Christmas Diamonds Read online

  She pursed her lips. “I try to treat all people the same way.”

  “Oh, really?” Chase raised a brow. “If that’s how you treat all people, then—”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Paula said, coloring.

  “Seems to me that once you make up your mind about someone, it’s set in stone,” Chase suggested.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I obviously misinterpreted things. If I offended you, I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” Chase found himself uncharacteristically enjoying watching her grovel now that a job was clearly on the line. He supposed it was time to cut the lady some slack.

  Her mouth opened slightly. “Look, why don’t we just start over?”

  “You think we should?”

  Paula frowned. “Do you always respond to a question with a question?”

  Chase chuckled. “No, not always. Only where it concerns business. I happen to judge people who work for me by how they present themselves.”

  She tensed. “I can assure you that you will find me the consummate professional.”

  Chase studied her and definitely liked what he saw. Apart from her obvious physical beauty, she was sexy as hell, though he suspected the lady was trying hard not to present that side of her while she was in business mode. As a man who had by and large put his profession first since he became a widower, Chase respected that much in the interior decorator. Nothing said they had to see eye to eye on a personal level, not to mention on a romantic and intimate level.

  “Then let’s start over,” he told her.

  Paula’s lips curved upward at the corners. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.”

  Chase liked the way she smiled, displaying straight, tight white teeth and dimpled cheeks. This notwithstanding, her work still had to stand on its own merits. He was not one to spend his hard-earned money frivolously, even if the interior decorator was extremely easy on the eyes.

  “You come highly recommended,” he noted.

  She nodded. “Yes, your father, right?”

  Chase grinned. “You did a nice job on his recreation room earlier this year.”

  “Thanks,” Paula said sincerely. “It was fun turning the room into a place where people could just relax and play games, leaving the outside world behind.”

  “I’d say you accomplished your objective.” It was his father’s favorite place to hang out at home. Chase also found himself spending a lot of time there playing pool and checkers.

  Paula looked up at him. “You have a beautiful house, Mr. McCord.”

  “I’m pretty happy with it for the most part,” he said. “And please, call me Chase.”

  “All right, Chase. And I prefer Paula.”

  He met her bold eyes. “So tell me what you think of this great room.”

  She took a sweeping glance and returned her gaze to him. “I think it’s wonderful. Maybe a bit too pristine for my tastes, but it’s certainly a room to admire.”

  “I’ve been told that often,” he said. “My late wife chose everything you see in here. It was her passion to make this the dream house she’d envisioned.”

  Paula’s brows lowered respectfully. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  Chase felt her sincerity and also his own pain that resurfaced every time he went down memory lane. He pushed the issue away, not wanting to backpedal on the decision to redecorate he’d made for all the right reasons.

  “She was a wonderful woman.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Anyway, as much as I love this room, I think a change is definitely in order in here.”

  “Just how much of a change are we talking about?” Paula asked, her voice lifted a notch.

  “I’d like a complete makeover. All of the current furnishings can be donated to a charitable organization.” Chase faced Paula. “Do you think you could help me out?”

  She grinned. “Yes, I’d love to.”

  “Great!” Chase said, grinning back at her.

  “Is there any theme in particular that you’re looking for?” she queried. “Perhaps one to complement the kitchen?”

  “Not that I can think of,” he admitted, having given it little thought other than wanting something different. “Rochelle, my late wife, gave each room its own individual style. Since you’re the decorator, I’ll trust you to use your discretion in here.”

  Paula’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, and Chase could tell that ideas were beginning to form in her mind. That was exactly what he’d hoped for, as this was outside his area of expertise.

  “Do you have a budget in mind?” she asked. “I certainly wouldn’t presume that cost is no object, since it usually is with most people. I can pretty much work within any set amount you give me.”

  Chase appreciated her frankness, indicating her willingness to put the client first. This was in stark contrast to the woman he’d met at the coffee shop, who seemed to have a chip on her shoulder toward any man she felt had stepped over the line.

  “Whatever it takes to get the job done satisfactorily,” he said, knowing that his income afforded him the means. “Just draw up an estimate.”

  Paula nodded. “I’ll put together a plan and run it by you. If you agree, we’ll implement it.”

  Chase pulled out his card and handed it to her. “My home, work and cell numbers are all there.”

  She studied the card. “So you’re in the diamond business like your father?”

  “Yeah,” he uttered proudly. “Seemed like a smart move after I graduated from college.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  Chase wondered if she really believed that. The one thing he never wanted a woman to think was that he merely followed in his father’s footsteps with no vision of his own. The truth was, he could have done anything with his MBA, but chose a dual major in gemology not only to keep the family business alive, but to put his stamp on it. He had done just that, and Chase had no doubt he’d taken the right career path.

  Paula put his card in her wallet and took out hers. “Here’s all my contact info. Feel free to call me any time you have a question or concern about the project.”

  Chase thought it was unbelievable that an hour ago the same woman had no desire whatsoever to give him the time of day, much less her number. Now he had direct lines of communication with her and vice versa.

