kind of space should this be?” she asked from the small room off the hall. “How would your target client use it?”
“Do you live alone?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
She nodded, her face upturned, staring at the ceiling. “In an apartment. A loft, really. Two rooms, but they’re a nice size.”
Satisfaction slid up his spine. “What would you do with a room like this, if the house were yours?”
“Do you want it furnished?” she asked. “This is a model house, right? It’s for show, so that a customer will purchase the plans and the same house will be built somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
“So it would be good if you could give a lot of ideas for how the space could be actively used, and not just a dormant room waiting for guests—” Her face cracked open in a huge yawn. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
Killian clenched his jaw to keep from yawning in sympathy. He reached into his back pocket. “This is all the stuff the firm gives to outside designers.”
She took the envelope from him. “Do you want me to do like you said? Give you sketches and then have the painters come and do it? You’d need to give me a feel for how long the administrative stuff takes.”
“Not unless you want to. I don’t think our usual people do the fancy finishes, though. Or the color washes.”
“Probably faster to do it myself, honestly.” She shook her head and ran her palm down the surface of the wall, primed in base flat white.
He imagined her touching him like that, her hand flat on his skin. “Keep track of your hours, then.”
“Donna Edith had me put a time clock app on my phone. It sends my hours straight to her.”
“When do you want to meet again?”
She glanced at him then looked away, pink rising to her cheeks. “Next week sometime?”
“Okay.” She was maybe a foot shorter than he was, the top of her head coming to just under his chin. He’d have to bend his head to—
“My stuff is upstairs,” she said. He listened to her tread on the steps, and the upstairs floor flexing under her feet. She came back down with her books, then fetched a drink can from the fridge.
He opened the front door for her. She walked to her car, a nondescript sedan that looked like it belonged to a grandmother, not the girl in the tights with flowers on her legs.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. His call went to voice mail and he groaned. “Seth, this is Killian. I need Deb to check a plumbing mod, and some of your guys need to come fix the squeak in my upstairs floor. It sounds like a herd of elephants is having a damned orgy up there.”
Killian walked back to the lavatory in the hallway, where the phrase spontaneous fuck still resonated off the freshly painted walls like the scent of her, paint and shampoo and girl. Hope warmed his chest for the first time that he might have a chance to pull this off, that he could take the opportunity of a lifetime and make it his. It was all keyed on this woman, this lightning bolt of color and humor, and fuck, she was sexy. If he were Bengt, she’d be in his bed already—but he wasn’t Bengt, with all the time in the world to seduce a girl. And Killian didn’t even own a bed.
The calla lilies on the bathroom wall beckoned to him, impudent and suggestive. Vessa had made the closet-sized washroom look like a bordello lounge. Killian couldn’t wait to see what she would do with the rest of the house.
Chapter Four
A Den of Dragons
Vessa woke with a start, blinking his inquisitive eyes from her still-dreaming brain. She lay on top of her covers, sweaty, in her dress and tights and jacket. The open blinds let in light from the streetlamps.
“Oh no,” she said, fumbling in her bag for her phone. She had four missed calls. She hit Call Back without listening to the messages.
“Tess, it’s ten minutes from closing!” her manager yelled. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling since five
“Do you live alone?” he asked, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.
She nodded, her face upturned, staring at the ceiling. “In an apartment. A loft, really. Two rooms, but they’re a nice size.”
Satisfaction slid up his spine. “What would you do with a room like this, if the house were yours?”
“Do you want it furnished?” she asked. “This is a model house, right? It’s for show, so that a customer will purchase the plans and the same house will be built somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
“So it would be good if you could give a lot of ideas for how the space could be actively used, and not just a dormant room waiting for guests—” Her face cracked open in a huge yawn. She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
Killian clenched his jaw to keep from yawning in sympathy. He reached into his back pocket. “This is all the stuff the firm gives to outside designers.”
She took the envelope from him. “Do you want me to do like you said? Give you sketches and then have the painters come and do it? You’d need to give me a feel for how long the administrative stuff takes.”
“Not unless you want to. I don’t think our usual people do the fancy finishes, though. Or the color washes.”
“Probably faster to do it myself, honestly.” She shook her head and ran her palm down the surface of the wall, primed in base flat white.
He imagined her touching him like that, her hand flat on his skin. “Keep track of your hours, then.”
“Donna Edith had me put a time clock app on my phone. It sends my hours straight to her.”
“When do you want to meet again?”
She glanced at him then looked away, pink rising to her cheeks. “Next week sometime?”
“Okay.” She was maybe a foot shorter than he was, the top of her head coming to just under his chin. He’d have to bend his head to—
“My stuff is upstairs,” she said. He listened to her tread on the steps, and the upstairs floor flexing under her feet. She came back down with her books, then fetched a drink can from the fridge.
He opened the front door for her. She walked to her car, a nondescript sedan that looked like it belonged to a grandmother, not the girl in the tights with flowers on her legs.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed. His call went to voice mail and he groaned. “Seth, this is Killian. I need Deb to check a plumbing mod, and some of your guys need to come fix the squeak in my upstairs floor. It sounds like a herd of elephants is having a damned orgy up there.”
Killian walked back to the lavatory in the hallway, where the phrase spontaneous fuck still resonated off the freshly painted walls like the scent of her, paint and shampoo and girl. Hope warmed his chest for the first time that he might have a chance to pull this off, that he could take the opportunity of a lifetime and make it his. It was all keyed on this woman, this lightning bolt of color and humor, and fuck, she was sexy. If he were Bengt, she’d be in his bed already—but he wasn’t Bengt, with all the time in the world to seduce a girl. And Killian didn’t even own a bed.
The calla lilies on the bathroom wall beckoned to him, impudent and suggestive. Vessa had made the closet-sized washroom look like a bordello lounge. Killian couldn’t wait to see what she would do with the rest of the house.
Chapter Four
A Den of Dragons
Vessa woke with a start, blinking his inquisitive eyes from her still-dreaming brain. She lay on top of her covers, sweaty, in her dress and tights and jacket. The open blinds let in light from the streetlamps.
“Oh no,” she said, fumbling in her bag for her phone. She had four missed calls. She hit Call Back without listening to the messages.
“Tess, it’s ten minutes from closing!” her manager yelled. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling since five
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