Page 6 of Spark of Attraction

We chatted about the changes to Port Paxton since Ellie had left, the rising cost of gas and which station had the best prices, the ones in town or the ones on the highway, and, the staple of any Canadian conversation, the weather. Once the food arrived, we fell silent, and I found myself stopping to watch Ellie eat. How she precisely cut up the omelette with manners fit for Buckingham Palace. Josh and Ellie’s mother had raised them to have good manners, but she was so measured in her movements, someone had obviously taken her training even further. Her husband’s influence no doubt.

I followed the fork’s path to her mouth, entranced by her tongue when it darted out to clean any leftovers from her lips. Her lips shone enticingly and I found myself wondering if her lipstick had a flavour or what she’d taste like without it.

She stopped, a piece of cantaloupe speared on the fork’s tines halfway to her mouth, then lowered it. “What’s wrong? Do I have egg on my chin or something?”

Before I could reply, she picked up the napkin and patted her chin and over her lips.

“No, you’re fine. No egg on your face.” I wasn’t about to admit that I found watching her erotic so I settled for the simpler, “I like watching you.”

Color flooded her face and she pushed her plate to the centre of the table, her omelette only half consumed.

I stared at her plate trying to see if I could tell what was wrong with it. It looked bland, but properly prepared. “Is there something wrong with your food?”

“It’s fine,” she muttered.

“But you’ve barely touched it. If there’s something wrong, we can let Rachel know and she’ll have Carl make you a new one. Or we can order something el—”

“We don’t have to do anything.” She snapped as she slapped her palms flat on the tabletop. “If I say I’m done eating, it’s not your place to question me.” After a shuddering inhale, she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths before meeting my gaze again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It’s just—” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

Without giving me a chance to respond, she continued, as calm as if she were sitting across from me at a boardroom table. “Tell me what you think it’s going to take to get my place into order electrically.”

Okay, if she wanted to play things that way, I could deal. I pushed my plate to the side. “I can’t give you a full estimate unless I look over the place and know exactly what I’m dealing with. Are you looking for a quick fix until you gut the kitchen? Or do you want me to figure out the cost of going whole hog and doing everything once—the kitchen, the heated towel rack in both upstairs bathrooms, and the underfloor heating in your ensuite, the whole shebang?”

“It would be cheaper to do it at all at the same time, right? Rather than paying a plumber—or an electrician—to come back multiple times?”

I leaned back against the seat. “It would be, but to do all this isn’t going to come cheap.”

Her lips tightened. “You’ve been talking to Josh.”

Tread carefully. “D’you remember that Tom Hanks movie where they bought an old mansion that fell apart and they ended up mortgaging themselves to the hilt? It wouldn’t take much to have that happen with this house.”

“Two weeks, two weeks,” she mimicked the tradesmen quoting the timeframe that ended up taking months. “But, Mal? This house? It’s worth it.”

She leaned forward, her eyes bright, as she again described her vision for the house. I found myself drawn into her dreams, entranced by her passion, the way her eyes sparkled as she talked, the way her hands moved, waving as if they were touching the molding, the textured plaster. Touching me.

The first week I started my electrical apprenticeship classes, my teacher told the students that once your friends and neighbours discovered you were an electrician, whether you were a full-fledged certified electrician or still in your first week as an apprentice, they would hit you up for free electrical work. He stressed that we had to learn to quote a price and stick to it, and that the only person whom you should say yes to doing their electrical work for free was your mother.

By the time Ellie wound down, her infectious attitude and joy in her plans for the house had infected me. I wanted to do the damned job for free, to make her dream real.

If I went back to his class now, Mr. Farquharson would definitely give me a failing grade.

CHAPTER FIVE

ELLIE

I don’t know why I’d snapped at Malcolm when he’d suggested I order something other than the omelette. I’d wanted the French toast. I really had, but the way he was watching me made me wonder if he was like Gareth, if he would judge me for not watching my calories. Throughout my marriage, I’d strictly watched my weight and exercised with a trainer to keep myself at Gareth’s declared ideal weight for my height.

As I described what I imagined for the house, I realized Malcolm wasn’t watching me with judgment, but interest. Not like he was considering how much he could charge me for fixing up Hauser House, but like he wanted to strip me naked and bury his face between my thighs.

Count me in, Malcolm, because I want that too.

I’d been a widow for almost two years now, but my husband hadn’t touched me for almost a year before that. So Malcolm’s interest made my panties damp and I was certain if I looked down, my nipples would be standing up at attention. I squirmed in my seat against the need to feel Malcolm’s touch on my back, on my belly. Inside me.

He frowned and reached across the table to cover my hand with his. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I ground it out, unwilling to admit that I was ready to jump his bones right here in the diner because of his simple touch. Maybe when we got back to my place, I could lure him to my bedroom and strip him naked, beg him to fuck me hard and fast. Soft and slow would be good too.

Except when we returned to the house, he was all business. He pulled a toolbox out the back of his battered red half ton, dropped it in my front hallway, then returned to unhook a ladder and carry it inside. He spent a long time in the basement by the fuse box, then stuck a yellow box with yellow and red lights into each outlet, then opened every outlet on the main floor, hmming and muttering while making notes.

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