Wife by Design. Tara Taylor Quinn
knowledge away. Yet she’d shied away earlier, when he leaned in too close. He’d never dealt firsthand with a battered woman before, and while he’d assured the gorgeous nurse that he and Darin would behave with impeccable decorum, while his brother’s future depended on them doing so, he’d just realized that he had no idea what that decorum required.
“Darin has his moments, but overall he handles his situation with the dignity and class that I’ve always associated with him,” he said, keeping his voice level down, his tone easy.
One hall led to another and they entered a large, upscale lobby complete with a shiny black baby grand piano set on a dais that dominated about a quarter of the room.
“It’s great when situations like these bring out the best in people. It could just as easily have brought out the worst.” Lynn sounded like a doctor on rounds with med students. Or at least what Grant imagined one would sound like.
“I can’t honestly tell you what Darin’s worst is. Except maybe taking too much on himself. Which, I’m told, brings on the depression. He can’t stand being a burden to me. Or anyone.”
The look she gave him was a bit unsettling, as though she was reading more into his words than he’d put there.
“So you take him to work with you so he feels like he’s contributing,” she said. “That can’t be easy, trying to run a business and watching out for Darin at the same time.”
He didn’t like the way her statement made him feel. As if he had a problem. “Darin’s a big help.” He set her straight on that one. “Even in his childlike moments he can perform the simple tasks accurately.”
As he spoke, his voice rose a bit, and Grant noticed the women milling in the areas around them. Some stared. A couple bowed their heads. One faded away down a hall, giving real meaning to the phrase “fading into the woodwork.”
“I’m sorry,” he said more softly. “Was I too loud?”
“You’re fine.” Her smile made him uncomfortable again. In an entirely different fashion. Grant didn’t have a lot of opportunity for sex in his life, or women in general. But he liked them.
And he liked this particular woman a lot.
“You’re with me,” she said, as though that explained everything.
Maybe it did. These women trusted her.
“That’s why we’re walking all these hallways, isn’t it?” he asked, eyeing her with new respect. “You’re showing them that I’m trustworthy.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean they won’t be afraid.”
He nodded. And frowned, too, feeling as if he should be able to do something to help.
He was there to do landscaping. Nothing more.
“I’ll keep my distance,” he assured his companion as they entered yet another hallway, this one a bit narrower but still oversized, with closed doors lining both sides.
Lynn stopped before one and knocked. “It’s okay to talk to anyone here,” she told him. “As long as they speak with you first. Our residents need to feel safe, but they also need to be able to interact with men. The world they’ll be going back to is full of them.”
She smiled and, when her knock wasn’t answered, opened the door.
“You know we did background checks on you and your brother this week,” she was saying, reminding him of the permission he’d granted several days before when he’d stopped in to finalize details and paperwork for the day’s appointments. “And Dr. Zimmer vouched for you, as well. You wouldn’t be here if the staff had concerns about our residents being exposed to either one of you. We have four full-time security guards, all women, and three part-timers, two of whom are men. So there’s someone here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The bungalows all have panic buttons in them and everyone has Security on their speed dial.”
Made sense.
They were in an office—of sorts. There was a desk in one section, but it didn’t dominate the room.
“This is Lila’s office,” Lynn said, brushing a strand of hair back over her shoulder in a movement that was completely feminine—and drew his attention to her...womanliness.
The rest of the place looked like a formal living room in a wonderfully kept, warm and inviting home, with off-white couches, maroon pillows, a vase of roses on the glass coffee table and mirrors with gilded accents on the walls.
Grant was wearing leather work boots and the jeans he’d had on when he’d dug holes at six that morning to mark where a brick fence would be going.
If she was planning to ask him to have a seat, he’d have to come up with a tactful way to decline.
She turned to face the wall, holding the door they’d come through. “This map shows you The Lemonade Stand premises in its entirety,” she said, walking up to a framed three-dimensional aerial photograph that was taller than he was and almost the width of the office.
Grant studied the scaled-to-size model of a complex that was twice as massive as he’d imagined.
And exquisitely laid out.
At one time, he’d had dreams of designing properties just like this one, and he was kind of jazzed at the thought of working on one again. Getting his hands dirty.
And maybe updating and making improvements, too, if...
He was getting ahead of himself. He mentioned flower beds, underground irrigation, fruit trees, all things that he imagined he was looking at but couldn’t be sure.
“I’m sorry, I―”
“It’s not a problem,” Grant assured her, realizing that while Lynn understood the aesthetics of the grounds, she knew absolutely nothing about the technicalities of the job he had in store for him. “All I need is a walk around the place and I’ll find my answers.” He felt like grinning when the frown cleared from her brow.
She wasn’t wearing any makeup.
He couldn’t remember if she’d had makeup on the day he’d spent with her in the hospital four years before. But he thought so.
Her hair had been curled then, too, now that he thought about it. Gathered loosely in the back by some kind of clip. Darin had pulled on a curl, laughing when it sprang back, and Grant had stepped up, preparing to take accountability for his brother if the nurse had been offended. Instead, she’d let Darin pull the curl again and laughed with him this time.
Today her hair was as it had been when he’d seen her the week before. Pulled back tight into a ponytail, with the exception of that one small piece that had escaped and kept falling over her shoulder.
The change, between four years ago and now, made him curious, but no less attracted to her.
CHAPTER SIX
“DADDY GIVED ME this and I named him Sammy and then Daddy taked me to see el’phants but he spit and I got scared and Daddy picked me up and then he sucked water up his nooosse....” Kara’s sweet little voice erupted in giggles. It was the following Saturday afternoon, almost a week since Darin and Grant Bishop had descended on The Lemonade Stand with their charm and kindness. A long week.
Brandon’s gaze met Lynn’s as she took the teddy bear her daughter handed her and stood back to let the two inside the bungalow Kara and Lynn shared. She looked away first. Quickly.
She’d just gotten off the phone with her folks, who lived in Denver to be close to Katie and her kids. Her mom didn’t blame Brandon for his sexual preferences but didn’t understand why he’d chosen to leave his family rather than ignore his gay tendencies. She’d been after Lynn to start dating again.
It was a continuous go-nowhere conversation.
“I took her to