“I’d stay, but I’m not exactly the build-a-room type,” Kathy said as she prepared to leave. “Everyone else has gone home. I’ll lock up, Greg, but I won’t set the alarm.”
Tara started to slip off her coat. Kathy ducked her head, but not before Greg saw her smile of approval as she went out the front. “You don’t have to do this.” He gave the pile of wood a quick glance. “I can erect the walls on the floor, then stand them up. It’s not as hard as it might seem, and they’re small rooms.”
“I’ve helped my mother with a lot of DIY projects,” Tara replied. She grabbed an old sweater from the office and pulled it on to protect the nice clothes she’d worn that day. “And it’s not in my nature to walk away when a friend needs a hand.”
He stopped laying wood at designated spots on the floor and looked up at her. “What if I want to be more than a friend, Tara? Would you walk away then?”
She had been moving toward him, but then she paused, looking down. “I—”
“Because—” He stood and halved the distance between them. “I managed to stay away all week, when what I wanted to do was drop in here, pretend to help, and see you. Just you. So why don’t you look me in the eye and tell me you feel the same way, and then . . .” He smiled and stroked the curve of her cheek with one finger. “Then . . .”
He glanced at her mouth, took a half step closer, and waited, because after staying away for days, the last thing Greg wanted to do was take a step back when he was this close to kissing Tara Simonetti.
Wasn’t that what she’d hoped all week too? For Greg to show up and share a smile or a coffee or a lifetime of happiness?
Greg moved closer, until she had to tip her gaze up to meet his eyes, and when she did, the most natural thing in the world was to wonder what it would be like . . .
He didn’t leave her wondering long. He wrapped his arms around her slowly, drawing her in, his gaze on hers.
He smiled.
And then he kissed her, cradling her in the strength of his arms while the aromas of fresh-cut lumber and spicy guy-soap filled her senses.
This couldn’t be wrong. Not when it felt so absolutely right. And yet, how could two people with polar opposite goals come to common ground?
He paused the kiss and pulled her in for a long, slow hug. “Tara.”
He breathed the name as if imprinting his soul, the husky word making her feel precious and beloved.
The desk phone rang. Tara moved to get it, but Greg held her hands. “The machine’s on; it’s after hours.”
The phone quit ringing. But then his cell phone buzzed. He scowled, checked the readout, and stepped away. “Gotta take this.”
She watched him stride away, all business, as awareness hit home. Work always came first with the Gregs of this world. It was better to understand that now and not let amazing kisses tempt her into settling for second place or standing witness to his power quest. A man who drew her heart with such fierceness wouldn’t just break her heart if things went bad. He’d shatter it.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then picked up her jacket, scribbled a note, and slipped out the front door while he took the call.
Her cell phone rang as she trudged toward Germantown Avenue. She grabbed it out, certain it was Greg.
It wasn’t.
She let the call go to voice mail and walked home—cold, wet, and disheartened. Greg was wired to put work first, always.
She wasn’t built that way, and better to find that out now. But oh, how she wished it were different.
Because she could have spent a lifetime enjoying long, slow kisses like the one they shared tonight.
“I’ll be there, Nettie, first thing in the morning.”
“Not first thing,” the director of the Old City Mission corrected Greg smoothly. “There are church services goin’ on first thing Sunday, and the neighborin’ churches have invited us to come by and worship with them, even though most of my regulars don’t have Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes at their disposal. We’ll meet after services, and I thank you, Gregory. I didn’t have a prayer of winnin’ this fight ’til you came on board. I speak for all of us when I say we are humbly grateful.”
“I’m glad to help.” He meant the words sincerely, even though grandstanding for charity broke new legal ground for him.
He finished up his phone call with the Old City Mission director and hurried back to Tara.
She was gone.
Greg spotted the note, read the short missive, then stared around the small construction area and back at the note again. Had to go. Sorry.
The front door opened. He moved that way, glad she had returned, but it was Kathy who bustled through the door. She waved a hand and hurried to the front desk. “My keys! I got all the way home and realized I left my house keys in the top drawer. What was I thinking?”
“I’d have run them over.”
She frowned at the pile of wood. “I called but no one answered, and I decided you’ve got enough on your plate tonight. Where’s your buddy?”
“Gone.”