construction schedule, he knew that with all the permits still needed, Harte's Desire probably wouldn't be coming down until late in the fall.
"That weekend would be fine," he finally stated. "But I'll want written assurances that the historical society takes full responsibility for the event, and that you’ll carry the proper insurance. You can clean up anything you want to, inside or out, as long as you put things back where you found them."
At his words of consent, Libby broke into a wide grin. "Thank you so much, Mr. Darnell. I'll mail the paperwork tomorrow." She glanced at him and, seeing the trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, was immediately struck again by his handsome good looks. She smiled back and suddenly caught herself.
Ignore the attraction, she reminded herself sternly. She was the enemy. Just because he's letting the society use Harte's Desire, doesn't mean he's got a caring or sensitive bone in his body.
In fact, she thought, he'll no doubt find a way to make money or benefit somehow by having the fundraiser here. Probably sell tickets to see the second floor, or hope the publicity will generate greater attendance at the furnishings auction. He might act like the sensitive type, but beware the wolf underneath, she cautioned herself. He didn't get to the top by being Mr. Nice Guy.
And, he did promise revenge, something she could ill afford right now.
Libby rose up from the couch, anxious to end their meeting and escape from the man who was causing her heart to do flip-flops. It left her feeling like she was sixteen again, all nervous and excited. She didn't like it. She loved it and that scared her.
Chris stood up, too, and extended his right hand. "It's a deal, then, Miss Reed?"
She hesitated only slightly before accepting the handshake. His grip was strong and confident, and its warmth surrounded hers like a cocoon. Some undefinable connection spun between them, tilting her carefully ordered universe, and she didn't want the moment to end. But she had to leave before she succumbed any further to his charms.
"It's a deal, Mr. Darnell," she said, backing away quickly.
"Please, call me Chris, and…?" he offered, his voice rising with the unspoken question as to how he should address her.
"Oh, call me Elizabeth..."
No sooner had she gotten the words out when Mrs. McElroy appeared at the doorway, arms flapping, obviously upset about something.
"Mr. D.," she cut in excitedly, "Thank goodness I found you. There's an awful buzzing noise in the butler's pantry and it's driving me crazy. I can't get your documents ready with all the commotion."
"Now, Edwina, settle down and we’ll figure it out," he admonished with concern, gesturing toward Libby. "You've already met Miss Reed?"
"Yes, I let her in while you were upstairs. I see you found her."
Edwina regarded her employer with curiosity. He seemed brighter, more animated and alive than she had seen him in years, and what in dear heaven was he doing here in the drawing room? He never used any of the first floor rooms in the mansion except for those he had to, like the kitchen or his office in the dining room.
She noticed that Miss Reed seemed somewhat flustered, too, and concluded there might be some attraction between them. She could almost feel it in the air. It wouldn't hurt to play matchmaker, she thought hopefully. Chris hadn't been interested seriously in anyone since Cynthia, and that was years ago. It was time he settled down and found there were other things in life besides work to keep him busy.
"Miss Reed," she directed to Libby. "As a member of the historical society, you must know something about old buildings. Could you take a look, please?"
With that, Edwina turned and headed down the hallway. Chris and Libby caught up to her in the pantry.
"There's the noisemaker," Edwina declared, pointing to a small, square box mounted high on the wall near the door. It was emitting a loud, buzzing noise similar in sound to a doorbell. "I thought it might be someone ringing at the front door or the back door in the kitchen, but it wasn't."
Libby noted the spaciousness of what was usually a small room. Two of its walls were covered with floor to ceiling glass-fronted china cabinets. There was a large double sink in the corner, flanked by enamel topped counters. A computer desk was placed against the room’s one empty wall, while a phone, in-baskets, and stacks of paperwork covered