Playboy Bachelors: Remodelling the Bachelor

Excited, the girl shifted from foot to foot as if about to break into an impromptu game of hopscotch. “Where’s your new one?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t paint anymore?” Surprise was imprinted on every inch of the small heart-shaped face.

It was a long story, built on rebellion and not one to tell a child, even a child as stunningly intelligent as Kelli. The easel had never really been put to use and he was surprised he’d saved it. But to keep things simple, he merely said, “No.”

Surprise was replaced with sympathy. It was obvious Kelli felt that everyone should experience the joy of painting. Reclaiming her hand from her mother, she patted his. “Bet you could ask your mom to get you one and to give you lessons,” she told him.

It was an effort to retain a straight face. She was darling as well as intelligent and gifted. “She’s a very busy lady.”

Kelli nodded slowly, absorbing the excuse and its ramifications. And then suddenly, her head bobbed up, her eyes shining as she looked at him. “I could teach you.” Saying it out loud reinforced her enthusiasm and she clapped her hands together. “I could. It’d be fun.”

He thought of all the years in his past that he’d actively turned down every attempt his mother made to mate him with a paintbrush and a canvas. He had staunchly refused to enter her world, wanting one of his own to colonize and leave his mark on.

But with this small, eager little face looking up at him, all that melted away. “Maybe it would be,” he allowed. “I’ll see if I can find another easel for tomorrow.”

Kelli’s smile grew even wider. “Good.”

God, she sounded more adult that half the people he knew, Philippe thought, completely charmed. He noted that J.D. had placed all of her daughter’s jars of paint along the easel’s edge and mounted the painting against it.

“Call if you need me,” she instructed Kelli, then stepped away from the child. The slanted glance that came his way indicated that she wanted him to follow. When he did, she asked, “How much do I owe you?”

He’d followed her literally, but now she’d lost him. “For what?”

Her voice low, she was all but whispering. “The easel.”

What kind of a person did she think he was, pretending to give a child a gift only to have her mother pay for it under the table? Maybe she was used to strings being attached to things. So he set her straight. “What I told your daughter was true. That used to be my easel. There is no charge,” he informed her firmly.

She wasn’t comfortable about this, didn’t want him getting the wrong idea even though instinctively, part of her did like him for the gesture. Maybe that was the part that scared her. More than a little. “I know, but—”

“Just consider it a gift from me to Kelli.” His eyes met hers. He saw the wariness. “No strings attached.”

She took a breath, wondering if she was making a mistake, believing him. She had to work at keeping their relationship strictly professional.

Good luck with that, a voice in her head mocked. She’d already brought him food yesterday and brought her daughter along to work today. Not exactly proceeding according to strict professional guidelines here, are we, J.D?

She forced a smile to her lips, trying to quell the nervous feeling in her stomach. “That was a very nice thing you did.”

“I like seeing her smile,” Philippe told her honestly. He watched her mouth curve and could have sworn something tightened inside of him. “You have the same smile,” he observed.

Urges began to form, swarming over him out of nowhere. Or maybe, out of a somewhere he had no business visiting. Because something told him that J. D. Wyatt wasn’t just a casual date. J.D. was the kind of woman you made plans with. Solid plans. And there was nothing in his world to suggest he had a solid plan. Look at the examples he had to follow, the parents he’d had. The norm when he was growing up was here today, gone tomorrow.

He shoved his hands into his back pockets, curbing the very strong desire to touch her face, to trace his fingers along the curve of her mouth and commit it to memory.

Damn, where was this coming from?

He cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better get back to work.”

“Yeah.” The words tasted like powdered spackle. “Me, too,” she murmured.

Gordon reentered the room, bringing along his own set of long neglected tools. He glanced from his sister to Philippe, then watched as the latter left the room. Setting the toolbox down, Gordon crossed over to his sister. “Something going on between you two?” he asked mildly, in the same tone he might have used if he was asking about that day’s temperature projection.

The question startled Janice, throwing cold water on what might have been a moment’s worth of revelry. Groundless revelry, she insisted. Trust Gordon to be blunt.

“No.” She went into the kitchen. “What makes you think that?”

He laughed dryly. “Looked like a lot of chemistry and heat flashing back and forth from where I was standing.”

She looked down at his shoes. “Must be some loose wiring running under your feet,” she decided innocently. “Maybe you’d better examine it later just to be safe. Wouldn’t want this place going up, especially after all the work we’re going to put into it.”

“Guy doesn’t give a woman’s little girl an easel because there’s loose wiring in the floor,” he observed.

Janice sighed, refusing to entertain the thought of what Gordon was suggesting. Philippe was her client. If he liked the job she did for him, she had no doubt he would refer other people to her. There was nothing more to their relationship. Besides, she was not about to get involved with anyone. She’d never been able to get through to her father, never had that magical moment she’d waited for where he saw how much she loved him, how much she wanted him to be proud of her. And as for her husband, well that had never had a chance to go anywhere, so she would never know. She had been a wife and a widow within six months. That had had its own set of pain attached. She didn’t need to seek out more.

Besides, she had enough to keep her busy. She had Kelli and her work. There wasn’t space for more than that, certainly not for another pass at having her heart broken.

“Make yourself useful, Gordon.”

He grinned at her. “I thought I already was, since you can’t seem to see the forest for the trees—” He scratched his head. “Or is it the trees for the forest? I always get that confused.”

That wasn’t the only thing he got confused, she thought. “It’s the floor for the debris,” she declared, pointing to the very large pile of splintered wood veneer and plasterboard, the end results of her swinging her sledgehammer at the kitchen cabinets yesterday. Philippe had sent her home before she’d had a chance to remove the debris. “Clean it up.”

He could have taken exception to her tone. Once, when his father’s company had been his, he’d been her boss. And even when they’d worked with their father, he had supposedly always been the one in charge. It was only after the company went bankrupt and Janice began getting jobs on her own and throwing some of the business his way that she started issuing orders.

Gordon saluted her, his expression suddenly somber. “I’m on it.”

“Good to know,” she murmured. She didn’t want to repay Philippe’s kindness by appearing to take advantage of him.

Stooping down, she filled her arms with splintered plasterboard and got started.

He wasn’t in his office.

Janice glanced at her watch to check the time. It was close to eleven and she’d assumed that he’d be busy at his work. She’d deliberately gone out of her way to pass his office to talk to him.

Can’t talk to an empty chair.

Had he gone out and she’d missed hearing him leave? She’d begun work on gutting the downstairs powder room and wanted to have all her ducks in a row. Or at least swimming in the right direction.

She’d brought a color chart so that Philippe could decide what color he wanted her to paint the walls.

Shrugging, she tucked the chart under her arm and went back out again. It was getting close to lunchtime anyway. She might as well collect Kelli and her brother and get something to eat. Because this was their first day on a job together, she thought she’d take them both out to celebrate the occasion instead of just bringing lunch from home.

Janice moved around the corner. She didn’t have to look to know that Kelli would be completely captivated with her work. Painting always summoned this font of joy from within her, even when it wasn’t going well. With her sunny disposition, Kelli always managed to see the bright side of everything.

“Kelli, honey,” she called out, “we’re going to break for lunch. Would you like to be the one to pick the restaurant?”

It always made her daughter feel so grown up when she could choose where they would all go to eat. And then she laughed to herself. Before she knew it, Kelli would be an adult. God knew the little girl was growing up much too fast, doing ten years for every candle she blew out.