Right Where He Belongs. Rebecca Russell
created a heat in his body to rival the scorching sun of a Texas summer. He stiffened, too surprised by the incredible chemistry to move. How could a gesture, obviously meant to comfort, set him on fire?
No. He didn’t want her unexpected touch and kind words, and he definitely didn’t want anything or anyone to complicate his stay in New Haven.
“Mr. Frank liked to huff and puff a lot, but he was a pussycat inside.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Or a lion.” Time had failed to soften Tanner’s memory of the old man with the fierce eyes and bellowing voice. His grandfather had acted as if he were king of the jungle; he demanded compliance and punished those who dared to defy him.
Cassie quickly pulled her hand away from Tanner’s arm, stunned to discover that touching him had the effect of tossing a match on turpentine. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. His dark good looks had already thrown her off balance. He had hair the color of wrought iron and his eyes were Gondola Blue. The deep, rich color, her favorite, made her long for a romantic getaway to Venice where she’d ride a gondola with her lover….
“Anyway,” she continued, desperate to organize her thoughts. “Your grandfather arranged to have the exterior painted, the porch and roof repaired and the new kitchen floor installed.” She nervously gestured toward the sink. “He insisted that this room be functional before you arrived, knew he didn’t—didn’t have much time left,” she said, her voice faltering.
Darn it. She swore she wouldn’t get all weepy. But she missed the old coot who’d been her mentor as well as her friend.
She took a deep breath and stacked the tarps near the door, then slid tools into the numerous pockets of her overalls. “Would you like me to clear this all out each day, or leave it?”
“Leave it. The job will go quicker.”
“Okay. If you don’t mind a little clutter and dust, this room is useable. Or you can use the dining room as a makeshift kitchen until I’m done.”
“How long?” He gestured around the room. “I don’t want anything to interfere with my plans for a quick sell.”
Cassie flinched. “It sounds like you made up your mind before you even saw the house.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Tanner was obviously going to make her other job difficult. Just before he had died, Mr. Frank had confided in her the details of his regretful past. He had made it very clear that he alone had ruined Tanner’s chance to know and feel a part of his family’s history. Cassie had a hard time believing Mr. Frank could’ve ever acted so vengefully, but the pain in his eyes told the truth. “Sounds pretty ungrateful to me,” she challenged. “Your grandfather didn’t have to leave you the house and—”
“I’m sure there was the usual selfish reason behind it.”
Tanner couldn’t be more wrong. Until his final breath, Mr. Frank had hoped that his pleading letters to his grandson would bring forgiveness and a chance to meet. But time had run out.
Mr. Frank had asked her to spend the thirty days trying to convince Tanner to forgive his grandfather, in order to accept his birthright. This was one promise she intended to keep.
“If you think you can’t make the deadline, Ms. Leighton, I’ll get someone else on the job.”
She would not let him rattle her. “Call me Cassie, and don’t worry. I’ll be done in plenty of time. Ten to fourteen days, depending on what you want done. I’m sure you have other business to take care of first, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll come by tomorrow and strip the wallpaper.”
“On Saturday?”
She shrugged. “It’s one of my busiest days. Just keep in mind, if you want any painting done in here, that’s done first. Then the walls will have to be prepped, so it could be a couple of days to a week before we put up the new wallpaper. During that time you can go over paint and paper samples. We can meet at my office downtown or I can bring them here.”
He stared at her in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”
“You can make any changes to the house you want to. Your grandfather gave you authorization so you wouldn’t have to wait the thirty days.”
“It’s bad enough I have to live in this house for a month before I can unload it. I don’t care what you do about any wallpaper or paint.”
She produced a broom from a closet, a task she’d performed many times before. Grateful to have something in her hands, she restored order to the room. While she worked, she stole glances at the tall, handsome man with the lean, yet muscular build.
Mr. Frank had shown her several grainy photos of his grandson along with a written report provided by the private investigator hired to keep tabs on Tanner over the years. But a picture didn’t reveal intensity or Tanner’s true essence.
“Hold on. How did you know about the live-in clause?”
Cassie heard the cold, quiet strength behind his casual question. She shivered. He might look like his father, but he had his grandfather’s suspicious nature.
“Your grandfather told me. But even if he hadn’t, New Haven has an incredible grapevine. Rule number one in a small town—no secrets allowed. You’ll get used to it after a while, Mr. Fairfax.”
“Call me Tanner. Mr. Fairfax was my dad. And I won’t be here long enough to get used to anything.”
We’ll see about that. Tanner might have outsider written all over him—the way he carried himself, the way he had flinched when she’d touched his arm, the guarded look in his eyes—but he belonged in New Haven; he belonged at Fairfax House. He just didn’t know it yet.
Cassie knew firsthand how a sense of roots provided emotional comfort, because she’d been given such a gift. The town, its people, were home. If Mr. Frank hadn’t disowned his son, Tanner would have been born and raised in New Haven and received the blessing of roots as well.
Mr. Frank had insisted that Cassie was the only person who could help him right such a wrong, since she couldn’t imagine being happy anywhere else.
A person made of stone might have refused to help. She, on the other hand, was made up entirely of mush. Mush, with a grain of selfishness. Deep down, she knew that she had agreed to help for another reason. Years ago, she had failed to keep a promise she’d made to her father just before he died. Finally, she had a chance to prove her word meant something.
She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room, including her. Especially her. She shivered again and recalled her explosive reaction earlier to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.
A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: while Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.
Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type. She preferred easygoing and quick to smile.
“This place will need updating in order to sell,” Tanner said, a welcome interruption to her disturbing train of thought. “I want to get moving on this. Since you’re coming tomorrow anyway, go ahead and bring samples of what’s hot right now.”
She frowned as she brushed her fingertips over the faded, water-stained wallpaper. Such a grand house deserved more than the latest color or decorating fad. But the new owner’s determination to take the money and run concerned her more.
She could easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also.
“Unless you have