my life. I haveoccasionally used a blow torch to melt paint off certain things.â
She frowned. âI donât think that would be good for the tables.â
âProbably not,â he agreed with a wry expression.
âOkay. Thatâs a little bit of a problem, but itâs certainly not insurmountable. How hard can this be? There are directions on the cans.â
âGaby, I love your enthusiasm, but we canât do this now. I have work to do downstairs. I want to get another apartment rented by the first of the month.â
âCanât you leave it just for tonight?â she said, unable to hide her disappointment. âYou worked all day. What kind of boss do you have?â
She watched in astonishment as he burst into laughter. âThe best, actually. I work for myself.â
âWell, I know youâre a carpenter, for heavenâs sake. And you paint. And who knows what all, but you do take jobs.â
âOf course,â he said. âThatâs where I was all day. Iâm in the middle of the renovations on a house in Brooklyn Heights.â
She absorbed that news. It didnât conflict dramatically with anything sheâd said. âThen this is a second job?â
âThis?â
âHere. Managing this building and fixing it up.â
He shook his head and said with the sort of patience usually reserved for overly inquisitive children, âNo, Gaby. I own this building.â
She stared at him blankly, trying to absorb the implications. âButâ¦â
âBut what?â
âI thought you were just aâ¦â Now that she knew differently, she couldnât bring herself to say exactly what she had thought.
âDonât blame me, if you jumped to a conclusion.â
âYou let me do it,â she accused, feeling a curious mixture of betrayal and pleased astonishment. âYou let me go on thinking that you were just some sort of common laborer.â
The words slipped out before she had time to censor them. She recognized the mistake the instant she looked into Paulâs eyes. The blue sparked with fury.
âI beg your pardon,â he said with an icinessthat froze her straight to the marrow in her bones. âThere is nothing common about giving a good dayâs work for a good dayâs wages, no matter how lowly some people might consider the task.â
âI didnât mean that,â she said miserably.
âI canât see any other interpretation. When you thought I was no more than a common laborer ,â he said, apparently determined to humiliate her by throwing her own illconsidered words back in her face, âwas that what kept you out of my bed? Does everything change now that you know I own property and have a bank account that doesnât provide for frills, but keeps a roof over my head? Does it, Gaby?â
She stood up and met his furious glare evenly. âIâm sorry. Iâm sure it must seem that Iâm the worst sort of snob, but youâre deliberately misunderstanding.â
His gaze was unrelenting. âAm I really? Whatâs held you back then?â
âBecause weâre not right for each other,â she said, knowing the argument sounded weak. There were literally hundreds of reasons twopeople might not be right for each other. She hadnât given him one of them.
âIâm not good enough, isnât that what you mean?â
âNo,â she protested, but deep inside she knew that was exactly what sheâd thought.
He ran his hand through his hair. âFor Godâs sake, Gaby, donât lie about it. Whatâs the point?â
The point was that she didnât want him to know how shallow she was capable of being. Unfortunately it seemed he already knew it. âYou knew what I thought all along, didnât you?â she said finally. When he didnât answer, she raised her voice, needing to share the anger and the blame.
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