Free Double Jeopardy by Bobby Hutchinson Page A

was grinning at him, her brown eyes twinkling.
    “First of all, paint. The size of this place, gallons and gallons of paint.”
    “Oh, curses, I knew you’d say that.” He clutched his heart and feigned cardiac arrest, “Paint, my worst nightmare.”
    She pretended to ignore his antics. "A deep, sultry taupe is what it needs, I think. There’s all this light pouring in. We need to soften it a little. And the ceiling gets done, as well, two shades darker than the walls. Unless you have an aversion to taupe?”
    He frowned at her, still playing it up. “What is taupe exactly? I’ve been at cocktail parties with taupe, but I swear we’ve never been introduced.”
    He wondered if she had a man in her life and concluded there had to be one around somewhere. When she relaxed like this and laughed and waved those expressive hands around, she was irresistible.
    “You know what taupe is. Stop teasing. This is serious business. Your entire reputation is at stake. A man is judged by his environment, and it has to be the right color. Now, on this window you need roman blinds, which roll up and down, again to control the light. In an abstract print, brown and white and green. And some industrial wall sconces along here, ” she gestured, “just at eye level. On this wall, closest to the kitchen, a huge mirror, to reflect and make the best use of the softer light you’ll get with the walls painted. It’ll also reflect the mountains.”
    She might have been speaking a foreign language. And anyway, he was watching the way her mouth looked instead of listening.
    “That’s it? That’s all? Well, hey, that’s not as bad as I anticipated. No worse than a root canal.” He heaved a gigantic sigh of mock relief and took another drink of his wine. “Come sit down in my living room and take a break now that the painful part is over. I’ll put some music on and we can rest. What kind of music do you like?”
    “Almost anything except jazz.”
    “Country-and-western okay? Grendel prefers it.” Ben chose a Willy Nelson CD and turned the volume to low. He flopped into a lawn chair beside her.
    “Brace yourself. We’re not quite done yet,” she said firmly once they were settled.
    He groaned and tipped his head back.
    “I’d paint everything but the bathrooms the same color, then use a blue-gray on them for contrast.”
    She was enjoying this. It showed in her voice.
    “Oh, and in the upstairs bathroom you need some of those vertical blinds, the kind that allow you to see out without anyone being able to see in.”
    “Now, there’s a unique concept. I could use some of those in the OR when the gallery’s full and things aren’t going as planned.”
    She shook her head at his nonsense. “In your bedroom, two big armoires would work well as closets, and a couple of antique trunks could store linen and towels. And a big old dresser would be nice. Oh, and rugs. This place is screaming for huge, colorful dhurrie rugs on these rough wood floors.”
    “I must be going deaf. I’ve never heard even a murmur.”
    “You just don’t speak the language.” She grinned at him, that impish grin that he wanted to see again.
    “Neither do I have a clue where to begin to get the stuff you’ve just talked about.” He hoped she’d fall into the trap he was setting. “I don’t even know a wall painter—they mustn’t be big on nose jobs.” He gave her a supplicating look. “Do you have time to do this for me? Not the painting, just the supervising and stuff. Making the decisions. I’d pay you, of course. Just decide on a fee. Any fee, within reason, as long as I don’t have to be involved in what’s going on. And I wouldn’t have to move out while it’s happening, would I?”
    “Of course not. It would probably help if you could stay out a lot for a day or two while the painters are working, but it’s not essential.”
    “So you think maybe you could mastermind this transformation for me?”
    She hesitated, and he realized