The oversized front door opened before she reached it.
Danny leaned against the frame, barefoot, wearing dark blue shorts and a short-sleeved button-down. But it was his relaxed and mildly amused expression on a very handsome face that got her attention.
“I turned the sprinkler system off to avoid another disaster.”
She gave him a lighthearted thumbs-up. “And I purposely wore my lucky Belgian linen pants to assure you that you did no lasting damage with a wayward valve.”
He let his gaze sweep over her with appreciation. “I’m so glad. They looked well and truly destroyed the last time I saw them. How did you manage it?”
“You met the lady who owns the bridal salon, right? She did me a solid.”
“I hope you’ll let me cover the cost,” he said, gesturing for her to step inside.
She glanced around and let out a light and playful whistle at the blinding sunlight pouring over Travertine floors and a wide staircase with a wrought-iron railing. “Oh, you will, trust me.”
He laughed. “You’re a good sport after that spontaneous baptism. And you’d never forgive me if you could have seen me at war with the water valve. I was pressing buttons like it was a game-show buzzer. You were the unfortunate prize.”
She smiled at his effortless charm. “Can you blame me for thinking you were scamming Fiona?”
“Because of my tragic lack of home improvement skills?”
“That, and the fact that you had…very un-handyman-like energy.”
He regarded her, arms crossed. Eyes that fell somewhere between silver and blue studied her as a slow smile added subtle dimples to his features. “What kind of energy did I have?”
Vivien lifted her chin, amused enough to be honest and meet his banter with her own. “There was a reason I dubbed you The Hapless Handyman.”
He threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “Tell me there’s a T-shirt, please.”
“Don’t tempt me, Hapless.”
He chuckled. “And then tell me I’ve lost that title.”
“Yes,” she assured him, hesitating when she thought about the new nickname Tessa had hung on him—the Hedge Fund Hunk.
Danny narrowed his eyes, teasing, “Don’t think I didn’t see that mental pause. That’s the face of a woman sitting on something much worse.”
“Now, you’re just…Mr. Sullivan, my newest client.”
“It’s Danny.” He gestured her through the entryway toward the stairs. “You want to see my blank canvas, Picasso? Or look around the rooms that are ‘furnished,’ and I do use that term with the lowest possible expectations. There’s minimalist and then there’s…” He pointed to a nearly empty open-concept space. “This.”
She glanced around and took in what was visible—a cream leather sectional that she didn’t love, but knew cost a fortune, an empty dining room, and a gourmet kitchen with a massive center island. It was all very livable, if not “decorated.”
The floor plan spilled out to a pool deck that overlooked the twenty-five-acre lake surrounded by beautiful homes much like this one. The lots were tight and the houses close, but the waterview made up for that. Like many of the homes, he had a dock, but no boat.
It was clear he’d put his time and money into the outside, with a large seating area, pool furniture, another kitchen, and more gorgeous plants and trees.
“I know, I know.” He sounded apologetic. “It has Airbnb vibes and no…I don’t know. What’s missing besides…everything?”
“Style? Soul? Framed art?”
He cracked up, obviously enjoying the exchange. “You’re ruthless and I love that, Vivien. In my own defense, I’ve lived here less than a year and am a certified workaholic. I spend most of my free time out back. I bought the place because of that whole resort vibe outside. All of my real furniture and, yes, art is in my condo in Tribeca.”
“Do you ever go back there or are you pretty much here permanently?” she asked.
“I go back periodically, but…my sister.” He rolled his eyes. “I know she can be difficult, but I do feel it’s important to be nearby since her husband passed away.”
Vivien nodded, knowing just how difficult Fiona could be. “Special place in heaven for you, sir.”
