Sweetheart Bride

“Your boss?”

Nick snapped back to reality. “Uh, no. He was once, but his wife died.”

She stopped smiling. “How awful. Our mother died several years ago. Breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry. Callie did mention that. I can’t imagine going through that. I still have both my parents and I’d be lost without them.” He didn’t tell her that he had lost a loved one, too. He knew the pain of grief, but he refused to open up that wound to someone he’d just met. “Your mother sounds like a special person.”

She turned, her forest-colored eyes full of a richness that looked every bit as pretty as any picture he could imagine. “She was. You’re blessed to have both of your parents. Enjoy them and love them.”

“Good advice.” He did love his family, but they’d grown apart over the years. Did he dare tell her that grief had stricken his family to the point of denial?

Better to focus on work.

He motioned toward the dining area. “Let’s go to the other side.”

Brenna let out a little squeal of delight, her smile lighting the room with an ethereal glow. “Look at that mural. Can we keep that?”

“Yes,” he said, thinking he’d meant to do away with it. He’d have to tell the interior decorator that the elaborate rendition of a garden party with a steamboat in the background was off-limits.

Because he’d decided he didn’t want to do anything that would take that beautiful smile off Brenna Blanchard’s face.

And he’d also decided that he was in serious trouble.

Chapter Four

“Really?” Brenna smiled big at her new boss. “Just like that, you’ll keep the mural?”

“I’m not always so agreeable,” Nicholas said, giving her an exaggerated frown. “Your enthusiasm is obviously wearing off on me.”

Brenna couldn’t believe it was that easy. She’d prepared herself for a difficult task at every turn. “You seem like the type who bosses everyone around with a growl, waving your hand at this one and that one while you’re on your phone with someone mysterious and even more demanding than you.”

He actually laughed out loud.

And took her breath away.

“You’ve got me pegged, I see.”

“I’ve worked with many highly demanding artists and supervisors,” she said, her smile dying. “I miss that.”

He motioned toward the stairs. “So you think you’ll get bored with just me to growl at you?”

The thought of him actually doing that only added to the tremendous attraction she felt toward him. Bad, bad idea.

“No, I’m never bored. I always find something to do. But please, growl and be mean. Keeps me on my toes.”

“I gave you the mural,” he said after they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Make it beautiful for me.”

Brenna did a slow swallow to get her breath under control. She got the distinct feeling this man didn’t give anything easily. “I will,” she said on a meek but firm tone. “And if I make everything else I choose beautiful for you, will that be a good thing?”

He put his hand on her back and urged her up the stairs. “That will be a very good thing. This house is the biggest renovation of my career. It’s a make-or-break deal.”

She whirled, one step above him, and stared down into his dark, rich-chocolate eyes. “And you picked me to help out. Are you loony?”

His eyes went even darker. “I’ve been called loco, sí.”

Brenna didn’t think the man was crazy. No, rather she decided she was the loony one. Her impulsive nature always got her into trouble, but her sensible side usually tugged her back to earth. And even though she was standing on a centuries-old staircase looking down at a man who most certainly would make any woman swoon, no matter the time or place, she held herself aloof and told herself to snap out of it. She was here for a job not a new boyfriend.

“I’ve been called that, too,” she said before turning away again. “We should get along just fine.”

He did that growling thing. “Take a right on the landing.”

“What are we looking at now?” she asked, afraid to glance back at him because she could feel the heat of his gaze following her. No, stalking her like a big cat out in the swamp.

He made it to the landing and looked around the wide, empty hallway. “This floor contains four bedrooms and baths for each. The baths were installed much later after the house was built, of course. We’ve finished the basic renovations, but we still have a lot of work to do up here. We enlarged the baths and the closets and made sure the structure is sound as far as wiring and knocking down walls. But your job is to pick one piece of interesting art for each room, especially the master bedroom.”

“I’m on it,” Brenna said, scribbling notes while she tried to ignore his sultry accent and his growling explanations. “Does your...mysterious owner have any preferences?”

“He has a few, but in this case, he told me to surprise him.”

“Surprise. That’s a new one. I like a good challenge.” Brenna thought about that, then whirled. “Are you the owner, Nicholas?”

He backed away, hands out and pushing toward her. “I am not and that is the truth.” He tugged her into a gigantic room with two sets of exquisite bay windows—obviously this was the master suite. “You see that trailer down there?”

Brenna nodded, ignoring the panoramic view of the Big Fleur Bayou and the bay out beyond for now. “Nice, but not quite as big as the house.”

“That is my home,” he said. “I renovate and design houses. But I prefer spending most of my time in my trailer or in a small hacienda on my parents’ property in San Antonio. So I need you to understand—this is not my house. I have no desire to live here. I’m only here to prepare this estate for the new owner and then I’ll move on to my next project.”

She believed him. Nicholas didn’t want to settle down. She got the message loud and clear. So she put aside her shock and awe and disappointment, then tried to throw him off by asking about the real owner. “Got it. You like to travel light and linger not so much. So back to the man who hired you. When will he arrive?”

He looked relieved and a bit shocked himself. “In the spring of next year. So we need to get busy.”

He motioned to her with an impatient jabbing of his fingers in the air. Brenna turned away from the view outside to the reality of the man by her side. “Okay, so you’re not the mysterious owner and you’re not teasing me or trying to pull one over on me. I get that. So show me the rest of the house and give me the interior designer’s phone number. I’ll have to get with her and make sure I have a clear understanding of what she has planned.”

He seemed to relax. Like a big cat, he’d almost pounced on her for being so nosy. But he’d pulled back, slinking away before he revealed anything too personal. “The designer knows she is to work with you in considering the art. Whatever you decide, she will work around it. Or make it work, per my instructions.”

He once again reminded her of his authority.

But Brenna was known for always having the last word. “And just so we’re clear, I’m only curious about the owner because I need to match the art to the person who will live here. But I have to say, Nick, you are every bit as mysterious as he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned-again. I’m sorry if I overstepped in being nosy. It’s one of my flaws.”

His dark eyebrows lifted. “Just one? You mean you have more?”

She saw that trace of a smile trying to pull at his lips. Saw that and so much that he didn’t want her to see.

He didn’t want to talk about the man who had bought Fleur House. But he especially didn’t want to talk about himself, either. Which only made Brenna more curious.

* * *

Two hours later, Brenna waved goodbye to Nick and headed straight into town to her sister Alma’s café. She needed comfort food and she needed some girl talk with Alma’s right-hand woman and newly promoted manager, Winnie. And just to be sure, she called Callie, too. “I need to rant. Preferably over pie and coffee.”