Made For Us (3 page)

The landscaping was immaculate: vivid colors mixed with the perfect amount of greenery. For a moment Zoe would have sworn the plants were fake. Crouching down, she touched the leaves on some of the flowers just to make sure. The lawn felt like some sort of plush carpeting, and she itched to kick off her shoes and feel it on her bare feet. It wasn’t as soft as the sand surrounding the beach house she was renting, but this was a pretty close second. She wouldn’t mind walking outside to something like this every day.

Maybe someday.

The stonework on the front of the house was perfect, and the color of it complemented the siding beautifully. All the windows were top of the line and beckoned you to come inside.

But not before stopping on the wraparound porch and maybe spending a few minutes on the swing.

She sighed. She actually stopped and sighed.

The low, white picket fence around the front yard kept it separate from the work sites around it, like an oasis in the middle of a combat zone. Standing in the middle of the lawn, you could almost overlook the chaos going on around it.

Zoe, however, knew the real battleground was inside the house.

Standing, she gave the yard one last smile before walking up to the front door. It was like walking to an execution, and her feet suddenly felt filled with lead. Taking a fortifying breath, she gripped the doorknob and walked inside.

The spacious entryway led into a wide-open floor plan. The floors were real hardwoods—not engineered—and the dark finish shone like polished glass. Zoe looked down to see if she could catch her reflection. She was about to call out and announce her presence, but her decorator instincts took over and she crouched down one more time to run her hands over the floor.

“Like silk,” she said softly, loving the feel of the wood beneath her hands.

“That’s what I was going for,” a deep male voice said from a few feet away.

Aidan had been watching this woman since her arrival. It hadn’t been intentional, but he had been in one of the upstairs bedrooms when he saw her car pull up, and had watched in fascination as she inspected the yard. While he felt mildly guilty for causing the other decorator to lose her job, he couldn’t help but be intrigued by her replacement. From what he’d observed so far, this woman was somebody who took notice of details. It wasn’t hard to see the appreciation in her eyes as she looked at the house.

And he couldn’t help but look at
her
with appreciation. The woman before him had fiery-red curly hair and a body with the kind of curves that made a man want to…scratch an itch.
Damn
it
. This was so not the time for
that
thought to come to mind. As she straightened before him, he had to admit she was even more stunning up close. Tall. In heels, she was maybe only four inches shorter than him, and that was saying something. Most women didn’t come close to his six-foot-two-inch height.

Aidan’s mouth went dry when he caught sight of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. She smiled and held out her hand in greeting. “Mr. Shaughnessy, hello,” she said, her voice just a bit husky. “I’m Zoe Dalton.”

For a moment, Aidan couldn’t speak. He reached out and took her hand in his, fully intending to give her a businesslike handshake, but as soon as he felt her soft skin, he pretty much forgot his own name.

You
really
have
been
without
a
woman
for
too
long
, he admonished himself. “Miss Dalton,” he murmured, forcing himself to focus. He shook her hand a little too roughly and released it as if she’d burned him.

Zoe was equally speechless. Why had no one mentioned that this man was the sexiest thing on two legs? His rock star brother may have been nominated as one of the sexiest men alive, but Riley had nothing on his older brother. Dark hair, blue eyes, and hands rough enough that Zoe wanted to feel them all over her. It was rare for a man to make Zoe feel small and delicate, but Aidan succeeded—he was built like a linebacker.

Zoe fanned herself briefly as Aidan turned and walked away.

And the view was just as spectacular from behind.

She almost groaned.

Her gaze was lingering on how fine he looked in those faded jeans when he cleared his throat. “I want you to look around this house, Miss Dalton, and tell me everything you see that’s wrong.”

She swallowed hard and stepped forward. “Everything?”

Aidan turned to face her, crossing his large arms over his chest. “I want you to start at the front door and walk through the entire house.”

There was the potential here for things to go south very quickly. Beyond what she’d read in Sarah’s files, Zoe wasn’t familiar with his work, so she didn’t want to risk offending him, but Martha did tell her to do
whatever
Mr. Shaughnessy wanted done without argument. With a brief nod of her head, Zoe placed her soft leather briefcase on the granite countertop, pulled out her tablet, and began to type furiously, creating her own document on the house.

Walking to the front door, she stepped out onto the porch and swung the door closed before opening it again. “The door sticks a little,” she began as she walked back inside. “There’s some paint on the hardware on both the interior and exterior sides.” She closed the door and looked around the entryway. Stepping to the right, she opened a closet door and looked inside. “There should be electrical in here. It’s a deep closet, so I’m pretty sure people would appreciate having a light inside.” She closed that door and noticed that Aidan hadn’t moved from his spot in the living area.

Pretending not to be bothered by him watching her like that, she stopped and made some notes on her tablet. There was a fabulous cubby unit across from the closet. It had coat hooks and plenty of compartments to house baskets and all kinds of decorative items. She ran her hand over the built-in bench and frowned. “This needs to be sanded down more and another coat of paint added.” Turning to face him, she said, “Chances are, a home owner would cover this area with a cushion, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be smooth.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually smirked.

Next to the entryway closet, she found a half bathroom and turned on the light inside. Unimpressive. “The paint is sloppy in there. It’s not plumb either. The dark paint on the walls against the white ceiling accentuates that. There’s a wave going on in there that almost makes me seasick.”

Zoe crossed the entryway and opened the door to the two-car garage. She took a quick peek around and shut the door before turning back to Aidan. “There’s a crack in the concrete floor by the electrical box. Sometimes concrete does that, but if you’re going to patch it, make sure it doesn’t look like a patch.”

The smirk broadened slightly.

