pleased that she hadn't bothered with pins. "Things don't always work out like you figure."
She walked with him back toward the house. "People often say divorce is like death."
"I don't think so." He shook his head, taking his time on the walk back. "It's like an end. You make a mistake, you fix it, end it, start over from there. It was her mistake as well as mine. We just didn't figure that out until we were already married."
"Most men, given the opportunity, will cheerfully trash an ex."
"Waste of energy. We stopped loving each other, then we stopped liking each other. That's the part I'm sorry about," he added, then opened the wide glass door to the kitchen. "Then we stopped being married, which was the best thing for both of us. She stayed where she wanted to be, I came back to where I wanted to be. It was a couple years out of our lives, and it wasn't all bad."
"Sensible." But marriage was a serious business, she thought. Maybe the most serious. The ending of it should leave some scars, shouldn't it?
He poured more wine into their glasses, then took her hand. "I'll show you the rest of the house."
Their footsteps echoed as they moved through empty spaces. "I'm thinking of making a kind of library here, with work space. I could do my designs here."
"Where do you do them now?"
"Out of the bedroom mostly, or in the kitchen. Whatever's handiest. Powder room over there, needs a complete overhaul, eventually. Stairs are sturdy, but need to be sanded and buffed up."
He led her up, and she imagined paint on the walls, some sort of technique, she decided, mat blended earthy colors and brought out the tones of wood.
"I'd have files and lists and clippings and dozens of pictures cut out of magazines." She slanted him a look. "I don't imagine you do."
"I've got thoughts, and I don't mind giving them time to stew a while. I grew up on a farm, remember? Farm's got a farmhouse, and my mama loved to buy old furniture and fix it up. Place was packed with tables - she had a weakness for tables. For now, I'm enjoying having nothing much but space around."
"What did she do with all of it when they moved? Ah, someone mentioned your parents moved to Montana," she added when he stopped to give her a speculative look.
"Yeah, got a nice little place in Helena. My daddy goes fly-fishing nearly every damn day, according to my mama, anyway. And she took her favorite pieces with her, filled a frigging moving van with stuff. She sold some, gave some to my sister, dumped some on me. I got it stored. Gotta get around to going through it one of these days, see what I can use."
"If you went through it, you'd be able to decide how you want to paint, decorate, arrange your rooms. You'd have some focal points."
"Focal points." He leaned against the wall, just grinned at her.
"Landscaping and home decorating have the same basic core of using space, focal points, design - and you know that very well or you couldn't have done what you did with your kitchen. So I'll shut up now."
"Don't mind hearing you talk."
"Well, I'm done now, so what's the next stop on the tour?"
"Guess this would be. I'm sort of using this as an office." He gestured to a door. "And I don't think you want to look in there."
"I can take it."
"I'm not sure I can." He tugged her away, moved on to another door. "You'll get all steamed up about filing systems and in and out boxes or whatever, and it'll screw up the rhythm. No point in using the grounds as foreplay if I'm going to break the mood by showing you something that'll insult your sensibilities."
"The grounds are foreplay?"
He just smiled and drew her through a door.
It was his bedroom and, like the kitchen, had been finished in a style that mirrored him. Simple, spacious, and male, with the outdoors blending with the in. The deck she'd seen was outside atrium doors, and beyond it the spring green of trees dominated the view. The walls were a dull, muted yellow, set off by warm wood tones in trim, in floor, in the pitched angles of the ceiling, where a trio of skylights let in the evening glow.
His bed was wide. A man of his size would want room there, she concluded. For sleeping, and for sex. Black