Home for Love (2 page)

After everyone had finally trooped out, she returned to the library prepared to be pleasantly persuasive. Instead, she found Steven Reid fast asleep, his head cushioned against the sofa back, his feet propped up on the coffee table.

Kate felt like a kettle suddenly bereft of steam. The man no longer looked combative—just tired. His black lashes were thick and straight, a sharp, definite stab of color above bold cheekbones. He breathed with a deep, even intensity, as if any snatch of sleep had to be used to full advantage. Kate tiptoed to the window seat where she'd left her briefcase. She paused at the library doors on her way out, her eyes lingering on Steven Reid. Even asleep there was a vibrancy about him, a dark attractiveness that drew her much too naturally.

Kate shook herself. It didn't seem right to stand here looking at him like this. His tall, broad-shouldered body was quite defenseless at the moment, especially with those whimsical argyle socks adorning his feet. Unable to control a smile, Kate slipped out the front door.

But she didn't stay away from the house for long. It was quite early the next morning when her little yellow Bug crawled back up the steep hill. Kate hunched patiently over the steering wheel, willing the old car onward. No matter how difficult it was to struggle up a street, she always had the promise of racing downward again. That was one of the things she liked best about San Francisco.

She turned the wheel and chugged triumphantly along the weed-choked drive of the forlorn old house. Mr. Reid's Mercedes was still parked next to the decorative pump house built like a gazebo; so much for sneaking her troops in this morning. Kate swung out of her car and stood back to observe the house. Shreds of summer fog clung to the trees around it, contributing to its air of melancholy. It had bay windows poking out in the most unexpected places, gingerbread trim in graying wood, and a Queen Anne tower worn like a party hat long after the celebration was over. Kate moved a step closer. She'd give the house some confidence with a coat of sunny yellow paint—and coconut-cream paint for the trim, of course. She nodded in satisfaction. Armed with her briefcase, she marched up the brick steps of the porch and lifted the tarnished brass knocker.

There was no answer after several knocks. She rummaged in her briefcase and took out the key Mr. Reid's secretary had given her.

"Hello?" She poked her head inside the door. When again there was no answer, she headed for the window seat in the library. She glanced disapprovingly at the half-eaten bowl of potato chips on the coffee table. Then, humming to herself, she pulled out her notepad and began jotting down some reminders. She wanted the carpenters to build a bookshelf for the tower room, curved to fit snugly against the round wall. And the mahogany armoire she'd special-ordered would be delivered this week; perhaps it would look best in the corner bedroom.

"Do you always wander into people's houses uninvited, Ms Melrose?"

Kate turned and found herself blushing uncomfortably. Steven Reid was standing there dripping wet in the doorway, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Kate averted her eyes quickly from the tangled mat of hair on his broad chest. But the strong, powerful lines of his body were already etched into her mind. She swallowed hard.

"Ah… good morning, Mr. Reid."

"I thought I told you not to come back," he said brusquely.

"Well, no, we didn't get that far yesterday. But don't mind me. I'll just get to work while you, uh, go on with whatever."

"You're not supposed to be doing any work," he said.

"Mr. Reid, about our discussion yesterday—"

"I don't recall any discussion. You're going to stop ripping my house apart. That's all." As he spoke, his eyes traveled over her with frowning thoroughness. He examined her swept-up auburn hair, her hazel eyes, the faint but stubborn smattering of freckles across her nose. It was impossible to tell from his expression whether or not she had passed inspection. She concentrated on searching through her briefcase.

"Now, why don't we just sit down with a cup of tea and talk this over," she said in a reasonable tone. "Peppermint's the best… Here's some."

Steven glanced skeptically from her briefcase to the tea bags she was holding up, then back at her briefcase. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"No, thanks," he said dryly. "I'll stick to strong black coffee."

"Caffeine," she warned. Steven ignored her, turning back into the hallway. Kate hurried after him. He pulled up so abruptly that she almost bumped against him. She breathed a heady whiff of clean wet skin and sea-fresh soap before she backed away. She was wearing heels, but in bare feet he still towered over her.

