Playboy Bachelors: Remodelling the Bachelor

He led the way to an alcove just off the living room. Yesterday, there had been a refrigerator shoved into the space. He’d moved it last night to the already overflowing family room. He had something different in mind for the space.

“I thought Kelli might like to use something else instead of just a flat surface.” Walking past the living room, he gestured over to the alcove. It was empty now—except for the small easel that stood in the center.

Kelli’s eyes became huge. “Look, Mama, it’s kid size,” she exclaimed, running over to it. She touched the easel reverently, as if afraid it would disappear once her fingers came in contact with it. And then she looked at him over her shoulder, joy tinged with a hint of hesitation. “This is for me?”

He came up to join her. It had taken him several hours to hunt this up. “This used to be mine,” he told her. “But it’s a little too small for me now and it’s been rather sad, sitting all alone in storage. So I’d take it as a personal favor if you used it.”

Excited, the girl shifted from foot to foot as if about to break into an impromptu game of hopscotch. “Where’s your new one?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t paint anymore?” Surprise was imprinted on every inch of the small heart-shaped face.

It was a long story, built on rebellion and not one to tell a child, even a child as stunningly intelligent as Kelli. The easel had never really been put to use and he was surprised he’d saved it. But to keep things simple, he merely said, “No.”

Surprise was replaced with sympathy. It was obvious Kelli felt that everyone should experience the joy of painting. Reclaiming her hand from her mother, she patted his. “Bet you could ask your mom to get you one and to give you lessons,” she told him.

It was an effort to retain a straight face. She was darling as well as intelligent and gifted. “She’s a very busy lady.”

Kelli nodded slowly, absorbing the excuse and its ramifications. And then suddenly, her head bobbed up, her eyes shining as she looked at him. “I could teach you.” Saying it out loud reinforced her enthusiasm and she clapped her hands together. “I could. It’d be fun.”

He thought of all the years in his past that he’d actively turned down every attempt his mother made to mate him with a paintbrush and a canvas. He had staunchly refused to enter her world, wanting one of his own to colonize and leave his mark on.

But with this small, eager little face looking up at him, all that melted away. “Maybe it would be,” he allowed. “I’ll see if I can find another easel for tomorrow.”

Kelli’s smile grew even wider. “Good.”

God, she sounded more adult that half the people he knew, Philippe thought, completely charmed. He noted that J.D. had placed all of her daughter’s jars of paint along the easel’s edge and mounted the painting against it.

“Call if you need me,” she instructed Kelli, then stepped away from the child. The slanted glance that came his way indicated that she wanted him to follow. When he did, she asked, “How much do I owe you?”

He’d followed her literally, but now she’d lost him. “For what?”

Her voice low, she was all but whispering. “The easel.”

What kind of a person did she think he was, pretending to give a child a gift only to have her mother pay for it under the table? Maybe she was used to strings being attached to things. So he set her straight. “What I told your daughter was true. That used to be my easel. There is no charge,” he informed her firmly.

She wasn’t comfortable about this, didn’t want him getting the wrong idea even though instinctively, part of her did like him for the gesture. Maybe that was the part that scared her. More than a little. “I know, but—”

“Just consider it a gift from me to Kelli.” His eyes met hers. He saw the wariness. “No strings attached.”

She took a breath, wondering if she was making a mistake, believing him. She had to work at keeping their relationship strictly professional.

Good luck with that, a voice in her head mocked. She’d already brought him food yesterday and brought her daughter along to work today. Not exactly proceeding according to strict professional guidelines here, are we, J.D?

She forced a smile to her lips, trying to quell the nervous feeling in her stomach. “That was a very nice thing you did.”

“I like seeing her smile,” Philippe told her honestly. He watched her mouth curve and could have sworn something tightened inside of him. “You have the same smile,” he observed.

