Illustrate with examples, Will, to show you at least know something...
‘Dad gave her one of our hub hotels to do when she was more or less straight out of college. Budget rooms—compact, you know—but she came up with some ingenious designs to make the most of the space, then styled the hell out of it so the rooms looked top class...’ Sage-green walls, splashes of orange in the soft furnishings and en suite bathrooms, setting off the white bedding, adding a bit of on-point zing to the ubiquitous white bathroom suite. Green and orange! He felt a beat of recognition. She clearly had a thing for green and orange.
Julia’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Well, space won’t be an issue here. There’s nothing compact about this building.’ And then she was shifting her stance, altering her demeanour, smiling a broad, welcoming smile. ‘Quinn! How lovely to meet you! Are your ears burning?’
Quinn took Julia’s outstretched hand in both of hers. ‘Lovely to meet you too, Julia.’ And then she was turning to meet his gaze, her own suddenly tentative. ‘Hi, Will.’
Eyes... Lips... One corkscrew curl lighter than the rest, tumbling from a place somewhere north of her left eyebrow. But where were the words? The simple reply he’d felt rising but couldn’t find now because somehow, he was flying backwards in his mind to Dad’s sixtieth, seeing her in silver again, seeing her smile, her glow, feeling that same traitorous tug inside, that same intolerable craving.
And then it was too late. She was turning back to Julia, smiling full beam, a little chuckle in her voice. ‘Why would my ears be burning?’
Julia laughed. ‘Because Will’s been singing your praises to the high heavens, that’s why.’
Outrageous exaggeration!
‘Is that right?’ Her gaze came back, holding him, turning a quizzical second into an agonising hour, and then she was smiling at Julia again, blushing a little, the way she had in the boardroom when he’d complimented her for volunteering at the homeless shelter. ‘That’s very nice to hear...’
He felt resistance scrambling up his walls, an urge to say that she shouldn’t read anything into it, but then, just as quickly as it came, the urge was gone. So what if Quinn was surprised, flattered? She was a good designer, did have a good eye. Whatever else he felt about her, he wasn’t above acknowledging that.
And hey, wasn’t this what being calm and reasonable looked like, felt like? Hadn’t he spent the last few days telling himself that, no matter how much it went against the grain, this was the way he had to be with Quinn now, because getting the best out of her, getting her full cooperation—aka speedy cooperation—was going to be a whole lot easier if he squashed his animosity flat and jumped through the wretched hoops Dad had set out for him.
His gut clenched. Dad had probably written as much in his letter, not that he’d read it. His desk drawer had swallowed it readily enough. Why torture himself reading Dad’s justifications for hanging this crumbling albatross around his neck when reading them wasn’t going to sweeten the medicine, change anything? He was encumbered. And that was all he needed to know, thank you very much.
‘Right...’ Julia was bending to a bag by her feet, pulling out hard hats, handing them over. ‘Not very fashionable, I’m afraid, but we need to comply.’
‘Because these are obviously going to save us if the roof caves in!’ Quinn’s eyes came to his briefly, full of mischievous light.
He felt an answering smile twitching, a little glow of camaraderie. The hard hat thing always mystified him too.
‘Now, now, Quinn.’ Julia was giving Quinn the stern eye, pulling a fat door key out of her pocket. ‘There’s no chance of the roof caving in. We got as far as supporting it, making it safe, before...’ Her eyes came to his, softening with an apology for skimming so close to the bone, he supposed. ‘Before we put everything on hold.’ She drew a clearing breath. ‘But the hat will save you from any loose debris dislodged by birds and so on, so it’s wise to wear it, as well as being mandatory. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of safety, please don’t wander off when we’re inside. The building is hazardous in places.’
‘I was only joking about the hat...’ Quinn was placating now, plonking her hat on, reaching round to tighten it. And then her gaze caught his, catching alight, emptying his lungs. ‘Come on, Will. Get with the programme!’
The programme. The renovation.
The push and pull of Quinn. Eyes... Lips... Smile...
He lifted his hat, ramming it on hard, feeling the awkward grip of it, the stiff spring of its straps. How to breathe? How to think straight? He ground his jaw. Losing time every time she looked at him wasn’t what he’d expected, bargained for. He didn’t want this. Didn’t like it.
Oh, God!
How was he going to get through this day?
Wrought-iron balusters. Mahogany rail, splitting in places but, in the right hands, not beyond redemption. She snapped a few pictures then lowered her phone, fighting a shiver as she ran her eyes around the damp-mottled walls of the stairwell. These abandoned buildings were always dank, uniquely bone-chilling, but once the roof was fixed and the building was watertight again, there was nothing here that couldn’t be made good...
‘Quinn?’
Will!
Concern in his voice. Irritation. Her heart seized. Irritation because she was doing her usual, wasn’t she? Getting so caught up in light, and texture, and potential, that she’d inadvertently left him alone with Julia.
Poor Will!
Out of his depth with the architect, with this entire project. Ever since they’d come inside he’d been deferring to her, relying on her to broker the discussion, but she needed to take pictures because he was in a hurry, talking about doing things piecemeal. Maybe that wouldn’t be possible in the end, but if she didn’t have the reference material to work with then it definitely wouldn’t be.
She clapped a hand to her hat and leaned over the balustrade. There he was, looking up from the ground floor, his face pale in the light spilling from the skylight window above. His throat was pale too, the portion of it she could see above the collar of his dark shirt. Dark shirt, grey herringbone coat. He looked good. But then Will always did, whatever he was wearing.
Jeans and tee shirts on those rare summer days he’d been home from uni, before he’d taken himself off to some other, better place...that chunky blue sweater he’d worn the Christmas they’d all gone to the pub for the quiz. His thick brown hair had been longer then, damply tousled from the falling snow they’d ploughed through to get there. Strange... Talking to Anthony on the way there, but on the way home silent... She blinked. Why was she even thinking about that?
‘Hey!’ She switched on a smile, beaming it at him. ‘What is it?’
His brows crimped. ‘Are you coming, or what?’
Imperious tone.
She laced her own tone with deliberate sweetness. ‘Yes, when I’ve finished what I’m doing.’
He made a little impatient noise. ‘What are you doing?’
She held her phone out. ‘Taking pictures, videos. Making notes. I can’t keep everything in my head.’
‘Oh.’ His expression relaxed a little. ‘Sorry. I didn’t know.’ And then his face disappeared, and the stairwell filled with the sound of his leaping boots. Elongated intervals—two treads at a time. And then he was arriving, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets as if he needed something to do, as if now that he was here he didn’t quite know what to say.
She felt her heart giving. Impossible not to feel for him. Out of his depth with Julia. Out of his depth with her too, but standing here all the same, looking awkward, endearingly vulnerable. She could feel softness stirring, as it had outside when Julia said he’d been singing her praises. Same look in his eyes now as then. Resistant, but porous somehow.
But she couldn’t say anything, couldn’t make an overture without a definite ‘in’. Besides, the last time she’d tried he’d dissed her. Once bitten and all that. So, it was a case of pretending to be oblivious to the whole running up two flights of stairs thing, pretending that the only thought in her head, the only possible topic of conversation, was the building.
She smiled. ‘I’m sorry it’s taking a while. It’s just a long way to come back if I find I’ve missed something.’
