Sculpting Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 2) (33 page)

Slipping my earbuds back into my ears, I hit "play" on my music again. "Love in the middle of a firefight," I called out to myself, continuing my jog around the neighborhood, slowly circling back towards my house.

I arrived back home, sweaty and exhausted but feeling a little better about myself. Sanford hadn't said no, after all! He might have glared at me, but I figured that he did that to everyone he met, and he still seemed willing to give me a chance to appraise the stuff in his house. And from the sound of it, he didn't want most of the items - which meant that I could hopefully persuade him to let me sell the valuable pieces. It would net him some quick cash, not that he needed it - and, more importantly, it would net me a fat commission!

"A good workout, overall!" I told Whiskers, as he sat on top of my bed and dozed in and out of consciousness. "And Sanford might give us a job so that we can afford to keep you in the fancy cat food!"

He blinked at me to signal his understanding before putting his head back down and blissfully closing his eyes.

I peeled off my workout clothes and stepped into the shower. Hopefully, my professional outfit hadn't gotten too sweaty during its brief usage this morning, and I could wear it again this evening. I hummed a few more bars of the last song playing on my music before I got home as I stepped into the steaming, streaming water.

Alone in the hot water, thoughts of Sanford crept, unbidden, back into my head. I hesitated for a second, picturing that angry glare, but then I thought instead about his broad shoulders, about that momentary feel of his hard muscles when I fell on top of him. About his hand, resting on my ass and curling around me like it belonged there.

I definitely ought not to be fantasizing about this man, especially when he might be my future employer. Still, the hot water on my sore muscles felt so good after that run, and why not indulge myself for a minute?

As long as I didn't have to listen to the actual Sanford saying anything, I thought to myself.

Chapter Eight

*

That evening, dressed once again in my most professional outfit, I did my best to calm my nerves as they grew increasingly frayed with each second of standing on the front porch of the Winterhearst mansion. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet, trying to listen for footsteps on the other side of the heavy front door and wondering if I should push the doorbell again, if it even worked.

Just as I started to stretch my finger out towards the buzzer button again, however, Winston drew the door open, giving me his professional little smile. "Ah, Miss Dean, right on time. Please, come in."

I stepped into the front hall of the big house. Winston closed the door behind me, and I gulped as I heard the deadbolt slide shut. I tried not to think about how I felt locked inside this mansion, locked in with Sanford.

"Mister Welles will be right out to meet you," Winston informed me with another little half-bow, and then he turned and ducked around a corner before I could respond. I stood there, waiting, in the hall, all on my own.

Of course, I didn't sit still for long. I glanced off to the side, and saw a room filled with covered furniture, just waiting for me to take a look. Heck, those covered pieces practically called out to me, urging me to walk over and take a quick little peek under their sheets!

I didn't see any sign of Sanford, so why not take a quick little look? Besides, he wanted me to go around and look at all the stuff anyway, so why not get started while I waited for him to appear?

I strolled casually into the dusty room, wondering what it had been before someone pushed all the furniture against the wall and covered them with sheets. Maybe a sitting room of some sort, I decided, looking at the big windows that looked out onto the street. I bent forward, grabbing a corner of the big sheet draped over the furniture, and lifted it up.

"Getting started without me?" asked a voice behind me, and I nearly hit my head on a lamp as I jerked up and spun around.

And there stood Sanford, his arms crossed as he frowned at me. I tried to tell myself that I hadn't been doing anything wrong, but my heart still beat faster at how he had snuck up on me. I took in his dark jeans and buttoned white shirt. Along with his black curls and strong jawline, he looked like a pirate captain, stepping straight off the cover of some old paperback romance novel.

"I just thought I'd take a quick look," I answered, defending myself. "Is there somewhere else you'd like to get started? A different room?"

Sanford shrugged. "I just want this dealt with and out of the way. Wherever we start is fine to me."

Great. Not the most enthusiastic client I'd ever worked with, but I was alright with that. Some clients chose to hang over my shoulder, asking all sorts of questions about every piece they owned, insisting that, because this massive wardrobe had come from Great-Aunt Myrtle, it had to be worth tens of thousands. They were usually wrong, and hated to learn that the big dresser was actually mass-produced crap and worthless.

I had brought over a clipboard with a pad of legal paper clipped to it, and I pulled a pen out of my pocket. "Well, let's start here," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to pull together my professional act. "Would you mind pulling some of these sheets away, just so I can get an inventory of what pieces are here?"

For a moment, I thought that Sanford might decline, forcing me to do everything (and probably getting all kinds of dust and dirt on my nice clothes). But he stepped forward, tugging the sheets and tarps away, dumping them in a pile in a corner. I winced at the cloud of dust that rose up from his actions, but began jotting down a short list of the items stacked beneath the coverings.

"Great," I said after a minute, after taking a quick second count of the items to make sure my numbers were correct. "Next room!"

Sanford and I moved around the first floor of the Winterhearst mansion, Sanford pulling the sheets away as I jotted down quick little descriptions and counts of the furniture and antiques we uncovered beneath. I tried to keep my voice steady and my handwriting from growing unreadable, but I could see those dancing dollar signs once again, this time jumping around with ecstasy. There was even more stuff here than I'd guessed, and I caught a few glimpses of pieces that, if they were genuine, would be quite valuable!

"Is there more stuff up on the second floor?" I asked, once we'd worked our way around the first floor and circled back to the front hall.

Sanford nodded. "Not as much as down here, but it's close," he told me. "But do you really need to go through all of it? There's a lot of dust and old crap, and I don't see how glancing at it helps."

