Dirk spoke his daughter’s name accusingly, or perhaps it only seemed that way because Edward felt guilty for crossing boundaries, especially in her father’s shop. He watched Clem swallow and smooth the hair to the side of her face. Her cheeks were cherry-red.
“I was just showing Edward the merchandise back here,” she said, and Edward nearly choked on the irony of her words.
As Clem’s father eyed them smartly, the taste of her lingered on his lips.
Clem cursed herself for allowing that kiss to happen—and in the shop, at that! She’d promised her father she would play nice, but she was sure he wouldn’t consider locking lips with the client as part of that bargain.
“Edward,” Clem said. “I just have to finish up here and I’ll be back to the castle. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”
“Alright,” he answered, his eyes imploring hers. Was he looking for the meaning behind their kiss? If so, she didn’t have any answers for him. Clementine’s stomach was in knots. Between her attraction to Edward and the shock of her father almost catching them in the act, she didn’t know which way was up.
Edward turned to her father. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Wicke,” he said and held a hand out to shake.
“How are things working out with the renovation?” Dirk asked, and Edward smiled.
“With your daughter on the job, it’s been seamless. In fact, I’ve been quite lost without her today.” He grinned unashamedly at Clem, and a glow bloomed on her cheeks. She brushed away the blush, hoping her father wouldn’t notice.
“See you later, Edward.” She ushered him out of the store, careful not to stand to close to him while her father was lurking.
Edward locked eyes with her. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said and left.
She caught her breath then turned around to see her father standing right behind her. His arms were crossed over his chest, an air of suspicion in his narrowed eyes.
“When I told you to play nice—” he began and Clem’s face sank into her hands.
“I know!” she said, admitting her guilt. She could never hide anything from her dad. Ever since her mother had left them when she was a young child, she and her father had shared an easy and open relationship. He knew her too well.
“It’s not good to mix business with romance, Clem,” he said and put his arm around her shoulders. “Especially when we really need this job to go well.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, leaning into him. “I’ll lay the boundaries down, I promise.”
“I’m surprised at your interest in him, Clem, given his plans to knock down every historical site in town.” The look on her father’s face slayed her. “He’s not really your style.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she lied. She had been thinking about Edward’s hard body and soft lips, about the way his stare made her feel like she was the only person that mattered in the world. “It was nothing, anyway. We just got caught up in a moment.”
“Good,” her dad said and squeezed her hand. “Because he’ll always put his agenda before your needs, you know. He’s not the one for you.”
Her dad’s words touched a nerve. “He’s not the one for me, you’re right; but he’s not that bad, Dad. He’s actually showing some interest in history.” She flared her nostrils and held her head high. “I’m teaching him to appreciate the things that matter.”
“Just be careful with your heart, apricot,” her dad said and hugged her.
“I will be,” she promised him, but she knew it was a bit late for that.
6
Edward sat at his desk, poring over designs for the condo complex he had in mind for the riverfront—or at least, that was what he was attempting to do. And yet no matter the effort he put into focusing on the paperwork in front of him, his mind kept wandering to Clem and the moment they’d shared in the storage room the day before. It had happened so naturally, her body angling into his, her lips responding to his hunger. And then, as quickly as it had happened, it was over, and Clem had acted like they’d never been more than business partners. She was quiet on the car ride back to the castle, keeping her hands tucked away in her lap so that he couldn’t reach for them. Such mixed signals.
Maybe her coolness was for the best. It wasn’t as if he had time for a relationship right now with all the work on his plate. And Clem was far from a perfect match, with her idealistic romanticizing over the past and how to bring it back to life. Still, there was something about her. Just being in her presence ignited a spark in him. He needed to touch her, to kiss her, to be close to her.
Suddenly, a clamorous crash pulled him from his thoughts. He heard Clem scream and vaulted from his seat, his heart thundering in his chest at the thought that she could be injured. Damn this crumbling castle and its ancient structures. Nothing was up to code. It wasn’t safe. What if Clem was hurt?
He raced toward the commotion down a corridor and into the dining hall, where he found Clem, appearing unscathed but tearful, her hands clasped in frustration atop her head.
“You’re alright,” he said, breathless with relief. He fought the urge to run his hands over her cheeks and shoulders, just to ensure that every perfect part of her was indeed unhurt.
“I’m fine,” she muttered. “But the fireplace!”
She huffed and wiped a sheen of dust from her arm. “I
t’s destroyed, and the mantle’s broken as well.”
Edward took stock of the room. The collapse of the fireplace had certainly made a mess of the historic dining hall, which was a key component of the castle’s restoration. The tiles around the fireplace were cracked as were areas in the wall.
“This is a nightmare,” Clem said. “Fixing all of this will take time, and the schedule is already so tight.”
He placed a hand carefully on her shoulder and forced her to meet his eyes. “The important thing is that you’re not hurt, Clem,” he said. “We’ll figure the rest out. If we’re behind schedule, we’re behind schedule. Let’s just make sure we get it done right, okay?”
Clem looked at him as if he’d grown an extra nose on his face. “Who are you and where have you taken my boss?” she asked.
He hoped she thought of him as more than just her boss.
“Let’s brainstorm,” he said, knowing full well that Clem would be able to figure out how to deal with this mess. She was a genius with fixing broken things and making them beautiful. “What can we do to ensure the grand fireplace and mantle in here is safe for visitors and up to code while remaining authentic to the style of its time period?” He purposely used phrases she had taught him in the past week, and she looked impressed.
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes darting around as if she were searching for answers in her imagination. Finally, she lit up like a star.
“I’ve got it,” she said. “I have the perfect solution.”
He never doubted she would. “What is it?”
“I have material that we can use to patch the mantle. It’s not an exact match, but it will preserve the feel of the room, and it might actually pull together the fireplace and the art on the walls in here.”
Edward beamed at her. He wanted to fold her into his arms and lay one on her, not because he was excited to repair the mantle, but because he was thrilled to see her joy. Her joy made him happy. He knew he couldn’t get too close though.