Faking It Page 4

  “But you wanted him to, and that was a problem for some reason.”

  “I did not.”

  “Oh, okay, my mistake.” He carried his cup to the sink. “Would you like more coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” Erin stared at her half-finished cup. “I’d better let you get back to work. I need to head to the shop myself.”

  “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll let Sophie know you stopped by.”

  She moved beside him. “Thanks, Thomas, I enjoyed the coffee.”

  “Don’t be afraid to embrace who you are, Erin. You come from an extraordinary family. Each of you is very different and you should accept and celebrate those differences, just like you should celebrate the similarities.”

  A short laugh burst from her. “Right, like I have so much in common with the rest of them.”

  “I’m betting you have more in common than you realize. Maybe it’s just tucked away a little bit, but it’s there.”

  “You think so?”

  He walked her to the door. “Yes, I do. No reason not to.”

  “Thanks, Thomas.” She kissed his cheek as he held the door. “Tell Maggie I’ll give her a call.”

  She headed to her car, his words rolling through her mind.

  I’d say this potential customer was just such a young man to test your new no-man vow.

  He’d hit the mark. Maybe if she had a little more in common with her family then she wouldn’t have to close herself off from romantic relationships.

  She slipped behind her wheel and sighed. Her lack of the gift was one thing she couldn’t bring herself to celebrate. It wasn’t fair. Nikki had Dylan and Tess had Mason. Even Maggie had Thomas in a way.

  Erin glanced at the house. Why was it that Thomas and her mother had never hooked up romantically? The two were like intricate pieces to a puzzle. One would never be whole without the other.

  Thomas loved her mother. Everyone knew that, probably even Maggie. Was that why she’d never encouraged a sexual relationship with him? Did she fear that once they became lovers she would be destined to move on and leave him behind, the way she had with all her past lovers?

  The thought comforted Erin in an odd way. Was it possible she could have a Thomas in her life? She pulled out Jack’s card from her wallet.

  Could Jack be her Thomas?

  She pressed her hand to her face. One thing was for certain—her bottom line was suffering too much to make this decision. She’d been foolish to turn down a paying job.

  Simple, clear fonts accentuated Jack’s card. Information-Security Investigator. Some kind of techie, no doubt. She stared at the number until it blurred. Would he be willing to settle for a standard interior-design job? She’d never know if she didn’t call him.

  With her heart thudding, she carefully pressed his number on her cell phone. His phone rang once, twice, then a third time. His soft baritone vibrated along the line, caressing her ear. “Jack Langston here.”

  “Jack, good afternoon, this is Erin McClellan. You stopped by my design studio yesterday.”

  “Erin,” he said, his voice lightening. “What a happy surprise. How are you?”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears and she was sixteen again, asking Dale Stone to the Sadie Hawkins dance. “I’m doing well. Did I get you at a good time?”

  “Perfect, I’m on my way to a meeting.”

  “Oh, what kind of meeting?” She rolled her eyes at her own evident stalling.

  “The usual. Helping some corporate information-security team figure out how their system was breached. They usually have their own protocol in these cases, but they tend to miss things. That’s when they call me.”

  She bit her lip. “Oh, that must be really interesting.”

  “I enjoy it. Keeps me busy.”

  She nodded, at a loss as to how to continue. She was an idiot for calling.

  “So not that I’m complaining, but I’m sure you have a reason for this call.”

  “Yes, of course.” Her face warmed. “I just…I was thinking I may have been…” She inhaled a deep breath, then took the plunge. “My schedule has cleared some and I was wondering if you still needed a designer?”

  A long silence hummed across the phone. She frowned. “Jack?”

  “Hello, Erin? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, I hear you.”

  “Sorry, I lost you for a minute.”

  “Oh, I was saying that my schedule has cleared—”

  “Yes, I heard that. That’s great news. I would love it if you could work me in.”

  “Great.” She let out a shaky breath.

  “I respect your feelings in that you favor interior design over feng shui and I think we can work something out.”

  “I’m sure we can.”

  “How about this? We’ll start with a more traditional theme, one in keeping with your interior-design methods, but you’ll work in the feng shui as you see fit. Surely that can be done, can’t it?”

  Her stomach tightened. “I suppose it could.”

  “My guess is that the two would complement each other.”

  She pursed her lips. “They’re really two different philosophies.”

  “Which is what makes you such a unique choice. I can’t imagine where else I could find a designer who is also first in the fine art of feng shui.”

  “Not everyone has the same appreciation for it. I always felt it was important to strengthen my training with the more well-known aspects of interior design.”

  “And it looks like I’m to benefit. I’ll have the best of both worlds.”

  “I wouldn’t claim to be the best, Jack, but I will give you my best effort.”

  “Which is all it takes to be the best.”

  She sat a moment in silence. Had she let him talk her into giving him a feng shui consultation? “I’ll e-mail you the standard contract.”

  “That would be really great, Erin. I can’t tell you how excited I am that you’ve agreed to take me on as a client.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Great,” he said. “Why don’t you come by my condo, say around seven?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes, is that okay? I’m anxious to get started.”