"I need to know how many pieces I'm evaluating, if I want to give you a decent estimate of how long it will take me," I answered, trying not to frown at the way that he referred to all these antiques as 'crap'. "If I don't see it all, I might end up needing more time, and it might cost you a bit more-"

"What's your daily rate?" he interrupted.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You know, you interrupt me a lot."

"Well, you talk a lot," Sanford answered, but he glanced away. "Look, I just want all of this out of the way."

"Why? What are you going to put in here, afterwards? Got your own furniture or something?" I didn't mean to pry, but I was genuinely curious about why this man had bought the big mansion, and then not bothered to set up any of the old furniture.

Sanford just shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe leave it empty. Haven't decided yet."

I looked at him in surprise, but he seemed serious. Apparently, I realized, Sanford Welles didn't seem to have nearly as much of a plan as I'd guessed!

For some reason, that helped make him seem a little more human, a little less intimidating. His glare was still dark and scary, but at least he didn't have some evil plan all figured out in his head.

"Well, here's a breakdown of my rates," I said after a moment, pulling a sheet from beneath the legal pad on my clipboard and passing it over to him. "I charge a daily rate, plus hourly for extra work or rush jobs. I'll also help handle the sales of unwanted pieces, if you wish, and there's a base cost plus commission on each piece that gets sold-"

"Fine." Sanford barely glanced at the sheet of paper before passing it back to me. "You're hired. For however long it takes to get through it all. Just send me a bill at the end and I'll pay it. Is there anything else you need?"

I started. Honestly, I hadn't expected it to be that easy! It took me a moment to think about what else I'd need.

"Uh, yes," I said after a moment to recover. "I'll need a key to the house, of course. And I'll probably need to set up a station in one of these rooms for doing all the inspections, so I'll be plugging in some lights and hanging up a sheet to take clear photographs. And do you have a wifi network?"

Sanford just nodded. "Winston can get you all of that," he said, and started to turn away. Apparently, this conversation no longer held his interest.

"Hey, wait!" I called. "Is that it? You don't have any other questions for me?"

"Should I?" He looked back over his shoulder at me, and that angry glare almost stopped me from saying anything more, but I managed to press on.

"You know, you could stand to lighten up a bit."

Who said that? I heard the words come out, but they must have emerged from someone else's mouth, because I'd never say anything so stupid. Right? That couldn't have been me. I'd never say something like that, especially not to my new employer.

But as Sanford slowly turned, somehow managing to grow even more intense, I realized that yes, I'd been the one who just committed verbal suicide right there. I felt a little squeak slip out from between my lips, but I couldn't take the words back.

"Lighten up?" Sanford repeated, his eyebrows raised. God, the man even had good, strong eyebrows. It ought to be a crime for someone as gloomy and scary as Sanford to look so attractive.

I nodded, desperately attempting to not reveal how I was quaking in my sensible black pumps. "You're just hiding in this old house, as far as I can tell, and you don't seem to care about or be interested in anything. Don't you have some sort of interests? Hobbies? A pet, maybe?"

The man of stone shrugged. "I only recently found myself with a lot of time. I'm still working out what to do with it."

Well, he wasn't yelling at me. That was a start, at least. He still looked cold and intimidating, but he hadn't blown up in hot anger at me. I considered this to be a minor success. For a moment, I thought of cutting my losses and running off, but my big fat mouth didn't seem to be done throwing out accusations at the man.

"Well, I could always use some help with the furniture."

What in the world was I doing? Had some part of my brain gone totally insane?

Sanford, meanwhile, just looked at me. What might he be thinking? I stared hotly back, but after a moment, I was horrified to feel a slight blush rising in my cheeks. Damn it, why did he have to be so attractive? Even now, in that white shirt, hanging open at the neck with one button undone, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and just the slightest little hint of dark hair on his chest, begging for my fingers to run over it...

God, I had to get out of here before I screwed up the biggest job of my career.

"Think about it," I stammered out, reaching behind me for the handle to the front door but not daring to take my eyes off of Sanford. "Just have Winston bring the info and the key over to me, and I can get started right away tomorrow."

My hand fumbled about, but it didn't encounter the door handle. What, had the entire hallway managed to rearrange itself behind me?

Finally, Sanford stepped forward, up towards me. He leaned in towards me, and for one brief instant, I thought that, crazily, he might be leaning in to kiss me.

His hand reached out, sliding past me, and I gasped a little as he brushed against my side. He was about to wrap that arm around my waist, draw me in against his hard body, kiss me passionately-

His hand closed on the front door handle behind me, and he pulled the door open.

Oh.

Right. He wasn't about to kiss me. He just wanted to open the door for me so that he could get this crazy woman with the big mouth out of his house.

I quickly said goodbye, although the words might not have been totally understandable, given how I was literally ducking out of the house as I spoke them. I needed to get out of there before I ended up accidentally flashing the man through some crazy circumstances, or something else equally embarrassing.

Still, as I headed down the sidewalk and back to my house, I quickly cheered myself up. I was hired, and there was enough work in the mansion next door to my little cottage to keep me busy for days, maybe even weeks! Sanford might consider me a little crazy, but at least he had money and was willing to pay me!

For just a moment, as I took a deep breath of the fresh night air, I caught a slight, lingering hint of the man's scent in my nostrils. When he'd leaned in towards me, he had smelled deep, clean, strong. I could almost smell it again when I closed my eyes.

Not that I had any urge to smell the man, of course. I'd keep my mind focused on my work. No distractions.