They seemed to have taken it better than he had. Of course they would. They’d had no hand in her death so there was no reason for them to be racked with guilt. For him, though, it was another matter.
“You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you?” Ellen was saying.
Jake nodded automatically. What was the point in saying no? Ellen would only nag him until she wore him down and he ended up staying anyway. This time he decided to avoid the torture and just give in right away.
As he walked through the house he kept his face emotionless but he was feeling anything but. There were so many things there that screamed Jessica – the old piano where she used to perch on the stool and play him her favorite love songs, the painting they’d picked out together for her mother’s sixtieth birthday, and the old photo album that still sat on the coffee table. He’d flipped through it so many times, laughing at photos of Jessica in diapers, Jessica clutching her blankie on her first day of preschool, Jessica at her high school graduation. Now, instead of joy and laughter, the sight of the album only brought him pain.
Jake spent the next five hours with Ellen and Mitch and although it got a little easier as time passed it was with relief that he finally said goodbye and headed for home.
As he drove, the image of Jessica’s smiling face filled his mind then the vision morphed into a soft heart-shaped face framed with long, dark hair. Sam. What the devil? He’d just been grieving for Jessica and in the middle of it his thoughts darted off to another woman. God, he was sick. How could his mind be consumed with both women at the same time?
One thing he knew, to preserve his sanity he would have to do his best to resist Samantha Fox and her feminine charms. He needed to continue seeing her to complete the renovation project but from here on it would be strictly business.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cream, peach and a slash of burnt orange. That was the color scheme Sam selected for Jake’s music room. Now that he was back from his trip she could move forward with the project. The living room, dining room and den had already been completed and now she was anxious to tackle her favorite room of them all.
She’d been a bit put off by Jake’s tone when she’d called to tell him she was coming. He’d dampened her excitement when he answered her in a bored tone, sounding almost distant. But then she perked up. When he saw the fabric she had selected he would sing a different tune. The music room was going to be a beauty. And then, when she’d got him in a good mood, she would execute Plan B.
As she’d done once before, Sam abandoned the boots, jeans and work shirt in favor of a light cotton dress with flared skirt, its pinched-in waist giving her the appearance of a curvaceous figure. She’d let hair fall loose down her back just the way he liked it and had applied her make-up carefully but not heavily to give her a natural, unaffected look. She’d even gone and had her eyebrows waxed which had the effect of making her eyes stand out in all their deep-brown glory. If Jake McKoy hadn’t noticed her before, today he most certainly would.
Sam was humming under her breath as she rang the doorbell and waited for Jake to let her in. When the door opened she held up her bundle to a sleepy-looking Jake. “You won’t believe what I have here,” she said eagerly. “The perfect material for the music room.” She barely gave him a chance to step aside before she breezed in, the bulky bag of fabrics clutched to her chest. “Come on. Let me show you,” she said and, not waiting to see if he was following, she headed for the room in question.
When she got to her location she made a beeline for the sofa where she sat down and began to spread out her pieces. “Come look at these rich colors,” she gushed, bubbling with enthusiasm. “They’ll be the perfect palette for this room, with its deep mahogany paneling and, of course, the solid ebony of your grand piano.”
She waved a hand, beckoning to Jake who seemed to be hovering in the doorway. “What are you doing all the way over there? Come closer.” She leaned over and patted the other end of the sofa.
He came but then he looked so strange, his back so straight and rigid. He didn’t look comfortable at all.
She frowned. “Are you okay?”
Only then did his posture change. Her question must have made him conscious of how weird he was acting because he gave a sheepish grin and relaxed into the chair.
“Do you like the colors?” she asked, trying to draw him into conversation.
“Yes,” he said with an almost reluctant smile. “Very much.” Now he was beginning to look like his old self again. Thank goodness.
After that things went back to normal with Jake holding lengths of fabric while she matched and measured and shared her plans for recreating the room with matching rug and classic paintings for the wall. Working with a man like Jake was a decorator’s dream. He did not question her choices and, as for the budget, he approved without comment.