Wife In Disguise. Susan Mallery
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drawing of the front elevation of the house. “I think it’s important to maintain the integrity of the original design. The house was built by master craftsmen brought in from all over the country. The stair banister itself is a work of art. There are carved moldings, hand-fitted wood floors, and three exquisite chandeliers. My goal would be to work with everything that can be salvaged and saved, while making the house more modern and convenient.”
She gazed at him while he spoke, her expression intent, as if she hung on every word. “Would you be deeply offended if I said I wanted to remodel the kitchen and bathrooms?”
“Not at all.” He flipped through his papers and put a kitchen design on top. “That’s completely possible while working within the existing measurements of the room.”
He leaned toward the page. “I would suggest ripping out all the existing cabinets. They’ve been replaced twice before, so they have no connection with the original construction. I can make custom cabinets myself, combining a slightly old-fashioned design to match the feel of the house, while giving you modern conveniences such as pull-outs, granite countertops and new appliances.”
“Sounds terrific.”
A faint, sweet, floral scent drifted to him. He inhaled sharply, savoring the feminine fragrance. He wasn’t much of a perfume kind of guy, but like everything else about her, this suited Rose. A knot of tension formed low in his belly—that had nothing to do with his desire to get the job and everything to do with his need to get to know this woman better. He wanted to slip his fingers through her sleek blond hair and feel it slide against his skin like cool silk. He wanted to taste her and touch her and—
He resurfaced to find her staring at him expectantly.
“What?” he asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot. “I mean, sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked about plumbing and electrical. Will fixing them break the bank?”
“Ah, no. Not at all. Both have been completely redone in the past twenty years.”
“Good.”
She tapped a finger on the plan of the second floor. Her nails were oval and painted a light pink. Josie had never painted her nails. She hadn’t had time. Between her job as a PE teacher, her exercise program and her coaching, she’d been on the run literally and figuratively. She had considered things like long hair, makeup and nail polish a waste of time. When he’d asked her to make time on special occasions, she’d rolled her eyes and told him if makeup was so darned important to him, he could wear it himself. She was what she was. Why did he want to make her over?
He hadn’t been able to answer that before, and he still couldn’t. He didn’t expect a woman to be perfectly groomed at every moment of the day, but he also enjoyed knowing that she’d taken a little extra time for him.
“Now about this second floor.”
Rose stared at the plans. There were three bedrooms and two baths. One of the bedrooms was larger than the other—obviously the old master suite.
She looked at him. “Why do the rooms seem smaller upstairs?”
“Because of the balcony.” He showed her the front elevation again and pointed out the balcony encircling the entire second floor. “It looks terrific from the outside, but it eats up square footage.” He hesitated, not sure he should butt in, but she had agreed to look at his plans. “There is a solution. The attic.”
Rose glanced back at the front elevation, then ran her finger along the windows on the third floor. “What’s there now?”
“Nothing. But it’s plenty big.” He flipped through pages and set the one he wanted on top. “I had this drawn up about four years ago.”
“Why?”
It took him a second to figure out what she meant. Why did he have plans for a house he’d never owned? “At one time I thought of buying this place, but it didn’t work out.
“Any regrets…about not owning the house?”
“Not even one,” he said honestly. He and Josie would have killed each other during the remodeling. “This design turns the third floor into a master suite with a sitting area and another smaller bedroom.” He shrugged. “It could be used for an office or a nursery for the baby’s first couple of years. Until he was old enough to go to the second floor.”
Rose nodded. “It could be a girl.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said until ‘he’ was old enough to go to the second floor. I’m assuming a female child would get the same treatment. Or would you make her sleep out back with the dog?”
“No. Of course not. Any child. Or you could use the room for something else.”
“No. I like the idea of a baby.”
She looked at him as she spoke, her expression serious. But he saw the humor twinkling in her deep blue eyes. She liked the idea of a baby. Josie never had. They’d fought about that the last time they’d come to see this old house. He’d wanted to turn the third floor into the master suite. She’d wanted to use it as an exercise room. Kids hadn’t been a part of her plan. They’d—
He rose to his feet so quickly, the chair tipped back and slammed into the floor. Del barely noticed. He rubbed his forehead, as if he could erase thought of his ex-wife from his mind. Why was he thinking about her so much? Damn. She’d been gone nearly three years, and he was happier without her. He wouldn’t want her back on a bet. So why was she suddenly haunting him?
“Are you all right?”
He turned and saw Rose had pushed herself to her feet. She leaned on her cane. Concern pulled at the corners of her mouth. She looked like an angel standing there. Blond and beautiful. He supposed with her having a cane, some people might think she was also broken, but not him. She looked delightfully approachable and human. He’d had physical perfection once and it came at too high a price.
“I’m fine,” he told her, forcing all thoughts of Josie out of his brain. He swore he wouldn’t think about her again. His ex was gone and Rose was right here—apparently single. A good-looking, personable woman who liked old houses and wanted kids. Talk about perfect.
“Let me show you the kitchen,” he said, crossing to the open area that housed painted cabinets and av-cado-colored appliances. “We’d rip out everything and start from the bare walls.”
He moved as he spoke, using his arms and hands to paint word pictures of wood cabinets, a double oven with a microwave and a center island cooktop. There was room for a pantry and even a desk work area.
“I like the window,” she said, moving over to stand next to him. The greenhouse window had been added somewhere along the way, but it suited the graciousness of the house. “I’d like to grow fresh herbs and pretty flowers. I adore flowers.”
He pictured her standing in a field full of wildflowers, which was crazy. Equally insane was the heat he felt in his blood. Blood that was thickening and moving distinctly south. If he didn’t watch it, he was going to end up with a physical manifestation of his wayward thoughts. Not the polite thing when bidding on a remodeling job.
“The bathrooms upstairs will have to be redone, too, won’t they?” she asked.
“They’re about as ugly as the kitchen. The guest bath has dark and light pink tile.”
She laughed. “Sounds attractive but not worth climbing a flight of stairs to see.” She moved back to the table and touched the design for the third-floor master suite. “I want you to do this for me. All of it.”
He stared at her. Just like that? “Don’t you want an estimate?”
She tilted her head in a way that was so familiar, he had to take a step away from her. What was going on? He had the oddest sensation of being caught in both past and present.
“I