Any Time, Any Place
Page 25
He didn’t give up easy, and he wanted Raven. Not only in his bed, but he wanted her laugh, her banter, her passion. Wanted to see those inky eyes fog up when he touched her. When he made her come.
His trained eye settled on the gorgeous curve of the constellation Andromeda, named for the mythical princess caught in chains.
Yeah, he had just the lure he needed to get her on his turf.
Dalton smiled, turned from his telescope, and went inside.
chapter ten
Raven didn’t trust him. Dalton had been extra sugary sweet to her this morning. Needing some distance after their last intimate conversation, she’d headed back to her house to finish up some work but finally lost the battle around lunchtime. She was too curious about his progress and the possibility of learning more from him.
He was whistling in tune to “What Makes You Beautiful” and varnishing the bar. She was amazed at how different the pub looked already. The old, sad wood was gone, and now the bar was shiny and new, with a gorgeous dark polish and rich undertones. The gold had been ripped off and replaced with bronze rope foot rails and handrails. The scratched glass top was gone, replaced with a smooth finish that complemented the varying shades of brick from the back wall.
He kept up a stream of casual chatter as she made her way around the pub, doing some light cleaning and prepping supplies. It was as if he’d lulled her into a state of relaxation for a reason, and her radar was pinging quite loudly with a warning that he had some master plan ready to reveal.
Or maybe not. She was also paranoid, another element that would make a terrible impression on a future husband. Experience had taught her trust was earned, not given.
Yeah, she was just a real fun package, wasn’t she?
“When are you thinking of doing the party?” he asked, brushing slow, steady strokes with the grain.
“Depends on when all the work will be finished. I’m sure you don’t just whip up customized stuff in twenty-four hours or do ready-made.”
He gave a mock shudder. “I keep telling clients Target is not a store to buy actual furniture as an investment. Then they have that junk place on Marble Street that boasts clearance prices for wood. Last consult I had, the guy showed me his entertainment console he bought there. It had cracked and split in two pieces, and it wasn’t even real wood.”
“Hey, I love Target.”
“So do I, but for soap, socks, or chips. Not furniture.” He shot her a suspicious look. “You don’t have that stuff in your apartment, do you?”
She grinned. “No. I happen to enjoy antiques. And I live in a house. The log cabin down the road.”
He stopped brushing and stared. “No way. The one with the huge front porch on that nice lot? With all the gorgeous maple? I bet the inside is amazing.”
“It is.”
“You don’t give tours, do you?”
His question was all innocence, but his blue eyes were all danger. She kept her tone light. “Hadn’t thought of selling tickets, but if My Place doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
“I’ll be first in line.”
“Bet you will.”
His lip twitched in a half smirk. “I’ll be done by the time your interview is scheduled.”
“So I’ll throw the party the week after.”
“Am I invited?”
“You did the work. I’ll be happy to proudly advertise it to all the customers, including Good Food and Fine Spirits magazine. You’ll probably get a ton of extra work from the deal.”
“Sounds good. I’ll need to swing back to finish the polishing. I’ll start working on the stools while the bar dries.”
“Great.”
“Oh, and I need you to come with me someplace later.”
She frowned. “Huh?”
He never paused in his work, as if his request weren’t earth-shattering. “I’ve got something you’ll want to see. If you like it, we can negotiate.”
She waited for more, but it seemed he was done. A half laugh escaped her lips. Was he kidding? “Are you trying to proposition me?”
“Yes. But strictly for business. Of course, if you want to have sex, I’m a sure thing. But what I’d like to show you has to do with the bar and a product you may want to purchase.”
Oh, this man was way too smart. For someone ridiculously good-looking, it was impressive that he was also an intellectual. She opened her mouth to refuse the offer. “Why can’t you just bring it here? Or show me a picture?”
“You need to see it in person, and it’s too heavy to bring over.”
“Where is this product?”
He looked up with a contrived innocent expression. “My house. Actually, on the property of my house.”
Unbelievable. She cocked her head in curiosity. “Do you really think I’m going to agree to come to your house to see some unknown product after you’ve made it quite clear you would like to get me into bed?”
He didn’t even take a moment. “Yep.”
Damned if he wasn’t offering her a challenge. The idea of seeing where he lived was also tempting. She could handle his advances. She could just start spouting about bridesmaid dresses and spring weddings. That would keep him far enough away. “Okay.”
He didn’t even look surprised at her agreement. He was like a sorcerer who spun a weird type of fog into her brain and made her do stupid things. “Good. I’ll be finished around five.”
“Fine.” She waited, but he went back to his brushwork, humming to the pop music filling the air. “I’ll be back.”
“Cool.”
He never even turned around. Raven tamped down an irritated sigh and headed to the kitchen to check supplies. It was probably a trap. A silly thing he’d constructed to lure her to his lair. No matter. She’d use the time to probe a bit more into his family and once again confirm to him she wasn’t interested in his luscious body or ocean-blue eyes or rippling pec muscles.
Nope.
Not at all.
Dalton wasn’t sure why it was so easy to get her to agree to accompany him back to his house, but he wasn’t about to go looking for reasons. He finished almost exactly at five, and when he stepped back to survey the result, pride rippled through him. The bar was stunning. Restored to its old luster, the piece practically begged for attention—from the newly furnished bronze rope rails to the deep grains of polished wood with the perfect red stain and the clean, smooth lines relieved of bumps and bruises.
