Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out

3

THEY SIGNED the contract, and because Tanner had reservations about his new client’s mental capacity, he got a good chunk of his fee up front. He agreed to remodel in three shifts. First, the back half of the town house, consisting of the master bedroom and bathroom and the small spare bedroom.

Next, they’d do the living room, kitchen and second small bathroom. And finally, the back deck, which overlooked the lake. Old, rotting and rickety, the entire wooden structure needed to be redone before his client could get any serious sunbathing in without being terrified.

He figured she loved sunbathing. With her sexy body and come-hither looks, he imagined her in a red bikini. A skimpy, red bikini, one that was going to be the dominant feature in his sexual fantasies for the rest of the day.

Renovating the entire town house was slated to take approximately one and a half months, the first phase two weeks of that time. This meant, of course, that Tanner’s new client was going to be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future.

She’d claimed not to mind that, or living in a construction zone, but he was sure she didn’t have the slightest clue as to what she was getting herself into.

He’d found most people didn’t, even the ones in the profession, as Cami now was. They simply wanted the work done. Yesterday. Which is why he often encouraged his clients to vacate for the duration, but Cami refused to go anywhere. She wanted to be involved, she’d said, each step of the way.

Oh, joy.

So at six o’clock on Thursday morning he let himself in with some trepidation, followed by a demo crew of four laborers. After all, he knew firsthand she wasn’t exactly a morning person. “Let me make sure the back half is clear,” he told his guys, leaving the mostly Spanish-speaking workers in the kitchen while he made his way down the hall.

As promised, Cami had boxed up the things in her bedroom and master bath and moved them out, except for the heaviest pieces of furniture, which he’d told her he would tarp and work around. He had no idea where she was. Maybe she’d heeded his advice and left, though he didn’t really care. He wanted to start. Calling his workers, he did just that.

The noise was extensive as they stripped the walls down to the studs. But Cami had supposedly forewarned her neighbors, and since no one came to complain or arrest him, Tanner and his crew kept at it.

Working again, with the weight of his tools in his hands, the plans in his head, felt incredibly good. He’d been out of it for too long. Not that Tanner regretted taking the time off-nearly a year-to care for his father after his stroke. He didn’t regret a moment of it. But he’d missed this.

That his father had improved enough to allow Tanner to resume his life was a huge relief. His checkbook was grateful, too, as were his mind and body. As much as he loved his father, he needed this.

Two hours into the demo, he headed into the kitchen for some desperately needed water. Leaning against the counter, he tipped back his water jug and spotted the client’s cat sitting near his box of tools.

“Hello, kitty,” he said, squatting to hold out a hand. Cami had told him Annabel hated everyone equally, except for her, of course, but the cat didn’t look as if she hated him. Sniffing his fingers, she preened a bit and then started to purr.

That was when he caught sight of the mess at her feet. The mess that looked suspiciously like a chewed pouch. His chewed pouch.

“Hey.” Tanner glared at Annabel, who sat on her haunches and appeared to smile at him. There was a piece of leather hung up on her front tooth. Expensive leather.

She’d eaten one of his pouches from his tool belt. “Foul play, cat.”

Before he could do anything about it, the back door opened and Cami raced in. She wore a harassed, harried look. Not even glancing his way, she pushed past him and down the hallway toward the bedroom.

Her nearly demolished bedroom.

“Wait-”

But she was gone, her heels clicking on the wood, her voice chanting softly, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late for a very important date. Need a rose lipstick, dammit.”

Definitely, she was a little off, but he followed her anyway. “We’ve done the demo-”

“Ack!” She came to a skidding halt and smacked her forehead. “I forgot!” With that, she reversed her steps, rushed past him and out the kitchen door.

Without a word to him.

He shut the door behind her. “Nice owner you’ve got there,” he told Annabel, who’d stretched out lazily by his lunch box. “Real friendly.”

“Mew.”

“Oh, stop nuzzling my lunch box. I don’t feed cats who eat expensive pouches.”

