Page 12 of That Time in Venice
Chapter4
Could she do it?Could she work with Reed and not fall apart from the constantcontact?
Of course. She was a professional and would impress Laura with the job she did for him, the same as with all herclients.
Anika parked at the curb outside his home. “This is it,” shemuttered.
The classic gray Tudor was nestled back from the street in a well-to-do area of Atlanta. She had no doubt why Reed settled in this part of town. The fun-loving bachelor he used to be would have never bought a house in this zip code, but Reed the single dad must have made a conscious decision to live near parks, schools with high test scores, and in a community where the neighbors probably all knew eachother.
The quiet street held very little activity, except for a white minivan cruising by at an extremely slow pace. The driver squinted out the window as she checked the numbers onmailboxes.
Taking a deep breath, Anika strolled up the short walkway with a leather Burberry briefcase over her shoulder containing a laptop and other necessities. She couldn’t do anything about the nervous tightening of her chest as she neared the steps that led to the double doors, so she steeled her nerves and prepared for the sightofReed.
He appeared seconds after she rang the doorbell, once again breathtaking in a dark pullover and jeans. His curly hair was neatly combed, and the clothes covered him as if they’d been sewn on his body—fitted, but not tight. He made looking good soeffortless.
“You found thehouseokay?”
She paid no attention to the warmth in his eyes or the sudden rise in her pulse rate. “Yes, it was easytofind.”
“Comeonin.”
Stepping inside, she was immediately impressed by the interior. Reed had been right. The owners had taken good care of the place. Crown molding and gleaming hardwood in the front foyer lent an elegant introduction tothehome.
The tour began right away, with Reed taking his time to show Anika throughout the first floor, pointing out rooms he wanted to paint and how the windows lacked any type of treatment. Each time he made a movement, her senses magnified the motion, so that she was acutely aware of the swing of his arm or the sound of his soft-soled shoes on thefloors.
In the living room, she made the mistake of noticing his long fingers as he gestured to an empty wall, telling her he’d like a photo or a unique wall covering in the blank space. Anikamhmmedand nodded, but the movement of his fingers reminded her of how they’d trailed across her bare skin and how she’d come all over them as he plunged them two and three at a timeinsideher.
He was only inches away, within reach. She fanned her face with her notepad and walked into the center of the room to avoid lookingathim.
The four bedrooms were upstairs, along with an office. They ended the tour with a return to the kitchen, where Anika set up a makeshift desk at the bar, and Reed stood acrossfromher.
“What do you think?” heasked.
“I have someideas.”
There were no pictures on the walls, and except for the living room, master bedroom, his daughter’s room, and his office, the place was almost entirely unfurnished. During their walk-through she snapped photos and took measurements, but with the interior of the home such a blank canvas, her mind raced with possibilities—including knocking down the partial wall that separated the den from the kitchen. The change would open up the space and increase the light in both rooms, but she wondered if Reed would be open to such a drasticchange.
“Did you get a chance to check out the website?” she asked, scrolling through the images on the digitalcamera.
“Idid.”
“So tell me about your vision.” She snapped open her binder and pulled out a pen. “What would you say is your style?” This was the part clients struggled with, and it was her job to help them articulate what they wanted and narrow down theideas.
Reed shrugged. “Simple.”
“That wasn’t one of the choices,” shepointedout.
He laughed shortly. Amusement added a hint of light to his blue eyes. “Okay, what do youthink?”
“I think…” The living room contained a large sectional, a TV, a sound system, and a worn love seat. A king bed sat in the middle of the master bedroom, with an old leather recliner in one corner whose condition suggested he’d had it for years. “You prefer comfortable furniture and functional pieces. You don’t want a showroom. You’re more suited to a place where you can come home and relax and feel as if you’ve escaped the day-to-day grind. A place you can actuallylivein.”
Reed nodded thoughtfully. “You could say that. Right now my furniture is big and clunky. I suppose I could use a more feminine touch, but I don’t want anythinggirly.”
“A traditional aesthetic wouldsuityou.”
“Maybe. With consideration for my daughter, ofcourse.”
Anika made a note. She still couldn’t believe Reed had a daughter and was raising her alone, no less. “How old is yourdaughter?”
