“Phyl—” he started, but she put her hand up, halting him.
“It isyourhouse. You agreed to leave my mom’s painting room intact, for which I am unbelievably grateful, but I don’t expect you to change all your plans just to suit me. You hired me to help preserve elements of Belle Maison’s original structure; that’s what I’m here to do.”
“I also hired you for your input,” he said. “I’m open to suggestions. Doesn’t mean I’ll go along with all of them, but as highly recommended as you come, I’d be a fool not to listen to what you have to say.” He tossed the measuring tape aside and moved toward her. “I want us to work together as a team.”
He reached for her, but she took several steps back. She held her hands up, her face resolute. “Look, Jamal, I already told you that if I’m going to work with you on this project, what happened yesterday afternoon cannot happen again. That kiss was…well, it was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he disputed. “It was unbelievable.”
“Jamal—”
“Don’t shut me down without at least giving me a chance, Phylicia.”
“It’s not going to happen,” she reiterated. “I have too much going on in my life right now. And with you and this house and just… It’s not going to happen. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
He raised his palms up, giving her the universal hands-off gesture. What he really wanted to do was kiss the living daylights out of her again. Apparently, she’d quickly forgotten how explosive their kiss yesterday was. He, on the other hand, couldn’t get it out of his head.
“Good,” she said with a curt nod. “I’ll get to work on the parlor.”
Arms crossed over his chest, Jamal stepped to the side so she could move past him. As he watched her walk up the back steps and into the house, he couldn’t imagine how he would get through the next few months working alongside her.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about running into Phylicia all that much. With him outside measuring the strawboard that would replace the walls in the bedrooms, and her working inside in the front parlor, he hardly saw her for most of the morning. At noon, Jamal tossed the carpenter’s pencil aside and entered the house through the door just off the kitchen.
He stopped at the arched entryway between the parlor and downstairs sitting room and watched as Phylicia carefully pried a section of aged wainscoting from the wall. She gingerly laid it next to an identical piece she’d placed on the floor, and turned to tackle the next section.
As she bent over, Jamal’s hands fisted at the way the faded denim cupped her ass like a well-worn baseball glove. It probably felt as soft and smooth, too. He reined in the urge to walk up to her and test it for himself.
Stop it,he ordered himself. Phylicia had made her feelings known; he had to respect them, no matter how much it killed him to do so.
He shoved away from the doorjamb. “Are you hungry?” he asked.
She jumped and turned.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “Between the pounding and the music, you’d have to wear a cowbell around your neck to announce your arrival.” She smiled, and that urge to kiss her roared back to life. “Did you need something?” she asked.
And isn’tthata loaded question?
Jamal bit back the answer that was on the tip of his tongue and held up his wrist to show her the time.
“Lunch,” he said. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Mine is in the truck,” Phylicia answered. “I always bring my own lunch when I’m working on a site.”
“Will you give me a few minutes to run over to Jessie’s before you eat?” he asked, referring to the pseudo-restaurant that was run out of a local woman’s kitchen. “I’m hoping you’ll share some of the history of the house over lunch.”
The look she gave him was guarded, as if she didn’t trust his motives.
Smart woman.
He held his hands up. “Information. I promise I won’t try anything else. I’ll need to know the history of Belle Maison when giving tours to guests.”
Slowly, she nodded, mistrust still evident in her narrowed gaze. “I’ll wait for you. Let me know when you get back.” She pointed at him. “But don’t sneak up on me this time. It’s not smart to startle a woman who’s holding a crowbar.”
“And I’m pretty sure you have several uses for it, too.”
“Bet your ass I do.” The musical sound of her laughter traveled along his skin like a caress. Jamal left the house before he went back on his promise not to try anything else with her.
