Название: Forbidden Love
Автор: Christine Flynn
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Vintage Cherish
isbn: 9781472081094
isbn:
“Look,” he muttered, knowing no way around the problem but to address it. “I know I’m not your family’s favorite person, but what happened between me and Paige happened a long time ago. It sounds like she’s moved on. So have I. There’s no reason—”
“You don’t need to defend yourself to me.”
“I’m not defending myself,” he shot back, not caring for how neatly she’d turned around what he’d said to her moments ago. “I’m just stating facts. And one of those facts is that it was your grandmother who asked me to come here, so I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the chill.”
He looked about as flexible as a granite post with his eyes boring into hers and his hands jammed on his hips. Amy didn’t doubt for a moment that he expected her to back down and, if not drop her guard, then at least be a little more hospitable.
As a woman who went out of her way to avoid confrontations, who made her students apologize and play nice whenever there was a difference of opinion, she normally would have found his expectation to be the more diplomatic course of action. Especially since he looked a little short on patience at the moment. But she didn’t feel diplomatic. What she felt was unnerved. His glance had slipped to her mouth, lingering there long enough to heat the knot of nerves in her stomach. If she was feeling anything at all at the moment, it was a strong and distinct need for distance.
“I realize Grandma called you. And as long as we’re stating facts,” she echoed politely, “I’m not totally convinced that her doing that is rational behavior. It makes no sense that she would do something that could bring back bad memories for a member of her family. She can be a little unconventional at times, and she’s certainly outspoken, but she’s not inconsiderate.
“You hurt her granddaughter,” she reminded him.
“Which reminds me,” she continued, loyalty to her sibling melding with a heavy dose of feminine self-defense, “did you ever marry the woman who stole you from my sister?”
She got the distance she was after. In the space of a heartbeat, Nick’s expression closed like a windblown shutter.
“No. I didn’t marry her. I have no intention of ever marrying anyone,” he informed her, his voice low and certain. “And just for the record, no one can steal someone from another person. If a man doesn’t care enough to stick around and make a relationship work, there were fundamental problems to begin with.”
The tension in his big body was almost palpable as his glance shifted over her face, his eyes revealing nothing as his gaze penetrated hers. That gaze was disturbing, intimate, and whatever it was he saw in her face caused the telltale muscle in his jaw to jerk before he turned away.
With his back to her, he drew a breath that stretched the fabric of his shirt against his wide shoulders.
“Where does your grandmother want the ramp?”
Amy swallowed, her heart hammering.
“We thought putting it by the back steps would be best.” There was no escaping his irritation. It seemed to follow her even as she stepped back. “It’s closer to the driveway and the path to the lake.”
“That won’t work if you want this area converted.” He pointed beyond her, turning his head enough for her to catch his strong profile. “What’s that door on the side porch? The one we passed coming in.”
There had been an edge to his manner before. Now, having dispensed with any conversation other than the absolutely necessary, that edge felt sharp enough to slice steel.
“It leads from the dining room,” she replied.
“The ramp will have to be either there or by the front steps.”
“I suppose the dining room would be more convenient.”
He gave a nod, the confirmation to himself, not to her. “I’ll need to look around out here for a minute and get some measurements. This is the size of room she wants? This space here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He took a step away. “Thanks.”
He didn’t need to say another word for her to know her presence was no longer required. With his back still to her, he pulled a pencil and paper from his shirt pocket and unclipped a silver measuring tape from his belt. Even as she headed for the door that led into the kitchen, she could hear his heavy footfall moving away from her.
The door opened with a squeak. Nick practically sighed with relief when it closed with a quiet click. It was as clear as the collection of crystal obelisks lining his office credenza, design awards bestowed on his work over the past ten years, that Amy wanted as little as possible to do with him. That was fine with him. He wanted as little as possible to do with her, too. Seeing her again only brought back memories of a time that had forced him to face a few hard truths about himself. Life-altering truths that had affected everything from how he’d planned his future to what he thought of himself as a man. Though he’d learned to live with his flaws, he could hardly blame her for her disapproval of him.
He pulled out the tape, running it along the far edge of the wide space. He couldn’t fault the way she felt, but that didn’t mean he had to like her attitude. He didn’t have to like much of anything about being there.
He especially didn’t appreciate his physical responses to her.
The thoughts had come into his mind unbidden, unwanted. Just noticing the gentle curve of her mouth, the taunting fullness of her lower lip, had been enough to put a distinct ache low in his gut. But the thought of how it would feel to taste that fullness, to taste her, had him feeling as tight as his tape when it snapped back into its coil.
He made short work of measuring the other wall and headed outside to study the foundation. He really didn’t want to be there. From Amy’s response about this place being the best part about being in Cedar Lake, he strongly suspected she didn’t want to be there, either. But she was clearly going to do what she had to do for her grandmother. And despite the fact that he was still wary of Bea Gardner’s motives for giving him her business, he’d do what he had to do, too. His uncle Mike’s construction company was deeply in debt. He couldn’t afford not to bid on the job.
“Triple A Renovators wants me to sign all this before they’ll even give me an estimate?” Amy’s grandmother frowned at the three-page agreement Amy had just given her and promptly pushed it aside. “I don’t think so. Did Cedar Lake Construction come this morning?”
“Their estimator called yesterday to reschedule. He’s coming at two this afternoon.” Paper rustled as she pulled from the sack the People magazine her grandma had requested and set it on her tray table. So far, she’d been to the grocery store, the library and the plant nursery. As soon as she stopped by the hardware store, she could take another stab at cleaning up the paint that had splattered all over her grandmother’s kitchen. It had dried before anyone could clean it up after Bea’s fall. “I haven’t heard back from Culhane Contracting.”
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