Flirting With Disaster

“I thought you wanted to talk,” he said, aware that her gaze seemed to be locked on his chest. On another occasion he might have considered her expression flattering or interpreted it as an invitation to something more interesting than conversation.

Her head snapped up and the flush in her cheeks deepened.

“I don’t like you, Mr. Parker.”

Josh bit back a grin. “You’re breaking my heart.”

Undaunted, she went on. “But that’s beside the point. I came here to help and you’re wasting my skills.”

“Really? I thought lunch was fairly good.”

She immediately rose to the bait. “Fairly good? Have you ever had anything better on a construction site?”

He shrugged. “Maybe not. Those little fruit things were a nice touch. What do you call that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Garnish. Do you really care about that?”

“Not especially, but you seem to be fishing for compliments on your cooking.”

“I was not fishing for compliments,” she snapped. “Anybody can make sandwiches and slice up some fruit. I was trying to have a serious discussion about how you should be using me.”

“Well, now that you mention it,” he began, giving her a slow once-over, “a few ideas have crossed my mind on that score. But just so we don’t get our wires crossed, what exactly are you offering, Miss Maggie?”

The fire in her eyes flared into a full-fledged inferno. “I’m offering to help you frame this house, you idiot, but you are sorely testing my patience.”

Josh looked into all that heat in her eyes and absorbed the scathing note in her voice and concluded he might have made the tiniest miscalculation about Maggie. “You’re serious? You actually want to get your hands dirty?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“You’ve worked construction?”

“Not the way you mean,” she admitted. “I’ve never built a house before, but I have renovated an entire building.”

His gaze narrowed. “Meaning slapping a few coats of paint on the walls?”

She gave him a scathing look. “Meaning tearing out plaster and replacing it with drywall, reinstalling crown molding and matching up baseboards, installing track lighting, switching out electrical boxes and, yes, painting the whole damn thing when I was done.”

He didn’t even try to hide his skepticism. Maybe she’d supervised a professional crew but done the work herself? Not a chance. “Really?”

“Have you ever been in Images?”

Josh stared at her blankly.

“Of course not. It’s an art and antiques gallery. What was I thinking?” she said sarcastically. “At any rate, it’s mine. The building was a disaster when I bought it. I did all the renovations. Did a damn good job of them, too. Ask Cord, if you don’t believe me.”

He regarded her with disbelief. “You did the work yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you hire somebody?” Josh asked.

“Because that’s what everybody expected me to do. I don’t like doing what people expect. I never have. I wanted to prove I could build my business from the ground up, almost literally.”

“How bad was this building?”

“Let’s just say that a lot of people laughed themselves silly when I said I’d bought it. My father almost had a stroke when he saw it, and he’s not prone to overreacting.”

“How old was it?” he asked.

“It had been around since the mid-1800s. The outside was in good shape, but the inside had deteriorated.”

A building that old would definitely have been a challenge, Josh thought. A lot of people would have leveled it and started over. He was impressed that Maggie hadn’t done that. “Did you have Cord take a look at it?” Josh asked curiously.

“He was the first one I called before I signed the papers. He said the building had good bones.”

Josh still wasn’t entirely convinced that she hadn’t exaggerated the transformation. “Mind if I come by to take a look?”

“Did you ask everyone else who volunteered to work on this house to prove their credentials?” she demanded.

Josh waved off the question. “It’s not about that. I’m curious. I’d really like to see it. My expertise is in historic renovation, just like Cord. What can I say? I love old buildings.” If he’d had to explain it, he’d have to say it had some deep-rooted connection to the lack of permanency in his own life, but he didn’t know Maggie well enough to get into all that with her.

She studied him for a long time before nodding. “We can go by there now.”

Josh glanced down at himself. “Like this? I’m a mess. So are you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“It’s hot as blazes out here. Anyone who’s been outside today is a mess. Besides, the gallery closes at six. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Once again, she’d caught him off guard. He’d figured her for a woman who’d want people to take off their dusty shoes on the front steps. Then, again, she could hardly ask such a thing of customers. Maybe running a retail business had forced her to lower her high standards.

“Then let’s go have ourselves a tour,” he suggested, eager to get a look at the place. “You tell me where and I’ll meet you there.”

Maggie gave him the address, which turned out to be not that far from his motel, though he suspected it was light-years away in terms of class.

“Does a half hour work for you or do you have things to finish up here?” she asked.

“A half-hour suits me fine if you’re sure you don’t mind me coming like this. Otherwise I can swing by my place and shower and be there in forty-five minutes.”

She grinned at him. “As long as you don’t sit on the antique furniture and keep your hands off the paintings, you’ll be fine. And before you get all offended, I say the same thing to anyone who comes into the gallery. The ice-cream cones from the shop next door stay outside.”

“I know how to mind my manners in a fancy place, Miss Maggie.”

Maggie didn’t look as if she believed him, but she merely nodded and headed for her car. Josh’s gaze followed her as she settled behind the wheel of a snazzy little Saab convertible—which cost just about half of his annual salary. It suited her, though.

Maggie Forsythe might want him to believe she was as down-to-earth as anyone else, but he recognized privilege in every delectable, pampered inch of her. That meant they were about as suited as corn bread and champagne.

That didn’t seem to stop him from wanting her, though. He wondered just how long it would be before he made the mother of all mistakes and did something about it.

Maggie liked showing off Images, but she hadn’t been this jittery since the gallery’s opening night, when the invitation-only crowd had dressed in black tie and included all her parents’ high-society friends.