Interior Designs

Interior Designs

The Beach Bachelors Series

Book Four

by

Pamela Browning

Award-winning Author

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-763-0

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

Afterward, Cathryn wouldn't remember what her reaction was when she first saw Drew Sedgwick gazing at her from behind a pillar, his figure half hidden in the gloom of the darkened department store. Cathryn had heard of him, of course. Who hadn't? Drew Sedgwick had, after all, inherited a hole-in-the-wall store on Clematis Street in West Palm Beach, and in the space of ten years he had expanded that tiny store into a chain of department stores with branches in every major South Florida city.

And she remembered him from those long-ago days at Sun Lakes High School, where he'd made a name for himself as a state all-star halfback in football and as captain of the award-winning swim team. She didn't, however, connect the man he was now with the boy he had been, a boy she hadn't known very well in the first place. And she was definitely unprepared for his impact on her life.

It was ten o'clock at night and after closing time, the only period when Cathryn could work without interruption at Sedgwick Department Stores' Caloosa Mall branch. She was bone-tired; tired of shoving around furniture, tired of draping wads of fabric so that they hung gracefully, tired of trying to gussy up a corner of Sedgwick's to look like something it most definitely was not—a fashionable Palm Beach interior-design boutique.

Nevertheless, it was she who wanted to embellish her displays with the finishing touches, even though she could have called upon her associates and assistants. Cathryn Mulqueen, ASID, interior designer, trusted no one but herself to breathe life into her works, and the new Design Boutique was definitely one of her most important creations.

"Okay, guys," she said, blowing a strand of naturally pale hair out of her eyes. The hair drooped again, but it didn't prevent her from noticing the man who stood in the shadow of a column. Hands in pockets, he watched as she tucked her errant tresses behind her ear.

Cathryn's two helpers, Jeb and Elijah, sank down on the sectional sofa they had just toted across the floor. They were tired, too, and Cathryn was mindful that they were due at classes at Palm Beach State College at eight in the morning.

"Does that mean we're finished?" asked Jeb hopefully.

"Sure," said Cathryn. She dug into her skirt pocket. "Here's a few dollars. Go buy yourselves a hamburger and a milk shake on the way home."

"Aw, you don't have to do that," objected Elijah. Eighteen and new on the job, Elijah felt uneasy about accepting the perks that came with it.

"I want to," Cathryn said, firmly pressing the money into his hand. She smiled at them through a cloud of fatigue. "Anyway, a well-fed employee is a satisfied employee. Now run along. And don't forget to show up at my studio after school tomorrow. I've got a few deliveries for you to make."

"We'll be there," said Jeb, hustling Elijah away. She watched as they disappeared into the Linens section.

In the cavernous silence of the empty store, Cathryn slowly massaged her aching back as she paused to take stock of the artfully arranged wicker furniture and bright pillows of geometric-print chintz. The three of them had done a good job setting this up. It would be ready for the customers when they flocked into Sedgwick's showrooms tomorrow in response to the newspaper ad campaign.

"That looks nice," said a deep voice from the shadows, and Cathryn jumped. She'd forgotten all about Drew Sedgwick watching from behind the column.

Languidly he moved from the darkness of the obscure post and strolled toward her into the light. The navy-blue of his suit looked almost black, and his fine cotton shirt was white against his tan. He looked as if he'd stepped off a page of
GQ
.

"You remember me, don't you? Drew Sedgwick. We graduated in the same class in high school. I admire your work."

Blue eyes sparkled at her, and the hand he offered had well-kept fingernails, neatly clipped and squarish. Vaguely Cathryn remembered Drew and his high-school successes—wasn't it sports he'd excelled at? She'd hung out with the artsy-craftsy group. In any case, they'd inhabited different worlds.

Nevertheless, she attempted a smile. Her lips strained at the edges. Really, she was so tired. She hadn't expected to work this late.

He said, "Do you have time to take me on a tour?" And then, surprising her, he added a humble "Please."

