times as expensive.”
True. “I haven’t learned how to lay carpet. Wood is easier. It just takes a hammer and some glue.”
He chuckled. “Most people hire someone to install their carpet. And roof their homes.”
“Not if they’re going to flip the house for profit.”
His gaze slid over the chicken wallpaper. “You’re intending to flip this?”
She looked at him, a little startled. Usually when she said a general statement about anything—selling this house or studying native American pottery—people nodded and assumed that meant she was going to do exactly what she suggested. Not him. He actually asked the question, and she was both flattered and unnerved by his intelligence.
“I…um,” she said, floundering. “Why do you ask?”
He looked around. “Because it was your aunt’s place. Because you’re putting in a rock garden which doesn’t figure into a bottom line. And because you looked over my shoulder when you answered.”
She jerked her gaze back to his. “What?”
“When you’re being evasive, you look over my shoulder. Or if I’m looking right at you, your feet get restless.” He arched a brow. “I’m paid very well to read body movements.”
“I’ve never held a basketball in my life.”
“Doesn’t matter. All life’s a game in one way or another.”
She tilted her head, extremely self-conscious now about where her eyes were. “That’s a profound statement.”
He burst out laughing, the sound filling her kitchen. “It’s a greeting card philosophy, but in this case it’s true.” Then his expression sobered. “So what are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “Put in a rock garden and finish the roof.” She didn’t want to think beyond that right now.
He grinned. “So show it to me.”
“What?”
“Show me what you’re doing to the house.”
She looked around. Every project was half begun, and the rooms she hadn’t touched yet were either filled with her aunt’s clutter or her own boxes that she’d packed as quickly as possible when leaving Edward’s condo. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Then she paused. She’d given him an opening a mile wide, but he wasn’t saying anything. In fact, after a moment, he frowned at her.
“What?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you think I should do?” she prompted. That way she could pretend she was listening and not have to do anything more. But he shook his head.
“How should I know? It’s your house.”
She stared at him for a long time, her mind whirling. He waited patiently, practically challenging her to…to…she didn’t know what. But it made her uncomfortable in a good way. Like she was discovering something new, and that always excited her.
“I think I’m out of practice,” she finally said.
“At what?”
“At this. At talking.”
He drained his glass of water. “Next time, I’m bringing the beer,” he said as he set it down.
She smiled, liking the idea of doing this again. But then he stood up, towering over her as he flashed a grin. White teeth, caramel skin, liquid brown eyes. When she’d looked at him before, she saw his size and his chiseled body. Sex in raw masculine power. But this time what she saw was friendliness. There was an underlying ease with her that again felt very odd.
“What are you going to do?” she abruptly blurted.
“What…now?”
She hadn’t meant now. She’d meant in general. How was she supposed to classify him in her mind? Neighbor who stopped by once in a while for pie? Professional athlete who was going to bring a parade of bimbos and reporters past her door? Did he plan on having loud parties? Or was he going to kiss her when he brought that beer over?
The thoughts spun, chaotic and confusing. But she was used to the whirl in her mind, even if it involved inappropriate thoughts about kissing. So she just looked at him and waited to see what he would say.
Besides, he was pretty to look at, especially when he grinned.
“I’m going to go walk carefully through your backyard. There’s a rock garden out there, you know.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“And I’m going to do something else too.”
“What?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Everybody likes good surprises.”
“Not me.” Mostly because she never reacted the way people wanted. She was supposed to be thrilled when Edward showed her his new car, but she thought the seats were uncomfortable and didn’t like the noise of his exhaust. She was supposed to be happy when her sister had given her a makeover as a PhD present, but she’d hated the feel of stuff on her face and didn’t like the curly hairdo.
He held up Edward’s wad of