attention back to the laptop.
âHeâs got a sleeping bag on the floor of his bedroom,â Tess said, as if an Army man hadnât experienced far worse privations in the course of his training and his deployments. âI went to double-check the dimensions of that bay window, like you asked me to, and I saw it.â She sounded like sheâd spotted him sleeping on the sidewalk under the bridge.
As she spoke, she marched over to the drapes and pulled them open as if to emphasize the contrast between Gretaâs surroundings and Ianâs. The autumn Kansas sun poured into the room, mellower than the summer sunlight but still bright enough to make Greta blink. Occasionally she had to think hard about why sheâd invited Tess to be her business partner. Her days would be significantly quieter â not to mention dimmer â if she hadnât.
âI thought he was living in an extended stay hotel until the house was ready,â Greta said, shifting position on her lavishly furnished king-sized bed and not for a moment considering the difference between her comfy pillow-top mattress and a sleeping bag on the floor.
âHe claims heâd rather be uncomfortable at home than uncomfortable in a hotel.â
âHmm,â Greta said. That sounded precisely like Ian. It was also exactly how she, in the same situation, would feel. But she wouldnât under any circumstances stoop to using a sleeping bag. He was doing that just to goad her. She gave an elaborate shrug of unconcern. âNot my problem,â she said. If he thought the fact that he was sleeping on the floor would stir her to quick action, he was gravely mistaken. She had other clients and took care of them all equally. Some more equally than others, she admitted, but who could blame her?
âBut heâs coming over all the time,â Tess said, flopping onto the bed. She hadnât brought the morning coffee. She was probably too annoyed over Ian to want to waste time standing quietly in line when she could be complaining to Greta. Yet Greta would find dealing with said complaint far easier if she had a cup of coffee in her hand. Tess couldnât be expected to think of everything.
âHeâs over there all the time,â Tess emphasized. âAnd I hate to ask Michael to tell him to stop ⦠â
Ah. Greta peered over the tops of her glasses at her sister. Now the reason for the drama â and the foregone coffee â became clear.
She marveled at Ianâs plan. It was the perfect way to pressure her into moving faster on the job. She admitted that she hadnât precisely made his project a priority, and it did keep slipping to the bottom of her to-do list somehow. But still. He was good at finding a personâs weaknesses, she had to give him credit for that.
No, she didnât have to do any such thing. There was nothing to admire in a manipulative man, unmindful of other peopleâs feelings. There was nothing likeable in that, or in him. Right? She did not like him
at all
. Not the devilish gleam in those gray eyes, not the appraising look he got in them when he thought she wasnât watching, not the easy chuckle when she did or said something that surprised or amused him, not the decisiveness with which he made his choices and the confidence with which he stood by them. Even when he was absolutely wrong, as with the curios.
She couldnât help the grin that tugged at her lips. There was more to him than the surface appearance.
No. She turned the grin into a frown. There was not. He was obstinate and manipulative and she would not give him the satisfaction of pressuring her into acting in a way she would not ordinarily do. She disliked all of him, top to bottom, surface to interior. All of him.
Then she looked into Tessâs troubled eyes. If she didnât relent, Tess would suffer, though she wouldnât complain to anyone (other than Greta) about it. She would never
âHeâs got a sleeping bag on the floor of his bedroom,â Tess said, as if an Army man hadnât experienced far worse privations in the course of his training and his deployments. âI went to double-check the dimensions of that bay window, like you asked me to, and I saw it.â She sounded like sheâd spotted him sleeping on the sidewalk under the bridge.
As she spoke, she marched over to the drapes and pulled them open as if to emphasize the contrast between Gretaâs surroundings and Ianâs. The autumn Kansas sun poured into the room, mellower than the summer sunlight but still bright enough to make Greta blink. Occasionally she had to think hard about why sheâd invited Tess to be her business partner. Her days would be significantly quieter â not to mention dimmer â if she hadnât.
âI thought he was living in an extended stay hotel until the house was ready,â Greta said, shifting position on her lavishly furnished king-sized bed and not for a moment considering the difference between her comfy pillow-top mattress and a sleeping bag on the floor.
âHe claims heâd rather be uncomfortable at home than uncomfortable in a hotel.â
âHmm,â Greta said. That sounded precisely like Ian. It was also exactly how she, in the same situation, would feel. But she wouldnât under any circumstances stoop to using a sleeping bag. He was doing that just to goad her. She gave an elaborate shrug of unconcern. âNot my problem,â she said. If he thought the fact that he was sleeping on the floor would stir her to quick action, he was gravely mistaken. She had other clients and took care of them all equally. Some more equally than others, she admitted, but who could blame her?
âBut heâs coming over all the time,â Tess said, flopping onto the bed. She hadnât brought the morning coffee. She was probably too annoyed over Ian to want to waste time standing quietly in line when she could be complaining to Greta. Yet Greta would find dealing with said complaint far easier if she had a cup of coffee in her hand. Tess couldnât be expected to think of everything.
âHeâs over there all the time,â Tess emphasized. âAnd I hate to ask Michael to tell him to stop ⦠â
Ah. Greta peered over the tops of her glasses at her sister. Now the reason for the drama â and the foregone coffee â became clear.
She marveled at Ianâs plan. It was the perfect way to pressure her into moving faster on the job. She admitted that she hadnât precisely made his project a priority, and it did keep slipping to the bottom of her to-do list somehow. But still. He was good at finding a personâs weaknesses, she had to give him credit for that.
No, she didnât have to do any such thing. There was nothing to admire in a manipulative man, unmindful of other peopleâs feelings. There was nothing likeable in that, or in him. Right? She did not like him
at all
. Not the devilish gleam in those gray eyes, not the appraising look he got in them when he thought she wasnât watching, not the easy chuckle when she did or said something that surprised or amused him, not the decisiveness with which he made his choices and the confidence with which he stood by them. Even when he was absolutely wrong, as with the curios.
She couldnât help the grin that tugged at her lips. There was more to him than the surface appearance.
No. She turned the grin into a frown. There was not. He was obstinate and manipulative and she would not give him the satisfaction of pressuring her into acting in a way she would not ordinarily do. She disliked all of him, top to bottom, surface to interior. All of him.
Then she looked into Tessâs troubled eyes. If she didnât relent, Tess would suffer, though she wouldnât complain to anyone (other than Greta) about it. She would never
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