"Look what you've done," he muttered, gesturing at clumps of wires and chunks of plasterboard.

"I told you, these are just minor repairs."

"They don't look minor." He peered at the walls as if he expected them to come tumbling down at any moment. "Well, good day, Ms Melrose. You can settle up your account with Mrs. Adler. Just be glad I'm not suing for damages."

Kate stood very still, feeling stunned. She had never, ever been fired from a job before. This simply could not be happening. She wouldn't
allow
it to happen!

She was right beside Steven when he reached the upstairs landing.

"Mr. Reid, we have an agreement! You said yourself that it's a binding document—"

"Only if both parties abide by the terms. You've gone way too far."

"Mr. Reid—"

"I'm going to finish my shower now. Do you intend to follow me there, too?"

"Of course not," she said stiffly, watching his muscular calves until they disappeared around the corner.

Good legs shouldn't be wasted on such a man. He was impossible. Kate sank down on the first step, drawing up her knees. Steven Reid made her feel as if all her years of hard work were on the line here. As long as she could remember, she had been dreaming, planning, struggling to make Melrose Designs a success. She couldn't afford to lose this job—and not just for financial reasons. The house needed her. That was all there was to it.

When Steven came downstairs again, this time fully clothed in well-tailored slacks and a tweed jacket, Kate was in the kitchen with her tea bags. She had found two mugs and a jar of instant coffee in the bare cupboards. Steven gazed at her sardonically. He looked vibrant with energy now, strong jaw freshly shaven and his thick dark hair only slightly repressed by dampness from the shower.

"You must like goodbyes, Ms Melrose," he said. She watched in consternation as he twisted the lid from a jar of olives.

"Is that what you're having for breakfast?" she asked.

"That and the strongest coffee known to mankind. Any comment?"

"A carton of yogurt would be good. Doesn't take any time to prepare, and it has lots of protein."

Steven popped an olive into his mouth and reached for a battered pan. He started filling it with water.

"Wonderful, Ms Melrose. I'll keep your homemaking tips in mind. Goodbye."

She grabbed the pan from him and finished filling it at the leaky faucet.

"I really do believe we can clear up this misunderstanding," she told him firmly. "When I consulted with your Mrs. Adler, she told me to use my own judgment on the repair work. She said…" Kate paused for accusatory emphasis. "She said you weren't even interested in discussing the details."

Steven struck a match and lit one of the stove burners. He took the pan back from Kate.

"I think tearing the walls down constitutes more than a detail."

"Yes, but if you don't even
care
about the house—"

"I bought the damn thing, didn't I?"

"Well, yes—"

"Fine. Then we've settled everything.
Goodbye
, Ms Melrose." He chomped down on another olive. Kate sat on one of the battered kitchen chairs and stared at him.

"You have some bread that's not too stale," she remarked. "Toasted in the oven it wouldn't be bad at all."

Steven straddled the chair across from her.

"Plying me with food isn't going to work, Ms Melrose."

"I'll keep the repairs to a minimum. Now, before you say anything, just hear me out. I think it
is
important to finish what I've started with the wiring. Beyond that, there's just one section of the roof that can't be neglected, and—"

"Ms Melrose—"

"A bit of carpentry and one room to be replastered. That's all. And here's the good part. I will make sure—
absolutely
sure—that everyone is gone whenever you're here. All you have to do is tell me when to clear out. Fair enough?"

The water was boiling. Steven dumped an alarming amount of coffee into his mug, swirling hot water on top of it. He glanced at Kate's mug, hesitated, and then with a beleaguered sigh poured some over her tea bag.

"I'll admit you're stubborn. But the answer is still no. Just the way it was in the beginning."

Kate shook her head emphatically. "In the beginning you hired me. At least your Mrs. Adler did. I just can't understand why you've suddenly changed your mind."

"Because I suddenly had my house falling down around my ears."

Kate's hazel-gold eyes sparked against the gray flint of Steven's. "Mr. Reid. Give me one reason, just one reason why you wouldn't want essential repairs to be made."

