The Dare Collection July 2019. Nicola Marsh
would you have done if I wasn’t here and you broke your leg?”
“At that angle, I’m more likely to break an arm.” When he just glowered at her, she huffed out a breath. “My phone is right there, within easy reach.” She pointed at the ladder. “If I didn’t topple the ladder when I fell, and for some reason I wasn’t able to stand, I would have kicked it over, retrieved my phone and called for help. Happy?”
Fuck no, he wasn’t happy. The woman was obviously crazy, because she didn’t seem the least bit concerned with that scenario. Cameron crossed his arms over his chest. “If I leave right now, you’re going to climb right back up that ladder and finish painting, aren’t you?”
“No?”
He growled. “If you’re going to lie, at least try to pretend you’re not fishing for the right answer.” He gave up his happy thoughts about the pizza place down the block from his apartment. There was no way he could leave this woman unsupervised. He’d spend the rest of the night worried that she’d fallen again and he hadn’t been there to catch her, and there would be no rest and a whole lot of indigestion in his future. Cameron stalked around the ladder, testing its stability. Should be fine as long as no one stands on the top of the damn thing. He pointed at the untouched brush near the paint can. “You’re on edges.”
“Actually, I—”
“You’re on edges,” he repeated, staring her down. “I’ll handle this.”
Trish opened her mouth, drawing his attention to her pink lipstick. He’d never had a thing for painted lips before, but the bright pigment made the sharp Cupid’s bow of her top lip stand out against her skin and... For fuck’s sake, she’s got freckles. She was downright adorable, and that should be enough to banish any thoughts of getting his hands on her perfectly rounded ass or kissing her until she forgot about whatever argument she was obviously debating delivering.
It wasn’t.
He wanted her, and hell if that didn’t complicate things.
Cameron hadn’t bothered to date in longer than he cared to think about. It was so much goddamn work getting to know another person. Most of them ended up storming off before the second date because he said something wrong. Or he didn’t talk enough. Or he talked too much about work because, God forbid, that wasn’t a safe subject, either. It was exhausting just thinking about it, and he hadn’t met anyone tempting enough to make him want to run that particular gauntlet. Easy enough to scratch the itch in loud bars where talking was the last thing on either his or his prospective partner’s mind, but even that had gotten tiresome recently.
If he’d run into Trish on the street, he might have asked her out. Might have let her obvious enthusiasm and sunny attitude wash over him.
But she worked for him. What was more, her big brother was one of the few people in this world who not only put up with Cameron’s bullshit without expecting him to change but also was a genuine friend.
He might want Trish, but she was the one woman he couldn’t touch.
TRISH DIDN’T KNOW what to think of Cameron, but after looking like he wanted to give her a blistering lecture, he just picked up the paint roller, glared at her and got to work. She watched him climb the ladder and gave herself a shake. Staring at her boss’s shoulders was not going to get this room painted before midnight. He obviously wasn’t willing to listen to reason or let her do the job she was hired for, so she might as well take advantage of the extra set of hands.
Unsurprisingly, Cameron wasn’t much of a chatterbox and every time she tried to talk to him, she only got grunts or one-word answers in response.
She gave up. Not forever. But it was kind of nice to just paint and not have to worry about being chipper. There was no relaxing, though—not with Cameron taking up too much space in the front office. Every time she moved, she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He moved with perfect precision, each roll of the paint even and uniform.
It took two hours to finish up, and part of Trish was almost sad to end the companionable silence. She stood back and pushed her hair away from her face with her forearm. “Oh yeah, this is the right color.”
Cameron surveyed it as if he were a color expert. Hell, maybe he was. His brows furrowed. “It’s strangely pleasing.”
“That’s the point.” She placed her brush in the paint tray and started gathering up the various supplies scattered around the room. The tape would come off in the morning and then she’d touch up as needed, but she had a feeling there would be little of that necessary. Cameron was too much of a perfectionist to leave drips anywhere, which served her just fine.
She straightened and realized he was still watching her. His dark eyes studied her face as if he could divine her thoughts. Cameron frowned harder. “What are your plans for the front office?”
So now we have questions?
She bit back the sarcastic response and smiled. “This is the first impression clients get when they walk through the doors, so I want it to be welcoming and designed to set them at ease.” Trish’s main degree was in sales, but she’d gotten a minor in design. Her dream might be to eventually work in corporate fashion, but she knew how to use that skill set to set the tone of a room—and help people choose clothing that would make them happy. Not that she got to use the latter at all these days.
“We usually meet clients off-site.”
“Yes, I’m aware. But that wastes time in transit and Aaron mentioned that there’s a boardroom perfectly suitable for conducting meetings.” Though, considering the state of the front office, she hadn’t had the heart to check out that room yet to see what perfectly suitable meant. There would no doubt be more painting in her future, but hopefully it at least had furniture that was acceptable.
Cameron seemed to consider that and looked around the room again. “Tell me your plans.” A tiny hesitation. “Please.”
He’s trying. Throw him a bone. Aaron had warned her that Cameron didn’t bother with the social niceties, which set most people on edge, but his abruptness had still caught her off guard. If he was going to make an effort, though, she could do the same.
Trish walked over to stand in front of the door to the elevator. “Come here.”
He gave her a look like he thought she was trying to put one over on him but joined her in facing the room. His shoulder brushed hers, sending shivers through her body that she couldn’t quite control. He was just so big. Big and overwhelming and he smelled really good. He’s your boss, Trish. Slow your roll.
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Imagine this. You walk in and are instantly put at ease by the soothing green. I can make the desk work, but there will be a grouping of new chairs there.” She pointed to one side of the office. “And a smaller one there.” On the opposite side. “The window facing the street brings in enough light to justify some kind of plant, but I haven’t decided what will be the best fit. Probably one on each side of the window to create balance. A small water fixture on the other side in the corner. Some kind of art on the wall behind my desk, and maybe on another wall or two, though I haven’t decided yet.”
“Lots of changes.”
He sounded neutral enough, but she couldn’t help straightening her spine and lifting her chin. “Yes, but that’s what I was hired to do—create the best client-facing aspect of this business as possible. That starts with first impressions. You and Aaron have a company that’s one of the best in the business, and as silly as it might seem, presentation matters. Meeting in secondary locations is fine, but this is better.”
“One condition.” He kept going before she had a chance to protest. “No more painting alone.”