"It's amazing. This place is like a treasure trove."
"I found something specifically for My Place. After you talked about instituting a poker night, I remembered we had something I know you'll want."
The dogs seemed to know the shed well enough that they didn't need another foray. They bounded off on their own adventure, the sound of their paws fading away.
Dalton took a few steps inside, maneuvering down a path he'd walked before, and dug out two large game tables. Propping them up against the wall, he wiped off the dust and a few cobwebs and stepped back. "What do you think?" he asked.
She sank to her knees, examining the worn wood. The tables had six sides, with torn, faded red leather in the center. Built-in ashtrays and chip holders were carved into the surfaces. Elegant curved legs held each table with the ageless grace of an aristocrat who stubbornly held her dignity. Pockmarks were scattered throughout the finish, but the wood was magnificent.
"What type of wood?" she asked.
"Oak. I'd keep the original wood, but bring back its glory. A light varnish, I think, and nothing to hide the grain. I could replace the leather, too. Tell me you don't want that cheap green felt."
"I don't want the cheap green felt."
He practically shimmered with joy. "Good. The legs are solid, just need a bit of sanding. What do you think?"
Excitement nipped at her nerves. She tried to be casual. "I'll take them."
He chuckled and propped his arm against the door. "Thought you'd want them."
She straightened up and studied him. The lure of a good old-fashioned barter sang in her blood. "What do you want?"
His lips twitched with delight. He scratched his head, pretending to consider. "Hmm, that's hard to say. How bad you want them?"
"Not that bad."
"Ouch." His blue eyes sparkled. "What do you want to give me?"
She tapped her foot and considered. "A hundred each."
"Fifty each, and I restore them. Shouldn't take long to get them into shape."
Raven hated owing people favors, and being pitied. Didn't he know the rules of a deal? Dammit, she could hold her own. Her jaw tightened. "That's not enough money. I can pay."
His face softened, but he didn't look like he was humoring her. "Oh, you'll pay. That's just for the ownership, darlin'. We didn't decide on the price for the work of refinishing them."
Crap, she'd lost her temper too soon and tipped her hand. Worse, he looked completely delighted at throwing her off. She backed up and regrouped. "Oh, well then you're already asking for too much," she said coolly. "I could get Jack the Stripper to do it for practically nothing."
He narrowed his gaze. "That guy is an insult to my profession. Not only his name but the cheap way he restores. Don't belittle me or yourself by mentioning him."
Now she was the one delighted by his irritation. Raven shrugged. "Fine. I'm just making my point not to think you can highball me. I have options."
"Not if you want my tables," he said.
Her lips pursed in a fake pout. "Fine. How much?"
He stroked his jaw with deliberate provocation. "It'll take three more days of work to get them perfectly in shape. I can work weekends, which'll cost you extra."
She tried not to fume.
"Two hundred for the restoration."
"Ridiculous. Highway robbery. Maybe I'll call Jack and see if he can get his hands on some other game tables."
He emitted a low growl in warning. "One seventy-five."
"One twenty-five and I get them before the interview."
"One fifty."
"One thirty," she shot back.
"Done."
Her breath came in short bursts from the high of their banter. The warm air spun around her like wispy cotton, lending to the intimate atmosphere. God, why did she feel on the verge of some sexual, delicious combustion? The man was dangerous as hell. She needed to stay away from him.
He nodded. "Good. I can load them in my truck tomorrow and bring them over before you open."
"Thanks." Her thoughts shifted. Yeah, he was getting extra work and she was paying him, but this seemed like more than just a good business deal. He'd found these tables for her. He'd bought her dinner. He seemed like he wanted to please her. Was he being this nice just to get her into bed? Why didn't it feel like a carefully constructed seduction, but more real? She did what she always did when she got confused. She asked. "Why are you doing all this for me?"
He jerked back. Those blue eyes met hers and buried deep. "Doing what? You're paying me to do a fair job. I haven't done anything."
She wasn't an idiot. He may have bargained, but she knew he was giving her the tables and the work at a huge discount. "Giving me a break on prices. Allowing me to pay in installments. And you bought me dinner." She couldn't help the way the words felt like an accusation.