He strode toward the house and bound up the few steps separating them, dropping a casual kiss on her cheek. That was another thing about Shamus that was disconcerting—he was always touching her. Not in any big way, but light brushes of his hands over her shoulders or at the small of her back. He always kissed her when he arrived and when he left—a quick peck on her cheek or, occasionally, her lips, which always left her yearning for more.
For a woman who'd always shied away from shows of physical affection, it was a revelation to find herself wanting more. Her father had shown affection in public, putting on the big display for those around, but behind closed doors, his touch had been anything but loving. She shivered again, this time with revulsion as memories bombarded her.
"You okay?” Shamus wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the door. “You shouldn't be outside without a jacket. You'll catch a chill.” He had her inside before she realized it.
"I'm fine,” she snapped, shaking off his arm. She wasn't some witless female who needed a man to look after her. She'd been standing on her own two feet for years now.
He ignored her outburst and casually removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack just inside the door. “What have you been up to this morning?” She could see the genuine interest in his eyes and realized that she was being bitchy with him for no reason.
Cyndi had forced herself to go through the house room by room this morning, making note of the furniture she wanted to get rid of, which was most of it, and deciding what she wanted to do with each room. She held up her clipboard. “I've been deciding what to do with everything in this place."
The smile disappeared from his face. “Come to any decisions?"
"We can talk over lunch. Come on back.” Turning, she led the way to the kitchen. Shamus was right behind her, his heavy work boots making a reassuring thud on the floor. No Italian, leather shoes or three-piece suit for this man. For some reason, that made Cyndi smile.
Laying her clipboard aside, she waved him over to one of the sturdy oak stools surrounding the end of the granite counter. It made a cozy eating area and wasn't as formal as the dining room, but wasn't quite as intimate as the kitchen nook. Shamus slid onto the stool as she pulled out the sandwiches and chips. It didn't take her long to pour the iced tea and arrange their dessert on a fancy plate. When there was nothing else left to be done, she took the stool across from him.
Shamus picked up his ham and cheese sandwich and took a large bite. He chewed slowly and finally swallowed, making his Adam's apple bob. Realizing that she was watching him eat, Cyndi turned away, grabbed a chip, and stuffed it in her mouth.
"So, tell me more about what you've been up to this morning.” Shamus reached for his glass. Cyndi watched as he raised it to his mouth. She almost groaned when his lips parted. This had to stop. The man was wreaking havoc with her emotions and her hormones.
Grabbing her clipboard, she flipped it open to the first page. “First, I need to go through every room. There's a ton of clothing in my father's room and in my old one.” Her fingers tightened around her pen, but she continued undaunted. “Then there's all this furniture."
Shamus laid his glass back down on the counter and propped his elbows on the granite. He rested his chin on his hands, giving up any pretense of eating. “What about the furniture?"
"It's...well, it's formal and dark and ugly.” She hated the stuff.
A grin kicked up one corner of Shamus’ mouth. “All that?” She could tell he was teasing her, but she was deadly serious.
"Yes, all that. I detest the stuff.” Grabbing a chip, she bit down hard on it and chewed.
Shamus shrugged. “Then get rid of it."
Once again, she was reminded of how different Shamus was. Her father would have insisted that the furniture was an investment. Her ex-husband would have agreed with her father. Good, antique furniture always appreciated in value, both of them would have said.
She knew it wasn't that Shamus didn't understand the value of the pieces. He was a carpenter and had already shown his knowledge, commenting on several antique pieces from the eighteen-hundreds. It was his mindset that was different. As far as he was concerned, if she didn't like it, it should go. It really was that simple to him.
"I've been thinking about calling an auction house that I know in Vermont and getting them to come and have a look. I think that they would jump and run here for this much quality furniture."
"Then do it if it will make you feel better."
She tapped her pen on her notes. “I think I will.” A weight lifted from her shoulders now that she'd finally made her decision. This was her house now. She could do whatever she darn well wanted with the house and its contents.
Shamus reached across the counter and closed her fingers around her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What are you going to do with the house?"
"I could sell it, but it probably would take a while. This is a huge, historic home and takes a lot to upkeep.” Cyndi hadn't told anyone that she planned to stay in Jamesville. It wasn't that she was being secretive, not really. She'd had years of practice at keeping her thoughts to herself, and it was hard to break the habit. Still, she had no idea how Shamus would take the idea of her staying in Jamesville permanently
"It's well-constructed, and as you said, historic, so you'd probably find a buyer eventually. If that's what you want.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper, his fingers stroked the back of her hand.
She could feel that simple touch all throughout her body. It was as if every nerve ending connected to that small patch of skin on the back of her hand. Her breasts felt heavy and an ache began low in her belly. “It would make sense.” She'd meant for her voice to be strong and assured. Instead, it was sultry and soft.
"Very sensible,” he agreed as he entwined her fingers with his.
She nodded, trying to remember what they'd been talking about. Oh yes, the house. “I could invest the money."
"Investing is good.” Shamus used his thumb to stroke her palm. “Then you could take your time and decide what you want to do next."
"I already know what I'm going to do.” She blurted out the words and Shamus froze. He sat back, slowly releasing her hand. Her fingers closed tight as if trying to keep the sensation of his touch from dissipating.
"You're leaving.” His tone was flat, his words blunt.
She shook her head, took a deep breath, and spilled what had been in her mind for several days now. “I'm renovating this place and turning it into a B & B."
She held her breath and fiddled with her pen, waiting for him to respond. It was a sound idea. She'd been in the hotel business for years and had worked at several B & B's as well as a couple of classy hotels. She knew this industry inside and out. It would also give her the opportunity to become a solid member of the local business community.
"It's a lot of work,” he began, but she cut him off before he could go any further.
"I know it's a lot of work. I'm not stupid,” she snapped.
His brows drew together in a frown. “You're anything but stupid, Cyndi. It's just that most people have no idea what they're letting themselves in for when they take on a renovation project this large. Plus, running what amounts to a small hotel is not easy work."
She straightened her shoulders and launched into the plan she'd formulated. “I've worked in this business for more than ten years. If there's one thing I do know, it's how to run a bed and breakfast. Most of the work on this place is cosmetic—new paint, some minor repairs and maybe some updated plumbing. I need to go through the attic, but I've already had a quick glance and I think it has most of the furniture I'd need. It's stuff my father didn't like, but it's lighter and friendlier than the furniture that's filling the house now. The sale of what I don't want would offset the cost of the renovations. I could be up and running early in the new year, maybe sooner."