looked a damned sight better than “ready to go.” All that gorgeous hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, and I could tell she’d fussed with makeup, turning her eyes sultry and her lips scarlet. She wore dark jeans and a sweater with geometric shapes in red, purple and yellow.
That sweater fit more snugly than anything I’d seen her wear before. My body took notice of this. Of course, my body had been on yellow alert almost constantly for the past three days.
“Just let me get my jacket and purse,” she said, and headed for the hall.
“I’d better be going, too,” Duncan said, carrying his mug over to the sink. “What are you getting at the building supply store?”
“We’re going to put up some shelves in my office here.” “I take it the ‘we’ means you’re supervising?” “All right, she’s going to put them up. I’m not taking advantage of her. She’s keen on all this home fixup and decorating stuff.”
“Hmm.” He stuck his mug in the dishwasher. “I owe Seely a thank-you.”
“I’ll tell her you enjoyed the coffee.” He slanted me an amused glance. “I didn’t mean for the coffee.”
It felt weird to sit in the passenger seat of my own car.
The Chevy was backup transportation, nearly ten years old but in good shape. Power windows, doors and steering; bench seats and a big back seat…big enough to give me some impractical ideas. Sexual frustration was bringing out the adolescent in me.
Seely drove with the same unrushed efficiency she did everything else. “I still don’t know how I let you talk me into taking you by the office. You aren’t supposed to be working yet.”
I pointed out that I hadn’t worked—I’d just checked on the work others were doing. I hadn’t even insisted on going to the Pearson site.
She grinned. “I suppose you think you get Brownie points for that.”
“I ought to.” If sexual frustration was robbing her of sleep and nudging stupid ideas into her head, it didn’t show.
“You’re staring at me.”
“I like looking at you.”
The faintest flush mounted her cheeks. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. I’d been careful not to since letting her know my intentions. That was the right thing to do. Sexual innuendos were out of place while she was working for me. Besides, self-preservation called for restraint. I had to keep my eye on the line I’d drawn, or I’d find myself tumbling off another edge.
But I liked seeing that flush.
I’d spent too much time the past three days trying to figure out what was going on in her head. We had something strong and hot flowing between us. I knew that much because I’d caught her looking at me a few times, too. At twenty, I’d have assumed that meant she agreed with me, that she wanted to have an affair as soon as the employer-employee thing was out of the way.
At forty, I knew better.
At least she hadn’t told me to forget it. I figured she was still making up her mind about me. I didn’t say anything else until she’d shut off the engine, hoping she’d spend the time thinking about the heat between us.
I pushed open my door. “You sure you want to tackle this? Putting up shelves isn’t easy. Goes a lot better with two people, and I won’t be able to help much.”
“You won’t be helping at all,” she retorted, coming around the car.
I made a noncommittal noise. No point in mentioning that there would be parts of the job where two pairs of hands would be necessary.
She matched her pace to mine—which was slow. I didn’t limp anymore as long as I didn’t try to outrace a snail. “This is my chance to learn from an expert,” she said. “I’m not about to pass that up.”
“Well, the expert suggests we get red oak. It’s not easy to work with, but it should look great.” I paused, considering the state of my office. “Eventually.”
“It is a bit of a mess in there.”
I grunted. The doors opened for us and I crept along to the left, where the lumber was stacked. I’d pick out the wood myself, that being the reason for this trip. Well, that and a bad case of cabin fever. We wouldn’t be able to take it home today, obviously, since I didn’t have a truck.
And we wouldn’t be able to do much with the wood until we’d cleared the place out. The room I used for a home office used to be a bedroom—my parents’ bedroom, actually. I’d taken their bed out about a month after they died, unable to stand seeing it there, all made up and waiting for them. Eventually Annie had claimed their dresser. Somehow I’d never gotten around to clearing everything else out, though.
My two favorite spots in the store were the tool aisles and the lumber section. Tools are always interesting, and being surrounded by all that wood hits me viscerally. I think it’s the smell—cut wood, sawdust, a whiff of sap.
Ed noticed my sling and the walking stick, so of course he had to hear the whole story, then felt obligated to spend some time assuring me I was lucky to be alive before he could put my order together. I arranged to have it picked up in a couple days. “That will give me a chance to clear the room out,” I told Seely as we headed for the front of the store with the ticket. Our slow speed wasn’t just due to my pace this time—she kept stopping to look at paint chips and light fixtures.
“Us,” she said. “It’s not as if I have much else to do. And we don’t have to remove everything. You have some good pieces in there, like that occasional table with the Queen Anne legs.”
“Yeah?” I smiled, pleased. “I made that when I was sixteen.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Shop class. It was a Christmas gift for my mom. I was trying to copy a picture I found in a magazine. Put in a lot of extra hours on it…had a lot of help, too.” As I spoke I saw Mr. Nelson’s face. He’d been the soul of patience, often staying late so I could work in the shop. “Lord, I hadn’t thought of Mr. Nelson in years.”
“Your teacher?”
“Yeah. He retired while I was away at college, moved to Albuquerque to be near his sister. He was an old bachelor, you see. I stopped in to see him once when I was there on business…” My voice trailed away as I remembered that visit. How sorry I’d felt for the old man, living alone, no one but a sister nearby. All of a sudden I could see my own future, and it didn’t look much different.
I had Zach, I reminded myself. Some of the time, at least.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” We’d reached the front of the store. I headed for the nearest checkout. “I’m amazed that you let me get up here without buying anything else. Why is someone who calls herself a wanderer so interested in everything to do with houses?”
She shrugged. “The fascination of the exotic, perhaps. I’ve never rooted anywhere long enough to do much in the way of home improvement, so it seems novel and exciting. Does your interest in construction
