Men For Hire (13 page)

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As she was cleaning up the patch supplies, Ian came down from upstairs, toolbox in hand. “How did it turn out?” he asked.

“I took it out on the porch to paint because it isn’t light enough in here. I’m actually thinking of closing this in at some point. It would be lovely to paint out there. The light is perfect,” she said as she walked him back toward the porch.

He immediately slipped into contractor mode again, looked around the space and said, “I can see how the light would be good from almost any angle in here. If you want to enclose it, let me know. I can give you an estimate for that too, if you like.”

“Once I know for sure,” she said. “I’m kind of dithering about it now, waiting to see how bad the rest of the house is.”

He nodded and said, “Well, good news. Your bath is fully functional now. I managed to replace the knob, unclog the toilet, and fix the light switch for you without soaking myself again.”

Stella laughed and said, “Probably for the best. I hear that water and electricity don’t mix so well.”

“No. Not at all,” he agreed, a slow smile spreading over his face.

He walked over to where the repaired painting lay on the table. As he took it in he said, “If I didn’t know it had been ripped, I wouldn’t even be able to tell. That’s amazing.”

She smiled and said, “I’m happy with how it turned out.”

“I still can’t believe you painted that.”

“Not lying. I swear it was me,” she said with a grin.

“Do you have anything else here that you’ve worked on since?”

Stella thought for a moment and said, “Hmm. I don’t think so, but … let me get you my card. It’s got my website on it. You can look through my portfolio there, if you like.”

A few moments later, armed with her card, Ian left for the day. When she closed the door behind him, she let out a long sigh and leaned against it. She knew it wasn’t smart, but she had a serious case of lust when it came to Ian.

He had been nothing but friendly to her. He had given her no reason to think or expect anything other than professional behavior. A girl could dream, though. Especially with that soaked black T-shirt he was wearing earlier.

Hmm
. Maybe it was time to go take a shower in her newly functional guest bathroom. A really, really cold shower.

Chapter Four

I
an ran a hand through his curly hair. He was officially going to go insane. Stella had stripped down to a tank top today. She was steaming the wallpaper off of the living room and dining room walls. The doors and windows were all closed up because she’d claimed it was too clammy outside.

When he’d been downstairs last, she’d been in the process of piling her hair on top of her head. She had looked up, as if she had forgotten he was there. The little wispy curls and the momentary surprise in her eyes, coupled with that strappy little tank top she wore—he needed to avoid her until she was in a bloody turtle neck, otherwise he was done for.

He’d spent the majority of the day sanding down the wood flooring. Most of the divits were gone now. Once he’d wrapped that up, the wood needed to be restained and sealed. The fact that the flooring had been solid hardwood made the restoration much easier.

For the most part, he’d been able to avoid Stella. Not that she was chasing him down for conversation or anything, but he’d decided it was best to be as brief as possible. Especially when he’d seen her full breasts straining against the hem of the tank top. He’d wanted nothing more than to strip her down and fuck her bloody senseless.

He sanded down the remainder of the hallway and gave a start when he saw the object of his thoughts lingering at the top of the stairs watching him. He flipped off the sander.

“It’s after five, Ian. The hallway will be here tomorrow. Besides, it’s been raining all day and the lane gets really crummy in this weather.”

“Good point. It was a little dodgy this morning. I’m just going to leave this here, okay?” he asked, referring to the orbital sander.

Stella waved it away and said, “I won’t sell it to gypsies before morning, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Thanks,” he said, snorting. “All right then. I’m going to head on home for the evening. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

She nodded and then slipped into her bedroom.

He took that as his cue, gave the hall a quick sweep, put the sander into one of the empty rooms, and then headed downstairs. When he took in what she’d been able to accomplish, he was a little surprised. She’d managed to get all of the wallpaper in the living room, dining room, and kitchen off. She was better at that than he was, he acknowledged.

A few minutes later, he slid into his truck and headed back up the rutty lane. When he reached the narrow part of the road, he let loose a string of curses. The old dead oak that had stood next to the lane on the way back to the main road had fallen over. Its roots had been ripped clean out of the soil. It was a lot windier than he’d realized, apparently. He eyed the watery ditches and groaned. Aside from this lane, he didn’t think there was another way back to the main road, and it was completely impassable at the moment.

Well, he realized, this made being distant a little bit difficult. He’d either need to get someone to drive out to Orsett to pick him up, and he could just imagine his brother’s response to that request, or he was stuck for the night.

Ten frustrating minutes later, he knocked on Stella’s door. When she answered, she seemed surprised to see him.

He sighed and said, “That old dead tree is in the lane now. I can’t get around it.”

She groaned and said, “Bugger. And it’s a bit late to call a tree removal service.”

He nodded and said, “You’re right. They’re not likely to be freed up until morning.”

She hesitated for a moment and said, “You can camp out on my sofa if you need to. I’ll call them first thing in the morning. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it was windy enough to take down a tree out there today.”

“I didn’t either,” he said. “I appreciate it. I hate to intrude but the thought of sleeping in my van—”

“Oh god. No. Don’t do that. I’ve got a perfectly adequate sofa. Come in,” she said, waving him forward. “I’m sorry you’re stranded.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“I was thinking of having them cut back some of the trees. I feel bad,” Stella said, frowning. A moment later she added, “I’m …uh … making some dinner if you like?”

He considered the offer for a split second and said, “I’d love that. Do you need help?”

“No, no. It’s easy. Linguine and clams?”

