the time he finished renovating her house, she’d have him believing in himself. She picked up the folder of sketches and color samples, already feeling a smug sense of accomplishment. “Maybe we should get back to work.”
Two hours later they had measured and remeasured the rooms on the main floor and roughly sketched out a new floor plan. Nick went down to the basement to check the electrical panel and, finally, he listened patiently to her ideas for updating the bathroom.
“I want this room to be really special,” she said. “There’ll be a separate dressing room here, with a shower and a soaker tub at the far end.”
Nick was shaking his head. “Except for one problem. Your sketch isn’t to scale. The only soaker tub that’ll fit in here will be about the size of your kitchen sink.”
She looked at her drawing, then at the bathroom, then back at the drawing. Disappointment set in. “You see? This is why I can’t be an architect.”
He laughed. “What are your plans for the den?”
“I’d like to use it as an office.”
“If we move this wall, you’ll still have a small office and there’ll be enough space to do the bathroom reno the way you want it.”
“You can do that? Just move the wall?”
“Well, there’s a little more to it than that. We’ll actually have to tear out this wall and build a new one, but it’ll only take a day or two.”
He said it as though he had no idea how amazing that was. “Let’s do it! I only need enough room in the office for a desk and filing cabinet and I really, really, really want this bathroom.”
He glanced at his notes and her sketches and took a few more measurements. “I think that’s it. I’ll redraw these plans to scale and have the estimate ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
“When will you be able to start?”
“If you decide to go ahead, I can get some of the materials delivered this week and we should be able to begin on Monday.”
“Perfect.” She had complete confidence that he’d quote a fair price and she’d already made up her mind to hire him. After all, he needed her as much as she needed him. But it would look more professional if she waited till she saw the estimate before she offered him the job.
She gathered her papers and glanced up at the hall clock. The morning had flown by. Nick had patiently listened to all her ideas and made suggestions when he thought something else would work better. Such as his suggestion for expanding the bathroom. And best of all, he didn’t seem to think she was completely crazy for doing this.
“Would you like to stay for lunch? I have stuff for sandwiches and there’s lots of fruit for dessert.”
He glanced at his watch and at the notes on his clipboard and she fully expected him to say no. Then he looked at her and smiled that heartbreaker smile of his. “Sure. Why not?”
NICK RAN WATER into the ancient pedestal sink in the bathroom and picked up a bar of purple soap. Obviously one of Maggie’s creations. He sniffed it suspiciously. Too flowery for his liking but it was all he could find.
Staying for lunch was probably a bad idea, he thought as he dried his hands on a bright red towel. Mixing business with pleasure always seemed to land him in a tight spot.
On the other hand, why shouldn’t he stay? Maggie’s refreshingly off-the-wall conversation made him laugh, and God knew he didn’t usually do a lot of that. She was easy on the eyes and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had lunch with a beautiful woman who wasn’t trying to use her looks to get her hooks into him.
He’d also lost count of the number of women who thought he had access to the Durrance fortunes, and who quickly hit the road when they found he didn’t. Either Maggie didn’t care about the money or she didn’t know about it. For now, either option worked.
He found her standing at the kitchen counter, assembling two enormous sandwiches. “Can I help?”
“Sure. There’s a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge and glasses in the far cupboard.”
He grabbed the glasses and opened the fridge. One shelf was completely filled with labeled plastic containers.
Oatmeal Cleanser.
Banana-Honey Anti-Aging Mask.
Cream of Wheat Body Scrub.
Cream of Wheat? Oh, man. She really was something.
He closed the fridge door, his amusement tempered by pangs of guilt. Ten years ago this neighborhood had been filled with run-down old houses like this one. Thanks to the town council’s ambitious program to attract tourists, most of the houses had been restored to their original elegance. Many were still private residences but others had been converted into antique shops, art galleries and cafés. Renovating an old house in this posh neighborhood was a good investment but no matter how he looked at it, converting it into a food-based beauty parlor was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
It’s none of your business, Durrance. She’s an adult and she can do whatever she wants with her money. He hated having anyone meddle in his life and he wasn’t about to meddle in anyone else’s. Although, he was curious how she thought she could make a living at this. And asking a few questions didn’t make him a busybody.
He poured the lemonade into the two glasses. “Have you ever heard of one these kinds of spas before? I mean, one that uses fruit and stuff to make…you know…stuff?”
“I’ve seen them in the city, but I knew Collingwood Station didn’t have one. That’s what makes it such a good idea.”
Interesting logic. “So you really think a natural spa will work here?”
“I’m sure of it,” she said, adding sliced tomatoes and carrot sticks to each plate. “Everyone likes to be pampered and to feel they’re doing something good for their bodies.”
“You’re probably right.” And if she wasn’t, well, it was no concern of his.
“Besides, I have a way with people. I think this town is a perfect place for the kind of makeovers I do.” She set the plates on the table.
After she sat, he took a seat and he raised his glass of lemonade. “Here’s to a prosperous business venture.”
She clinked her glass against his and smiled like Mona Lisa. “And to a successful makeover. I mean, renovation.”
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