Josie Day Is Coming Home (5 page)

Or maybe just a closer look.

“I knew the place came with furniture,” Josie said
as he entered the room, her voice echoing in the cavernous,
twenty-foot-ceilinged space, “but I didn’t expect this much of it.”

Face alight, she perched on the tarp-covered sofa near the
gigantic stone fireplace. Then on its mate directly opposite. Next she skipped
to the wing chairs near the window and tested them, too. She looked like a kid
in a candy store, like a road racer eyeballing a new Suzuki SV650…like a
woman who’d never owned anything as elaborate as a folding lawn chair, much
less a twenty-room, thirteen-thousand-square-foot mansion.

Which was ridiculous. She owned things. A banana-colored
wreck of a car, for one—he’d seen that himself. Also a lot of makeup, Chia Pet
false eyelashes, and crazy shoes. What she
didn’t
own was
his
house. But the ecstatic expression on her face right now….

Was none of his damned business. Unlike
her
business
at Blue Moon, which Luke figured he had every right to know about.

“How long are you here for?” he asked.

“I dunno. Depends on how things go.”
Bounce.
Bounce
. “They told me this place was ready to move into, so I took the
weekend off from work to check things out. There’s another girl filling in for
me. The way things are going, I might be here a loooong time.” She popped
upright and pointed to the left. “What’s this way?”

“The east wing.”

“Oooh! I have
wings
? No way!”

She flounced toward the library, leaving him admiring her
backside again. It was a nice view. But it wasn’t helping him get to the bottom
of things. No pun intended.

Luke caught up with her as she left the book-filled,
wood-paneled room. Her nose wrinkled in apparent disinterest.

“Not much of a reader?” he asked.

She gave an evasive sound, then glanced toward the next stop
on her tour. “Not when I’ve got
this
to look at. Wow! You could
park my whole trailer in here, awnings and all.”

Josie hurried to the billiards room—all manly dark colors,
carved wood, and mullioned windows. Big and comfortable, it was one of the few
rooms Luke had actually bothered to open while working on the necessary
repairs.

“Hey.” He jerked his thumb sideways, offering his
sternest look. “Get off the pool table.”

“Isn’t it fabulous?” She posed, pinup-style, from
atop the green felt. She flicked a fingertip, sending the eight ball rolling
toward the nearest pocket. She flung her head backward in obvious delight,
shaking out her hair. “I feel as if I’m living in a movie! Or a game of
‘Clue.’” Her eyes widened, and she bolted upright. “Hey. Do I have a
conservatory?”

“No. About Tallulah. Whatever she told you—”

“That’s okay.” She gave a carefree wave. “To
tell the truth, I’m not even sure what a conservatory
is
.”

With an engaging grin, Josie hopped down from the pool
table. She ooh-ed and aah-ed her way down the east wing hallway, investigating
every room she came to. The servants’ quarters. The study. The sitting room,
the summer parlor, and each of the closets. Partway up the oak staircase to the
second floor, she stopped.

“Hey. I don’t even know your name.” She fixed him
with an interested look, one hand on the banister. “Give it up, mystery
man. Who’s the guy taking care of all this?”

“Luke Donovan.”

Her mouth quirked. “You’re kidding me. ‘Donovan’? Like
the town, Donovan’s Corner?”

He tilted his head sideways—the most acknowledgment he dared
to give.

“I guess you were fated to come here,” she teased.
“Mr. Luke Donovan of Donovan’s Corner.”

Fated to come here
? He hoped not. This was temporary.
With a noncommittal sound, Luke nudged her to keep going upstairs. He didn’t
like having her curiosity focused on him—or on his coincidental name. “I’m
just here to fix up the place. Once that’s done, I’m gone.”

“You’ll like it better that way, trust me.” With a
carefree bump and grind, Josie began climbing the stairs again. She craned her
neck this way and that to see the fixtures, chandeliers, and carved wood
moldings. “I was never happier than when I left this town in the
dust.”

Surprised, Luke glanced up. She didn’t look like a local—or
act like one. “You used to live in Donovan’s Corner?”

She nodded. “‘Used to’ being the operative words.
Nothing short of
this
“—stopped at the landing halfway up the
staircase, she flung out both arms to indicate Blue Moon—“could have
brought me back, that’s for sure. I had
no
idea what I was in for. Thank
you, Tallulah!”