He scowled at her for a long moment without saying anything. No one had ever regarded her with such patent disgust before. She lifted her chin. Steven Reid was definitely not good for the ego.

"I don't even know why I bought the place," he muttered at last. "I've only moved here temporarily from New York. I'll probably just have to sell it again."

"There must be a reason you bought it," she insisted.

He shrugged as he spoke. "I drove by it once, just by accident. All that scraggly grass and peeling paint, and the shingles dropping off. After that, I came by every day for a month. It got to be damned inconvenient. I had to do something about it."

"Well—"

"Look, Ms Melrose, I'm handling a big merger right now. I don't need all this aggravation."

"And you won't have any, I promise," she said earnestly. "You'll never even know I was here."

He drank his coffee, still frowning at her over the rim of his mug. Then he plunked the mug down on the table.

"Show me what you intend to do," he said so suddenly that Kate started and sloshed tea out of her cup. She recovered quickly and led him to the small sun room, which was badly in need of work. Then she took him to the attic, where she discoursed on the value of minor patching now to avoid major flooding later.

"Enough!" Steven protested. "Look…all right, I accept the roof job. And maybe the other repairs—if I know I can come home at night and not find a wall or two missing."

"You have my word," she told him fervently, as her nose began to itch from all the dust and grime in the attic. She tried to fish casually in her pocket for a tissue, only to have a large plaid handkerchief thrust at her just in time for her sneeze.

"Thank you." She peered over the vivid red-and-green cloth, wondering if it had actually materialized from somewhere inside that subdued tweed jacket. She glanced surreptitiously at Steven's feet; they were hid-den in low-key but expensive loafers and it was impossible to tell if he was wearing fanciful argyle socks today.

Her gaze traveled upward again to lock with those sea-gray eyes. The attic suddenly seemed too intimate a place to be conducting a business transaction. Perhaps it was the lowness of the ceiling, or the presence of rotting boxes and chests that bespoke old memories. Kate folded the bandanna-sized handkerchief and tried cramming it into one of her strictly decorative pockets.

"I'll return this to you." She advanced cautiously toward the trapdoor. "What is all this up here?" she asked, brushing a film of dirt from the top of one of the boxes.

"I haven't had a chance to investigate. I think I'll just toss it all out."

"Oh, no, don't do that!" she exclaimed. "You have to find out what's inside first. If you don't you'll always wonder what treasures you missed."

"No.
You'll
always wonder, Ms Melrose," came his dry response as he disappeared down through the trapdoor. Kate certainly did not like advancing rear view first down the ladder, and turned around to face him again as soon as possible.

"Now, just tell me when you want me out of here today," she said in her most agreeable tone.

"You're in luck. I won't be back from the office until late tonight."

"Wonderful! I mean—I'll stick to my part of the agreement. And you won't regret this, Mr. Reid. You really won't."

He gave her a look that showed he was already regretting it. Downstairs again he picked up his briefcase.

"So long, Ms Melrose."

"You might as well call me Kate," she said brightly.

He gave the idea a frown, but after a moment shrugged. "Goodbye… Kate."

There was absolutely no reason her pulse should have quickened when he said her name. He'd pushed it out of his mouth very grudgingly, in fact.

She was relieved when a moment later the Mercedes rolled down the drive. Kate scrambled to the phone and called her workers back on duty. Then she settled herself in the window seat to wait for them and to savor her victory.

She allowed herself the luxury of slipping off her shoes and tucking her legs up. As a child she would have loved a window seat like this, a special spot for herself. She was the middle child in a family of seven, and private space had been an unknown commodity. Kate's only retreat was to curl up next to her dollhouse. Even so her younger sisters were always losing the little sofas, chairs and beds Kate had fashioned from bits of cardboard.

She smiled, remembering. Her life had certainly changed. She'd worked her way through art school, studying and sketching for her classes late at night and on weekends. She hadn't enjoyed much of a social life, but she'd graduated with honors. Nothing could daunt her after that, not even the job selling floor tile. She simply made herself an expert on tiles and then moved on. Now, at twenty-five, she had her own business. She could be proud of her accomplishments, despite the skepticism of Steven Reid.