“Of course you want to keep them. They add too much character to this house to think of getting rid of them.”
Phil glided her hand along the smooth mud where the panels of Sheetrock met. She could not believe the man was replacing the classic plaster walls with drywall, but at least he’d done a good job.
“You did this work by yourself?” she asked.
Jamal nodded. “Have I impressed the guru?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why not? Everyone else does.”
“First, I’m not a guru,” Phil said. “My dad deserved that title, not me. And secondly, I work mostly in wood and wrought iron, so I’m not the one to properly judge drywall installation.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “I was hoping you’d be impressed.”
Phil looked over at him and was caught off guard by the sexy smile pulling at the edges of his lips. She knew flirting when she saw it.
That wouldnotbe good. She could not handle a sweaty, sexy, flirting Jamal Johnson.
“So, besides the doors, what else is there?” she asked.
“I’ve got my blueprints out here,” he said, motioning for her to follow him outside.
Phil stopped short. “If you’re not doing a renovation, why did you draw up blueprints for a house that’s already built?”
He shrugged. “You work in wood and wrought iron; I work in blueprints. It just makes it easier to have a map of the house so I can pinpoint each thing that needs to be addressed.”
She accepted his explanation with the same amount of guarded skepticism she took everything else he told her. Outside, the blueprints were spread out on the top of a folding table, held at each corner with pieces of leftover wood. She stood next to Jamal as he pointed out various jobs that needed to be done throughout the house. She tried to ignore the combination of sweat, sawdust, and man that flooded her senses.
Ignoring a ten-piece brass band blowing in her ear would have been easier.
“My biggest headache right now is fixtures,” Jamal was saying. “I’d love to get something comparable to what’s in the downstairs bathroom and kitchen, but I can’t find anything even close.”
Phil ordered herself to focus on the job at hand, and not on his scent. Or the muscles rippling underneath his T-shirt. Or the way she’d clung to them when they danced months ago.
“You won’t find them in hardware stores,” she said. “Your best bet will be companies that specialize in reclaimed fixtures. They salvage pieces and sell them to people restoring older properties. I’ve got several contacts I can check for you.”
When he didn’t comment for several moments, Phil glanced over at him. That smile was back, the one that made her heart beat just a bit quicker.
“I knew I’d come to the right person,” he said. “Together we’re going to take Belle Maison in a completely new direction.”
Yeah, that’s what she was afraid of.
As Phylicia leaned over the table, studying the blueprints, Jamal studiedher.He couldn’t get over just how much of a contradiction she was. She worked in a decidedly male-dominated field, yet those high cheekbones, amazingly deep brown eyes, and lush, full lips could easily grace the cover of a fashion magazine.
She was tall and slim, but years of manual labor had added definition to her arms and shoulders. Jamal remembered how they had looked in the sleeveless bridesmaid gown she wore at the wedding.
Why had someone so sexy, so feminine, decided to work with hammers and sanders? Probably because she was damn good at it. He’d noticed several pieces of furniture in various stages of restoration when he visited her workshop yesterday. She seemed to spend most of her time laboring over stuff most people would write off as useless. But in her hands, what was once decrepit gained new life.
She tilted her head to the side, and her ponytail draped along her neck. Jamal had the strongest urge to run his fingers through it, lift it off her neck, and taste the skin underneath. It would probably get him slapped.
Yet, if he’d done the same thing the night of the wedding, Jamal was certain his kiss would not only have been welcome, but reciprocated. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong. Unless…
“Are you seeing someone?”
Phylicia’s head popped up, her stunned eyes widening. “Excuse me?”
Okay, so maybe he could have been a tad subtler. But he didn’t do subtle all that well, and he wasn’t in the mood for playing games.
