Better Homes and Hauntings (12 page)

His stupid, beguiling, handsome-as-all-hell face.

But before the smacking could commence, Jake swept her hair back from her eyes and seemed to check her over from head to toe for injuries. He shifted her in his lap so she was more comfortable and cradled her as if she was made of the same delicate porcelain as the furnishings downstairs. It made her feel safer than she had in years, more cherished since she had during her failure of an engagement, since before her father got so sick—

No.

Cindy peeled his hands away from her arms and would have stood if her legs hadn’t folded under her like a cheap accordion. Jake frowned, and before she
could wriggle out of his grip, he murmured, “You really don’t like me, do you?”

The wounded, lost tone of his voice shook her resolve more than she cared to admit. She didn’t like hurting him, no matter what Nina thought. She just didn’t want to be bothered with his feelings. She wanted separation, distance, the objectivity she needed to do her job in a professional, memorable manner that would lead to referrals and further expansion of her business.

Getting out of his lap would probably be a good start.

She grasped the banister, gingerly lifting herself off Jake. He steadied her with a light touch at her spine. She covered the resulting shiver with a roll of her shoulders, as if she could push her vertebrae back into a reasonable configuration and rid herself of her puppyish response to Jake’s touch all in one movement.

“I don’t know you well enough not to like you,” she said, without looking back. “I don’t know you at all.”

I never got the chance
, a bitter voice added in her head.

“Well, you can get to know me,” Jake said cheerfully, helping her navigate the stairs without further incident. “And in the meantime, maybe you can get some rest and fluids in your system, maybe a CAT scan just to be safe.”

Cindy snorted but allowed Jake’s hand at her elbow to steady her in her descent to the main floor of the house. Oddly, she wanted Nina. She’d only known the woman for a short time, but she wanted the redhead’s quiet, calming influence to help figure out what had just happened to her.

Not that she would tell Nina about her near-asphyxiation on the stairs—or Dotty, for that matter. Nina was already skittish about the house. Dotty would latch onto the incident as some sort of proof that the house contained restless, hoping-to-be-aided-from-beyond-the-grave spirits. And while Deacon seemed to feel obliged to keep his crazy cousin on the island, Cindy didn’t want to be kicked off this project herself for having a tragic case of the batshit crazies. But she knew that Nina would know how to make her feel better, whether it was a sympathetic hug or some of that soothing rose-hip tea that Cindy was convinced contained some form of natural narcotics.

For now, she could only permit herself to be supported down the stairs by the insistently cheerful Jake.

And when they reached the main floor, Jake damn near dropped her.

Cindy would swear later that she actually felt the fibers of the carpet brush her face before Jake caught her again and set her on her feet. Her already unsteady equilibrium barely registered Deacon standing in the entryway. Nina and Dotty were framed in the doorway, a rare irritated expression on Dotty’s face as she watched Deacon talking to a sleek, reed-thin woman with a shiny bob of raven hair. The strange woman turned toward the staircase just as Cindy stumbled from the stairs.

“
Dar
-ling!” The newcomer didn’t walk, she undulated, as if the reptiles sacrificed to make her sky-high heels had some sort of sympathetic magic locked in their skin. Her dress—a dizzying black, purple, and white zigzag pattern—was tight and draped precisely to
show off a body honed by ruthless attention to calories and a trainer who showed no mercy.

A chain of intricately patterned silver, set with amethyst and onyx, stretched in a sinuous line across her collarbone, matching the stark onyx drops at her lobes. Her makeup was simple yet dramatic. Her boldly painted red mouth curved into a calculating smile. She might have been Snow White to Cindy’s Cinderella. But that smile made her more of an Evil Queen.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” the woman cooed, giving Jake an air-kiss that just missed his cheek. It was casual but somehow struck Cindy as staking a claim, an unladylike marking of territory. “It’s been too long, darling, really. Mother was just saying the other day that we never see you! The Lilac Ball at the club. Our annual lawn party. You’ve turned down all of our invitations. If you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt our feelings. I’m going to start thinking you’ve lost interest in me.”