Zoe typed a couple more notes and walked into the living area until she was standing about three feet away from Aidan. She met his eyes briefly before turning around and facing the entryway from a new angle. With a tilt of her head she stopped and frowned. “It’s out of plumb on the garage side of the entryway. If you stand here, you can see the curve in the wall.” She didn’t wait to see if he’d look; she had a feeling he was already well aware of all the problems.

Doing a slow three-sixty turn, she stopped and typed, then faced the living area. “The color is wrong in here.” Lifting her head, she looked directly at him. “Granted, I don’t know what color you were going for, but this is too yellow. You can see those beautiful, dark chocolate-colored cabinets in the kitchen from here. Between those and the dark floors, the walls are all wrong.”

“Tell me why,” he said deeply.

“You’ve got some amazing colors going between the floors, the cabinets, and the stone in the fireplace. This color on the walls doesn’t do any of it justice. It’s a yellowish beige, and it’s boring. You want something that is going to complement everything that you’ve done. You want a color that people are going to walk in here and go
wow
.” Looking around again, Zoe shrugged. “This doesn’t inspire. This is the weekend-warrior-handyman special.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Zoe regretted them. Maybe he liked that yellow. Maybe he’d chosen it and it was the one color Sarah hadn’t substituted. Why couldn’t she just keep it professional? She’d never had trouble focusing with any of her
other
clients.

She turned and looked at him and noticed that the smirk was gone. He looked pissed. Okay, there were two ways she could play this. She could immediately apologize and grovel a bit, or she could move on and hope she was just blowing it out of proportion.

“I think we can do something better with the furniture.”
And
option
two
it
is!
“The sectional is fine, but we can jazz it up once we change the colors in here.” Moving to the kitchen, she went on for about five minutes about the things she saw that weren’t quite right—brush strokes in the paint, crooked glass tile in the backsplash—and decided to stop there. His silence was killing her. She typed a few last notes on her tablet before putting it down and leaning against the countertop.

“Do I pass?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I take it that this is a test to determine if I can see that the problem is in the details. Let me assure you, Mr. Shaughnessy, that I do. I have a real problem with craftsmen who rush through a job and put out shoddy work. I think the home owner deserves a house that has been put together perfectly. And as for the finishes and decorating,” she said as she stood a bit taller, “we want potential buyers to come in here and not only want to buy this house, but to want their own to look as perfect as the model. If not better.” She paused and shrugged. “Not that it will be possible because the model will be perfect on steroids.”
There
, Zoe thought,
he
can’t be pissed at me if he knows that I’m a perfectionist too.

He quirked a dark brow at her. As much as Aidan hated to admit it, he was impressed. And he wasn’t impressed easily. Zoe Dalton had not only seen everything he’d wanted her to see, but she had even picked up on an issue or two that had escaped him.

Not an easy thing to do.

Aidan continued to stand there and look at her, so Zoe figured she’d better nudge him along. “Are we ready to hit the upstairs? I have a list of problems with that staircase.”

And in that moment, Aidan Shaughnessy thought he just might have met his match.

* * *

Driving back to the office, Zoe had no idea if she had won Aidan Shaughnessy over or just signed her own termination papers. As they’d walked through the rest of the model home, Zoe had continued to do the bulk of the talking. Not that she didn’t enjoy the strong and silent type, but in this particular case, it would have been nice of him to offer some input. She was trying her best to represent the firm, and it was hard to tell if he was going to keep them on when he said next to nothing.

When they were done with the house, Aidan had walked her to the door, thanked her for her time, and effectively let her know they were done by shutting the door in her face. Okay, that hurt; she couldn’t deny it.

Now she had to go back to the office and explain to Martha that she had no idea if she’d saved the account or lost it for them. “Damn it,” she muttered as she pulled into the parking lot of Tate Interiors. “I am so screwed.” Why, oh, why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? Sure, he had asked her to pick out what was wrong with the house, but maybe she could have just toned it down a bit. After all, a lot of the issues had nothing to do with Sarah and everything to do with the guys on Aidan’s payroll. So she was essentially insulting his company to his face.

She was so going to be fired.

Thoughts of what she could do right now to smooth things over with Martha raced through her mind. Maybe she could run to Starbucks and pick up Martha’s favorite latte and a muffin. Martha liked muffins, didn’t she?

Screwed. Totally screwed.

Sitting in her car, baking in the hot August sun, probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but the thought of climbing out and walking into the office without knowing what was going to happen wasn’t appealing either. What if Aidan had already called Martha? How many times a day can someone do the execution walk?

Shoving her car door open, she answered her own question. “At least twice.”

There was a moment of uncertainty when she considered leaving her briefcase and purse in the car. After all, if she was going to be fired, it would make for less stuff to carry out. But after a few minutes, Zoe decided to stand tall and walk inside as if she had just had the greatest client meeting of her life.

“Just be positive, just be positive, just be positive,” she chanted softly as she crossed the parking lot, walked into the lobby, and waved to Sheila the receptionist. Just a few more feet and she’d be at her office and…

“Martha wants to see you, Zoe,” Sheila said pleasantly.

So
close
, she thought. Turning, she plastered a fake smile on her face and thanked Sheila for letting her know. Sure, she could pretend she hadn’t heard Sheila and gain a few minutes of peace and quiet before Martha came looking for her, but that was petty and childish and…

“There you are, Zoe!” Martha called out from across the office.

Again, so
close
.

The desire to drop her head and drag her feet all the way to Martha’s office was strong, but Zoe knew it would gain her no sympathy in this situation. It was time to be a big girl and face the music.

And then find the radio playing that music and smash it over Aidan Shaughnessy’s head.

Zoe braced herself and stepped into Martha’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

“Shut the door, please.”

Not a good sign.

Zoe did as she was told, then turned and sat down where Martha gestured.

“How did the meeting go with Mr. Shaughnessy?”