Insulted, she lifted her chin and ignored him.

Amused at himself for talking to a damn cat, and also for agreeing to work for a crazy lady, he strode out of the kitchen, intending to get back to work.

Annabel followed him, winding her way between his legs as he walked, tripping him in the hallway. “Go back,” he told her. “No cats in the work zone.”

Obviously not caring about the sacred work zone, the cat licked her chops and sat in the doorway of the destroyed bedroom.

“You can’t stay,” he told her. “You’ll get dusty.”

Annabel yawned, turned in a circle and lay down.

Sighing, a complete sucker for animals-even ones who destroyed perfectly good leather pouches-Tanner went into the one good bathroom, grabbed a towel and set it on the floor. “There.”

As if it were her due, Annabel settled on it and proceeded to bathe herself.

Tanner went back to work.

Fifteen minutes later came a very loud, very outraged, very female screech.

Tanner ran out of the bedroom and tripped over Annabel. Again. “Dammit,” he said to her irritated growl. “I told you that was a bad spot.” He raced into the living room. Empty.

Kitchen was empty, too.

The screech came again, and just as he turned toward the bathroom door, it slammed closed in his face.

“I’m naked!” came Cami’s annoyed voice.

Okaaaay. He took a firm step away from the bathroom door and waved his curious workers to the bedroom. He’d seen a naked client once. Or clients, rather, as they’d been married and had been knocking it out in their linen closet when he’d inadvertently interrupted them. They’d been sixty-five, wrinkled and whiter than white, and he still had nightmares about it.

That Cami was alone-he hoped-and was twenty-something, heart-stoppingly beautiful and had no obvious wrinkles didn’t make him feel any better.

He didn’t like naked clients.

“Where’s my towel!”

Tanner looked at Annabel, who apparently lay on the towel in question. She yawned so widely he was certain her head was going to turn inside out.

“I said, I’m naked and I don’t have a towel and I just got out of the shower!”

Tanner’s vivid imagination went to town. He had no trouble picturing Cami on the other side of the closed door, wet and shiny and maybe a little chilly…hmm, maybe he could revise that no-naked-clients policy thing.

“Who stole my towel?”

Oh. Oh, yeah, the towel. Guiltily, Tanner kneeled by Annabel. The towel she lay on had been a lovely deep forest green, before he’d set it on the dusty floor and before she’d added myriad red, white and black cat hairs to it.

“Uh, Cami?” he said, eyeing the sleepy cat. “I appear to have your towel.”

“You- Why?”

“It’s a bit complicated. Is there another somewhere?”

“Sure. Shoved into boxes!”

“How do you feel about air drying?”

There came a thunk, the distinct sound of her head hitting the door. “Can’t we renegotiate this whole morning thing?” came the muffled plea. “Like noon. Let’s start work at noon.”

“We’d never finish. And anyway, you were already up and dressed, moaning about your rose lipstick and being late. Why would you take a shower now?”

“Dammit, it’s my lipstick!” she muttered. “Oh, never mind, just shove the towel in when I open the door. And keep your eyes closed!”

The door creaked open, and Tanner stuffed a corner of the towel in. “Really,” he said to the crack in the door. ‘Trust me, you’re not going to want to use that-”

“Your eyes are open!”

“Well, yeah. I’m just trying to-” But he stopped, because one, he’d just gotten a peek of what it was she didn’t want him to see, and oh man, she was better than his most wild fantasy.

And two, she’d slammed the door again, missing his nose by a millimeter.

“Go away,” she demanded.

Gladly. Because while she had a bod that could make a grown man drool, she was still a loon.

CAMI HAD DONE some interior-design jobs in college and also part-time work for other designers in the area. Being so close to Tahoe and the pocket of incredibly wealthy people who lived there, she’d had plenty of experience. It was fascinating, satisfying, glorious work.

Unless one was trying to drum up that work solo.

The day after the towel incident, which also happened to be blind date night, thanks to Mom, Cami gathered her briefcase and files and sat at the kitchen table, intending to call her two prospective clients.

