CHAPTER THREE
Although Samantha was still smarting from Jake’s cold dismissal she decided not to back out of her commitment to help him redecorate his home. She was a professional and she could not afford to let emotions get in the way of her work. Today, though, she was not so stupid as to dress in her feminine gear. For the benefit of Jake – or more accurately for her own benefit – she went back to her regular work clothes. She was make-up free and wore no jewelry except for knob earrings and a simple gold chain. And she’d added one last touch. Instead of tying her hair back she’d stuffed all of it under a puffy newsboy cap. Not a touch of femininity to her today. She was ready.
Based on what she’d seen on her last visit she’d prepared a list of recommendations for each room along with an estimate. Some of the furniture was worth keeping but most of it would have to go…with Jake’s approval, of course. He’d also have to approve a budget for the project. She just hoped he could manage all the changes she was recommending, not just to the furniture but also to the window treatments and even the wallpaper in some of the rooms. The project was not going to be cheap. She was wiling to work with him, though, maybe just doing a couple of rooms now and the rest of the house in a few months. She was always sensitive to the pockets of her clients and he didn’t look like one of those who could afford a major overhaul.
Sam called ahead and let Jake know she was on her way over with the estimates.
“That’s fine,” he said. “I look forward to hearing your ideas.”
He’d said the right words but his tone had not been eager at all. In fact, he’d sounded distant, almost as if he didn’t care whether he got his house fixed up or not. That did not make sense, though. He was the one who had called her up and requested her services. Well, she wouldn’t worry about it. She dealt with all kinds of customers – the pleasant ones and the moody ones like Jake – and none of them had ever deterred her from doing her job. Jake, though, was an enigma…
Well, here goes. Sam hopped into the truck and headed off to the Sullivan's place. Correction - Jake McKoy’s place. By the time she was done with it no one would even remember that the old Sullivan couple had lived there. She would recreate that house and make it a home Jake would be proud of.
Just like last time Sam pulled into Jake’s driveway and headed up to the porch but this time there was no skip to her steps. All business, she walked up to the door and rang the bell.
Within seconds Jake was at the door, his chocolate-brown hair slightly damp as if he’d just come out of the shower. He was dressed casually in light blue shirt and jeans and, to Sam’s chagrin, he looked just as delicious as the first day she’d laid eyes on him. And that was bad.
What she’d hoped was that by now she’d have gotten over her attraction for him. No such luck. Even though he’d slammed her last time, even though she’d vowed to be as cold as steel, her traitorous heart took one look at him and began a happy dance. Crap.
“Come in,” he said and, just like last time, he led her down the hallway and to his office.
Sam stepped in behind him and was immediately struck by how different the room looked. The stacks of books were gone from the chairs and from his desk, which now sat big and shiny and bare. Except for a framed photograph that sat to the right of the telephone.
Although she couldn’t immediately see the picture in the frame, for some reason Sam’s heart tightened. Slowly, she approached the chair and as she sank into it she got a full view of the cause of her sudden distress. She found herself staring at the photograph of a startlingly beautiful blonde woman smiling lovingly into the camera.
Sam felt like she’d been slapped across the forehead with a two-by-four. His wife. Holy heavens, the man was married.
Reeling with disappointment she sank back into the chair, clutching the folder she’d brought with her, glad for something to hold on to. She swallowed as she struggled to regain her composure then, drawing in a deep breath, she forced a bright smile. “Your wife,” she said in a falsely cheerful voice as she tore her eyes from the photograph and looked at Jake.
Say no. Please say no. She held her breath as she watched unreadable emotions flash across his face. Oh God, make him say it’s his sister.
Jake lifted his head and looked at her and in his eyes was a world of sadness. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and lifeless. “My wife.”
“She’s beautiful,” Sam said, the words almost choking her.
“Yes.” His voice was low and tense. “She was.”
Sam sucked in her breath and her eyes widened as she stared at Jake, noticing the tension in his face, the tightness in his jaw. “Was?”
He drew in his breath then let it out slowly. “Yes. She passed away three years ago.”
“I’m…so sorry,” Sam whispered, feeling totally inadequate. And guilty. There she’d been lusting after the man when all this time he’d been grieving for his wife. Obviously, he was still very much in love with her.
“I don’t want to hold up your time,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “Let’s have a look at what you’ve brought.” His tone had turned brusque, his face firm.
Taking his cue, Sam straightened her back and placed her folder on the desk in front of him. “We’ll go through this room by room,” she said, her tone brisk, “and if you have any concerns just stop me and we’ll discuss it.”
Sam was surprised when Jake did not raise a single question or objection to her decoration plans. There were some changes that would cost more than a pretty penny and she’d been prepared to make adjustments if he balked. But no, he never said a word in protest. He didn’t even raise an eyebrow. She left his house that day ready to shop and transform his house into a haven.
Sam began ordering the furniture, fixtures and materials right away and arranged for them to be delivered to the house. Still, with other projects on the table it was almost two weeks before she was able to return to Jake’s place.
And when she got there she was all business. She still remembered that trick Jake had pulled the last time she’d visited, placing the photo of his late wife just where she’d be sure to see it. He was warning her off, telling her to keep her distance. Why else would he have done something like that? Somehow, he must have sensed her attraction to him and resented it. Could she have been that obvious? Well, this is where it would end. Jake McKoy would have nothing to fear.