Kate Hardy - Save The Date!

She forced her eyes open. ‘Can we please get back to the task at hand?’

His lips twisted. ‘Gladly.’ He gestured to the wall. ‘This looks like damage caused by something hard or heavy being banged against it.’

That’d be the removal men her father had hired to pillage the house of its expensive antiques.

‘I can replaster it and then paint the entire room.’

That was even worth putting up with Rick’s mockery!

‘Then you have yourself a deal.’

He laughed. ‘You have no idea, do you?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘So far we’ve nailed down about a week’s worth of work.’

Was that all?

‘I’ll fix the guttering that’s falling off the outside of the house—that’s another day’s work.’

Wow. Um... ‘What about painting the outside of the house?’ It was badly in need of it.

He shook his head. ‘That’s too big a job for one person. Given the style and heritage of this place, it’d be best left to the professionals. Besides, I’m not sure you could afford the materials at the moment if money is tight.’

Her mouth dried. ‘How much would it cost?’

‘For paint, scaffolding and labour? I wouldn’t expect you to see any change from twenty grand.’

So much? She needed to sit down. Only there wasn’t a stick of furniture in the room. And yet if she were to put her plan into action it would need to be done.

‘I can ring around and get some quotes for you if you like?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll need it for the business plan I mean to take to the bank.’

‘I know this is none of my business...’

She glanced up at him.

‘But is this place really worth going into so much debt for?’

‘Yes.’ She’d made a promise—a promise she had no intention of breaking. Her hands clenched. She could make this work!

Rick walked across to her with that indolent loose-hipped stride that could make her mouth dry in a millisecond. He stopped less than two feet away. His hands went to his hips—lean, sexy hips—and he leaned in towards her with narrowed eyes. ‘What are your plans for this place?’

A husband and babies—a family. Lots of laughter. And love. But until then...

‘I’m going to turn Whittaker House into the most in-demand venue for high tea parties that Sydney has ever seen.’

He blinked. She waited for him to laugh and tell her she was crazy. Instead, he turned back to survey the room. ‘That’s a nice idea for an old place like this. What rooms are you planning to use as public rooms?’

‘These two front reception rooms—the parlour and the drawing room—the dining room as it opens onto the terrace, and the library. They’re all large rooms. For more intimate gatherings, there’s the morning room and the conservatory.’

She took him through each of the rooms. They ended the tour in the dining room—a grand room with French windows that led out to the terrace. Rick walked around the room’s perimeter, checking skirting boards, picture rails and the windows and doors. ‘Everything looks in pretty good nick, just the odd minor repair here and there—nothing that some putty and a screwdriver wouldn’t fix.’

She let out a breath.

‘It could do with some freshening up, though.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I could paint the two front rooms and this dining room in a month.’

Her heart didn’t leap with the same unadulterated joy as it had earlier.

He shuffled his feet. ‘Actually, throw the library in too—there’s not much to do in there.’

She bit her lip. ‘How much will the materials cost?’

‘Depends on the kind of paint you want. You’ll need something durable. What colours were you after?’

‘The Victorians weren’t afraid of colour and these rooms are big enough to bring it off. I thought a peacock-blue and a jade-green for the two front rooms, maybe coral in here. The library is lined with bookcases and there’s not a whole lot of wall to paint so maybe just a cream to prevent it from becoming too dark in there.’

How much would it all cost, though?

‘This room opens onto the terrace and lawn. You might want to consider making this the green room to fit in with the garden theme and have the coral room at the front.’

‘Oh, that’s a nice idea.’ She pulled in another breath. ‘But how much is this going to cost me?’

He tapped a finger against his jaw before straightening and naming a figure that made her wince. She nodded. ‘Okay, I can manage that.’ Just. ‘Rick, it looks as if you have yourself a deal.’

He sent her a sly smile. ‘Not so fast, Princess—negotiations aren’t over yet.’

They weren’t?

‘You drive a hard bargain.’

He’d have had an easy one if he hadn’t been so honest.

‘In exchange for all of this slaving away on your house, I now have an additional demand.’

She folded her arms. ‘Which is?’

Just for a moment his gaze lowered to her lips. Her breath stuttered. Oh, he couldn’t mean...?

They both snapped away from each other at the same time.

‘That you provide me with half a dozen cupcakes a day. A working man needs to keep up his strength.’

She planted her hands to her hips. ‘Rick, you can’t eat six cupcakes a day. You’ll rot your teeth and make yourself sick.’ She stuck out her jaw. ‘How about two cupcakes a day and I’ll throw in some sandwiches?’

‘Four cupcakes and some sandwiches.’

Did he eat properly? Tash was probably taking care of that at the moment. How was he off for money? Not that she could talk, but she was making enough to cover the food bill and she still had some in her savings account, which would cover the cost of paint and materials. Sure, he might be getting rent-free accommodation, but he wouldn’t be earning while he was here. She blew out a breath. ‘And I’ll throw in a Sunday roast.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

‘C’mon.’ She led him back into the kitchen. Taking a seat at the table, she dragged a notepad towards her and wrote out a brief contract outlining what they’d agreed to. She signed it and then pushed it across to him.

‘You think this necessary?’

‘I’ve learned not to take chances.’

His eyes darkened. ‘You’re prepared to trust me with your Gran’s jewels, but not take my word about our deal?’

‘I told you already—I don’t believe you’re a thief.’ She glared because he made her feel self-conscious. ‘It doesn’t necessarily follow, though, that I trust you.’

* * *

Rick’s heart burned for her, mourned that wide-eyed little girl who’d smiled at him with such open-heartedness it had made him believe there were better things in the world than he’d experienced up to that point.

‘That sounds like hard-won wisdom, Princess.’

She didn’t answer. He signed her contract because he wanted her to trust him. For good or ill.

‘You’ve changed, Princess. A lot.’

She snorted. ‘You mean I’m not fat any more?’

‘Don’t use that word!’ His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. Reverberating through his head, all he could hear were insults—You’re a fat piece of useless lard! How could anyone love you? You’re fat and ugly! Horrible things flung at women by men who’d meant to wound.

Nell eyed him warily. He glared at her. ‘You were never fat!’

Her gaze slid sideways. She lifted a shoulder. ‘I was plump, and I was awkward and almost chronically shy.’

Those things were true. ‘I always thought you were kind of cute.’

That made her look back at him. She tried to hide it, but he could tell she wanted to believe him. ‘If that’s the case,’ she said eventually, ‘then you were in the minority.’