Ulterior Designs (House of Evans Book 1) (35 page)

The softly-spoken words uttered from her mouth were like a death-blow to his heart. How she always managed to keep her emotions in check was something to be applauded, especially considering how silly and naïve she really was. Not to mention, fucking adorable.

And gone.

*

Chloe was an emotional wreck. Nauseated with emotion, her body broke out into a clammy sweat. She sniffed and battled the tears that threatened to seep from her eyes. She may have made leaps and bounds at Logan’s place, but her heart was at a standstill. It couldn’t accept that things were over with him. And just when there was a glimmer of hope that maybe her heart would mend, he demanded that she stay and work longer? She couldn’t. She had busted her ass all week so that she could truly give her heart time to recuperate.

And, damn it, she
wasn’t
running away. She was moving on—something she desperately needed to do.

T
he saying, “
All good things must come to an end
,” had never held much meaning for Chloe. Until now. She had anticipated being done on Friday, but after the previous days confrontation with Logan, Chloe had performed something of a small miracle and managed to finish the House of Evans within minutes of its owner’s impending arrival.

Exhausted, sore and emotionally withered, Chloe rested on the stairs until said owner arrived. She had no sooner laid her head back when she heard the lock to his front door unlatch.

One look around and his eyes widened. From the sparkle in his eyes, he liked what he saw—and he hadn’t even seen everything yet.

“How did you get all this done?”

“A lot of help,” she said, pushing herself upright. “Do you want the
in-depth tour
?” she tried to lighten the mood, but it was no use. He was sulking. As was she, but she vowed to remain professional, nonetheless.

"I don't need a tour," he mumbled as he set his satchel on the floor and tossed his keys on the side table.

"You need to see this."

With Logan on her heels, she guided him to the spare room. She opened the door slowly for the full dramatic effect before flipping the switch on. It was so quiet she swore she could’ve heard a flea fart. But the silence didn’t scare her—not when she saw the flush of color to his cheeks and the slow heave of his chest.

“Chloe … I can’t … it’s unbelievable,” he stammered. “Un-fucking-believable,” he swallowed noisily, sending a spike of pride straight through her heart.

When he saw her
Tantra Chair
resting cattycorner against a wall, he gave her a look of confusion. “Is that your chair?”

“No, it’s your chair now. It would be a waste to use it as a reading chair when so much pleasure can be had from it. And seeing as I won't use it for anything more than that, it's yours.” She glanced one last time around the room—items only some of which she understood their uses. Her eyes zoomed in the paddle, flogger and leather restraints he had used on her that were displayed in a cabinet, along many of his other
collectibles
and a pain of longing shot through her. She would never experience the joys of this room with him.

“You'll make a lot of women happy in this room. In this home,” she said so softly she wasn’t sure if Logan had heard her or not.

Unshed tears burned behind her lids. She expelled a long breath, praying it would stave off the sobs that seemed permanently wedged in her throat since the night Logan had said he could never be the guy she needed.

"Why not you,
Minou
?"

Her heart ached at the sound of pain in his voice and she wished he
hadn’t
heard her.

"I wanted it to be me," she admitted as she stared at the blue velvet chaise perched in front of the large window now covered with a luxurious window treatment. Moisture pooled at the edges of her whiskey-colored eyes, and she pushed past him to prevent him from seeing her state of distress. She wanted nothing more than to tear down the stairs and out the front door, never to look back, but she owed him a heartfelt thank you—despite what had gone down between them.

“I want to thank you, Logan,” she began as she stood in the threshold of the door, “for everything: for this amazing opportunity to be part of this home’s history, to learn from your experience in not just design, but …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She supposed she really was immature and naïve. “Things may have not worked the way I would’ve liked them to, but you’ve taught me so much about myself and given me the confidence I need to believe in my talents and move forward from here. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

The impossibly blue eyes she’d grown to love stared back at her with regret. “You’re going to have men falling at your feet,
Minou
,” he choked out the words.

She forced a smile the best she could, but when his brow dipped into a frown and he whispered her name, she pushed forward, impelled involuntarily by her need for
more.
At the bottom of the stairs, she reached into her bag to retrieve all the things he had entrusted her with—the home and rental car keys, the debit card and most recent itemized receipts—and laid them on the side table. Her hand touched the door knob when she heard the sound of the key cover being pushed back.

“One more song,” he implored.

Unable to move, she listened as his fingers began play a familiar song from her days of attending church with her parents—
Ava Maria.
It seemed only appropriate for this beautifully fucked up man to be playing something spiritual considering how they had worshipped each other’s bodies within the former church’s walls.

Slowly, the notes came and as she stood there watching him, she wished he would turn around and ask her to stay—he wouldn’t even have to beg. She bore her gaze at him, willing him to change his ways and give them one last
real
chance, but he only stared forward with his eyes closed. Her body swayed, rife with indecision—a trait she had picked up from Logan. As the song neared its end, she knew he was never going to offer her more. She’d known it for days, but had somehow held onto one last flicker of hope that he would promise changes and ask her to stay.