Urges began to form, swarming over him out of nowhere. Or maybe, out of a somewhere he had no business visiting. Because something told him that J. D. Wyatt wasn’t just a casual date. J.D. was the kind of woman you made plans with. Solid plans. And there was nothing in his world to suggest he had a solid plan. Look at the examples he had to follow, the parents he’d had. The norm when he was growing up was here today, gone tomorrow.

He shoved his hands into his back pockets, curbing the very strong desire to touch her face, to trace his fingers along the curve of her mouth and commit it to memory.

Damn, where was this coming from?

He cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better get back to work.”

“Yeah.” The words tasted like powdered spackle. “Me, too,” she murmured.

Gordon reentered the room, bringing along his own set of long neglected tools. He glanced from his sister to Philippe, then watched as the latter left the room. Setting the toolbox down, Gordon crossed over to his sister. “Something going on between you two?” he asked mildly, in the same tone he might have used if he was asking about that day’s temperature projection.

The question startled Janice, throwing cold water on what might have been a moment’s worth of revelry. Groundless revelry, she insisted. Trust Gordon to be blunt.

“No.” She went into the kitchen. “What makes you think that?”

He laughed dryly. “Looked like a lot of chemistry and heat flashing back and forth from where I was standing.”

She looked down at his shoes. “Must be some loose wiring running under your feet,” she decided innocently. “Maybe you’d better examine it later just to be safe. Wouldn’t want this place going up, especially after all the work we’re going to put into it.”

“Guy doesn’t give a woman’s little girl an easel because there’s loose wiring in the floor,” he observed.

Janice sighed, refusing to entertain the thought of what Gordon was suggesting. Philippe was her client. If he liked the job she did for him, she had no doubt he would refer other people to her. There was nothing more to their relationship. Besides, she was not about to get involved with anyone. She’d never been able to get through to her father, never had that magical moment she’d waited for where he saw how much she loved him, how much she wanted him to be proud of her. And as for her husband, well that had never had a chance to go anywhere, so she would never know. She had been a wife and a widow within six months. That had had its own set of pain attached. She didn’t need to seek out more.

Besides, she had enough to keep her busy. She had Kelli and her work. There wasn’t space for more than that, certainly not for another pass at having her heart broken.

“Make yourself useful, Gordon.”

He grinned at her. “I thought I already was, since you can’t seem to see the forest for the trees—” He scratched his head. “Or is it the trees for the forest? I always get that confused.”

That wasn’t the only thing he got confused, she thought. “It’s the floor for the debris,” she declared, pointing to the very large pile of splintered wood veneer and plasterboard, the end results of her swinging her sledgehammer at the kitchen cabinets yesterday. Philippe had sent her home before she’d had a chance to remove the debris. “Clean it up.”

He could have taken exception to her tone. Once, when his father’s company had been his, he’d been her boss. And even when they’d worked with their father, he had supposedly always been the one in charge. It was only after the company went bankrupt and Janice began getting jobs on her own and throwing some of the business his way that she started issuing orders.

Gordon saluted her, his expression suddenly somber. “I’m on it.”

“Good to know,” she murmured. She didn’t want to repay Philippe’s kindness by appearing to take advantage of him.

Stooping down, she filled her arms with splintered plasterboard and got started.

He wasn’t in his office.

Janice glanced at her watch to check the time. It was close to eleven and she’d assumed that he’d be busy at his work. She’d deliberately gone out of her way to pass his office to talk to him.

Can’t talk to an empty chair.

Had he gone out and she’d missed hearing him leave? She’d begun work on gutting the downstairs powder room and wanted to have all her ducks in a row. Or at least swimming in the right direction.

She’d brought a color chart so that Philippe could decide what color he wanted her to paint the walls.

Shrugging, she tucked the chart under her arm and went back out again. It was getting close to lunchtime anyway. She might as well collect Kelli and her brother and get something to eat. Because this was their first day on a job together, she thought she’d take them both out to celebrate the occasion instead of just bringing lunch from home.

