Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(47)

"I'm friendly to all the tenants," I said.

She looked amused. "How many of them are you exchanging gifts with, Haven?"

I stared at her without blinking. "Mr. Cates and I are not exchanging gifts."

"Then what is that?" She pointed to the box beside my desk.

"I assume it's a thank-you gesture. Because I recommended the interior decorator."

"You assume?" She laughed gently. "Well, let's stop assuming and find out what it is."

I fought to keep the desperation from my voice. "I'm too busy to deal with that right now. I've got a lot of — "

"Oh, there's always time for presents," Vanessa said brightly. "Go on, Haven. Open it."

Silently I damned her, myself, and most of all Hardy Cates for putting me in this position. Reaching for the box, I hefted it to my lap. At the first sound of ripping paper, the other employees, including Kimmie, Rob, and Phil, appeared at the entrance to my cubicle. I now had an audience.

"Hey," Kimmie said with a grin, "you're finally opening that thing."

Grimly I tore off the wrapping, wadded it up and deposited it in the wastebasket. The gift, whatever it was, was inside an innocuous white box. If it was something embarrassing, I thought, I was going to kill Hardy Cates within the hour. Holding my breath, I lifted the lid and discovered a case of sturdy pink molded plastic. There was a tag tied to the handle, with a few words:

Hope this will come in handy.

— H

"Is it bath stuff?" Kimmie prompted. "Makeup? Jewelry?"

"Jewelry, in a box this big?" I unfastened the silver latches.

"This is Texas," Kimmie said reasonably.

"Go on," Vanessa prompted, as I hesitated before lifting the lid.

Before I could stop myself, a huge, irrepressible smile spread across my face as I opened the case. It was a tool kit complete with a pink-handled hammer, a tape measure, a screwdriver, and a set of wrenches.

"A tool kit?" Kimmie asked blankly. "Well. That's different."

Even Vanessa looked disappointed. No doubt she had been hoping for something scandalous or compromising, or at least expensive. But the gift of a tool kit was hardly something to indicate a hot affair.

Unfortunately in my case, this was more effective than a trunkload of diamonds. It suggested that Hardy Cates understood me, got me, in a way no man ever had. Not even Nick. That scared me almost as much as it pleased me.

"Nice," I said blandly, turning to hide my hot cheeks. I closed the tool kit and set it on the floor beside my desk.

Vanessa stayed at my desk until everyone else had gone back to work. I could feel her gaze on the back of my head. I ignored her, blindly studying my laptop screen.

"You really are bad with men, aren't you?" I heard her say in an undertone that no one else could hear. "I could have gotten him to give me something a lot better than that."

I convinced myself that the only decent thing to do was to thank Hardy for the gift. So I went up to his apartment after dinner that night, hoping he would be gone. My plan was to leave a bottle of wine and a note on the threshold, and avoid any actual contact with him.

But as I walked out of the elevator on the eighteenth floor, I saw Hardy punching the combination code on the door lock. He had just finished a workout — he must have gone to the fitness center on the sixth floor — and he was wearing sweatpants and a damp T-shirt that clung to every line of his body. He was built but not beefy, just . . . powerful. Ripped. I could see indentations of muscle all down his back. His biceps strained the sleeves of his shirt. The hair at the back of his neck was sweat soaked. A sheen of exertion covered his skin.

He was a big, steaming male, and I could almost smell the salt and fresh sweat and hot skin from where I stood. I felt the confusing, opposing pulls of repulsion and craving. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to put my mouth on him, any part of him. I also wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

I managed to smile, clutching the bottle of wine against my front, as he turned to glance at me over his shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly, his gaze locking on mine.

"Hey." It seemed to take an absurdly long time to reach him, as if the hallway had become a conveyor belt moving In the opposite direction. When I finally got to him, I held out the wine bottle in an awkward motion. "Thank you," I said. "For the present. I love it." He pushed the door open. "Come in."

"No, thanks, I just wanted to give you this — " Our fingers touched as he took the bottle from me, and I jerked my hand back.

He looked amused, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. "Don't you want to see how Todd's decorating turned out?"

"I . . . yes, I guess I could come in for a minute." I followed Hardy into the apartment. He switched the lights on, and I almost gasped at the change in the place. It had been transformed into a rustic but sophisticated retreat. The rich earthy tones of the wood and upholstery played off the abundant row of windows. The furniture had been kept to a minimum, a few comfortable oversized pieces, including a deep sofa and chairs and a low, flat ottoman upholstered in caramel-colored leather. A stylized three-panel painting depicting a cattle drive had been mounted on one wall. Perfect.

"Whatever you paid Todd," I said, "it was worth it."