  She paused for a few seconds, assessing. “I’ll be there.”

  4

  “IT’S…AMAZING.” ERIN let her gaze drift over the open space of Jack’s main living area.

  Sunlight slanted low through floor-to-ceiling windows and spilled over the white tile floor. A sparse assortment of eclectic furniture circled a worn area rug. Bare walls bordered the room. The scent of roasting meat and spices filled the air.

  Jack shrugged. “You can see why I need you.”

  In spite of her reservations about this project and this particular man, excitement coursed through her. Here in the comfort of his own home he appeared relaxed and even more striking in khakis and a light blue shirt. He glanced at her and caught her staring. Her pulse quickened as she glanced away and stepped farther into the room, focusing on her surroundings.

  “It’s not so bad. I’ve definitely seen worse.” At least it was clean, in a stark kind of way. “This is almost like a blank canvas. It’s easier to picture what we might do with it.”

  She sidestepped around him and pulled out her notebook. “Which rooms are you interested in having me redo for you?”

  “Oh, here.” He moved to a desk tucked into one corner of the room. “I printed out the contract you e-mailed. I filled in all the pertinent details.” He handed her two copies. “It’s signed.”

  “Great.” She scanned the pages, her gaze settling briefly on his bold signature scrawled across the bottom. “It all looks in order.” She flipped back a page, then glanced at him. “You want me to do the entire house?”

  “Yep, the entire house.” He gestured in a sweeping motion. “The rest is about the same.”

  “Okay.” She hesitated, her pen poised. Was she really ready to take him on as a clien
t?

  Seems a little unconventional, not to mention unprofessional, to turn down a paying customer.

  She signed one of the contracts, then handed it to him. “Redesigning the entire house will take some time.”

  “Time isn’t an issue.” His gaze traced her face, drawing warmth to her cheeks. “In fact,” he continued, “the longer the better.”

  “Oh.” Her breath caught and her skin warmed more. She responded so readily to just one look from him.

  What had she signed herself up for?

  He handed her a check. “I believe this covers your standard deposit as outlined in the contract.”

  “Yes, thank you. This will do nicely.” She tucked the check into her purse. “Well, then, why don’t we start in this room?” she said, holding her notebook before her like a shield and taking a deep breath of the delicious-smelling air. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.” Her stomach growled. What was the man cooking? She was absolutely starving.

  She perched on the edge of a love seat with oversize throw pillows. He settled in a chair beside her. “Shoot.”

  “What do you use this room for?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t really know. I don’t use it that much. I’m not home but to sleep mostly. I guess that’s why I’ve never done much with the place.”

  “Really? Where do you spend all your time?” She couldn’t help asking, intrigued in spite of herself. “How does a…systems information-security…person…spend his time?”

  “Information-security investigator.” His shoulders rippled in an easy shrug. “I spend a lot of time onsite, reading logs, checking configurations or setting them up, depending on the current job. The smart clients hire me before they experience a breach. Figuring out how a system’s been breached—that’s different with every job.”

  “So you’re a computer geek.”

  His eyebrows arched. “I’ve been called worse. I prefer techie, but geek is probably more accurate.”

  “You’re not what I’d call a geek.” Embarrassment swept through her. Why had she admitted that? “No glasses or pocket protectors.”

  “I try to stay away from the more obvious indicators.”

  A smile curved her lips. “Back to business.”

  “If I spent more time here, I guess this is where I’d entertain my guests, should I have any.”

  “Entertainment.” She jotted a few notes. “And is that more formal entertaining or casual?”

  He laughed. “Honey, there’s not a formal bone in my body.”

  “Okay, casual. Do you have any preferences as far as design?”

  He held her gaze. “All I can say is that I know what I want when I see it.”

  “And do you see anything you want?”

  Desire shone in his eyes. The connection they’d shared in her shop sprang to life, humming between them. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  She looked away. “In the room, I mean. Do you want to keep any of this?”

  “Oh.” He glanced around. “I’ll leave that up to you. We could sell some of this to a thrift shop or give it to charity.”

  She glanced thoughtfully at the few furnishings in the room. “I like the desk. It may be salvageable, though we might want to move it to another room. Keep this more open.”

  His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Right, that’s a feng shui thing, isn’t it? I knew you wouldn’t be able to help working some of that in.”

  “It’s a perfectly acceptable design principle to balance your open and filled spaces.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Why don’t I give you the grand tour? That way you can get an idea of which are the keepers and where you might want to put everything.”

  “Okay.” She rose to follow him, bumping into him as they both turned toward the hall. Her hand collided with his chest. Her heart raced. “Excuse me.”

  As she stepped away from him, he gestured for her to precede him. “Let me introduce you to my humble abode.”

  Smiling, Jack moved down the wide hall behind Erin, mesmerized by the gentle sway of her hips and the curve of her ass. She was a little thing, almost doll-like with her porcelain skin and wide eyes. If he remembered correctly, that doll his sister Stacey had dragged around for years when she was a child had just the same tint of green in her glass eyes.