Janice moved around the corner. She didn’t have to look to know that Kelli would be completely captivated with her work. Painting always summoned this font of joy from within her, even when it wasn’t going well. With her sunny disposition, Kelli always managed to see the bright side of everything.

“Kelli, honey,” she called out, “we’re going to break for lunch. Would you like to be the one to pick the restaurant?”

It always made her daughter feel so grown up when she could choose where they would all go to eat. And then she laughed to herself. Before she knew it, Kelli would be an adult. God knew the little girl was growing up much too fast, doing ten years for every candle she blew out.

When she received no response, Janice quickened her pace and made her way through the dining room toward the alcove. The moment she came near the threshold, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest.

Could, unaccountably, feel a sting in her eyes.

Allergies, she told herself.

Philippe was standing behind Kelli, guiding her hand, giving her instructions in a low, patient voice. It was a father-daughter scene worthy of a holiday card.

Except that they weren’t a father and daughter.

So what? she demanded silently. Her own father had never been that patient on the rare occasions he explained something to her. Most of the time, he’d waved her back with that trite, archaic sentiment that “girls don’t need to know that.” She’d learned her trade by watching, by sneaking behind her father’s back to observe him in action.

Never once had he put a hammer or a screwdriver into her hand and shown her how to use it. No tips or secrets were passed to her the way they had been to Gordon. Except that Gordon wanted no part of it. He remained, pretending to listen, because he was afraid not to. But his mind was always preoccupied with the current flavor of the month he was squiring. He’d been there in body, but not in spirit.

She would have killed for a moment like this in her own life. And Kelli was obviously lapping it all up, she thought, watching the way her daughter beamed up at Philippe.

Greeting-card moment or not, she had to break this up. “Kel, we’re going out to lunch.”

But Kelli was completely focused on the images she was creating on the canvas and the technique Philippe was showing her. “In a minute, Mama.”

She knew better than to let herself be ignored. “Now, honey.”

Philippe removed his hand from Kelli’s and stepped back. “You’d better listen to your mother, Kelli.”

The resigned sigh was filled with disappointment. Kelli retired her brush. “Okay.” And then she looked at her mother hopefully. “Can Philippe come, too?”

She had to nip this in the bud, too. “His name is Mr. Zabelle, Kelli,” she reminded her daughter. “And I’m sure Mr. Zabelle has better things to do than come to eat with us.”

He was about to take the excuse she tendered. He’d already spent way too much time not doing his work. So no one was more surprised than he was to hear himself say, “Actually, I don’t.” He was looking at J.D. rather than the little girl. “Unless of course, you’d rather I didn’t come along.”

Her mouth felt like she’d been snacking on sandpaper since morning. Janice knew she should be blunt and say something about lunch being a family affair. The truth was she didn’t want him around her because he made her uncomfortable—but he only made her uncomfortable because she wanted to be around him. It was a conundrum, as her father had been fond of saying.

The simplest way to avoid all that, to avoid any explanations that would probably result in her turning redder than the color of the shoes that Kelli had insisted on wearing this morning, was to say, “No, by all means, the more the merrier. Of course you can join us for lunch.”

So, she did.

Chapter Ten

As it turned out, Philippe seemed to hit it off very well with Gordon and if one or the other paused to take a breath, there was Kelli, chatting like a little old lady, eager to fill in the dead air.

Consequently, Janice contributed very little to the conversation that took place over salads and seasoned chicken strips. Her exact words were: “Thank you,” uttered twice and neither time to the people sitting around her at the table. The words were addressed to the waitress who brought her beverage and then her lunch.

Content to observe and listen, both with a measure of awe, Janice assumed that no one noticed her silence. It amazed her that not only Kelli but Gordon seemed to be completely taken with Philippe. Their reasons, however, were obviously different. Kelli hung on the man’s every word because she was apparently caught up in a spate of hero-worship. As for Gordon, even though he and Philippe appeared to be worlds apart, the two had some things in common.