Someday he would find someone who would make him want
more.
It just wasn’t her. With that flame of desire now extinguished, she reached for the door knob again, and a new pain unlike what she had felt in the previous days and weeks seared through her.

She would never hear him speak of projects to come or see his creative mind in action again. She would never be forced to listen to his lame choice of music again. And she would never feel his touch or hear him play the piano that he hated so much ever again. Unable to bear the thought of any more silence between them, she pushed forward before the last notes of the song tinkled out of the baby grand, and walked out.

It would be long road to recovery to put the pieces of her heart back together, but she deserved more. And though she might never find it
,
because of Logan Evans, she knew what the
possibilities
held.

*

When Logan turned around, Chloe was gone. She’d slipped out before he could say goodbye and he supposed that was a good thing. With the notes of the song still lingering in his head and her scent still floating in the air, he drew the key cover down over the ivory. He would never play it again, despite Chloe having had someone come to tune it, even despite her having found the sheet music to the song he’d been pounding out the night he’d broken it off with her.

Tossing himself onto the new couch, he leaned his head back and dozed off. When his eyes fluttered opened nearly an hour later, the vision of two large chandeliers overhead made his heart nearly seize in his chest. He hadn’t even noticed them. Too exhausted to turn them on to see their true beauty, he simply stared at them and the dark shadows surrounding them.

Dragging himself off the couch, he reached for his bag and car keys, when he noticed the items Chloe had left on the side table. The throbbing ache in his chest that had been dull and consistent all week suddenly threatened to overwhelm him.

It was really over.

She was really gone.

The house that he’d been so eager to finish and make use of was now nothing but a reminder of a young woman who had surrendered her heart and body to him, only to be sent away. But he’d made the right decision, even if it didn’t feel like it, because Chloe, his one and only
Minou
, needed
more
and deserved a better man—and as much as he wanted to be that man, he wasn’t.

He just needed time to breathe and separate himself from all of it, he repeated, as he stepped out into the dark and closed the door behind him.

Later, when his feelings had come back into check and stabilized—then, he would come back.

THE END (for now)

Pre-Order Interior Motives Now

by
Jessica Jameson

NAPA
- Fresh off winning his second NIA SF Award, Logan Evans agreed to share the inspiration for his humble, yet brilliantly designed, home.

Aptly named ‘The House of Evans,’ the home is situated on a pristine acreage, and has sweeping views of one of northern California’s most beautiful countryside. Adding to the charm, the property features a vineyard, creek and craftsman bungalow guesthouse. But make no mistake, the unassuming façade, though striking in its own right, doesn’t compare to the stunning interior. Evans states this was no mistake.

“
What might seem accidental is anything but. Every detail of this project was taken into consideration, often times with painstaking deliberation.
Being the owner of this amazing property, I felt obligated to create a home that not only enlivened the existing landscape, but established a new dialogue with its surrounding environment by not taking away from its beauty.
”

The renowned architect who oversaw the remodeling and transformations of the Mission District, San Francisco School of Arts and the Marina Gallery Center stated,
“It was my intent to create an atmosphere of comfortable luxury.
I wanted my home to allow for a lot of interesting possibilities while still remaining true to its origins.
”

An extension, which is original to the building and now functions as a utility/fitness room, occupies the property’s back yard, and has been articulated to overlook the creek and flow with the lines of the vineyard.

When asked where his inspiration came from, Evans, who claims not to be a religious man, can only answer,
“From the creative gods.

In the Beginning
-
A journey that began three years ago, the former place of worship’s trek from Nebraska to California was no small feat, especially when considering that most of the original woodwork and windows remained intact.
But as it is with all of Evans’ architectural achievements, the devil is in the details, and what didn’t make the trip was recreated in such fine detail, that one cannot discern where the old ends and the new begins.

A snapshot of the scissor-trusses pre-project completion is just one example. Now meticulously restored, one is greeted to the beauty of the home by not only a magnificent view surrounding the property, but a grand staircase leading to a floating loft that overlooks all below, and a nearly one-hundred foot vaulted ceiling now adorned by two impressive, hand-made chandeliers created by interior designer Chloe Stephens, et al.

Along with the one-of-a-kind pieces created by said designer seen throughout, the home is filled with curious furnishings that not only add to the allure of the home, but its owner.

THE PATIENCE OF A SAINT -
The last phase of the House of Evans is still a work in progress. Determined to wait until perfection in his schematics is achieved, the bungalow, which Evans states will be designed to accommodate his aging mother, will be spared no expense and promises to be just as stunning as its surroundings.

A HEAVENLY COLLABORATION -
A mix of country charm and artistic innovation, the partnership between Evans and Stephens has hit the sweet spot.

Clearly pleased with his choice of designer, Evans stated, “
Some say taking a chance on a newcomer was risky, but for me, it was a no-brainer. One look around my home, and I think anyone with an eye for creativity and originality would agree. Ms. Stephens has left an enduring mark here that won’t fade anytime soon, and her presence and talent were truly a blessing. Because of her, the House of Evans is now truly a home.”

Could the restoration and design of this century-old church hint at greater things to come for Logans and Stephens? And more importantly, will their creative minds join forces again?

One can hope.