Her clothes were beautifully tailored—the teal blazer and pleated slacks, the smart white shirt with the copper bar pin at the collar. She had a sexy-lady scent about her. Not prim, not overt. Just perfect.
Savannah felt like a grubby Amazon who'd stumbled on a princess.
"I've been giving Savannah the tour," Rafe explained.
"Great." Regan pushed back the right curtain of her hair, and rings glittered on her fingers. "What do you think so far?"
"It's wonderful." Savannah remembered the beer in her hand and lifted to it her lips.
"Let's not stop here." With a friendly smile, Regan led the way out. "Jared called the shop this morning and said he'd like us to work on redoing his offices."
"About damn time," Rafe commented. "The place is as cheerful as a mausoleum. White and gray. Might as well work in a tomb."
"We'll fix that." With boundless confidence and enthusiasm, Regan showed off the house.
Every room, whether it was complete or in progress and filled with nothing more than dust and cobwebs, scraped at Savannah's confidence. She knew nothing of fine antiques, expensive rugs or window treatments.
She didn't want to know.
"Jared's really impressed with your art," Regan went on as they wound their way down to the first floor. "Obviously it inspired him to do something about his work space. I'd love to see some of what you've done."
"It's no big deal. I don't have any training."
Savannah took one long scan of the fron
t parlor, with its curvy settee and elegant side tables, and jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans. A marble fireplace gleamed like glass, set off with polished brass tools and andirons. And everything, down to the last candlestick, was picture-perfect.
"Nothing of mine would fit in here, that's for sure. Or a lawyer's office, either. Thanks for the tour. And the beer," she added, handing Rafe the empty bottle. "I've got to go pick up my kid."
"Oh." Surprised by the abrupt exit, Regan followed her to the door. "If you've got some time over the weekend, I can fiddle with my schedule. We could work on color schemes and treatments."
"I've got a lot of work." Savannah pulled open the door, suddenly desperate to escape. "You'd better handle it on your own. See you around."
"All right, but—" Regan broke off with a huff when the door closed in her face. She had definitely, and none too subtly, been brushed off. "And what," she asked, turning to Rafe, "was that all about?"
"Don't ask me." Thoughtfully he ran a hand over his wife's glossy hair. "That's a spooky lady, darling. Let's go sit down, and I'll tell you about it."
Chapter Six
When Jared pulled up in front of the cabin, he was puzzled, mildly annoyed, and quite intrigued. It hadn't taken long for word to get to him that Savannah had all but raced out of his brother's house, shrugging off the job Jared had offered her as she fled.
He intended to get an explanation.
Spotting Bryan and Connor in the side yard, he gave a wave. They responded with an answering shout before they went back to the important business of throwing a baseball.
His rap on the door went unanswered, so he walked in without invitation. He doubted he'd have heard one over the screaming rock and roll that shook the cabin. He followed a gut-bursting guitar riff through the kitchen and into an adjoining room.
She was bent over a worktable. The white of the oversize men's undershirt she wore was streaked with paint. Her hair was twisted back in a braid, her jeans were riddled with holes, and her feet were bare.
His mouth watered.
"Hey."
She didn't look up. A look of fierce concentration remained on her face as she worked delicately with a slim brush dipped in brilliant red.
He glanced around the cluttered room. It had probably been intended as a mudroom, as there was a door leading to the outside. Obviously she didn't need or have time for ambience in her work space, he mused.
The light was full and bright through the windows and showed every speck of dust. The floor was aging linoleum decorated with paint spills. Unframed canvases were propped carelessly against the unfinished log walls, steel utility shelves overflowed with bottles and jars, tubes and cans. He could smell turpentine.