She grabbed the banister and looked around, beaming. To her
left, sunlight streamed through one of the house’s antique Tiffany windows,
brightening the dusty interior. To her right, Luke frowned, telling himself to
just give it to her straight.

Tallulah made a mistake. You don’t belong here
.

Except he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Not yet.

“Of course,” Josie continued confidently,
“the place is totally run down. The floors are wrecked. There are holes in
the plaster. Things are falling down, literally
crumbling
away.”
She gave him a scolding look. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how few of the
light switches actually work.”

Stiffening, Luke scowled. He didn’t know why he’d gone all
candy-ass sensitive for a nitpicker like her.

“It’s a good house.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s a freaking
mansion
!
I’ve never seen anything like it. Not in person, at least. But let’s face it—it
needs work. A good scrubbing, too. The dust bunnies were definitely multiplying
downstairs.”

Luke scoffed. “Repairs come before cleaning.”

“With an attitude like that, it’s no wonder things look
this bad. Come on. Show me the west wing.”

She pranced upstairs like Queen of the Cleaning Products.
Obviously she expected him to follow. Like an obedient puppy. Screw that. Luke
might not want to disillusion her right away—say, before he’d gotten another
cleavage shot—but that didn’t mean he had to follow orders. Obstinately, he
held his ground.

“Are you coming?”

“Look, Miss”—he cast about for the name of a
cleaning product and came up with the only one he knew—“Armor All. You’re
new here, so I’ll let this slide. Once. But I’m not here to give you the grand
tour. I’ve got things to do.”

Josie crossed her arms. The gesture nudged her cleavage one
notch closer to centerfold status. It was just his luck. Curvy girls were his weakness.
Even redheaded, bossy, pain-in-the-ass ones.

“Like?” she inquired.

“Like working on the porch roof.”

“Those shingles?” She made a face, dismissing them
with a wave. “They’ll keep. Nobody ever sees the roof, anyway. If it rains
you’ve got buckets for the porch, right? We should move on to more important
things.”

“Like?”

“Like uncovering all the furniture. Vacuuming. Making
the place livable. Painting. That paneling is really dingy in the rec room. You
know, where the pool table is? It could use something.” Josie scrunched up
her nose, mulling it over. “Like wallpaper. My friend wallpapered her
bathroom and it turned out great.”

Visions of flowered wallpaper danced through Luke’s head.
Five seconds later he realized that potpourri, pink-painted pool tables, and
useless throw pillows were bound to follow. Holy shit. He had to hold his
ground.

“Roof first.”

“Don’t be a party pooper. It’ll be fab. But for now,
how about the west wing?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Wouldn’t
you rather show me around than get all grimy up on the roof?”

What he’d rather do was pretend she’d never sauntered up his
driveway, all feminine curves and nonsense talk. But since that was
impossible….

“Nope.”

“Fine. I’ll check out the west wing myself. In the
meantime, would you mind carrying in my stuff from my car? I know technically
you’re here to take care of the house, but some of those boxes are really
heavy, and—”

“Nope.”

She looked perplexed. She regrouped quickly.

“Okay, then. I’ll do that. I guess it
really
would’ve been too good to be true if my new mansion came with a hunky butler,
too.”

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully, letting an expectant
flirtatiousness hang in the air. In response, a tingle shot all the way down
Luke’s spine. Damn, it had been a long time since he’d met a woman who got his
blood pumping. Since before he’d been exiled to Donovan’s Corner.

“Hunky, huh?” he repeated.

Josie let her gaze wander over him, starting at his work
boots and ending at his eyebrows. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“I’m still not hauling in your stuff.”

“Fine.” In a huff, she yanked up her wandering
tank top strap again. She straightened to her full height. “But I do wish
Tallulah had hired a more helpful handyman.”

With her nose in the air, she headed farther upstairs. Hell.
He’d gone and pissed her off. If she didn’t watch where she was going, she’d
break her neck. Especially with the—

“Aaaah!”

Thump
.

The minute Luke heard Josie shriek, he knew what had
happened. He galloped up the remaining stairs two at a time, stopping beside
Josie near the top. She sat in a terry cloth-covered heap, blowing wisps of red
hair from her eyes. A glance told him she was okay—just exasperated.

