Tanya Michaels – Good with His Hands (страница 2)
“I am so sorry.” Shuffling back a step, she jammed the offending phone into her pocket. “I—”
“No harm done.” His lips curved in an expression too fleeting to be deemed a true smile.
“But I feel—”
She’d overheard people calling him Mr. Grayson, but she wasn’t sure about his first name. Ben? Bryan? The receptionist in Dani’s office just called him Hot Architect. Since Dani had been engaged, she’d gone out of her way not to notice him or learn more about him.
Very, very single. She was also close enough to appreciate his ice-blue eyes and the sexy contrast between his light gaze and thick hair even darker than hers, the last shade between brown and black. “Can I buy you a pastry to make up for it?” she offered impulsively.
He held up a small brown bag, indicating that he’d already fulfilled his pastry quota for the morning. “Maybe some other time.” He spared another not-quite smile, then continued on his way, giving her a wide berth as he rounded the corner toward the elevators. Apparently, he wasn’t drawn to women so busy snarling at their cell phones that they almost mowed down pedestrians.
Then again, Dani was a goal-oriented person who welcomed challenges. Staring down the now-empty hall, she squared her shoulders. Coaxing a real smile from Mr. Grayson, one that actually reached those arresting eyes, had just made her to-do list.
* * *
BY LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Dani had stopped second-guessing her decision not to work this weekend.
Normally, connecting buyers with a new house gave her warm fuzzy feelings. Growing up on assorted military bases, Dani used to wish for more stability, a true home. She liked to imagine her clients getting involved in their new communities, maybe raising families. But now, on the eve of her canceled wedding, she was finding it difficult not to gnash her teeth as she showed a redbrick three-bedroom to the Parkers, a pair of adorable newlyweds. They were currently debating whether to hang their wedding portrait in the foyer or over the mantel.
“The picture will look great anywhere,” said the besotted husband. “How could it not when the bride in it is so beautiful?”
Dani managed not to roll her eyes. Sure, his petite auburn-haired wife was beautiful. But was that any guarantee he’d stay faithful?
When Tate had told Dani the international software company he worked for needed him in their Helsinki home office for four months, they’d made plans to visit each other and talk often. She’d gone to Finland once, after he’d had a few weeks to get settled, and he’d come to Atlanta for her birthday. The four-month assignment turned into six, though, and the time difference made phone conversations inconvenient. Still, Dani had seen plenty of military families overcome separation. She’d believed she and Tate could make the relationship work.
She certainly hadn’t expected him to cheat on her. Dani had initiated sex more than he did. When he’d first gone overseas, she’d emailed him a provocative picture of herself. He’d asked her not to do it again. He’d claimed it reminded him of what he couldn’t have, but she’d thought she detected a note of censure in his tone.
Well, he was out of her life now. Maybe she’d have a photographer take a picture of her scantily clad and hang that over
Returning to the task at hand, she led Mr. and Mrs. Cute Couple to the recently remodeled kitchen, elaborating on the house’s particulars. Two-car garage, plumbing on a septic system, great school district.
“Oh, we won’t have to worry about school for years,” the woman said dismissively. “We’re in no hurry to have kids.”
Her husband pulled her into his arms. “Agreed. I want you all to myself for a while.” Bending down, he whispered something in her ear that caused a happy blush to steal across her face. Then he kissed her.
Behind her, Mrs. Parker giggled. “We’re going to check out that master bedroom one more time, just for a second. I want another look at...the closet space.”
“Feel free,” Dani said with a tight smile. The previous inhabitants had already moved out, so at least she didn’t have to worry about the frisky newlyweds hitting someone else’s mattress. She figured they just wanted to steal a heated kiss or two.
Meanwhile, she tried not to feel bitter or envious; her neglected libido had been making itself known lately. She wasn’t usually one for casual sex, but how was it fair that
When Tate originally called off the wedding, it had been difficult not to hope he met with some freak accident—like an anvil falling on his head. But she’d told herself to be adult about the situation. Wasn’t it better that he ended things before the wedding instead of deciding afterward that they’d made a mistake? So instead of wishing him dead, she’d merely hoped that the next house he bought had termites and mold in the walls.
What she hadn’t yet known was that getting dumped was only half the story. Earlier this week, he’d asked her to dinner. Since she had a box of his belongings to give back to him, she’d agreed. The diamond solitaire engagement ring was not among the returns. She’d hocked that to help cover nonrefundable wedding expenses she and her dad had incurred.
When Tate had broken up with her from the safe distance of Europe, he’d mentioned that “someone else” had helped him realize he didn’t fully love his fiancée. But Dani hadn’t expected that faceless someone to return to Georgia with him. As she’d learned during their strained dinner together, Tate and Ella had eloped last Saturday—exactly one week before he’d been scheduled to marry Dani.
“You deserved to hear it from me, in person, before we begin announcing it to family and friends.” He’d adopted an expression of such condescending concern that she’d been tempted to punch him in the face. “I know this must be very hard on you.”
“Not so much.” She’d risen from her chair, abandoning a perfectly yummy shrimp carbonara. “Ella is welcome to you.”
Truthfully, after six months of living on separate continents, Dani didn’t miss him as much as she would have expected. She was almost as ticked off about the months of one-sided celibacy as she was about his defection. She’d always found serenity through physical outlets. Right now, frustrated and wanting to reclaim some feminine pride, she could really use a long night of sweaty, athletic—
“Danica? I think we’re done inside the house.” The lanky man and his auburn-haired bride had returned. “If you’ll walk us through the yard and the garage, that should do it. Annette and I need some time alone to talk over everything we’ve seen today.”
“Of course. Right this way.” She opened the back door, leading them out onto a narrow deck. “The deck was added on, but the owners hired a professional to build it.”
She often warned clients to be careful of homes full of DIY projects; not all of them held up well over time. Sometimes, amateur wiring jobs went up in flames. Substandard roofing collapsed. Kind of like her love life.
* * *
THE CELL PHONE vibrated in the dashboard cup holder. Dani groaned. Another pitying relative or acquaintance? But then she glimpsed the picture of her best friend, Meg Rafferty, on the screen. Under different circumstances, both women would have been en route to the famous Swan House right now for a rehearsal dinner. Afterward, there was supposed to have been a bachelorette party hosted in the lingerie store Meg co-owned.
Using the phone’s earpiece, Dani answered. “Hello.”
“It’s officially after five o’clock,” Meg said. “A socially accepted time for booze. Want to meet somewhere for drinks?”
It was a Friday night. If they went out, would they be surrounded by couples on dates? Showing that last house to the Parkers had been all the exposure to couples Dani could stand. A girls’ night in was a possibility, but Meg had recently moved in with her current boyfriend.