The deal with the Danforths had obviously been made. It was too late to change that, and if she pushed her father too far, he would never rent her the space.
And now she was supposed to be nice?
Setting her teeth, she marched back to the office. Outside the door she paused, then drew in a long, slow, calming breath. She’d already made a big enough fool of herself in front of Reid Danforth. She refused to add pathetic to his opinion of her, as well.
Certain her face might crack under the strain, she forced a smile and opened the door.
‘‘Well,’’ she said, breezing into the room and plucking a key from a hook beside the door. ‘‘It appears there was a wrinkle in our line of communication here, Mr. Danforth. When do you plan on moving in?’’
‘‘Tomorrow.’’
In spite of her determination to be calm, Tina felt her jaw go slack. ‘‘Tomorrow?’’
‘‘We’re announcing my father’s candidacy in a few days,’’ he explained. ‘‘It’s taken quite a while to find a space that meets our requirements, so I have to move quickly.’’
‘‘I see.’’ Regaining her composure, she nodded. ‘‘Well, shall we go have a look, then?’’
The woman had certainly come back with a different attitude, Reid thought as he followed Tina into the hallway. She’d gone from Miss Tempest to Miss Hospitality in the space of about five minutes.
Not that he was buying her facade of serenity. Reid could see just a trace of tension in her eyes, hear the edge of stress in her silky-smooth voice. Under the surface of all that so-called calm, a storm was brewing.
No doubt about it, she intrigued him. Made him wonder what all that pent-up energy would be like in bed.
They stepped out the back door of the bakery into a lovely garden framed by high walls of aged brick and stucco. Lush ferns and plants surrounded stone benches, statues of smiling cherubs and a small rock pond.
‘‘There’s a private alley between the buildings,’’ she said as they walked across the patio, her tone clipped and matter-of-fact.
She opened an iron gate and they stepped into the alley. Reid noted the wrought-iron stairs leading to the second and third levels above the space he’d rented. ‘‘Are the upper levels rented out?’’ he asked.
‘‘My aunt’s apartment is on the second floor and she has a photography studio on the third.’’ They moved past the alley, stepped through a second gate into another garden. ‘‘She’s traveling most of the time on shoots, if you’re worried about her disturbing you.’’
As Reid followed Tina through the second garden to the back entrance of the building, he couldn’t help but notice the sway of her slender hips and the fact that she had nice legs. Something told him that it wouldn’t be Tina’s aunt who would be disturbing him, he thought.
He forced his attention back to Tina, realized he’d missed part of what she’d been saying, something about the buildings being built in the early 1800s, then renovated in the 1970s.
Over the next year, there’d be numerous receptions for donors and volunteers, Reid knew. For the smaller, more private gatherings, the brick patio, with its stone benches and two-tiered fountain, would be perfect. ‘‘Will I have use of the garden area?’’
‘‘Of course.’’
She moved to the bevelled-glass back door of the building and inserted the key into the lock. He watched her visibly square her shoulders and draw in a breath as she turned the knob.
The smell of fresh paint filled the cool and damp air inside the wide hallway they stepped into; Reid realized that the layout was very similar to the bakery’s. The afternoon sun spilled in through the back door and glowed golden off the recently refinished hardwood floors. ‘‘The back half is split into two offices, a bath and a kitchen.’’ Tina moved stiffly down the hallway. ‘‘The front half is one large room.’’
As they stepped into the front area of the building, Reid saw the longing in Tina’s eyes as she glanced around the room. A sense of possessiveness, he thought. It suddenly dawned on him why she was upset.
‘‘You wanted this space, didn’t you?’’ he asked quietly. ‘‘For yourself.’’
She stilled at his words, then lifted her chin. ‘‘What I wanted is unimportant at this point.’’ She held the key out to him. ‘‘The space is yours for one year. Congratulations.’’
‘‘I’m sorry.’’ He closed his hand around hers as he took the key. Her skin was soft and warm against his. ‘‘I didn’t know.’’
‘‘Would it have mattered to you if you had?’’
‘‘I wouldn’t have changed my mind, if that’s what you mean.’’ They both knew he’d be lying if he said anything different. ‘‘What were you going to do with it?’’
‘‘Nothing that won’t keep.’’ Determination shone in her eyes as she glanced around the room. ‘‘For another year, anyway. Good luck to you and your father, Mr. Danforth.’’
When she tried to pull her hand from his, he held tight. Arching one brow, she leveled a questioning gaze at him.
‘‘We are going to be neighbors, Tina,’’ he said. ‘‘How ’bout you call me Reid?’’
She cocked her head and studied him, and though he wouldn’t exactly call it a smile, her mouth wasn’t quite so firm, her eyes so cool.
‘‘Good luck, Reid,’’ she said with a nod, then added, ‘‘I’ll be counting the days.’’
‘‘So will I, Tina.’’ He grinned at her, then released her hand. ‘‘So will I.’’
From the second-story window of her aunt’s apartment, Tina watched the moving van—Miller’s Home and Office Rental—pull out of the busy, early-evening traffic and slide into a parking space on the street directly below. A burly, bald-headed man carrying a clipboard and wearing lead-gray overalls stepped out of the van’s cab, then disappeared into the first floor.
‘‘Grass certainly doesn’t grow under Reid Danforth’s feet, does it, Delilah?’’ Tina said to the long-haired tabby currently winding its sleek, lithe body around her bare legs. ‘‘It’s hardly been five hours since I handed him a key, and here he is, bringing in furniture.’’
Damn him.
Logically, Tina knew she shouldn’t blame Reid. It was, after all, her parents’ decision. But the fact was, she wasn’t feeling especially reasonable—or forgiving—at the moment. Besides, it was much easier to be angry with a stranger than her mother and father.
Tina had made one last-ditch appeal to her mother to reconsider leasing out the space to the Danforths, but her effort had proven futile. Convinced that Abraham Danforth’s campaign headquarters would be a hotbed of handsome, wealthy bachelors, Mariska was practically doing handstands.
And speaking of handsome, wealthy bachelors, Tina’s pulse jumped when Reid stepped out onto the sidewalk with the burly man.
He’d stripped off the denim jacket he’d been wearing earlier, and looking at his wide shoulders and thick-muscled arms under the T-shirt he wore, she might have thought him one of the movers. When he dropped one large hand on a lean, denim-clad hip and gestured toward the doorway, her eyes traveled downward over his tall, well-sculpted body, then back up again.
She told herself the flutter in her stomach was hunger, not lust.
‘‘Most mothers would warn their daughters about a man like Reid Danforth,’’ Tina huffed, then knelt