“That fourteenth step’s a doozy,” he said.

“
Now
you tell me.” Groaning, she accepted
his outstretched hand for support and got to her feet. Warily, she navigated
around the hole he still hadn’t fixed. “Okay. So ‘ready to move into’
might have been an exaggeration. I can accept that. Just give it to me
straight. Is there
anything
in this place that isn’t falling
apart?”

“It’s a good house,” he repeated stubbornly.

Josie searched his eyes. Whatever she saw there apparently
satisfied her.

“Good. Because if I’m getting in over my head, I want
to know right now.
Before
I go to all the trouble of picking out a bedroom
and moving in.”

“Moving in? You just said ‘ready to move into’ was an
exaggeration.”

“I was exaggerating.” She waved her hand.
“I’ve rented worse. Besides, where else would I spend the weekend, except
my very own free mansion?”

Newly energized, she dodged the stairway hole in one
surprisingly athletic leap. From the other side of it at the top of the stairs,
she beamed at him, ponytail swinging. She pointed down the leftmost hallway.
“West wing that way?”

In a flash, she was gone. Not waiting for Luke’s reply, not
waiting for the truth…not waiting for anything. If her plans for Blue Moon
were as impulsive and off-the-wall as everything else about her, he was in for
a world of hurt. Not to mention pink carpets, disco balls, and—God help
him—ruffles.

Ugh. Grimacing at the havoc Josie might wreak on her own,
Luke climbed the stairs and followed her.

What the hell. It was better than shingling.

By the time Josie had viewed all of the east wing (dusty),
the attached greenhouse (moldy), and the great room (huge) dividing the house’s
two main halves, she felt seriously schizophrenic.

One minute, she couldn’t believe her good luck. The next,
she wondered if she was nuts to even consider accepting the reward Tallulah
Carlyle had given her. Blue Moon had clearly been magnificent once, but now it
was an eyesore. Run-down, neglected, and critically lacking in several modern
amenities.

She couldn’t possibly live in it—at least not for much
longer than this weekend. Discouraged, Josie realized that she hadn’t quite
thought this through. So far, she’d been lounging on pool tables and bopping
from room to room, caught up in the fantasy of living in her very own mansion.
The truth was, this was a time for decision-making, not fantasizing.

She thought about her new, improved circumstances. And
realized that the idea of moving back to Donovan’s Corner was trouble enough.
Moving here without a job was unthinkable. Even if her rent—or mortgage, in
this case—were covered, she wouldn’t be able to support herself. Her savings
were pretty good, but they’d only stretch so far.

Resigning herself to the fact that her unexpected reward was
both more incredible and less usable than she’d hoped, Josie wandered through
the rooms in the west wing. Every one of them bore signs of faded elegance.
Inlaid parquet floors. Crystal chandeliers. Carefully protected furniture. But
the floors were warped or scuffed, the chandeliers were missing their crystals
or were simply nonfunctioning, and the furniture smelled of mildew and mouse
droppings.

It must have been a very long time since Tallulah had seen
this house. Either that, or Luke Donovan was a terrible handyman. In fact, to
have let the place get this run-down, he had to be the antihandyman. Whoever
eventually took over Blue Moon would have to keep a close eye on him—not that
that
would be tough to do—to make sure he was actually working. Instead of
bench-pressing boxes of roof shingles, or whatever he’d done to become so
buffed-up.

Sighing, Josie toed aside an empty mousetrap, then kept going.
She’d wanted to believe this reward would be something special. A real second
chance. The answer to all her restlessness and dissatisfaction. Undeniably,
Tallulah’s giving her Blue Moon had been a truly grand gesture. But Josie
didn’t see how she could possibly make something of it.

When she’d visited Tallulah’s lawyer, Ambrose, after her
initial phone call, she’d been understandably skeptical. As it turned out, he’d
been expecting her. With—according to Tallulah’s instructions—papers drawn up
and house keys waiting.

“According to Mrs. Carlyle, you didn’t give her much to
work with, as far as this reward business goes,” Ambrose had said with a
wink, thumping the stack of legal papers in front of Josie. “But that’s
never stopped Mrs. Carlyle in the past.”