had character that Royce kind of enjoyed.
The wonder on her face as she took in the already renovated foyer made his heart speed up. Royce quickly looked away. No distractions. Focus. He had a feeling her enthusiasm, in addition to being attractive, would be infectious.
But he was here for business.
As per his usual MO, he mentally identified what he needed to do. Then he started purposefully down the main hallway that cut the house virtually in half. The kitchen lay at the other end, which was where he hoped to find his construction crew hard at work.
“Wow! Is this staircase the original? Or a reproduction?”
Royce froze. “It’s the original,” he conceded, then moved a few more steps. Maybe if he kept moving, she would follow.
Her gorgeous blue eyes were roving up and down the magnificent two-story structure. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Who did the renovations?”
He took a few more steps, even though she hadn’t budged. “Jasmine, I don’t have much time to get this done, so if we could move on—”
She nodded and moved to follow, though her gaze stayed glued to the refinished mahogany and blue tile patterns along the edges of the steps. He turned away and picked up speed. His brain started to produce a list of all the things he needed to discuss with the foreman.
“All these tiles...are they Italian?”
Royce heard the question but kept moving.
At first he thought he heard her following, but then the footsteps stopped and her voice sounded farther away. Royce paused, glancing over his shoulder. No Jasmine in sight. Then he realized what room she had disappeared into.
The ballroom. Of course that would interest her.
The urgent pull of business needled him to keep going. She could explore while he got things done. Problem solved. But there was also the worry that she would wander somewhere that she could get hurt. Not all the rooms were finished. Since they hadn’t been expecting company, the dangerous areas weren’t necessarily marked.
Then there was the question of her excitement and how he wanted to read it in her expression as she explored. He shouldn’t care. The fact that he was even thinking about this meant he should keep going. Instead his steps took him back toward the open doorway.
The ballroom walls had been carefully stripped of ancient wallpaper to reveal intricate painted murals. They’d decided to clean and preserve them as is, rather than recreating them. Wear and tear showed in spots, but it was the kind of damage that one would find in an antique museum piece. It simply added to the charm. The crown molding surrounding the windows, murals and chandelier bases had been stripped and refinished in an off white. Eggshell, his mother had called it.
The elaborate crystal chandeliers had been refinished and rewired. The wood floor had been stripped of decades of dirt and grime and was waiting to be stained and protected with a thick coat of polyurethane. There was still a series of mirrors waiting to be hung.
The room was a showpiece in and of itself.
Jasmine twirled slowly in the center, taking in all the delights. She stopped as she came to face him. Some of his indecision must have come across as irritation in his expression, because her eyes widened for a moment.
Then a grin that could only be classified as cute spread across her face. “I can’t help it,” she said. “I need to see what I’m gonna have to work with.”
“So you do approve?”
The expression he’d come to associate with her trying to figure out a way around him made a quick appearance. “Possibly.” She turned away. The skirt of her dress swirled with her movements, giving him another glance at sculpted calves and pretty ankles. Didn’t the woman ever wear pants?
“But I will need to see more before we know for sure.”
Vixen. The minute the word crossed his mind, Royce had second thoughts. After all, he’d never thought about any of the other women he worked with, now or in the past, in such a way. It was surely inappropriate. But completely and totally true.
Jasmine knew exactly what she was doing—keeping him on his toes.
Resigning himself, he gestured for her to continue down the hall. “Everything else on this floor has been completed, except the kitchens.” He hoped. “That’s what I need to check on today.”
As they made their way down the hall, he opened various doors. She got to explore. He got to maintain forward momentum. Win-win.
Only every peek into a room elicited the same excitement as a child opening presents on Christmas morning. The first gasps jumpstarted his heart, even though he tried to ignore them—and his physical reaction.
“Are these fixtures original?” she asked.
He nodded, warming to one of his favorite subjects outside of business. He and his mother had had two things in common—antiques and cooking. Their shared interests had strengthened their bond.
“All of the fixtures are original, unless they were broken beyond repair. Some of the back rooms had busted windows and weather damage, so we had to do some extensive replacements there. Everywhere else, I had what I could refinished. Some of the electrical components had to be updated. But the feel of the original should be maintained wherever possible—”
He noticed her watching him and felt a moment of unfamiliar self-consciousness. “In my opinion,” he added. An opinion he had only shared with his contractor and his mother when she was still alive. Not only was it no one else’s business, Royce had always found himself extremely protective of projects that he was full-on enthusiastic about.
Projects that sparked his creativity and drive, instead of the logical side of his brain. Only certain people who shared that drive were let in. He wasn’t ready to let Jasmine in. These softening tendencies she inspired in him made keeping things strictly business with her an absolute must.
After what seemed like hours, they finally made it to the kitchen. Jasmine took herself off to pepper the workers with questions while Royce checked in with the foreman. He almost laughed at how short and to the point their discussion was, compared to the last hour with Jasmine. He had a feeling he would hole up in his office when he got back and communicate only by email. He’d used up his allotment of spoken words for the day.
It wasn’t until they were on their way back out that Royce’s relief was busted.
Jasmine’s frequent glances warned him something was up. It didn’t take her long to get to the point.
“One of the workers said your mother lived here.”
Ah. Well, it wasn’t like he’d told them to keep it a secret. “Yes. She lived in the carriage house for a few years before she died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Royce just kept walking. He didn’t want to get into how much he missed his mother, or how he hadn’t felt he’d done everything he could for her before she died. There wasn’t much point to those types of conversations.
“Was she interested in the renovations?”
