One Real Man (Entangled Bliss)(20)

An uneasy memory came to him. “Is that why you yelled at Wilkins last week? Because you wanted bug spray for the moths?”

She nodded. “I went overboard then.”

If he’d known the reason behind her meltdown, he wouldn’t have chewed her out so much. He frowned as he recalled how furious he’d been with her. “You should have told me,” he said awkwardly. “I wouldn’t have lectured you.”

He gazed at her anew. She was dressed for labor in old jeans and a faded T-shirt, her hair bundled up beneath a polka-dot bandanna. Her hands and arms were dusty, while a smear of dirt graced one cheek. He swallowed, resisting the urge to wipe away the smudge with his thumb.

“I don’t like talking about it.” Shrugging, she walked over to a stepladder. Clearly the subject was over.

“This is the first time I’ve seen this place since I moved in.” He glanced about at the moldy cornices, rough walls, grimy windows. “I didn’t realize it was so run-down.” His unease grew as he pictured Paige moving in here. It must have seemed like a dungeon to her. He’d wanted to teach her a lesson in humility, but he’d gone too far.

“It wasn’t this bad when I was living here,” he felt compelled to say. Hell, why couldn’t he enjoy his revenge more? Maybe because he didn’t like being as callous as the Kerrigans had been to his family. Maybe because the moth had terrified her so much.

“I guess no one’s lived here since your dad passed away.” Using her forearm, she pushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes.

“You can’t live here,” he said decisively. “You’ll move back into the main house. I insist.”

She didn’t seem to care for his authoritative tone. Resting one foot on the stepladder, she glanced about her. “I should have this room all prepped by the end of the day. Then I can start with the painting.”

“Since when do you know anything about prepping and painting?”

“Since I asked for advice at the hardware store. They gave me some pamphlets and all the right equipment. The guys there were really helpful.”

I’m sure they were. He bit off the acid retort. Of course she’d have the store men falling over themselves to help her. He gave himself another mental kick. Shoot, he had to stop these jealous thoughts about Paige.

“Why do you want to do this at all? It’s not like you’re going to be here long.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe I need to prove something.”

“To me? Show me how petty I am for banishing you here?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hey, not everything’s about you.”

He smiled reluctantly. “Okay, so if not me, who, then?”

“Well, maybe it is you, just a little.” Picking up a rag, she slowly wiped her hands. “But mostly it’s for me. I need to prove to myself that I can do this. To most people painting a couple of rooms is probably no big deal, but to me” She halted, and it was as if she suddenly remembered who she was talking to. Straightening, she tossed the rag aside, her introspective mood vanishing. “Actually, it is you. You sent me here to teach me a lesson, didn’t you? You thought I’d take one peek at the place and shriek in horror. You expected me to throw a tantrum and refuse to stay here. Well, I haven’t done any of that. I’ve stuck it out, and I’m going to turn this hovel into my own little castle.”

Why did she have to go all haughty on him? For a few moments there she’d been soft and open and vulnerable, and he’d loved seeing her like that, but now the icicles had returned.

“Okay, I tried to punish you, and it backfired. You don’t have to continue, though.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your old bedroom at the house has screens in the windows. No moths there.”

For a moment she hesitated, but then her expression firmed. “No thanks.” Grabbing hold of the stepladder, she began to shove it toward a corner of the room.

He jumped forward to help her. “You’ll mess up your hair.” They were only inches apart, so close he could see the flecks of silver in her eyes that made them sparkle so mesmerizingly. Without a lick of makeup on, she looked young and tender.

“I’m not going to a soiree anytime soon.” She stopped and let her side of the stepladder thunk down. He followed suit, watching as she examined the ceiling above them where a cloud of mold bloomed. “I’ll have to get bleach onto that.”

Owen shook his head. “Let me do that for you.”

“Why? After cleaning your house, you don’t think I can handle a bit of mold?”