Would wonders never cease?

So as Gordon and Philippe talked about sports and action movies, and Kelli interjected enthusiastically from time to time, Janice took in the exchange and smiled to herself. And tried not to notice the feeling of contentment that wrapped itself around her.

“You didn’t talk much at lunch.”

Janice sucked in her breath, startled. Preoccupied with gathering her things together, she hadn’t heard Philippe come up behind her. Hadn’t seen him at all for the last four hours, not since they’re returned and she had gotten back to work.

Turning, she looked up into brilliant green eyes that took her breath away.

“You, Gordon and Kelli didn’t leave any openings to get a word in edgewise.” Her pulse was dancing, she noted. He was standing too close. “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

His mouth curved just the slightest bit. “Hard not to notice things about you.”

It wasn’t a line. He looked incapable of grinding out lines, she decided. Which made him completely different from her brother, Gordon, and probably his brother, Georges, too, she’d wager. From his manner, and the fact that he’d winked at her as she left, she had strong suspicions that Georges was much like her own brother.

She could feel Philippe’s eyes working their way along her face, studying her. Looking right into her.

Heat traveled up her body as a blush worked its way to the roots of her hair.

Now that had to be a sight, she thought disparagingly. A twenty-eight-year-old woman, widowed and a single mother to boot, who had, if not been around the block a few times, at least had gotten off the family stoop, blushing.

She caught herself wishing that the house didn’t catch too much of the afternoon sun. There was no way the man could miss the fact that she was blushing like some adolescent school girl.

“Thank you,” she murmured, acknowledging his compliment. “For everything.”

“Everything?”

She elaborated. “The easel, lunch.” Hiring me in the first place. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, debating her next words, but she didn’t want him getting the wrong idea.

“You know I didn’t invite you along with us to pay for it.”

A surge of desire rose out of nowhere, making him want to nibble on the same lip she’d carelessly taken prisoner. Did she have any idea how delectable she was?

“As I recall, you didn’t invite me at all,” he contradicted. “That was Kelli’s doing.”

He was right. Janice shrugged. “I thought you’d be uncomfortable.”

Although he wasn’t as outgoing as either one of his brothers, because of the kind of life he’d led with his mother during his childhood, he was able to fit into almost any situation.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.” His eyes searched her face. “Were you?”

She had been, but it wasn’t the kind of uncomfortable he meant. It was the “uncomfortable” of realizing that feelings were being roused, feelings that could only lead to disappointment. But her thoughts were her own, not to be shared with someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Why should I be uncomfortable?”

“I don’t know.” He watched her, the soul of innocence. Innocence about to go awry. “I’m harmless enough.”

Had the man even looked in the mirror recently? She laughed shortly. “Not hardly.”

He could listen to the sound of her laughter all day, even when it was aimed at him. “Care to elaborate?”

She shook her head. Tiny pinpricks of panic assaulted her body. That was the trouble when you brought your brother and daughter with you, she thought. You couldn’t just beat a hasty retreat and drive away. You had to collect them first. “No.”

It was an effort to keep his hands at his sides. A stray hair along her cheek begged to be pushed back into place. “Then I was right, I do make you uncomfortable.”

He made her fidget inside. Made her restless.

Made her remember that there were other things besides two by fours to put her hand to. Small, nameless desires materialized out of the mists where they’d been banished. She yearned to touch this man, to feel his muscles beneath her fingertips, his stubble against her cheek in the morning. Yearned to catch a whiff of his scent on the pillow beside hers even after he was gone.

God, but she missed being part of a twosome. She and Gary had had their problems, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t have been worked out in time. She’d married him to get out of her father’s house, where she felt unloved and ignored. All she’d wanted was to begin a life of her own, to matter to someone. That was her goal and she was willing to make all kinds of compromises to reach it.

