faced the back of the heavily wooded property. Several fans were set about the room, including two overhead, but they did little to alleviate the heat.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t have a private bath,” Ella said. “You would have to use the one across the hall that serves this wing.”
Now that was just wonderful, sharing a bathroom with a total stranger. And a man, no less. Of course, she’d shared a bath with a virtual stranger before—her husband. And toward the end of the marriage, Richard had slept in another bedroom altogether. Lived in his own private world. A world that hadn’t included his wife. “Then I assume that means Mr. Morrell uses it, too.”
“Actually, his suite has its own bath. The younger Mr. Morrell had it installed before he moved in. Unfortunately, that’s the only improvement he managed.”
At least he wouldn’t be in her way. “I could live with those arrangements.”
Ella wrung her hands several times before saying, “Then the job is yours if you want it.”
Selene decided this was almost too easy. “Wouldn’t you like to see my portfolio first? Or at the very least, let me prepare some kind of estimate for my services?”
“That’s not necessary. I promise, you’ll be paid much more than you would normally receive for this type of work. I’ll have all the details outlined in a simple contract that Mr. Morrell drew up himself.”
“What about consulting with him first?”
“He’s left the hiring up to me. He trusts my judgment, and my judgment tells me you’ll do a fine job.”
Could she really afford to decide something so important on the spot? A better question—could she afford not to accept since she was armed with an interior design degree that she’d never really utilized and a very limited résumé? If she turned down the offer, she might have to search long and hard for another opportunity, especially one that would allow her the freedom to take a project with so much potential and see it to fruition. “Pending the contract is in order, I’ll take the job.”
Ella looked very pleased. “Wonderful. When can you move in?”
“Right now if I need to. I’m staying at the local inn. I will have to go back there and get my things.” Very few things. Most of what Selene had owned she’d left behind, except for the harsh memories of a doomed marriage.
“Today would be wonderful.” Ella started toward the door. “I’ll show you the contract first, and while you’re in town, I’ll see if I can arrange a time for you to meet him.”
Him, as in Mr. Morrell, Selene decided. “I’m looking forward to it.” If for no other reason aside from curiosity.
“One thing you need to know about Adrien,” Ella said once they reentered the hallway. “He’s a hard case. I’ve known him for many years, and the best way to handle him is to stand your ground.”
Considering Ella’s cautions, Selene wondered if she’d already made a colossal error in judgment. “I’ll remember that.”
On the drive back to the inn, Selene entertained more than a few second thoughts even though she’d found the agreement satisfactory and the pay much more than generous. She should have questioned the woman more thoroughly, particularly about the mysterious owner. Yet the opportunity had practically fallen into her lap at a time when she’d been uncertain over her future. Sheer serendipity.
Besides, the man was probably a middle-aged codger, as peculiar as his grandfather, set in his ways and, she suspected, cranky. She could handle cranky. She could handle anything as long as she could be her own person, make her own decisions, at least when it came to her private life.
Yes, she would deal with Adrien Morrell, through whatever means necessary, be it killing him with kindness or hanging tough. Better still, she would ignore him altogether.
* * *
“Who the hell is she, Ella?”
Adrien immediately noted the surprise in his longtime companion’s near black eyes, followed by a flicker of guilt before she said, “You’ve seen her?”
Yes, he’d seen her. He’d watched her from the window as she’d left her car. Saw her brief hesitation. Witnessed her wariness. He’d noticed the way her golden blond hair, bound at her neck, spiraled down her back in soft curls. Noticed her slender throat, her flawless pale skin, the length of her legs and the curve of her hips. From the shadows near the stairs, he’d also observed her walking the corridor, and imagined more than only watching her. A reaction he didn’t welcome but hadn’t been able to stop.
Adrien leaned forward and rolled a pen back and forth over the desk’s surface. “What does she want?”
“A job.”
He tossed the pen aside. “I assume you told her she was in the wrong place.”
“No, I did not.” Ella stepped forward from the door and displayed her usual toughness. “Her name is Selene Winston, and I’ve hired her to oversee the restoration.”
A sharp prick of seething anger threatened Adrien’s tenuous self-control. “I didn’t give you permission to hire anyone.”
Ella planted her palms on the desk and leaned into them. “Someone needs to go forward with the plans before this house falls down around our heads.”
Damn her interference. “That’s my decision, not yours.”
“That’s the problem, shâ. You’re making no decisions. That’s why we need someone to get this place into shape so you can put it on the market and leave.”
Right now he didn’t care to leave. The house had become his haven, his own private hell. “How did you find her?”
“I put an ad in the St. Edwards newspaper and she answered it. She’s the only one who answered it. And you’re the one who told me you wanted someone who would give the house personal attention. Otherwise, I could have hired a firm from Baton Rouge months ago.”
Adrien didn’t like the way Ella’s gaze suddenly faltered. “Where is she from?”
“Georgia. She’s a divorcée. From the looks of her car and clothes, I suspect she has money, or did at one time. But for some reason she’s decided to settle in St. Edwards. As long as she’s a hard worker, I don’t really care how she got here.”
Adrien cared. He had no use for a woman who’d probably never had her diamond-bedecked hands dirty in her whole damn life. “How much experience does she have?”
She shrugged. “Why don’t you ask her since you’re the all-knowing, all-seeing entrepreneur?”
If Ella were anyone else, he’d fire her. “I really don’t give a damn because I have no intention of letting her stay.”
“You don’t give a damn about anything, Adrien.” She straightened and sighed. “It’s been well over a year now. You have to go on with your life.”
A life filled with remorse. A life that had become static, by his own hand. And he liked it that way. “Tell her she’s not needed here.”