Despite her exhaustion, Cathryn was unaccountably impressed by something behind the blue eyes. A kind of desperation or loneliness or longing. An innocence, too, and, so help her, a goodness. That was a lot to read into one look into a man's eyes, and it stopped her cold.
Drew Sedgwick,
she thought to herself in surprise.
I don't remember your being vulnerable in high school.
His self-assurance was still there, but in the old days he'd been too macho, a jock with a swagger. He was different now.

"It's late," she said, glancing at her watch.

"Ah," he said. She didn't know if that meant he would understand if she didn't conduct a tour or if he was merely acknowledging the time.

"You can see what I've done," she said finally, deciding that he wasn't going to go away. He watched her, his lips parted, the light in his eyes warm and friendly. It confused her, this friendliness. Surely it wasn't predicated on their acquaintance so many years ago? Most of her memories of him were fuzzy, unclear. But the present reality of him was, well... so
real
.

To hide her confusion she said rapidly, "I've placed a few furniture items out here near the aisle to draw people into the Design Boutique. This is a wicker sectional, very unusual, imported from India." She went on in this vein, watching him and gauging his reactions to how she had decorated her assigned nook in his store. For some reason she needed Drew Sedgwick's approval for what she'd done.

Cathryn still didn't know what had prompted the call two months ago from Sedgwick Department Stores' general manager. She'd been sitting at her desk reviewing spreadsheets in her office hidden away in her studio on the peaceful Via Parigi off Palm Beach's exclusive Worth Avenue when she'd answered the phone. Sedgwick's wanted to experiment with a new concept, the manager said. Bringing the skills of an exclusive Palm Beach interior designer to the discriminating customers at its mall store where sales were lagging could upgrade the store's image. Would Cathryn Mulqueen be interested?

Would Cathryn Mulqueen be interested?
She didn't have to think twice. Cathryn Mulqueen was interested in anything that would bring her name before more of the public and stimulate business for her burgeoning interior-design studio, which she'd built from the ground up.

Cathryn and the management of Sedgwick's struck an agreement, and her niche in Sedgwick's, to be known as Cathryn Mulqueen's Design Boutique, would open tomorrow.

She wouldn't have to relinquish her thriving Palm Beach studio—far from it. The Design Boutique would be merely an adjunct to Cathryn Mulqueen Interiors. But the boutique would stimulate furniture sales for the store and publicize Cathryn's services to Caloosa Mall customers. After all, Cathryn Mulqueen Interiors could make their homes more comfortable, more livable, and more beautiful. Florida living, so casual and free, was an acquired taste for retirees accustomed to the faster-paced Northern style. And Cathryn, a graduate of Parsons School of Design in New York, was eager to help Northerners acquire that taste.

As Cathryn flipped quickly through her wallpaper sample books, she watched Drew from the corner of her eye. He had an exotic face—broad, bronzed, and very regal. If she were designing a home for him, she'd include a few Egyptian accents—a big brass gong, framed hieroglyphics on papyrus matted in terra-cotta silk. His eyes were startlingly blue, so blue that she, who was used to tossing around the names of colors the way other people rattle off the names of their children, couldn't think of a shade to describe them. His hair was dark and styled with just enough carelessness. She wondered what it would look like when he'd just tumbled out of bed.

"I've had new business cards printed," Cathryn said. To hide her confusion, she bent over the
escritoire
that would serve as a desk for the salespeople. She fumbled in a drawer for one of the embossed ecru cards, mindful that her naturally platinum-blonde hair, worn loose and long, had fallen over her face. Before she straightened, Drew's hand, almost of its own accord, reached out and brushed a single shining strand away from her cheek. His touch startled her so that she jerked away involuntarily and dropped the cards. They fanned across the thick fawn carpet at their feet.

Unnerved, she stammered, "L-Look what I've done."

"It's all right," Drew assured her quickly. "Anyway, it's my fault." He bent swiftly and with the grace of a natural athlete, he scooped up the cards.

Something in his tone of voice coupled with the reverent way he'd touched her hair made Cathryn wary. High school classmate or no high school classmate, she didn't know much about him. Or did she? This man moved with a sense of purpose, and there was something powerful about the way his eyes bored right into her. He gave the impression of knowing her better than she knew herself.