  He shook his head. Stacey would have liked Erin. Somehow he just knew it.

  “It’s not so humble.” Erin turned to him, then made another note or two in her notebook. “Look at all the wide spaces, the detail. I’d give anything for that crown molding.”

  She stopped in the archway leading into the kitchen. He nodded as he stood behind her. This was his favorite room in the house. Wide garden windows overlooked a spacious backyard and rimmed an area meant for cooking. Stainless-steel appliances and glass-fronted cabinets added a contemporary feel. An empty breakfast nook sat off to one side.

  She turned again to him, her smile lighting her face, and his stomach did a little flip-flop at the excitement in her eyes. She spread her arms wide. “Now this is a kitchen.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “It’s wonderful. A cook’s dream. My aunt Sophie would camp out in here. We’d never see her. You must love it.” She moved into the room and ran her hand along the island counter separating the breakfast nook from the rest of the kitchen.

  “It’s what sold me on this place. Do you cook?” he asked.

  “Enough to get by. Evidently not like you, though, if that wonderful smell is any indication. Do you cook often or did I just catch you on a good night?”

  “I like puttering around in the kitchen. I can whip up a decent meal.” When his father died and his mother hadn’t been able to cope, Jack had learned to manage the household. Cooking was just part of it. It had been a matter of survival.

  “You don’t have to convince me. My mouth’s watering. What is that?”

  “Meat loaf. There’s plenty. You’d be more than welcome to join me.”

  “Oh…” Pink suffused her cheeks. “I wasn’t fishing for an invitation. I wouldn’t dream of intruding. It just smells so good and I don’t know of many men, at least single men, who cook—not that I’d really know, but—”

  “Erin, would you please have dinner with me? If I had been thinking clearly, I would have asked you earlier when we scheduled for tonight. I have some mashed potatoes and a salad, too. It’s not much. The meat loaf won’t be ready for another half hour, but I would love for you to join me.”

  “Do you cook like this every night? I mean, a full meal for yourself?”

  “Not really every night. I eat the leftovers for a day or two afterward. Sometimes I’ll make a big batch of something, then freeze whatever is left. Once I lived off a batch of chili for three weeks.” And often, still, he took food to his mother’s, but that was going to end.

  “You didn’t get tired of it?”

  He let his gaze again drift over her. From head to toe, there wasn’t anything about her that he could find fault with. “When I find something I like, I don’t mind sticking with it.”

  She looked away and he could have hit himself. There he went again—open mouth, spill guts. Why was it that way with her?

  “Actually it’s easier to cook in bulk. Since I’m by myself, it doesn’t really matter what I make. As long as it fills my stomach, I can eat just about anything. I generally work at the computer while I eat. That’s not so great for the keyboard, but it kills two birds with one stone.”

  Her gaze softened. “Sounds a little lonely.”

  He shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought of it that way. Never bothers me.”

  “My family takes mealtime pretty seriously. Always lots of food. No distractions like work. Dinner is family time.”

  “Ah, well, home is a different story altogether. My mother was the same way. My sister used to sneak books to the table, hiding them in her lap.” He smiled, remembering the old days when they’d all been together. “Only Stacey cou
ld ever get away with that. If one of us guys were to try it, we’d be dead meat.”

  “Stacey is your sister?”

  He straightened. Why had he been running off at the mouth like that again? “Uh, yes.”

  “And you have brothers?”

  “Just one brother, Bobby. He lives in Boca, near my mother and her sister. They live in this big house they can hardly keep up with. Between the two of us, we look after them.” He closed his mouth. He didn’t seem to have any control over the personal information that spewed from him.

  He pushed on before she thought to ask more about his family. “So are you joining me for dinner or am I doomed to spend another evening spilling crumbs all over my keyboard?”

  She bit her lip, and he couldn’t tear his gaze from the contrast of her white teeth against her pink lips. The woman had a mouth meant to entice. Her brow furrowed. “Jack, I’m sure you don’t mean anything by this, but I want to clarify that it’s a policy of mine not to date clients.”

  It was his turn for his face to warm. “Sure, I understand absolutely and couldn’t agree more. Just offering to fill your stomach. We can talk business the whole time if that’ll make you feel better.”

  The clock on the wall ticked. The meat loaf sizzled in the oven. At last she nodded. “Guess I could come to your keyboard’s rescue.”

  “My keyboard? What about poor, lonely me?”

  She cocked her head. “Somehow you don’t seem so lonely to me.”

  “Well, I’m not.” He shrugged. “I stay way too busy for that.” Or he kept himself too busy to think about it. With her standing beside him, close enough to touch, an evening alone with his computer didn’t seem all that appealing.

  Her eyes took on a teasing light. “Now if we get this place fixed up for entertaining, you’ll have to promise me you’ll actually use it for that.”

  The only person he felt like entertaining at any time in the near future was the woman before him. “Maybe, but only if you’ll come play hostess for me. That stuff is way beyond me.”

  “That’ll entail an additional fee.”

  Her soft scent wrapped around him and it was all he could do to keep from touching her. “I’m sure we can work something out.”