But then Gary had gone and died on her. Leaving her just as her mother had. Just as her father had, in his own way, years before he died. With her parents, she’d endured emotional abandonment before they ever left her physically. With Gary, it had been physical, but this didn’t lessen the pain of the loss.

There were just so many times she could expose her heart. She no longer needed approval, she was her own person. And as for love, well, Kelli loved her and in his own confused way, so did Gordon. That was enough.

Oh God, he was touching her, his fingertips moving against her face. It took everything she had not to melt into Philippe’s hand, not to melt against him. Her breath backed up in her lungs.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, J.D.”

“Janice,” she whispered.

He leaned in a little closer, his lips so close to hers, she could almost feel them moving as he asked, “What?”

It was an effort to think, to speak. “You’ve hired me, that means you get the right to call me by my first name.”

“Janice.” He nodded, repeating the name. And then he smiled. “It suits you.”

“How so?” Damn it, was he ever going to drop his hand? She was having trouble thinking.

He didn’t know how much longer he could refrain from acting on the impulse that kept doubling in size every second. “Short, to the point, yet feminine.”

That made her laugh under her breath and she shook her head. “Been a long time since anyone called me feminine.”

Very slowly, he moved his thumb along her lower lip, enticing them both. “Don’t see why. You are. Under those jeans and that T-shirt, you are.”

What the hell was he doing? his conscience demanded. It was like having some kind of out-of-body experience. He’d somehow stepped outside of himself and now he watched this unfold. Watched himself flirt with a woman even though any relationship would be doomed from the start. He knew he wasn’t going to follow up on any of these feelings he was having, even if they were so strong they made it hard for him to breathe.

He was his mother’s son, which meant that no matter what he felt now, he was going to move on. Something always seemed to stop him, made him turn away, before he became even mildly serious. Janice didn’t deserve to have her life messed up like that.

He needed to stop, to walk away.

Now.

But he didn’t. And he was no longer just watching, he was acting. Acting on impulse, on whim, on a desire that seemed to be bigger than he was, acting like some kind of fool.

It didn’t change anything. He leaned over her trim, athletic body and brought his mouth down on hers.

Anticipation did not overshadow reality. If anything, it was the other way around. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget everything, just enjoy the moment.

Oh, my God. Everything around her, the room, the house, the world, everything faded to black and disappeared except for the incredible sensations shooting through her. Absorbing her. Breaking down from the mini-tower of strength she perceived herself to be and rebuilding a flesh and blood woman with needs and desires.

Without thinking, she rose up on her toes as far as she could, winding her arms around his neck and leaning into him, nerves jumping all up and down on her body. She’d never expected anything like this, never had her head turned completely around by a mere kiss.

No, not mere. Anything but mere.

“Mere” didn’t make her skin sizzle or her brain go careening. But as wondrous as it was, she felt unsettled. Unsettled because his kiss opened up floodgates she was terrified of having unlocked.

And yet—

This was delicious and she didn’t want it to stop. In a minute, but not now. Just a second longer and then she’d back away. She had to. No matter what her yearning was, she couldn’t act on it. Because she wasn’t alone.

Thank God she’d brought her brother and Kelli with her. Having them here forced her to remain on the straight and narrow path, something she strongly doubted she could have done on her own right now.

And then, as unexpectedly as it had begun, it was over.

Philippe drew his head back, his expression dazed. He took a breath, as if to steady himself. It was going to take more than a breath to do that for her, she thought.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he told her.

“All right.” She was fairly surprised she could actually talk. Her lips felt as if they had the consistency of warmed honey.

“Not for the kiss, anyway.”

She didn’t understand, but then, it would have taken her a minute to respond if someone had asked her her name. “Then for what?”

The smile was sad and burrowed into her heart before she could stop it. “For more things than I can begin to tell you.”

“You are a very complicated, mysterious man, Philippe Zabelle.”

The laugh was dry with only a touch of humor to it. “You don’t know the half of it.”