The woman poked out her ruby-stained bottom lip in a perfectly practiced pout. For his part, Jake looked horror-struck, his shocked gaze drifting between this woman and Cindy without managing to land. He started to say something several times and then closed his mouth, only to open it again. Cindy supposed this was one of Jake’s many quote-unquote girlfriends. No wonder he seemed nervous about being seen holding her. Or maybe he didn’t want someone who was obviously a friend of his fancy-pants family seeing him cuddling the “help”?

Seeming reluctant to let go of Cindy’s arm, Jake had little choice when the woman hooked her arm through his and led him back to where Deacon stood.

As the newcomer gushed over how
thrilled
she was to be involved and that she just couldn’t wait to get started, which was why she’d shown up weeks ahead of schedule to present Deacon with her design ideas for the interior, Cindy rolled her eyes. Typical. Now that this barracuda with the telltale red-soled shoes was in the picture, he’d dropped Cindy and moved on.

Cindy pursed her lips, steadied herself against the banister for a moment. It sucked to be right all the time.

Resolving to forget the entire “tripping” episode, Cindy made her way to the opposite side of the room, where Dotty and Nina were whispering quietly.

“The insecure preadolescent girl inside of me is curled up in the fetal position,” Nina grumbled, noting with inexplicable irritation the way the new arrival was practically standing on Deacon’s feet, murmuring to him in low, familiar tones; until the moment Jake had walked in, anyway, which was the moment she launched herself at
him
. Poor Anthony had been standing off to the side, intently staring at the blueprints of the house so he could look anywhere besides at his boss getting kitten-whispered. And Deacon looked . . .

Well, maybe Nina didn’t know Deacon well enough to gauge his facial expressions. He seemed impassive, even bored. He hadn’t exactly been leaning into the lady’s aural assault, but his face didn’t give off a
Get thee away from me, you fashion-forward she-beast!
vibe, either.

In Nina’s mind, Indignant Deacon spoke like a character from
Game of Thrones
.

“Oh, honey, she doesn’t deserve your head space.” Dotty sighed. “That’s just Regina Van Hauten. We’ve known her since, oh, two or three noses ago.” When Cindy lifted an eyebrow, Dotty clarified, “Since high school. Her family is close to Deacon’s and Jake’s parents.”

“And why is she here?” Cindy asked.

Dotty’s facial expression wasn’t hard to decipher at all, with her mouth pinched into a derisive frown. “Regina’s supposedly an interior designer, but judging by the hatchet job she did on Deacon’s corporate offices, I’m betting she got her training from one of those videos you can order from an infomercial.”

“Uncomfortable seating and abstract art?” Nina guessed.

“There’s an ‘installation’ of discarded Starbucks cups in the lobby by some artist from Hoboken. It’s called ‘The Globalization of Mediocrity.’ The janitor kept trying to throw it away, so Regina’s idea was to put up a sign that says, ‘Please don’t recycle the art.’ ”

Cindy bit her lip before a snicker could escape. Dotty grinned at her, even as Regina sent the pair a scathing look. Nina noted that Regina hadn’t bothered introducing herself to Nina or Cindy.

Dotty muttered, “I told Deacon not to hire her, but he said he ‘has his reasons’ for letting her ruin both his offices
and
his home. And when I press him, he refuses to answer, which is saying something, because I can
always
get Deacon to fess up. Just for your information, he is very ticklish.”

“How will that information ever be of use to me?” Nina asked.

Dotty wriggled her eyebrows. “I can think of a few ways.” Nina stared at her, adopting Deacon’s “impassive” expression. “Oh, come on, I’ve seen the two of you together. It’s like watching a nature documentary on scientists trying to get the two most socially awkward people in the world to mate.”

“Not true!” Nina whispered back. “We talk about work-related subjects, that’s all.”

Just then, Deacon looked up from Regina’s papers and gave Nina a lingering look, as if she were the only thing giving him the strength to continue his conversation with his decorator. Nina’s face flushed bright red, and Dotty fanned her cheeks with Cindy’s clipboard.

“Oh, hush, the both of you,” Nina muttered.

“You made my cousin
smolder
,” Dotty whispered in awe. “Until two years ago, he didn’t wear matching socks half the time. He actually pays someone to match his clothes for him. So for him to throw any sort of swagger at you, that’s sort of a miracle.”

