She let out a long, reluctant sigh.“Fine.I’ll do it.”
“Good,” he replied, his satisfaction obvious—and annoyingly smug.
She flipped open her calendar.“I have time tomorrow.What time works for you?”
There was a beat of silence, then, with infuriating confidence: “How about right now?”
Natalie pressed her lips into a thin line.Ordinarily, she would drop everything for a new client—clients were precious.But with Rylan, the thought of rearranging her entire day made her hesitate.
“Tomorrow at ten,” she said firmly, in the tone she usually reserved for keeping pushy clients in check.
“How about right now?”he repeated, smooth as silk.“I’ve already spoken with your assistant.She said you didn’t have anything on your schedule today.”
Her jaw dropped.“I don’t have an assistant,” she replied, her voice tight.
He ignored the correction entirely, his tone shifting into businesslike command.“You’ll have to work around the artwork, but I want the rest of the space to feel less… harsh.More inviting.”
Against her will, something in her lit up.“You do?”she asked before she could smother the spark of excitement in her voice.
“Yes,” he said, as if he’d been waiting for her to ask.“All this minimalist crap has to go.The formal dining and living rooms are too uncomfortable to use.I want something that makes me feel at home.”
The pen in her hand began twirling between her fingers, the motion as restless as the ideas tumbling through her mind.“What about the other rooms?”she asked cautiously, though her designer’s brain was already sprinting ahead.
“We’ll discuss the rest when you get here—in thirty minutes.”
And just like that, he hung up.
Natalie stared at her phone, her pulse skipping between irritation at his arrogance and the undeniable thrill of the challenge he’d just tossed her way.
She should call him back.She should insist on keeping tomorrow’s appointment.She should remind him that she set her own schedule, thank you very much.
Instead, she grabbed her tablet and her favorite fabric swatches, her thoughts racing with color palettes and textures that could soften the stark edges of his house.
As she rushed toward her car, she whispered a warning to herself:This is just a job.No kissing.No touching.No distractions.
But even as the words left her lips, she knew the truth—staying professional around Rylan wasn’t going to be a challenge.
It was going to be a war she had no intention of losing… and no guarantee of winning.
Chapter 17
Natalie stepped out of her SUV and tilted her head back, letting her gaze travel up the stately façade.She had only seen the first level during her last visit, and the promise of exploring the rest sent a thrill of anticipation through her.The house’s symmetry, clean lines, and historical elegance soothed something deep inside her.It was the kind of place that seemed to exhale history—a place begging for the right hand to coax it fully to life.
But the man inside?He terrified her.
No man had ever consumed her thoughts like Rylan.Even Mark, with all his manipulative charm, had never gotten under her skin like this.Mark had complained endlessly that she didn’t text or call him enough during the day—conveniently ignoring the fact that he rarely replied when shedid.
Rylan, though… Rylan was in her head whether she wanted him there or not.She thought about him constantly.She dreamt about him.And she hated it.It was as if he’d picked the lock to her mind, moved in, and hung curtains.The sheer audacity infuriated her.
“Are you planning to come inside,” a deep, amused voice drawled, “or should I have a chair brought out so you can admire the view in comfort?”
She blinked and snapped out of her thoughts to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, one broad shoulder propped against the wood.The teasing glint in his eyes matched the easy confidence in his posture.
“I thought royalty had butlers to answer their doors,” she shot back, climbing the stairs at an unhurried pace, as if she hadn’t just been caught staring at his house—and, okay, maybe thinking about him.
“Apparently, you thought wrong,” he said, the corners of his mouth curving upward.
Her gaze flicked to his lips.They were firm yet sensual, the kind that could deliver either a scathing retort or the kind of kiss that melted reason.Not that she was thinking about kissing him.