The table was covered with plans for her own town house remodel, though, and was a cluttered mess. Not too picky, she glanced at the floor, but it had tools scattered from here to there.

The living room wasn’t in much better shape, as she was sleeping in it. “Note to self,” she muttered. “Clean house before blind date.”

The only usable area in the entire place was the hallway outside the one good bathroom. Dragging her phone-with a thankfully long cord-her laptop and her paperwork, she made herself at home right there on the floor.

She was counting on work to help keep her mind off her troubles, such as why she couldn’t get her checkbook to balance or why she’d spent so much money at Amazon last month.

Or why she’d agreed to go out tonight.

And lastly, as a bonus, she could now obsess over the fact that her master carpenter had seen her naked as a jaybird.

Definitely not gay, she thought with a twist of her mouth. She’d have to tell Dimi. Tanner’s eyes had nearly popped out, and that hadn’t been the only thing.

But if he wasn’t gay, and the sight of her naked body had created some…tension, which it definitely had, then why didn’t he seem interested?

Not that she was interested. Nope. He was too know-it-all, too tell-it-like-it-is. Too calm, cool and collected.

Too…well, perfect.

Besides, other than the towel thing, he still hadn’t noticed her as a woman. The unexpected blow to her ego reinforced her pathetic need for this date tonight. Sad as it was, she needed the affirmation that someone, anyone, as long as he was male, could be attracted to her.

Needing the distraction, she picked up the receiver, prepared to make her first business call, then caught sight of her contractor at the other end of the hall. He had his portable CD player tuned into some very loud rock music, but that wasn’t what caught her attention.

He was on his hands and knees, facing away from her. His work boots were scuffed and broken in. So were his jeans and T-shirt. He had a great set of legs, long and powerful, flexing and straining against the denim. He had a great spine, too, and arms that made her want to sigh. Still, it was his butt that really caught her attention.

Her fingers actually itched to grab it.

Pathetic, staring at her contractor’s behind, as if she were a sex-starved woman.

She was a sex-starved woman.

Damn, he was distracting. Just as he caught a glimpse of her, she dropped her gaze and concentrated on her phone. Wouldn’t do to be caught gawking.

“That’s not a great spot to be working,” he said, coming up on his knees. The front of his blue T-shirt strained across his broad chest and flat belly. She wondered if he ever got too hot and took off his shirt.

“I don’t have a choice,” she said coolly. “I have a lot to get done before tonight.”

“Tonight?”

She hadn’t meant to say anything about her upcoming date, but if he worked late, as he had last night, then he’d find out soon enough, anyway. “I have a date.”

“Ah.”

The way his light brown eyes lit up with humor had her frowning. “What’s so funny about a blind date?”

“A blind date.” Now his smirk of amusement turned into a full-blown grin. “What’s the matter with you that you have to go out on a blind date?”

“Well…” Why did he always put her on the defensive? “Nothing’s the matter with me.”

“It’s probably your lack of a sense of humor,” he decided.

“I have a great sense of humor!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was the class clown in high school,” she informed him loftily, and his grin widened.

“Who set you up?”

“My mother,” she admitted, and when he laughed out loud, she said through her teeth, “It’s a favor.”

“So you don’t really want to go?”

“Not really.”

“Then cancel,” he said with a shrug.

Spoken like a man. A confident man who didn’t give a rat’s pattoodie about what his mother thought. “You don’t know my mother,” she said. Then, unable to help her own curiosity, she asked, “Are you telling me you’ve never been on a blind date?”

“I’m telling you I’ve never done anything I don’t want to do.”

Oh. Well, fine. He was strong-willed and strong-minded. Admirable traits, she supposed. Just not when compared to herself. “Not even for your mother?”

Only his eyes gave away a flicker of sadness. “My mother died when I was ten.”

Great, now she was the jerk. “I’m sorry.”

He stood up and turned his attention to the wall he’d been working on. “So am I.”

“Do you have other family?” she asked his tall, proud back.

“My father.”

