Christine Flynn - Forbidden Love

“You hurt her granddaughter,” she reminded him.

“Which reminds me,” she continued, loyalty to her sibling melding with a heavy dose of feminine self-defense, “did you ever marry the woman who stole you from my sister?”

She got the distance she was after. In the space of a heartbeat, Nick’s expression closed like a windblown shutter.

“No. I didn’t marry her. I have no intention of ever marrying anyone,” he informed her, his voice low and certain. “And just for the record, no one can steal someone from another person. If a man doesn’t care enough to stick around and make a relationship work, there were fundamental problems to begin with.”

The tension in his big body was almost palpable as his glance shifted over her face, his eyes revealing nothing as his gaze penetrated hers. That gaze was disturbing, intimate, and whatever it was he saw in her face caused the telltale muscle in his jaw to jerk before he turned away.

With his back to her, he drew a breath that stretched the fabric of his shirt against his wide shoulders.

“Where does your grandmother want the ramp?”

Amy swallowed, her heart hammering.

“We thought putting it by the back steps would be best.” There was no escaping his irritation. It seemed to follow her even as she stepped back. “It’s closer to the driveway and the path to the lake.”

“That won’t work if you want this area converted.” He pointed beyond her, turning his head enough for her to catch his strong profile. “What’s that door on the side porch? The one we passed coming in.”

There had been an edge to his manner before. Now, having dispensed with any conversation other than the absolutely necessary, that edge felt sharp enough to slice steel.

“It leads from the dining room,” she replied.

“The ramp will have to be either there or by the front steps.”

“I suppose the dining room would be more convenient.”

He gave a nod, the confirmation to himself, not to her. “I’ll need to look around out here for a minute and get some measurements. This is the size of room she wants? This space here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He took a step away. “Thanks.”

He didn’t need to say another word for her to know her presence was no longer required. With his back still to her, he pulled a pencil and paper from his shirt pocket and unclipped a silver measuring tape from his belt. Even as she headed for the door that led into the kitchen, she could hear his heavy footfall moving away from her.

The door opened with a squeak. Nick practically sighed with relief when it closed with a quiet click. It was as clear as the collection of crystal obelisks lining his office credenza, design awards bestowed on his work over the past ten years, that Amy wanted as little as possible to do with him. That was fine with him. He wanted as little as possible to do with her, too. Seeing her again only brought back memories of a time that had forced him to face a few hard truths about himself. Life-altering truths that had affected everything from how he’d planned his future to what he thought of himself as a man. Though he’d learned to live with his flaws, he could hardly blame her for her disapproval of him.

He pulled out the tape, running it along the far edge of the wide space. He couldn’t fault the way she felt, but that didn’t mean he had to like her attitude. He didn’t have to like much of anything about being there.

He especially didn’t appreciate his physical responses to her.

The thoughts had come into his mind unbidden, unwanted. Just noticing the gentle curve of her mouth, the taunting fullness of her lower lip, had been enough to put a distinct ache low in his gut. But the thought of how it would feel to taste that fullness, to taste her, had him feeling as tight as his tape when it snapped back into its coil.

He made short work of measuring the other wall and headed outside to study the foundation. He really didn’t want to be there. From Amy’s response about this place being the best part about being in Cedar Lake, he strongly suspected she didn’t want to be there, either. But she was clearly going to do what she had to do for her grandmother. And despite the fact that he was still wary of Bea Gardner’s motives for giving him her business, he’d do what he had to do, too. His uncle Mike’s construction company was deeply in debt. He couldn’t afford not to bid on the job.

“Triple A Renovators wants me to sign all this before they’ll even give me an estimate?” Amy’s grandmother frowned at the three-page agreement Amy had just given her and promptly pushed it aside. “I don’t think so. Did Cedar Lake Construction come this morning?”

“Their estimator called yesterday to reschedule. He’s coming at two this afternoon.” Paper rustled as she pulled from the sack the People magazine her grandma had requested and set it on her tray table. So far, she’d been to the grocery store, the library and the plant nursery. As soon as she stopped by the hardware store, she could take another stab at cleaning up the paint that had splattered all over her grandmother’s kitchen. It had dried before anyone could clean it up after Bea’s fall. “I haven’t heard back from Culhane Contracting.”

“I have. Nick’s uncle called last evening.”

Amy’s motions slowed as she folded the sack and glanced toward the woman in the purple plaid bed jacket. Bea was already flipping through her magazine.

“Either he or Nick will be out in a couple of days to start on the ramp,” she added.

Disquieted by the announcement, trying not to look it, Amy stuffed the sack into her tote to recycle. “You don’t want to wait for the other bid?”

“The only estimate he gave me was for the ramp. And that’s all I’ve agreed to for now. How are you doing with the paint? Is it coming off?” she asked, seeming perfectly oblivious to her granddaughter’s consternation.

“Sort of,” Amy murmured absently, tucking the sack a little deeper.

This really isn’t a problem, she hastily assured herself. The fact that Nick’s uncle had called Bea told her that Nick wanted as little to do with her and her family as possible. He’d obviously worked up the bid, given it to his uncle and bowed out. No doubt he’d do the same when it came to the job itself. She couldn’t imagine him doing anything else. By the time he’d left the lake house, conversation had been reduced to only the polite and the necessary.

That had been roughly forty-eight hours ago. And in that forty-eight hours she’d tried everything short of self-hypnosis to put the encounter out of her mind. Yet, try as she might, she couldn’t shake her unwanted but undeniable curiosity over why he’d sounded so adamant about his lack of interest in marriage, something that made no sense at all to her and shouldn’t matter even if it had.

“Amy?”

Her brow was still furrowed when she glanced up from her tote.

“I asked what ‘sort of’ means.”

“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, distractedly running her fingers through her hair. “It means the remover I bought yesterday will work on the appliances, but I need something different for the floor and cabinets.”

“I told you I can hire that work done, dear.”

“There’s no need for that. I want to do it. I need to do something while I’m here.” Other than pace, she thought, feeling the urge to do just that. It had to be the weather. She always got restless when the heat and humidity rose.

“Unsettled” her grandmother had called it. Until a couple of days ago, Amy honestly hadn’t felt anything she couldn’t attribute to simply being in a place she didn’t really want to be. She hadn’t felt unsettled until she’d had to deal with Nick.