He shook his head. ‘Don’t apologise.’ And then his mouth stiffened. ‘I’m just...’
Floundering. Grieving. Did he even know he was? Was he able to admit it to himself? She felt a beat of indecision, but only a beat.
‘I know.’
His eyes flared briefly, then softened a little.
Relief swept through. Any kind of softness was good and infinitely better than the cold shoulder she’d got at the funeral.
And then, as if he wanted to shake the moment off, he was moving across the landing, lifting his gaze to the skylight. ‘If you do need to come back though, just come. As often as you need. On the company, obviously.’
‘Anything to speed things up, huh?’
‘Yes.’ His eyes came back. ‘As long as your own schedule permits, of course.’
‘Oh, of course.’ She raised her eyebrows at him, so he’d know that she’d caught the all too obvious afterthought.
And then suddenly, unexpectedly, he smiled. A warm smile that creased his cheeks, lifting his face into the realm of drop-dead gorgeous. ‘I like that I don’t have to pretend with you, Quinn.’
Mediterranean blue eyes. Eyes that could easily stop a heart, catch a breath out, make a voice struggle to form a word.
She swallowed. ‘Pretend?’
He shrugged. ‘You know how I feel about this project, know that I want to hatch and dispatch it ASAP.’ His voice dipped low. ‘Julia isn’t in the picture, and I don’t want to let on. I sense she’d be affronted if she knew how much I don’t love this building.’
Her heart fell. It was good that he was confiding in her, definitely a step in the right direction, but what he was confiding wasn’t. He wasn’t seeing the good as she’d hoped, feeling inspired. And his expression was only soft right now because she wasn’t Julia, someone he had to pretend with. Her heart paused.
Then again, that he was up here talking to her like this was something, wasn’t it? She felt a tingle. Okay, so maybe the waves weren’t parting for him on the building front, but there were other fronts, the main one being that, after years of more or less ignoring her, he had just vaulted up two flights to talk to her. That was progress. The kind of progress she could put to good use...
She shot him a smile, going with a conspiratorial tone. ‘Where is Julia, by the way?’
‘On a phone call.’
‘Ah...’ So she had a bit of time to dip a toe in the water, see how cold it was.
She lifted her phone to seem semi-preoccupied, framed a shot. ‘Well, I suppose the building is quite hard to love at the moment...’ She tapped the screen, then looked up and around, sighing for effect. ‘Of course, damp’s a killer, makes everything seem so hopeless. It can be hard to see past it...’
‘Oh, here we go. You’re about to tell me you can, aren’t you?’
Challenging gaze. Wry smile.
She felt a smile of her own stirring. He might have rumbled her, but she could roll with it.
‘Well, of course! I mean, I wouldn’t be much good at my job if I couldn’t see my way through this stuff.’
‘And you think, what? That if you sprinkle your fairy dust I’m suddenly going to fall in love with this crumbling pile, leap about with enthusiasm?’ His eyebrows went up. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not going to happen.’
She felt a ‘Why?’ rising but bit it back. They weren’t close enough for whys yet. Better to go with humour.
She slid her own eyebrows up. ‘I wasn’t expecting instant results, to be honest.’
Something ruffled the surface of his gaze momentarily and then a sheepish smile softened his features. ‘Just as well, since I have nothing in the creative vision department.’ His eyes made a quick, hopeless sweep of the landing. ‘I look around and all I can see is a massive headache.’ And then he was moving over to the wall, running his fingers over a bad section, setting off a small avalanche of loose plaster. ‘Case in point.’ His eyes came back, half triumphant, half despairing. ‘I see a crumbling wall and after that it’s all panic and white noise in my head. What do you see?’
She felt tenderness blooming in her chest. His honesty was disarming. As for fairy dust—pointless. What Will needed to banish his white noise was information.
She rooted a pen out of her pocket then went over to join him by the wall, digging the nib into the plaster, raddling it backwards and forwards to loosen it, scraping off a small section until the underlying masonry was visible.
‘What I see are solid walls with areas of loose plaster—plaster that can be knocked off and redone. It’s not a problem.’
Bemusement in his eyes, and interest, which could only be a good sign. Whatever she did, she mustn’t stop talking.
‘Now, if the supporting walls were crumbling then that would be a headache, but the bones of this building seem good to me. It just needs a little TLC.’
‘TLC? Is that right?’ He put his hands to his mouth, mimicking a loudhailer. ‘Understatement alert!’
She couldn’t hold in a chuckle. ‘Okay, a lot of TLC. But there’s plenty of good stuff.’ She felt her heart rising, a ball of enthusiasm starting to roll. She set off along the corridor, touching a door frame. ‘These frames are still good, and most of the doors are too.’ She turned, walking backwards so she could see his face, judge his reaction to what she was saying. ‘The stair balusters are wrought iron so they only need a clean, and the rail might look ropey right now, but it’s mahogany so it’ll refurbish a treat.’
‘I’ll buy that.’ He was following now, his mouth twisting into a reluctant but twinkly smile. ‘I’ll go so far as to say I’m pleased because it sounds quick.’
She felt mischief sparking. ‘Well, at least you’re pleased about something!’
His eyes flashed. ‘I have my moments.’
Smiling moments. Twinkly moments. All good!
She looked up at the broken, elegant ceiling. This was going to be a harder sell, but she had to try. She licked her lips, steeling herself. ‘On the downside, restoring this ornate plasterwork won’t be speedy. It’s going to need a specialist, but it’ll be worth it because—’
‘Quinn, stop!’