“You’re close?”

Another shrug. “Yeah. More so now, since his stroke.”

Feeling two inches tall, she sighed. “I shouldn’t have pried.” But the truth was, she was brimming with questions about this man who said what he wanted without a thought for the consequence.

“He’s recovered,” Tanner said, facing her again. “It took all year, but he’s finally all the way back.”

“You nursed him?”

“You seem shocked.” He smiled. “I can be very useful.”

She believed that.

“But neither my father, nor my mother if she was still alive, would set me up on a blind date.”

“Why not?”

“I was raised to make up my own mind.”

She narrowed her eyes at the insult. “I can make up my own mind.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she repeated, lifting her chin and the phone. Tanner turned to his work, for which she was grateful, because his eyes saw too much. And because she enjoyed the view of his butt.

She dialed her first-she hoped her first-client. “Mrs. Brown?” she said into the phone. “Cami Anderson here, checking in with you. Have you had a chance to look over my designs with Mr. Brown?”

“No, not yet, dear. My son is in town from Seattle for the week.”

“Ah.” In Cami’s experience with customers-which, granted, was limited-the longer they took to decide, the better the chance they’d back out. “I was hoping you could take a look sooner than that, you see-”

“I suppose I could…” Mrs. Brown’s voice turned crafty. “For a favor in return.”

Uh-oh.

“My son, he just turned thirty yesterday, and being that he’s down here, far away from his friends, he’s…lonely.”

Double uh-oh.

“I imagine if you were to…oh, I don’t know…go out with him this evening, that would free me up.”

“I’m busy tonight.”

“Tomorrow then. Or the day after. Name the night. Just go out with Joshua, and I’ll be ready to meet with you the next day.”

From the corner of her eye she watched Tanner. As he worked, the tools hanging on his tool belt clanked together with a rhythmic sound. His hands were sure and confident. His face was steeped in concentration.

He’d forgotten all about her.

She’d just forget all about him. “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said to Mrs.

Brown. “Dating a client’s son.”

“Just one date, dear. One harmless little date.”

No doubt, the woman had to be a distant relative of her mother’s. “Mrs. Brown-”

“I’ll double your budget,” she promised rashly.

What could be wrong with her son for double budget?

“Triple.”

Wow. One could forgive a lot for triple. Even if he had three eyes and spit when he talked, it was only one evening, right? “Well…”

“Oh, good, you won’t regret it!”

She bet she would. “Just one date,” she clarified. “Tomorrow night.”

At that, Tanner craned his neck to stare at her.

Cami heard the ripping sound of material caught on a loose nail.

Twisting, Tanner stared at the back of himself and the huge, jagged rip through his T-shirt.

At the sight of a long length of smooth, sleek skin, Cami’s mouth went desert dry.

“Come to the house the day after tomorrow then,” Mrs. Brown said into her ear. “I’ll serve us some tea and cheesecake and we can talk about the work. Do you like cheesecake?”

“I love beefcake,” Cami said, then nearly choked when Tanner whipped toward her again, surprise lighting those interesting, see-all whiskey-colored eyes of his.

“Cheesecake! I meant I love cheesecake,” she corrected frantically. “Yes, yes, I like it with tea, thank you.” Feeling heat creep up her face, Cami found her gaze locked with Tanner’s. He was very amused. “See you Sunday,” she said to her client, and hung up.

“Tea with your cheesecake,” Tanner murmured. “Good combo. But what do you like with your beefcake?”

“Very funny. Everyone makes a slip of the tongue once in awhile.”

“Yeah.” He pulled off his useless shirt. “Do you make yours on your blind dates?”

For some reason, she could hardly breathe, and told herself it was all the dust in the air. “I don’t do much with my tongue on dates.”

“No?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said as coolly as she could while suddenly sweating like crazy.

His gaze slid over her slowly, and she got the feeling he knew exactly what he did to her.

“So you’ve got another blind date,” he said.

“What does a woman like you need them for?”

“I don’t need them at all. Other people need me.”

