Safeword: Davenport(45)

Sir Brent worked in the country music industry and was a much sought after video producer and director. He'd told her his partner was also in “the business,” but hadn't elaborated. She couldn't see the house when the GPS informed her she'd reached her destination, only the immense iron gate between an elaborate brick fence. She stretched out the window to enter the last five digits of her cellphone number, and as she touched the final digit the gate silently slid sideways. She drove through and stopped long enough to text Zach she'd arrived safely.

The driveway went over a rise and the house glided into view—large, but the architecture and landscaping kept it from appearing as big as her professional eye instantly recognized. Her first thought was how well it fit Sir Brent's personality—all brick, solid, without being pretentious or imposing. He was sitting on the top step and stood to walk to her as she parked.

She was out of the car before he reached her, and without saying a word he pulled her into a bear hug, enfolding her body into his large frame before saying, “It's so good to see you; I've missed you."

He held her a long moment and pulled back to look at her, his eyes taking in her shorter hair. “You'd changed your number by the time I called, and when I tried your work they said you were no longer there. I was worried Garnet had decided he didn't want us to be friends anymore, so I didn't try another way to reach you. I'm sorry for that now, as it sounds like you could've used a friend who wouldn't take no for an answer."

She shook her head. “Maybe, I don't know. Either way, it's in the past and I'm here now. When do I get to meet the love of your life?"

He smiled, his face lighting up. “He's inside. Can I help you carry anything?"

"I've got an overnight bag, just in case, but I'll leave it in the car for now. I love your home, it fits you."

He looped her arm into his and walked towards the front entranceway. “Thank you. Jacob and I bought it about eight months ago. We may not be allowed to get married in the great state of Tennessee, but nothing ties two people together quite like owning a home."

"I'm so happy for you. You said he was in the business, you didn't tell me what he does?"

"He's a make-up artist and clothing designer. Not many people are good enough to specialize in both. He employs an excellent hair stylist, and the two of them together can get someone ready from beginning to end—hair, clothes, and makeup. He's in high demand, and I'm very proud of him."

Brent opened the front door and motioned for her to enter. She stepped into a beautiful foyer and paused, unsure of which direction to go.

"The living room is off to the right. Jacob is putting together some finger foods; he's likely still in the kitchen but should join us shortly."

She walked into the living room and had to do a slow circle to take it in. Whoever had designed the room was a genius with fabric. There were acres and acres of drapery, made up of at least a dozen patterns and solids in four or five color families. It shouldn't have worked, but it was stunning. The sofas, pillows, and throw rug worked beautifully with it, in a way she would've never had the nerve to attempt. She was about to comment on it when she looked up to see a Norse god bringing in a platter of canapes, sitting them on a side-table with a few other plates and platters. He placed it, picked it up, thought about it, and rearranged the grouping before placing it again. When he was satisfied, he turned and looked at her, his face animating into a stunning smile.

"You must be Dana. You're as lovely as Brent said. He was so happy after the two of you spoke the other night."

"And you have to be Jacob. You and Brent have a beautiful home, and something smells wonderful."

"Oh, it's just finger foods. What would you like to drink?"

His voice sounded strained, and his smile affected, and she wasn't sure what to think. “Water would be great. I'm going to admire the window treatments—I may even ask permission to photograph them. They're stunning, and I feel the need to break it all down, figure out why it works."

Jacob's smile changed, and his eyes seemed to peer inside of her. It made her uncomfortable and she turned away, facing the windows. “The floor rug is what anchors it, I think, and whoever did it was smart to recess the ceiling in the center—it gives more space, and draws the eyes in. Still, all of the rules say these colors and patterns shouldn't work, and they're beautiful."

She pivoted back to him and saw a completely different man—the harsh edges softened, making him change from gorgeous to mouth-watering sexy.

"Thanks,” he said, his voice gentle, no longer formal. “I spent weeks working on them between other jobs. Brent was ready to string me up by my balls when I finally finished."