‘Extreme.’ I say, studying this magnificent man of an age I don’t know.
‘Very extreme,’ he confirms quietly. My breath catches again and I close my eyes, mentally yelling at myself for being such a loser. ‘Shall we continue?’ he asks. I can hear humour in his voice.
I open my eyes to be met by his penetrating, green stare. ‘Yes, please.’
I wish he would stop looking at me like that. He half smiles again and walks into the bar, greeting the men I saw earlier by clapping them on the shoulders. The woman is no longer here. The two men are very attractive, young – probably late twenties – and perched on bar stools, drinking bottles of beer.
‘Guys, this is Ava. Ava, this is Sam Kelt and Drew Davies.’
‘Good afternoon.’ Drew drawls. He’s a bit miserable. His appearance – he’s handsome in a rugged kind of way – and character, tell me he’s smart, confident and a business type. His black hair is perfectly styled, his suit pristine, his eyes shrewd.
‘Hi.’ I smile politely.
‘Welcome to the pleasure dome,’ Sam laughs, raising his bottle. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
I notice Ward shake his head lightly on an eye roll. Sam grins. He’s the polar opposite of Drew – all casual and laid back, in old jeans, a Superdry T-shirt and converse. He has a cheeky face, complimented by one dimple on his left cheek. His blue eyes twinkle, adding to his cheekiness, and his mousey brown, shoulder length hair is all over the place.
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’ I answer.
He nods at Ward. ‘Jesse?’
‘No, I’m good, I‘m just giving Ava a tour of the extension. She’ll be working on the interiors.’ he says, smiling at me.
I quietly scoff to myself. Not if I have anything to do with it. Anyway, he’s jumping the gun a bit, isn’t he? We’ve not discussed rates, briefs or anything, for that matter.
‘About time, there are never any rooms available.’ Drew grumbles into his bottle. Why have I never heard of this place?
‘How was the boarding in Cortina, my man?’ Sam asks.
Ward perches on another stool. ‘Amazing. The Italian way of skiing follows pretty closely to their laid back lifestyle,’ He smiles broadly, the first proper full beam smile since I’ve laid eyes on him – all straight, white and lush. This man is a God. ‘I got up late, found a great mountain, ran the slopes until my legs buckled, had a siesta, ate late and started all over again the next day.’ He’s addressing us all but staring at me. His passion for the slopes is demonstrated in his wide smile.
I can’t help but return his beam. ‘You’re good?’ I ask, because it’s the only thing that comes to mind. I imagine he’s good at everything.
‘Very,’ he confirms quietly. I nod my approval, and for a few seconds, our eyes are locked. I’m the first to break it. ‘Shall we?’ he asks, pushing himself up from the stool and gesturing towards the exit.
‘Yes.’ I smile. I’m supposedly here to work, after all. All I’ve achieved so far is a hot flush and an establishment of extreme sports. I feel like I’m in a trance.
From the moment I pulled up to those gates, I knew it wasn’t going to be an average day to day meeting, and I was right. In the four years I’ve been visiting people in their homes, work places and new builds, I’ve never come across a Jesse Ward. I probably never will do again. It’s undoubtedly a good job.
I turn to the two guys at the bar, smiling my goodbye, prompting them to raise their bottles before they continue with their conversation. I walk towards the door that leads back to the entrance hall, feeling him close behind me. He’s too close; I can smell him. I close my eyes, sending a small prayer to God to get me through this quickly, with at least a bit of dignity intact. He’s just way too intense and it’s throwing my senses in a million different directions.
‘So, now for the main feature,’ He begins to climb the wide staircase. I follow him, gazing around the colossal void that leads to a huge gallery landing. ‘These are the private rooms.’ he says, pointing to various doors that lead off of the landing.
I follow, admiring his lovely backside, thinking he possibly has the sexiest walk I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. When I drag my eyes from his tidy rear, I see that there are at least twenty doors, evenly spaced and leading into rooms beyond. He leads me until we reach another grand staircase that stretches to another floor. At the foot of the stairs, there’s a beautiful stained glass window and an archway leading to another wing.
‘This is the extension,’ He guides me through to a new section of the mansion. ‘This is where I need your help.’ he adds, halting at the mouth of a corridor that leads to a further ten rooms.
‘This is all new?’ I ask.
‘Yes, they’re all shells at the moment, but I’m sure you’ll remedy that. Let me show you.’
I’m way past shocked when he takes my hand, tugging me down the corridor to the very last door. Inappropriate! His hand is still clammy, and I’m sure mine is trembling in his grip. The arched brow on a slight grin he flashes me, tells me I’m right. There’s some sort of super charged current flowing through us – it’s making me shudder.
He opens the door, directing me into a freshly plastered room. It’s vast, and the new windows are sympathetic to the existing property. Whoever built this did an excellent job.
‘Are they all this big?’ I ask, flexing my fingers until he releases my hand. Does he behave like this with all females? It’s really off putting.
‘Yes.’
I walk into the centre of the room, looking around. It’s a good size. I notice another door. ‘En-suite?’ I ask as I wander over and enter.
‘Yes.’
The rooms are huge, especially by hotel standards. A lot could be done with them. I would be excited, if I wasn’t so concerned with what’s expected of me. This is no Lusso. I exit the bathroom, finding Ward leaning against the wall, his hands in his trouser pockets, his eyes all hooded and dark as he watches me. My God, the man is sex on legs. I’m almost disappointed that traditional doesn’t feature in my design history. It’s of no interest to me at all.
‘I’m not sure I’m the right person for this job.’ I sound regretful. That’s okay, because I am. I’m regretful that I can’t pull myself together. He looks at me, those sludgy eyes stabbing at my defenses, making me shift on my heels.
‘I think you have what I want.’ he says quietly.
WHOA! ‘I’ve always dealt in modern luxury,’ I look around the room again, slowly dropping my eyes back to him. ‘I’m sure you would be happier working with Patrick or Tom. They deal with our period projects.’
He considers me for a second, does that head shake thing and pushes himself away from the wall by his shoulder blades. ‘But I want you.’
‘Why?’
‘You look like you’ll be very good.’
An involuntary rush of breath escapes my lips at his words. I’m not sure what to make of that statement. Does he mean for my design skills or something else? The way he’s looking at me, tells me it’s the latter. He’s a bit bloody confident.
‘What’s your brief?’ I ask, because all other words fail me. My colour is rising again.
A smile tickles the corners of his mouth. ‘Sensual, intimate, luxurious, stimulating, invigorating…’ He pauses to gage my reaction.
I frown. It’s not the usual brief. Relaxing, functional or practical were not mentioned at all. ‘Okay, anything in particular I should allow for?’ I ask. Why am I bothering with these questions?
‘A big bed and lots of wall hangings.’ he states on a husk.
‘What sort of wall hangings?’
‘Big, wooden ones. Oh, and the lighting needs to suit.’
‘Suit what?’ I can’t help the confusion in my tone.
He smiles, and I dissolve on the spot in a hot pool of hormones. ‘Well, the brief, of course.’
Oh God, he must think I’m something else. ‘Yes, of course,’ I look up, seeing chunky beams spanning the ceiling. The building is new, but they are no faux beams. ‘Do all of the rooms have them?’ I return my eyes to his.