  He stuck the card in his pocket. “I’ll do that.”

  Paula dug in her purse. “I need to take some measurements and a few pictures of the room.”

  “Be my guest.” Chase watched her methodically put a measuring tape to work and then use a digital camera to capture the room from different angles. Clearly she was in her element. He was as much fascinated with her body language as the process she went through to get a feel for the spatial dimensions and lighting. She moved gracefully and with an unassuming sexuality, making him almost wish he could just stand there and watch her all afternoon.

  Paula turned to him. “Once I transfer these to my computer, I’ll be able to play around with some different concepts until I find the one I think works best.”

  “I have no doubt you know what you’re doing,” Chase told her. “I’m looking forward to seeing the finished product.” Even if that meant losing what Rochelle had poured her heart and soul into. Deep down inside, Chase believed that her efforts would never truly die and Rochelle’s presence would be part of the house for as long as he lived there. With its great location and comfort, he saw no reason to move.

  “I can’t wait, either.” Paula put away her camera and stuck out her arm. “I look forward to working with you.”

  Chase shook her hand, finding it very soft, warm and inviting. “Ditto for me.”

  He saw her out the door and couldn’t help but think that it would be a good thing to have Paula here to spruce up his favorite room. This also meant they would have to get past their differences from the coffee shop and work in conjunction toward a common goal. She was obviously willing to meet him halfway, which was all he could ask for.

  Ch
ase went back inside and approached Jackie, the housekeeper he’d hired to come in three days a week to do the things Rochelle had once done. At first he’d tried to go it alone but quickly realized he was only making a bigger mess of things.

  “Did you move the papers I had on the table?” he asked, knowing she sometimes went a little too far with her cleaning.

  “I put them on your desk,” Jackie said.

  “Guess I should’ve checked there first.” He scratched his chin. “I’ve hired Paula Devine to redecorate the great room. I’d like you to help her with anything she needs.”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Thanks.” Chase remembered there was something else he’d meant to tell her. “Also, I’d like that box of my late wife’s clothes in the closet upstairs put in the storage room.” He planned to soon donate them to charity, deciding it was time they were put to good use.

  Paula couldn’t believe her nearly rotten luck. Of all the men she could have spoken her mind to at the coffee shop, it had to be the very man she sought to hire her. One who happened to be quite well-to-do, judging by his abode and bloodline, and needed some work done to bring at least one room in his house up to snuff. Never mind the fact that in the looks department he could hold his own with the best-looking men on the planet: tall, definitely fit, with broad features and neatly trimmed facial hair that brought out his brown skin tone.

  Thank goodness he didn’t take my remarks too personally, or I would’ve really dug a hole for myself.

  Her grandmother had always told Paula that she was a bit too frank for her own good at times.

  And whom did I inherit that from?

  Since the age of five, Paula had been raised by her grandmother and, in the process, had acquired Isabelle Devine’s independent spirit and willingness to assert herself. Sometimes it got her into trouble, but more often than not, Paula was secure in being a strong woman who wouldn’t be walked over or taken advantage of.

  Paula supposed that the same spirit had been passed on to her mother, as well, who had left home as a teenager, making her way to several states before ending up in Atlanta. It was there that she’d gotten pregnant at twenty-one with Paula, raising her alone as a single mother. When times became too tough, Paula was sent to live with her grandmother. She became the only real mother Paula had ever known. Her contact with her birth mother had been infrequent.

  She was proud to have her grandmother’s spunk and would not apologize for it. On the contrary, Paula felt that being herself was the only way she could live. She only hoped that one day she would meet a man who could respect that without it being an affront to his manhood.

  Paula drove home, happy that she had landed the job with Chase McCord. With an enormous great room, it would be a wonderful challenge to redecorate. The fact that Chase was allowing her to put her vision into it with little interference was an interior decorator’s dream. She was intrigued by the man who was clearly more than just a handsome face with weak pickup lines that turned out to be not even that.

  She wondered if he had dated anyone since his wife died. Or had the romance inside him died with her as if it had nowhere else to go? Paula knew something about that. She’d certainly had her fill of unworthy men who knew how to kill a romance. She had a feeling that someone like Chase McCord might be entirely different.

  Paula arrived at the Prairie-style chalet where she lived with her grandmother. Built in the 1930s, it had been remodeled several times yet still retained its architectural charm and coziness. Paula loved the fact that her home was on a peaceful dead-end street, nestled amongst Douglas fir trees.

  She went inside and immediately smelled collard greens. Since Paula’s stomach was growling, she was eager to find out what else was for dinner. An excellent cook in her own right, Paula’s grandmother had taught her well. Unfortunately, with her busy work schedule and often long hours, Paula rarely had time to cook anymore. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t find the time if preparing a feast for the right man.

  Passing the sunken living room and formal dining room, Paula walked into the country-style kitchen. It had an eclectic feel, borrowing on the Colonial America and Old English Country styles. She saw her grandmother standing over the sink, peeling sweet potatoes for a pie while humming a song.