She had a point. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt protective of her; maybe after witnessing how she’d handled Councilor Lethbridge, he had a newfound respect for her.

“Okay, go ahead,” he said. “I’ll hold the ladder for you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Maybe, but I’ll hold it anyway.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “You just want an excuse to examine my butt.”

“Do I need an excuse?” He couldn’t help grinning.

The look she gave him was withering, but the spark in her eyes hinted she wasn’t completely offended. How could she be? She’d brought up the subject of her butt. She picked up a spray bottle and a fresh rag and mounted the ladder. As her denim-clad arse drew level with his eyes, he found himself gripping the ladder for mental support. Yeah, she had a fantastic bottom, all right. Whether in workaday denim or a racy bikini, it was pert and inviting, and having it just inches away from his face sent a rush of heat through his body. He’d seen plenty of cute bottoms, but this was Paige’s, and it was hypnotizing him.

“Why did you come here?” Paige’s voice floated down.

“Um?” There was a small tear in her jeans just below her butt, and each time she moved, he caught a glimpse of soft skin.

“To the cottage.” She started attacking the mold with her rag. “Did you come here for a reason?”

He twisted his neck up. She had one arm outstretched toward the ceiling, causing her T-shirt to ride up and reveal a slice of her abdomen. He stared, every optical nerve trained on the graceful arc of her stomach, the smoothness of her skin, the delicate structure of her rib cage. Paige was a dancer soaring to the sky, so near and yet so far. Her position above him, eyes focused upward, while he gazed after her, symbolized their whole relationship—if it could even be termed a relationship, this strange link between them.

“Owen?” As she looked down at him, he wondered if she could sense what was going through his mind, but she just rested her hand on her hip. “Is this just a social call?”

He cleared his throat, recalling why he’d wandered down here in the first place. “I told you I’d help you here, but I also came to tell you I’m having a couple of guests this weekend. They’ll be arriving Friday evening and staying until Sunday afternoon. I’d like you to make up two guest rooms, and I’ve got a list of shopping I need you to do.”

“Weekend guests.” She looked curious. “A boys’ weekend? Should I be warned of anything?”

“It’s my senior partner in the company, Jim McCarthy. He’s sixty-one and goes to bed at ten every night, so I don’t think you have to worry about a boys’ weekend.”

Jim McCarthy was more like an uncle to him than a business partner. It would be good to gain his input on their Bandicoot Creek project. They’d visit the site, pore over the plans, and argue over details.

“And the other guest?” Paige asked.

“Jim’s daughter, Heidi. She works for the company, too.” Guilt wormed in his stomach at the mention of Heidi. If only he’d handled the New Year’s Eve situation with her better.

“Is there anything special I should get for her? Some nice hand lotion, perhaps?”

“Um? No, thanks, but you don’t have to go out of your way. Heidi isn’t into that kind of girlie stuff.”

“I see.” Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What is she into, then? Dirt bikes and laser tag?”

Christ, now he’d managed to insult both women simultaneously. He focused his thoughts on Heidi McCarthy. He’d known her ever since he’d started his new life in Sydney. She was six years younger than him, kind, freckled, unpretentious.

“She likes cooking and knitting.”

Heidi was like another younger sister to him. If only she viewed him like an older brother.

“I see.” Paige gave him a long, cryptic stare, then, with a shrug of her shoulders, she lifted her spray bottle and gunned it at the patch of mold. “I hope they enjoy their stay.”

For several minutes she attacked the ceiling, her body rocking back and forth. Owen clamped his jaw as her hips swayed about, almost brushing his cheek. He’d stopped thinking about Heidi. He’d stopped thinking about anything except the woman wrecking his senses.

“Oof!” Breathing hard, she dropped her arms to her sides. “This is exhausting!”

She clomped down the ladder, flexing her limp arms, her face flushed with exertion. Strands of damp hair stuck to her forehead, and the smell of bleach clung to her clothes, but even tired and sweaty, to Owen she was a pearl.