“I’m telling you I’ve never done anything I don’t want to do.”
Oh. Well, fine. He was strong-willed and strong-minded. Admirable traits, she supposed. Just not when compared to herself. “Not even for your mother?”
Only his eyes gave away a flicker of sadness. “My mother died when I was ten.”
Great, now she was the jerk. “I’m sorry.”
He stood up and turned his attention to the wall he’d been working on. “So am I.”
“Do you have other family?” she asked his tall, proud back.
“My father.”
“You’re close?”
Another shrug. “Yeah. More so now, since his stroke.”
Feeling two inches tall, she sighed. “I shouldn’t have pried.” But the truth was, she was brimming with questions about this man who said what he wanted without a thought for the consequence.
“He’s recovered,” Tanner said, facing her again. “It took all year, but he’s finally all the way back.”
“You nursed him?”
“You seem shocked.” He smiled. “I can be very useful.”
She believed that.
“But neither my father, nor my mother if she was still alive, would set me up on a blind date.”
“Why not?”
“I was raised to make up my own mind.”
She narrowed her eyes at the insult. “I can make up my own mind.”
“Good.”
“Good,” she repeated, lifting her chin and the phone. Tanner turned to his work, for which she was grateful, because his eyes saw too much. And because she enjoyed the view of his butt.
She dialed her first-she hoped her first-client. “Mrs. Brown?” she said into the phone. “Cami Anderson here, checking in with you. Have you had a chance to look over my designs with Mr. Brown?”
“No, not yet, dear. My son is in town from Seattle for the week.”
“Ah.” In Cami’s experience with customers-which, granted, was limited-the longer they took to decide, the better the chance they’d back out. “I was hoping you could take a look sooner than that, you see-”
“I suppose I could…” Mrs. Brown’s voice turned crafty. “For a favor in return.”
Uh-oh.
“My son, he just turned thirty yesterday, and being that he’s down here, far away from his friends, he’s…lonely.”
Double uh-oh.
“I imagine if you were to…oh, I don’t know…go out with him this evening, that would free me up.”
“I’m busy tonight.”
“Tomorrow then. Or the day after. Name the night. Just go out with Joshua, and I’ll be ready to meet with you the next day.”
From the corner of her eye she watched Tanner. As he worked, the tools hanging on his tool belt clanked together with a rhythmic sound. His hands were sure and confident. His face was steeped in concentration.
He’d forgotten all about her.
She’d just forget all about him. “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said to Mrs.
Brown. “Dating a client’s son.”
“Just one date, dear. One harmless little date.”
No doubt, the woman had to be a distant relative of her mother’s. “Mrs. Brown-”
“I’ll double your budget,” she promised rashly.
What could be wrong with her son for double budget?
“Triple.”
Wow. One could forgive a lot for triple. Even if he had three eyes and spit when he talked, it was only one evening, right? “Well…”
“Oh, good, you won’t regret it!”
She bet she would. “Just one date,” she clarified. “Tomorrow night.”
At that, Tanner craned his neck to stare at her.
Cami heard the ripping sound of material caught on a loose nail.
Twisting, Tanner stared at the back of himself and the huge, jagged rip through his T-shirt.
At the sight of a long length of smooth, sleek skin, Cami’s mouth went desert dry.
“Come to the house the day after tomorrow then,” Mrs. Brown said into her ear. “I’ll serve us some tea and cheesecake and we can talk about the work. Do you like cheesecake?”
“I love beefcake,” Cami said, then nearly choked when Tanner whipped toward her again, surprise lighting those interesting, see-all whiskey-colored eyes of his.
“Cheesecake! I meant I love cheesecake,” she corrected frantically. “Yes, yes, I like it with tea, thank you.” Feeling heat creep up her face, Cami found her gaze locked with Tanner’s. He was very amused. “See you Sunday,” she said to her client, and hung up.
“Tea with your cheesecake,” Tanner murmured. “Good combo. But what do you like with your beefcake?”
“Very funny. Everyone makes a slip of the tongue once in awhile.”
“Yeah.” He pulled off his useless shirt. “Do you make yours on your blind dates?”
For some reason, she could hardly breathe, and told herself it was all the dust in the air. “I don’t do much with my tongue on dates.”
“No?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said as coolly as she could while suddenly sweating like crazy.
His gaze slid over her slowly, and she got the feeling he knew exactly what he did to her.
“So you’ve got another blind date,” he said.
“What does a woman like you need them for?”
“I don’t need them at all. Other people need me.”
“And what about what you need? Does anyone think of that?”
“I-I don’t think so, no,” she said softly, never having viewed it that way before.
“Remember that,” he said just as softly. “The next time you make a slip of the tongue.”
TWO MINUTES before Cami’s date was scheduled to arrive, Tanner came into the kitchen. He was covered in dust from head to toe.
“Demo is a messy business,” he said apologetically. “We’ve tried to keep the mess to the back portion of the place.”
And he had. He’d used plastic and tarps, always careful not to track the dirt to the usable end of the house. As one who hated to clean, Cami appreciated it. “You’ve been great,” she said, preening a little, wondering what he thought.
He wasn’t even looking at her, darn him. He’d grabbed his water jug and was chugging from it, not noticing what she’d done with herself.
Ever since puberty, which had happened unfortunately young for Cami, men had been noticing her body first, her mind a far second. Not Tanner.
She didn’t know why it mattered exactly, when she had already decided he wasn’t her type, but she wanted him to look at her, wanted some sort of appreciation. She wore a sundress and strappy sandals, both of which managed, by some miracle, to hide the fact that her scale had groaned under her just that morning.
She knew she looked good. And for once, she wanted to be noticed-by Tanner.
Slowly he lowered the water jug. “You look…”
“Dressed?” she asked with a self-deprecatory smile, referring to the towel incident.
“Well, yes. Dressed.” His brows were knit together in displeasure. “Why can’t you just back out?”
“Well…I guess I seem to have a little trouble with the word no.”
“HMM.” Tanner leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, studying her. She was a puzzle to him. One, she had trouble with no. That was interesting, especially since he’d seen her coax his workers to her slightest whim. He’d heard her on the phone with subcontractors, bulldozing her way through yards of red tape. And when it came to her opinions on paints, materials or colors, don’t get her started. Two, she wasn’t a meek woman, or a quiet, mousy one, so it was fascinating, and frustrating, to him that she let the people she cared about walk all over her. “That must be interesting,” he said casually. “At the end of all these blind dates, not being able to say no.”
As always when he baited her, her nose went to the sky. “I manage just fine then, thank you very much.”