Wife In Disguise. Susan Mallery
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was.
“Good.” She opened the oversize envelope on her lap and drew out the signed contracts. She set them on his desk, along with a cashier’s check for one-third of the total amount required for the remodeling. “I signed them and initialed the changes.”
“I like an efficient woman,” he said, flashing her a smile.
She steeled herself against the crinkles by his eyes and the way his white teeth contrasted with his tanned skin. To distract herself from the overpowering maleness that was Delaney Scott, she looked around at his office.
He’d moved into a larger room since their divorce. Probably when his dad officially retired, she thought. The view was better—a big window overlooked the street. His old office had been in the back, next to the parking lot. As in the reception area, photos of restorations covered the walls. The cabinets and drafting table looked new, but the old wood desk was the same one he’d had for years. She recognized the gouge in the left-front corner—the result of a dropped circular saw. She knew that the middle drawer stuck, that he kept a stash of red licorice in the bottom drawer and that they’d made love on the desk at least a half dozen times. The last had been on a Sunday morning when he’d come into work to escape their latest fight, and she’d followed him, determined to have the last word. They’d been screaming at each other when the atmosphere had suddenly changed. One second they’d been saying how much they hated each other and the next they’d been tearing at clothes and kissing frantically.
Josie shifted uncomfortably as she tried to push the memory away. She wasn’t sure which bothered her more—the wild-animal sex that required a flexibility she no longer had or the ugly things she and Del had said to each other.
“I’ve gone over the plans,” Del was saying, drawing her attention to the present. “There shouldn’t be a problem with getting an upstairs bedroom and the guest bath ready by Friday.”
“I appreciate that. I don’t like living in hotels.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Let me see. Maids clean the room and make the bed, and room service delivers meals. What’s not to like?”
“I guess when you put it that way, it doesn’t make sense. But personally, I’d rather be in my own house.”
What she didn’t tell him was that having someone deliver meals and change her bed was too much of a reminder of all her months in the hospital and rehab center. She would rather be on her own and responsible for herself any day.
Del leaned back in his old leather chair. It creaked with the movement. He wore worn jeans and an old blue work shirt, both faded nearly white with age. The soft fabric molded to his body in a way that made her mouth water. Ironically, while she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been with a man, she could remember the last time she and Del had made love. For once they hadn’t been angry. Instead they’d both been sad—as if they’d known their relationship was ending.
“What about paint?” Del said. “You’re going to have to pick colors for the whole house eventually, but first I’ll need suggestions for the bedroom and bath you want done this week. Also if you’re interested in wallpaper, I have a couple dozen sample books you can look through. It’s generally easier to take them home and look at them leisurely.”
She hadn’t thought through all the details of remodeling a house. There were going to be a lot of decisions to make. “Could we go neutral, say an off-white temporarily?”
“Not a problem.” He made a note on a pad of paper.
She thought about wrestling all the wallpaper sample books from her car to the hotel room. It would take her hours to get them inside.
“As far as picking out wallpaper, what about bringing the sample books to the house? I’ll be living there in a few days, anyway.”
“And checking up on me.” His voice was teasing. “Figures.”
“I’ll admit I’m interested to see how it all comes together. It’s difficult for me to look at a drawing and then imagine how the change is going to look in real life.”
He leaned forward. “Spend as much time as you want watching. Seriously, Rose, this is going to be your home. You have every right to make sure you’re getting exactly what you want. I hire skilled craftspeople who do excellent work. I have nothing to hide. In fact I would encourage you to check out the quality. I’m proud of my crew.”
“You also like what you do.”
He nodded. “I’m lucky that way. I knew what I wanted from the time I was about eight and my dad started letting me tag along on jobs. For a while my folks tried to push me to become an architect, but I’d rather be building than drawing.”
There was an eagerness and excitement in his voice. She remembered all the times he’d wanted to talk about his work, and she’d told him that hearing about it was as interesting as watching paint dry. Had she been crazy? Del wasn’t boring, he was a good, honest man. She sure had been a witch. The question was why? What had she been so angry about?
“I promise I won’t get in the way,” she said, forcing herself to relax and even smile. “At least I’ll try not to. I don’t move all that quickly.”
Questions darkened his eyes, but he was too polite to ask. Josie found herself torn between wanting to share the details of her accident and knowing that it was too soon for those confessions. They might lead to others she wasn’t ready to deal with. But she had a strong urge to tell him that she’d hadn’t always been so broken. That there had been a time when she could walk and run just like a normal person.
Instead she rose to her feet and steadied herself with her cane. “I’ll leave you to get started, then,” she said.
He stood and came around to her side of the desk. “I’m looking forward to the project. Call me if you have any questions.”
Instead of offering to shake her hand, he lightly touched her arm. She felt the brush of his fingers and the resulting heat all the way down to the soles of her feet. It was as if he’d set fire to her blood. Talk about a complication. Being attracted to her ex-husband was a huge mistake.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she’d been so difficult. After only a couple of conversations with Del, she’d remembered enough of the past to realize why they were divorced. It was one of the reasons she avoided dealing with the breakup. She hadn’t wanted to know how much of the fault was hers. She didn’t have a choice anymore. She was back where it had all started and she was here to get answers. Apparently from herself as well as Del.
She gave him a quick smile and hurried from the room, which for her meant an awkward hobble. Once in the safety of her car, she vowed that she would figure out what she needed from Del and tell him the truth as soon as possible. Just not today.
Wednesday morning she arrived at the house only to find the driveway filled with construction trucks. The familiar blue vehicles with the Scott Construction sign painted on the doors made her hesitate before climbing out of her Volvo. She’d been gone for three years, but most of Del’s crew had worked for him much longer than that. Which meant she would know a good number of them. Del hadn’t recognized her. Would they?
Josie thought about running away but knew she would have to face them all eventually. After all, by the end of the week she would be living in the house. She consoled herself with the fact that if her husband hadn’t recognized her, no one else would, either. It wasn’t much comfort but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. She sucked in a deep breath for courage, then began the laborious process of walking up to the front door and entering the Victorian mansion.
The sound of conversation and power tools filled the old place. She stood just inside the foyer and breathed in the scent of wood, dust and change. Above her the old chandelier glittered in the bright morning light, while rays of sunshine illuminated floating clouds of dust.
Huge, heavy squares of canvas protected the