“He probably just had something in his eye,” Nina protested softly. “Now, be quiet before someone hears you. This is a foyer, not a cone of silence.”

“You’re right, he did have something in his eye,” Cindy singsonged. “You.”

Nina groaned.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to insist that you ride that man like a pony,” Cindy added. “For the good of mankind, technological advancement, and America’s place in the worldwide economy. Think of the gadgetry he could come up with if he had a little stress relief.”

Nina poked at Cindy’s arm. “You are all class, my friend.”

“Anyway, back to Regina,” Dotty interjected, although she continued to fan Nina’s pink face with her hands. “She makes a halfhearted effort at seducing Deacon, but the real prize is the house. I’m guessing she thinks revamping the place, emphasis on the ‘vamp,’ will put her on the cover of
Town and Country
or
Architectural Digest
.”

Nina shook her head, staring up at the seashell design on the ceiling. It was almost a relief to be back inside the house. Ever since her first visit, on the day of Dotty’s arrival, she’d had a constant, nagging, almost compulsive urge to go back inside. Standing there in the main hall put a stop to the buzzing loop of need in the corners of her brain. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t nervous. In fact, other than the weird social pressure of having the living embodiment of all her female insecurities hanging all over Deacon’s arm, she felt pretty darn relaxed. “I’m sure she won’t want to change too much about the house. It’s already beautiful; it just needs to be freshened up a bit.”

But twenty minutes later, as Regina unveiled her presentation boards in the library, all hope for a refurbished masterpiece filled with lovingly restored antiques died a horrific death. Regina’s proposal showed red walls with a vinyl-slick finish for the library. An oversized black lacquer table took up most of the space in front of the entryway fireplace. A bizarrely sculpted brushed-metal light fixture would replace the chandelier in the foyer. The other rooms weren’t much better. Unrelenting supermodern patterns of black, white, and red. White and black plastic furniture that looked like the ugly love child of Danish Modern and Barbie’s Dreamhouse. Spiky modern metal sculptures that would require anyone in a two-mile radius to get a tetanus shot.

Nina didn’t know much about interior decorating, but she knew ugly, expensive, and uncomfortable when she saw it. And Regina’s sketches hit the trifecta.

“Why, Deacon, you’re so quiet. What do you think?” Regina demanded in a teasing tone.

DEACON WAS STARING
at the presentation boards, his mouth hanging open like the anguished figure in Edvard Munch’s
The Scream.
In fact, hanging
The Scream
in his living room would probably create a much more restful space in his home than the majority of Regina’s designs. He squirmed in his seat, clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest. This had been a huge mistake. He’d given Regina this job to settle their debt once and for all, but what she’d produced was completely off the mark. It was as if she had photocopied the designs from his office and simply thrown them up on the imagined walls of the Crane’s Nest. Even if he were only planning to use the house as a showplace, this design was cold, sterile, and completely incongruent with the exterior. What was worse, the designs were lazy and unimaginative, and that was something Deacon would not tolerate. However, he wouldn’t humiliate Regina in front of the rest of the team. Not living on the island full-time, she had already pointedly mentioned, she was at a disadvantage compared with the rest of the team. Giving her designs the much-deserved red X of rejection in front of the others would make her that much more difficult to work with. He just needed to survive this renovation so he could cut the last string between them and move on with his life. He didn’t like loose ends.

“It’s interesting,” he said. “But to be honest, I was
thinking of something a little less geometric . . . and less plastic. I’d like to keep some impression of the house’s original design.”

“Of course, of course,” Regina said breezily. “It will take some back-and-forth to refine the plans, but it’s so good to know you like my overall concept. I’ll move forward with this theme in mind.”

“That’s actually the exact opposite of what I just said,” Deacon noted. “If I’m not making myself clear, we can sit down right now and review the parameters of the project.”

“We’ll discuss it,” Regina assured him. “Just let the concept simmer in your imagination for a bit, and we’ll revisit the boards in a week. Now, let’s talk about the plans for the ballroom, because Jake is being very stubborn about the window issue.”