Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

“The guest? What do you mean?”

“She kept a card file of just about every visitor. On them, she’d note whether they were married or single, the names and ages of their children, if any, their drink preferences, food allergies, or anything else that might be of use to her. When I was a teenager, I always wondered how she remembered the name of some man’s child or that he only drank Johnny Walker Red when she hadn’t seen him in a year or more. Then I discovered her secret. Now I have a file of my own. It’s only a matter of jotting down a few pertinent details, and it lets you make a lasting impression on them. It’s also why Calder hospitality is so renowned.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is,” Cat assured her. “And it isn’t

like you’ll be plunged into the role overnight. You have plenty of time to ease your way into it. Before you know it, it’ll be second nature to you.”

Listening to Cat, for the first time since Tara had left, Sloan felt at ease in her mind. She even found herself looking forward to next week when the designer returned to present his recommendations—even if it meant Tara would be with him.

Chapter Twelve

Tense and eager, Sloan sat on the edge of the chair, watching while Trey studied the sketches of the room designs and the sample board with its fabric swatches, paint chips, and pictures of assorted furniture pieces. She waited for some change in his expression, something that might reveal his reaction. Then her patience wore out.

“So, what do you think?” She struggled to contain her own enthusiasm for it. “It’s everything we talked about, isn’t it?”

“Exactly.” He sounded a little stunned.

“I know. I couldn’t believe he got it right on the first try, either, especially with Tara talking in his ear all the time.” Sloan let her smile grow. “But there it is. The earth tones we wanted with enough punch of color to keep it from being boring. Good, substantial furniture, nothing too ornate, yet a little eclectic. The overall look is warm, comfortable, and uncluttered, just like the rest of the house.”

“There’s a lot of work here,” Trey warned. “More than just some fresh paint on the walls, different curtains at the windows, and a new sofa.”

“True, it is more extensive than we had planned,” she admitted. “But, according to Cat, this carpet is at least twenty years old, maybe more. And we’ve already checked—there are hardwood floors both in here and the bedroom. I’d much rather refinish them than replace the carpet. It’s obvious, though, it will be easier if we move out while all the work’s being done.”

“We’ve barely moved in,” he reminded her as he laid the sample board and sketches atop the coffee table.

Aware that he still needed a bit of convincing, Sloan shifted onto the sofa, linking an arm through his. “I admit it will be inconvenient for a while, but it’ll be worth it once the work’s all done. And don’t forget, Tara’s paying for it.”

“As long as we don’t pay for it.”

She jerked her head around. “Tara wouldn’t back out at the last minute and stick us with the bills, would she?”

“No. She’d much rather brag about how much she paid to have it done. And I wasn’t referring to money, anyway.”

“Then what?”

A small smile showed. “Johnny informed me today that I was asking for trouble if we went through with this. He claims that more couples break up over the trials and tribulations of home remodeling than almost anything else. According to him, if we can survive this, our marriage can survive anything.”

“I’m not worried,” Sloan replied with serene confidence. “After all, we’ve already survived the ordeal of packing and moving me here. And it isn’t like we actually have to live in the mess. We’ll be a couple doors down the hall.”

“Is that right?” Amusement deepened the corners of his mouth as he freed his arm from hers and draped it around her shoulders, drawing her with him when he settled against the sofa’s back cushions.

“It is.” Turning sideways, she spread a hand across his shirt front, conscious of the solid muscle beneath it. “So what do you say? I’m game if you are.”

There was a subtle change in the darkness of his gaze, a heat building in it. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

It gave her a sense of power to know that she had aroused that glint of desire in his eyes. At the same time, his look of need ignited her own senses, quickening her pulse and stealing some of her breath. She suddenly felt sexy and eager to turn him on.

“That’s encouraging.” Pressing closer, she let her hand slide down onto the flat of his stomach, slipping her fingers inside his jeans and feeling the involuntary contraction of his muscles. Chin tilting upward, her lips parting, she invited his hungry kiss, anticipating the hot, delicious things it would do to her.

Sloan knew as well as Trey did that this wouldn’t end with one kiss. It never did with them. They were both too greedy, and the primitive fires blazed too hot for that.

The instant his mouth claimed hers, Trey took the initiative away from her and drove her backward onto the seat cushions, his tongue mating with hers while his hand cupped the thrusting point of her breast. The rangy length of his body was pressed onto hers, making his hardness felt. It only made her body more aware of her own tingling ache.

From there it was a natural progression of events as the barrier of their clothes was dispensed with. They stroked, caressed, demanded, and coupled with a wondrous urgency, a sexual brilliance radiating between them. This closeness, this insistence, this raw need—it had always been this way between them. Neither could imagine that it would ever change.

A sun-drenched sky stretched its canopy over the Triple C headquarters while the heat of the day held the land in its grip. It looked to be one of those lazy summer afternoons with little stirring, a time of quiet contemplation.