  Isabelle Devine was seventy-one years old, but looked much younger. She was tall and lean with stylishly short, curled, silver hair and butterscotch skin. Isabelle had retired from the public school system five years ago after more than thirty years of teaching. Born in South Africa, she was classified under apartheid as “colored,” reflecting her mixed-race sub-Saharan ancestry. Isabelle had been seventeen when her father brought his family to the United States to join him while he pursued his graduate studies in entomology at a university in the state of Washington.

  It was there that Isabelle met Paula’s grandfather, Earl Devine, a railway worker. They married a year later and had only been wed for six months when tragedy struck. Earl was killed in a railroad accident, leaving Isabelle a nineteen-year-old widow pregnant with Paula’s mother, Jean.

  It pained Paula that her mother had chosen to lead her life for the most part without reaching out to either her or Isabelle. Her grandmother and mother had not gotten along well, but Isabelle never stopped loving her only child to the point of selflessly rearing Paula as if she were her own.

  Paula carried this weight on her shoulders, trying to compensate for her mother’s absence in both of their lives by making Isabelle proud and never giving her cause to reject the role she had played in making Paula’s life everything it was today. She wanted her grandmother to enjoy the years she had left as much as possible, and since she was in relatively good health for a woman her age, Paula was pretty confident Isabelle wasn’t leaving any time soon, the good Lord willing.

  “Hi, Isa,” Paula said, using the nickname for her grandmother that she’d used for as long as she could remember.

  “Hello.” Isabelle stopped humming and offered a big smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “That’s me, quiet as a mouse,” Paula said.

  “You hungry?” Isabelle asked.

  Paula moistened her lips. “Starving!”

  Isabelle chuckled. “Well, I’ll take care of that.”

  “Can I help?” Paula offered.

  “No, just go freshen up. I won’t be more than a few minutes.”

  “All right.” Paula kissed her cheek and went upstairs. She had always been spoiled by her grandmother and couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Paula hoped that one day she would find the right man, someone who would enjoy spoiling her as much as she would enjoy being spoiled by him. The fact that she hadn’t met him up to this point didn’t mean he wasn’t out there somewhere. He could be right around the corner just waiting to run into her.

  She stepped inside her bedroom that was well down the hall from her grandmother’s room, with two spare rooms in between to give them some needed privacy. In redesigning her personal space, Paula had done the walls in soft apricot, added plantation shutters to the windows and installed lush gray carpeting. Decorative accents complemented hand-carved mahogany furnishings. She sat for a moment on the antique bed, where silk taffeta hung above the headboard to form a crown canopy.

  Paula suddenly found herself curious about Chase’s bedroom. In light of the rooms she’d seen at his home, she assumed his bedroom was spacious and immaculate. If things worked out right, maybe he would allow her to redecorate it, as well. Or would that be overstepping the boundaries of his late wife’s memory a bit too much in Chase’s mind?

  After freshening up, Paula went downstairs for dinner. She sat at the dining-room table across from her grandmother.

  “So how did the prospective client work out today?” Isabelle gave her a curious look.

  Paula bit into a biscuit. “I got the job.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “I hope he agrees when I’m done,” Paula said sincerely.

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sp; Isabelle cocked a brow. “He?”

  “Yes, he.” Paula chuckled, knowing her grandmother’s propensity to try to get her hitched to any single, good-looking, gainfully employed and available man.

  “Remind me again what the job is,” Isabelle said.

  “Redecorating his great room.”

  Isabelle lifted her glass. “Oh, yes. Sounds like something right up your alley.”

  “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

  “And when have you ever not been?” Isabelle tossed out.

  Paula smiled. “You give me way too much credit.”

  “You’ve earned it,” Isabelle said sincerely. “How old is your client?”

  “I’m guessing he’s in his midthirties,” Paula answered, which would put him a few years over her age of thirty-one.

  “That’s perfect, if I say so myself.” Isabelle favored her with a scheming look. “So, is he single?”

  “He’s a widower.” Paula couldn’t begin to imagine losing a significant other so young in life. How on earth did one manage to go on after that? She hoped she would never have to find out.

  “Then he and I have something in common besides you,” Isabelle said.

  “That’s true. You both lost your spouse at a young age.”

  Isabelle closed her eyes for a moment. “You never really get over it, no matter how much time passes.”

  Paula reached across the table and touched her grandmother’s hand. “I know.” She watched a shadow of sadness cross Isabelle’s face like a shadow. Paula had seen that look many times before. She wished things had been different for Isa. In spite of being an attractive woman of color and seeing men off and on over the years, her grandmother had chosen not to remarry, believing that no one could ever take the place of her beloved husband, Earl.

  Paula wondered if Chase felt the same way about his late wife. Had he deemed her irreplaceable, no matter who else might enter his life? Or maybe he had moved on but simply was looking to find the right woman to occupy his time.

  “Is he handsome?” Isabelle wiped her mouth with a napkin.