refrigerator. “Frank didn’t do much in there,” she offered. “My first priorities were the kitchen, my bedroom and bath.” She took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice.
“There’s beaded paneling beneath this paper.”
In the midst of pouring lemonade, Alayna glanced Jack’s way and saw that he had pulled a knife from his pocket and was carefully scraping at the paper near the window frame. “What?” she asked, wondering what he was doing.
He folded the knife and stuck it back in his pocket. “Wood,” he explained, plucking with a fingernail at the paper he’d loosened. Then added, “Two-inch tongue and groove.” He gave his head a regretful shake. “Somebody papered over solid wood walls.”
Intrigued, Alayna caught up their drinks and crossed to him. She offered him a glass, which Jack took, then she leaned to peer closely at the spot of wood he’d uncovered. “Is that bad?” she asked in concern.
The heat and intimacy of her body pressed against his had Jack sidestepping away from her, giving her room and himself the opportunity to breathe a little easier. “Not necessarily bad. Just stupid.”
Alayna choked back a laugh upon hearing her ancestors referred to as “stupid.” The McClouds were a proud bunch, and probably wouldn’t think kindly of a man who questioned their intelligence. She took a sip of her lemonade. “So what do you propose we do about it?”
Jack turned his head to look at her, surprised by the “we” in her statement, but decided to take it as a sign that she trusted his opinion. “It’s your house. But if it was left up to me, I’d rip that paper off and let the wood breathe. It’d be a pretty sight, I can promise you that.”
Alayna looked at him, surprised by the level of emotion in his voice, his passion for something as innocuous as a wall of wood. “Will it cost much?”
He lifted a shoulder, which seemed to be his favored means of communicating with her. “Elbow grease, mainly. ’Course you never know what problems you might find when you start uncovering things.”
Alayna turned to look at the wall again, trying to imagine it without the faded paper, and wondering, too, what other things she would discover that Jack felt passionate about... and she would find out. There was still life inside him. The emotion he’d just displayed over her breakfast room wall proved that. “Okay,” she said, with a decisive nod at the faded paper, then turned to smile at him. “Let’s do it.”
“Now?”
Alayna laughed at the shocked look on his face, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. “No, not now, as in right this minute.” She turned to look at the wall again, her smile softening. “But I think you’re right. That wood needs to breathe.”
That she would accept his advice so readily both surprised and relieved Jack. He knew from experience that homeowners could be a pain in the butt to work with, having ideas and opinions on how repairs should be made that could drive a remodeler straight up the wall. He just hoped that when he stripped off that paper, he didn’t discover that it had been hung to cover up some problem, like termite or water damage. While he was thinking this, he felt a featherlight touch on his arm, then it was gone and Alayna was turning away, saying, “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
Jack followed her, unconsciously rubbing a hand at the tingling sensation she’d left on his arm.
“The fireplace in the living room was sealed off years ago,” she explained as she led the way to the front of the house. “I’d planned to open it and make it functional again.” She paused in the archway that opened to the large living room. Jack stopped beside her, stealing a glance her way, and saw that she had her arms hugged up beneath her breasts in an oddly protective way. “But I’m afraid,” she said with a disappointed sigh, “that this is one of the luxuries I’m going to have to forego in order to stay on budget.”
Jack turned his head to follow her gaze... and the craftsman in him all but drooled at the sight before him. A huge limestone fireplace dominated the opposite wall, its white stone front stretching a good twelve feet from floor to ceiling. Embedded in the stone above the fireplace’s dark opening was a hand-hewn cedar mantel, polished with care and age. Jack’s heart swelled at the amount of time and skill that had gone into the overall design, but it quickly took a nosedive when his gaze hit on the gas space heater wedged in the firebox where logs should be resting, waiting for the flare of a match.
Leaving Alayna standing in the doorway, he crossed the room and knelt down before the hearth. He leaned over, bracing his hands on the uneven stone, and looked up, craning his neck so that he could see up the flue. Sure enough, weathered boards sealed off the chimney. He poked at the boards almost wistfully, thinking of the waste...and, too, of the disappointment he’d heard in Alayna’s voice when she’d told him she was going to have to forego re-opening the fireplace in order to stay on budget. He straightened, dusting soot from his hands. “I can open her back up,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
“ ’Course I’ll check out the chimney and flue to make sure that everything’s in working order first. But I won’t charge you any extra for my time.”
“Oh, no!” she cried, hurrying across the room. “I can’t allow you to do the work for free.”
Jack frowned as he looked down at her, seeing nothing but a deep, blue pool of compassion in her eyes. The idea that she would think of his needs, and not her own, baffled him. In his opinion, and based on his personal experience, the gentler sex was, as a rule, selfish and demanding. Was this woman real? he asked himself. When he felt himself being sucked deeper and deeper into her gaze, drawn by the compassion he saw in her eyes, he backed away from her.
“Not much work involved,” he insisted briskly. “Somebody along the line probably just got tired of cutting wood and sealed off the fireplace, choosing instead to use gas to heat the room.” He gave an impatient gesture with his hand. “Let’s see the rest of it.”
Thankfully she let the subject drop. With nothing but a curious glance in his direction, she led the way to the stairway.
“The master bedroom is downstairs,” she explained over her shoulder, “but Frank finished all the remodeling there before he left. You’ll need to focus on the rooms upstairs.” The soles of her sandals scraped lightly on the oak-planked stairs as she climbed higher, drawing Jack’s gaze to her feet.
He stood at the bottom step, his eyes sliding up over her ankles and to the gentle curve of her calf. A warmth crawled up his neck and down to his groin as her elevated position on the stairway above him revealed more and more of her bare legs to him.
And he silently prayed she was wearing panties.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he discovered she wasn’t. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman in the biblical sense, and he didn’t know if he had the willpower needed to resist the sight of so much tempting flesh. He swallowed hard, paralyzed as much by the feelings of lust building as he was by the sight before him. He tried to remember the last woman who had stirred thoughts like these, but quickly gave up. It had been way too long.
“Upstairs,” she said, lifting a hand from the rail to gesture above her, “are four more bedrooms.” On the landing, she turned to look back at Jack and stopped when she saw that he was still standing in the hallway below. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky, staring at her and trying his damnedest not to think about those panties.