“And what about what you need? Does anyone think of that?”

“I-I don’t think so, no,” she said softly, never having viewed it that way before.

“Remember that,” he said just as softly. “The next time you make a slip of the tongue.”

TWO MINUTES before Cami’s date was scheduled to arrive, Tanner came into the kitchen. He was covered in dust from head to toe.

“Demo is a messy business,” he said apologetically. “We’ve tried to keep the mess to the back portion of the place.”

And he had. He’d used plastic and tarps, always careful not to track the dirt to the usable end of the house. As one who hated to clean, Cami appreciated it. “You’ve been great,” she said, preening a little, wondering what he thought.

He wasn’t even looking at her, darn him. He’d grabbed his water jug and was chugging from it, not noticing what she’d done with herself.

Ever since puberty, which had happened unfortunately young for Cami, men had been noticing her body first, her mind a far second. Not Tanner.

She didn’t know why it mattered exactly, when she had already decided he wasn’t her type, but she wanted him to look at her, wanted some sort of appreciation. She wore a sundress and strappy sandals, both of which managed, by some miracle, to hide the fact that her scale had groaned under her just that morning.

She knew she looked good. And for once, she wanted to be noticed-by Tanner.

Slowly he lowered the water jug. “You look…”

“Dressed?” she asked with a self-deprecatory smile, referring to the towel incident.

“Well, yes. Dressed.” His brows were knit together in displeasure. “Why can’t you just back out?”

“Well…I guess I seem to have a little trouble with the word no.”

“HMM.” Tanner leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, studying her. She was a puzzle to him. One, she had trouble with no. That was interesting, especially since he’d seen her coax his workers to her slightest whim. He’d heard her on the phone with subcontractors, bulldozing her way through yards of red tape. And when it came to her opinions on paints, materials or colors, don’t get her started. Two, she wasn’t a meek woman, or a quiet, mousy one, so it was fascinating, and frustrating, to him that she let the people she cared about walk all over her. “That must be interesting,” he said casually. “At the end of all these blind dates, not being able to say no.”

As always when he baited her, her nose went to the sky. “I manage just fine then, thank you very much.”

“If you manage just fine, why can’t you-” He broke off when she suddenly let out a little cry and dropped to her hands and knees. “No, Annabel, no!”

On all fours, she chased her cat across the kitchen floor.

Tanner stared in amazement as she gathered dust and shimmied her very fine rear end from one side of the kitchen to the other. “What are you-”

“Oh, darn it!” Wriggle, wriggle. “She’s going after a poor spider.”

Annabel had made herself known as some sort of freak cannibal, loving to toy with insects. Tanner knew Cami couldn’t stand it. He had watched cat and owner battle it out before.

“Annabel, stop!” She cornered the fat, greedy cat, who’d in turn cornered her prey with a joyful growl. Just before Annabel could paw the little spider, Cami cupped her hand over it.

“Move it,” she told the cat. “Honestly.”

Reaching up, she grabbed a cup, urged the spider into it and came to her feet, dust on her hands, knees and, for some reason, her chin. Gently, she shook the spider out the back door, nudging it along as if it were her baby, and was just dusting off her hands when she realized he was staring at her.

“What?” she asked self-consciously.

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. She went a little pale. “He’d better have all his hair,” she muttered.

“You can still say no.”

“I promised.”

He shook his head, but followed her to the front door, wondering at the woman who looked like a sexpot but wasn’t. No sexpot saved spiders at the risk of her clothes and went out on dates with dust on her chin.

“I can answer it by myself,” she said.

“What’s his name?”

“Ted.”

“Let’s see if Ted has all his hair.”

“Tanner.”

He hated the look on her face, hated knowing she didn’t want to go. Hated that he cared. “Just open the door, Cami. Open the door and tell him you changed your mind.”

“I can’t.”

“I can.”

“No.”

“Fine. But that doormat on your forehead? The one that says walk all over me?” He slid his thumb over her chin, removing the dust. “It doesn’t look so good on you.”