His trained eye settled on the gorgeous curve of the constellation Andromeda, named for the mythical princess caught in chains.
Yeah, he had just the lure he needed to get her on his turf.
Dalton smiled, turned from his telescope, and went inside.
chapter ten
Raven didn’t trust him. Dalton had been extra sugary sweet to her this morning. Needing some distance after their last intimate conversation, she’d headed back to her house to finish up some work but finally lost the battle around lunchtime. She was too curious about his progress and the possibility of learning more from him.
He was whistling in tune to “What Makes You Beautiful” and varnishing the bar. She was amazed at how different the pub looked already. The old, sad wood was gone, and now the bar was shiny and new, with a gorgeous dark polish and rich undertones. The gold had been ripped off and replaced with bronze rope foot rails and handrails. The scratched glass top was gone, replaced with a smooth finish that complemented the varying shades of brick from the back wall.
He kept up a stream of casual chatter as she made her way around the pub, doing some light cleaning and prepping supplies. It was as if he’d lulled her into a state of relaxation for a reason, and her radar was pinging quite loudly with a warning that he had some master plan ready to reveal.
Or maybe not. She was also paranoid, another element that would make a terrible impression on a future husband. Experience had taught her trust was earned, not given.
Yeah, she was just a real fun package, wasn’t she?
“When are you thinking of doing the party?” he asked, brushing slow, steady strokes with the grain.
“Depends on when all the work will be finished. I’m sure you don’t just whip up customized stuff in twenty-four hours or do ready-made.”
He gave a mock shudder. “I keep telling clients Target is not a store to buy actual furniture as an investment. Then they have that junk place on Marble Street that boasts clearance prices for wood. Last consult I had, the guy showed me his entertainment console he bought there. It had cracked and split in two pieces, and it wasn’t even real wood.”
“Hey, I love Target.”
“So do I, but for soap, socks, or chips. Not furniture.” He shot her a suspicious look. “You don’t have that stuff in your apartment, do you?”
She grinned. “No. I happen to enjoy antiques. And I live in a house. The log cabin down the road.”
He stopped brushing and stared. “No way. The one with the huge front porch on that nice lot? With all the gorgeous maple? I bet the inside is amazing.”
“It is.”
“You don’t give tours, do you?”
His question was all innocence, but his blue eyes were all danger. She kept her tone light. “Hadn’t thought of selling tickets, but if My Place doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll give it a shot.”
“I’ll be first in line.”
“Bet you will.”
His lip twitched in a half smirk. “I’ll be done by the time your interview is scheduled.”
“So I’ll throw the party the week after.”
“Am I invited?”
“You did the work. I’ll be happy to proudly advertise it to all the customers, including Good Food and Fine Spirits magazine. You’ll probably get a ton of extra work from the deal.”
“Sounds good. I’ll need to swing back to finish the polishing. I’ll start working on the stools while the bar dries.”
“Great.”
“Oh, and I need you to come with me someplace later.”
She frowned. “Huh?”
He never paused in his work, as if his request weren’t earth-shattering. “I’ve got something you’ll want to see. If you like it, we can negotiate.”
She waited for more, but it seemed he was done. A half laugh escaped her lips. Was he kidding? “Are you trying to proposition me?”
“Yes. But strictly for business. Of course, if you want to have sex, I’m a sure thing. But what I’d like to show you has to do with the bar and a product you may want to purchase.”
Oh, this man was way too smart. For someone ridiculously good-looking, it was impressive that he was also an intellectual. She opened her mouth to refuse the offer. “Why can’t you just bring it here? Or show me a picture?”
“You need to see it in person, and it’s too heavy to bring over.”
“Where is this product?”
He looked up with a contrived innocent expression. “My house. Actually, on the property of my house.”
Unbelievable. She cocked her head in curiosity. “Do you really think I’m going to agree to come to your house to see some unknown product after you’ve made it quite clear you would like to get me into bed?”
He didn’t even take a moment. “Yep.”
Damned if he wasn’t offering her a challenge. The idea of seeing where he lived was also tempting. She could handle his advances. She could just start spouting about bridesmaid dresses and spring weddings. That would keep him far enough away. “Okay.”
He didn’t even look surprised at her agreement. He was like a sorcerer who spun a weird type of fog into her brain and made her do stupid things. “Good. I’ll be finished around five.”
“Fine.” She waited, but he went back to his brushwork, humming to the pop music filling the air. “I’ll be back.”
“Cool.”
He never even turned around. Raven tamped down an irritated sigh and headed to the kitchen to check supplies. It was probably a trap. A silly thing he’d constructed to lure her to his lair. No matter. She’d use the time to probe a bit more into his family and once again confirm to him she wasn’t interested in his luscious body or ocean-blue eyes or rippling pec muscles.
Nope.
Not at all.
Dalton wasn’t sure why it was so easy to get her to agree to accompany him back to his house, but he wasn’t about to go looking for reasons. He finished almost exactly at five, and when he stepped back to survey the result, pride rippled through him. The bar was stunning. Restored to its old luster, the piece practically begged for attention—from the newly furnished bronze rope rails to the deep grains of polished wood with the perfect red stain and the clean, smooth lines relieved of bumps and bruises.