“Sounds great,” he said, already anticipating dinner. “I just need to call and have someone look in on Stanley tonight.”

“Stanley?”

“I have a dachshund. My neighbors will probably be able to let him out to do his business and feed him. I just need to ask.”

Stella gave him a smile and then said, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

After he had talked to his neighbor, he wandered into the kitchen and breathed in deep. “That smells awesome.”

“Just butter and garlic so far, Ian. You’ve got low expectations,” she said, laughing.

He watched as she moved efficiently around the kitchen and said, “Damn right. Since my divorce, I’m happy with anything that doesn’t come out of a tin or packet.”

“Poor man. Learn to cook. You’ll eat so much better,” she said as she dumped in a small tub of clams, juice and all.

“Is there anything I can do,” he asked. “I feel a little guilty freeloading a meal off of you at this stage. I was planning to wait until at least day four of repairs.”

She rolled her eyes at him and squirted some red stuff into the pan. “Nope. You sanded all day. Just relax.”

“What’s that,” he asked.

“Tomato paste.”

He frowned and asked, “In a clam sauce? Hmm. Okay.”

By the time dinner was done, and it had been amazing, he was relaxed. She’d opened a bottle of wine with dinner. When they had ended up on the couch, talking, he could have easily forgotten that he was stranded here. Even in the mostly empty house with a virtual stranger, he felt more comfortable than he had in a while.

He had been startled out of a lull in conversation when she asked, “So how come you don’t open a shop of your own? Why book through the agency?”

He hesitated for a moment before he said, “I don’t have the time to run the office and all of that. It seemed like a fair trade to let someone else handle booking the work while I just do it. Less tax hassle to be an employee. Besides, I went into business with my ex-wife years ago. When we split, the business fell apart.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she said softly.

“It was for the best. We married too young. She found she was enamored with fancy-free, twenty-year-old Ian and not so much with conscientious, bill-paying, twenty-eight-year-old Ian.”

“Better to know now than to spend years being polite,” Stella said.

Ian nodded. “Exactly. And what about you?”

“Oh. I’ve got no problem with running a business. I’d much rather be creating, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Sometime during the conversation, they had shifted on the couch so they were facing one another.

He shot her a bland look and then said, “I wasn’t asking about that, Stella. Is there a Mr. Whitman hiding away somewhere?”

She flushed at his obvious question and said, “God, no. I spend most of my free time focused on my art. I don’t have time for a Mr. Whitman.”

He laughed and said, “I looked at your website the other night, by the way. The glass stuff was really quite pretty.”

They talked for a few more minutes before she glanced at the clock and said, “Wow. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Me neither,” he agreed as he blinked at the clock in surprise. Half past eleven.

“I’m going to get a drink and then head upstairs. Did you need anything else?”

He waved her off and said, “No, not at all. Thank you again. The couch will be much better than my van.”

He followed her into the kitchen, his boots long gone. His socks slid along the hardwood floor as he trailed behind her. When she stopped at the refrigerator, he waited behind her patiently while she grabbed a bottle of water. Instead of shifting to the side as he had expected, she backed into him and then made a startled sound.

His hands automatically reached out to her shoulders and steadied her. He felt the same damned electricity he’d felt the first time they’d touched.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I thought you realized I’d followed you in for a drink.”

She turned around, forcing him to drop his hands. Her green-gray eyes stared up at him. Unable to stop himself, his gaze dropped to her mouth.  As much as he wanted to touch her, to kiss her, the rational part of his brain wouldn't allow it. Instead, regretfully, he said, “I don’t think this is such a good idea, Stella. Mixing business and pleasure.”

He saw a flicker of hurt and then she said, “You’re probably right. I’ll … uh … see you in the morning.”

Before he could speak, she fled upstairs. He considered going after her but in the end, he just got a drink and then settled in on the couch. He tried his damndest to sleep but could only think of Stella.

Chapter Five

S
tella sighed as she pulled the cotton T-shirt over her head. She didn’t quite understand Ian. One minute he was open, and laughing with her. After she had bumped into him in the kitchen, he had completely shut down on her. There had been no smile. No conversation. He had claimed that it was a bad idea to start anything, and frankly he wasn’t wrong. Why had he asked if she was with anyone if he hadn’t been fishing, though?

Whatever. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested. Signal received.

In the kitchen, she hadn’t imagined the look on his face before he’d spoken to her, or the feeling of his hands on her. He had been interested in that moment, she would have sworn it.

She shook her head as she pulled back the covers and slid into bed. Spending the evening with him, getting to know more about him hadn’t helped in her quest to maintain a professional distance. It was no matter, though. In a week or two, his time would be done here. Then he’d move on to another job and she’d stop fantasizing about him.
Maybe.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel his hands gripping her upper arms. She could still see the look of intense need in his eyes. She let out another deeply frustrated sigh. Sleep would be a long time coming, tonight.

Eventually, in the late hours of the night, she managed to doze off. Burrowed under the duvet, she drifted along peacefully until she awoke to a heavy thud on her chest. She let out a terrified scream as she felt something scurry across her. Her eyes adjusted to the dark just in time to see a dark streak and little glowy eyes disappear off the edge of the bed.

Stella flew up and out of the bed, shaking. She hovered near the doorway of her bedroom, trying to catch her breath.

Seconds later she heard the sound of feet as Ian hurried up the stairs. As he stepped through the doorway of her bedroom, his eyes wide, he asked, “Stella? What’s happened?”