Designs on You (Pub1)

8. Emma

Rex rubbed my neck as he looked over my shoulder. When Amanda delivered her ideas for the Sumner project, she had barked at me to find random items to complete her design ideas. Mostly, she had left me alone and relegated me to busy work alongside Rex. Designers had offices, assistants worked in cubicles. We worked at tables in an open space with the other peons.

Apparently, Amanda couldn't or wouldn't use the design software to create the graphics. It wasn't exactly like HGTV, but close. The program didn't require a degree in computer science, but practice had made me adept. Many thought it was my greatest strength dismissing my talents in design.

"Enter these." She dumped a pile in front of me. "The proposal is Tuesday."

Looking over what she left, I sighed. Whispering as I looked around like a paranoid owl, I pointed to the kitchen cabinets. "These are awful."

Rex scoffed. "Awful. They're the same ones she used for that guy with the house in Charlestown."

Rex and I would kill for a chance, and she was recycling ideas. I had been busy doing research, a word I liked better than stalking. First, I browsed the file on another Sumner home designed by Carol, herself. The colors in Oliver's family's house were warm. The gourmet kitchen looked inviting. Amanda's designs were cold and impersonal.

It was easy to learn more about the Sumners online. Newport magazine had done a feature a few years back. Their Newport home's decor was light and airy. Alicia Sumner described the kitchen as a favorite room, and making waffles together was a Saturday morning tradition. Every cell in my body knew Oliver would want his house to be more like the homes where he grew up.

Had he eaten waffles before we kissed? Closing my eyes, I remembered his sweet taste.

It took me the rest of the week to get the models right, but something was missing. My belly tightened and soured when I knocked on Amanda's office door.

She barked at me to enter. "Are you finally done?"

"Just a few tweaks." Stay calm. "Where did you want the poster?"

She didn't look up from her iPhone. "No poster."

"The client insisted." It was the day he kissed me.

"He doesn't know what he wants."

My chin dropped. I'd bet money he'd know enough to hate your designs. Why would he buy an old house if he liked contemporary decor?

I spent my weekend creating the designs I would have presented if Oliver were my client. Instead of black, I picked gray cabinets, as an alternative to the cream in the Newport house. To add color, blue contrasted the gray for the island with a slab of reclaimed wood for a butcher block top. Instead of concrete, I suggested eco-friendly bamboo wood flooring. His office design featured warm mocha walls, dark wood desk and a nautical map of Narragansett Bay to go with his poster.

Ignoring the pleas of my friends, I refused to take a break and have a drink. I completed a week's worth of work in two days. Eventually Rex conceded and helped me. Pride surged through me as I reviewed my designs. Unfortunately, I'd lose my job if I showed my ideas.

My navy sheath looked professional, but I felt nervous as I approached the house. Was my uncomfortableness about witnessing Amanda crash and burn or seeing Oliver again?

The minute he walked in, my nervous system went haywire. His cat helped relax me as I spoke to his mother in the kitchen. She was exactly like the mother should be of the man who wanted to apply first aid, but not at all like the wife of a wealthy entrepreneur.

She learned I was from Rhode Island and spoke about Newport. She had my guard down in an instant as I shared the one thing I vowed not to. I couldn't face the humiliation of Oliver realizing I was the girl Duff kissed.

When Amanda scared the cat, I should have expected it, because Oreo had run from her before. Bumping into Oliver was worse than tripping over the cord and the cat put together. The thing I was most unprepared for was when he appeared in a pair of faded jeans. My dry mouth got drier and my insides reacted the opposite as I shifted in my seat.

I couldn't look at him when he sat across the table and listened to Amanda. Every time I looked up, my gaze fixed on his lips. Instead, I focused on my arms, which stung from the scratches. Finally Oliver asked about his poster.

How could Amanda think her presentation went well? Before my escape, Oliver insisted on seeing the scratches.

"My knees are healed." I spoke to the table, afraid to meet his gaze.

He disappeared and returned with a first aid kit. "I should keep this handy when you come over."

I looked up to see the smile lines near his sky-blue eyes. He sat next to me and I held my arms out to him. His fingers gently applied antibiotic ointment to my tender wounds.

When Mrs. Sumner returned from seeing Amanda out, it surprised me she couldn't see the sparks flying around me. His touch was unbearably sublime.

She looked from her son to me. When I met her gaze, she shook her head. "You didn't like those designs either?"

With my mouth too dry to speak, I considered the risks. I would never see him again if I didn't save the account, but I could lose my job in the process.