Love on Lexington Avenue - Lauren Layne Page 0,76

when she’d stated the rate that Naomi had insisted Claire was worth, Sylvia had written back immediately asking for a contract to make it official.

Biting her lip, even as she grinned, Claire stood and glanced around her tiny office where she’d already begun organizing her ink pots and nibs. She was grateful that Scott had insisted they start the upstairs renovation with her office instead of the bedroom as she’d suggested. Claire had nervously shown him her “dream office” board on Pinterest, and Scott had looked at everything in detail and promptly banned her from the office for two days.

The end result hadn’t just been close to her dream office—it had gone above and beyond. The walls and desk were painted bright white, which, as he reminded her, was different from meh white. And the built-in shelf along one wall had so clearly been designed with calligraphy supplies in mind, there was no doubt that he’d done careful research on what she’d need. Even the lighting was perfect, a dozen tiny bright bulbs carefully positioned to give her the light she’d need to work.

Claire picked up her phone, intending to text Naomi and Audrey the good news, but she put it down without typing the message. Instead, she left her office, walked past the newly renovated second guest room where she was temporarily sleeping, and into the master where Scott was finishing up. Following the sound of a drill, Claire found Scott in the bathroom sitting on the closed toilet seat, drilling something into the wall.

He gave her an exasperated look, the drill going silent as he pulled a screw from between his lips. “Really? You can’t walk in and see me while I’m single-handedly maneuvering the new tub into place or installing an enormous new mirror? It has to be when I’m drilling in the new toilet paper holder? A fix a six-year-old could do?”

“Very manly,” she teased. “And I’m loving that.” She pointed at the holder. “No more stupid spring.”

“No more stupid spring,” he said, standing.

She stood grinning at him, and then, because she wanted to, she flung her arms around his neck. He caught her with one arm and a laugh, just as she tugged his head down for a kiss.

She felt him freeze in surprise, but she kissed him insistently. Things had been friendlier between them since the beach house, even easy, but strictly platonic. And she knew this was foolhardy, knew that if she even had a chance to keep her heart intact when he left, she needed to keep her hands to herself, but she wanted to celebrate the moment the way that she wanted to.

Apparently, that was kissing Scott.

He got over his surprise quickly, kissing her back with gratifying enthusiasm.

He kissed her for a long while, then pulled back slightly. Claire jumped when he swatted her butt and all but shoved her out into the more spacious bedroom. “What are you doing in here? You know I’ve got one rule.”

“I know, I know. I’m supposed to let you finish a room before I see it, but guess what,” she said, tapping his chest excitedly.

“What?” he asked with a smile, as though her enthusiasm was contagious.

“I got a client.”

“Holy shit,” he said with a laugh, setting his drill on the nearby workbench before lifting her in a hug. “Congrats. You do fast work.”

“I know!” she said, her arms going around his neck and squeezing. “It’s a big one, too. I’ll probably get carpal tunnel. But it’s worth it. The client is well-connected. If she likes what I do, I’ve got a good feeling about referrals.”

“She’ll love what she sees,” he said confidently. “When do you start?”

“Tomorrow, probably,” she said. “I mean, I have plenty of time, but I’m new to this. I’m not exactly sure how long each envelope will take or how many breaks I’ll need. You were so right about me needing that office sooner than I expected.”

“Glad it worked out,” he said, his smile warm, revealing that maybe he was a little bit proud of her.

“I’m just lucky you do such fast work. Speaking of.” Claire pulled back and looked around, taking in the freshly painted walls—she’d decided to go with dove gray, which she’d read was soothing for bedrooms—as well as the newly finished floor. “Oh my gosh. You’re almost done in here.”

“Told you the upstairs would be easy, especially since we opted not to tear the wall down.”

“How much longer?” she asked, unabashedly looking around, poking her head into