Page 17 of Just This Once

Thereshe is.

My duchess.

I grin.

She arches her brow in return.

As if she doesn’t know that turns me on.

“You’re looking good,” I say, to which she merely shakes her head. “Taryn Stone, huh?”

“Come on. I’ll show you around, Dante Moretti of Moretti Construction.”

“Who were those two guys?” I ask before I can think better of it.

And for a moment, I assume she won’t answer, but she surprises me on multiple fronts by saying, “My brothers.”

I probably shouldn’t feel so relieved to know they’re related to her, but I’m hung up on this woman, and while I don’t mind some competition, I want her for myself.

“I had no idea who you were when we met,” I say and follow her through the arched doorway into the dining room, my eyes drawn to the sway of her hips. She’s wearing these tight black pants that hug her curves just right and a silky blouse that drapes over her shoulders, revealing a hint of her collarbone. I can’t help but imagine tracing my tongue along that delicate line, feeling her tremble beneath me.

She tosses me a skeptical look over her shoulder. “And if you did, would you have approached me?”

“I would have approached you the instant I met you, no matter if it was at a bar or a business meeting.”

She huffs. “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen. This is the dining room. We serve breakfast here every morning, and sometimes we host small events, like bridal showers or baby showers.”

I nod, scanning the room and making mental notes of the changes we’ll need to make. “Got it. And what about the kitchen? We’ll need to bring that up to code if you want to expand your catering options.”

Taryn leans back, clearly impressed. “You’ve done your homework.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

We move on to the kitchen, and I’m immediately struck by how outdated everything is. The appliances are ancient, the countertops are chipped, and the floor tiles are cracked and stained. It’s a far cry from the sleek, modern kitchens we usually install.

“I’m assuming you spoke to my brother Johnny about quotes and time frames and then signed the contract with Robbie, but I can’t promise that will all remain the same. I didn’t realize you’d need…the works in here.”

Taryn sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I know. It’s been on my list for a while, but we just haven’t had the budget for it until recently.”

I glance up from where I jot down a few notes, catching the worried look in her eyes. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’ll make it work.”

“Dante, don’t?—”

“You ready to go upstairs?”

I can tell she wants to fight me, but I won’t have her working herself up over this job. I’m the one in charge, and I’ll see to it that she gets what she wants in a timely manner and for a price she can afford.

We continue the tour, moving upstairs to the guest rooms. Each one is unique, with its own color scheme and decor, but they all share the same outdated aesthetic. Even so, I can see why people love staying here. It’s like stepping back in time. If a bit on the kitschy side. She wants to keep the feel while opening up the space as much as possible to live in this century.

“So, how long have you been working here?” I ask as we walk down the hall.

Taryn hesitates for a moment before answering. “About tenyears. I started out as the assistant manager, but I’m the general manager now.”

“And you enjoy it?”

She nods, her eyes scanning the walls as if taking in every detail. “I do. It’s not just a job for me. It’s my home away from home. I want to make sure it’s the best it can be.”

I can see the pride in her eyes, the dedication in her voice. It’s sexy as hell, and I have a surge of desire. To find out what the pride on her tongue tastes like.

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