Sweet Stuff Read Free Page A

as they pertain to the house itself.”
    In actuality, Riley knew every last inch of the place, before renovations and after. She knew every gizmo and upgrade that had been installed, as well as what parts of the property had been preserved, and why. Not because she had personal knowledge of Sugarberry history—she’d only been living on the island for a little over a year. This was actually the first project she’d done on the island itself. She normally worked farther down the barrier island chain, where the money was. She’d simply made it her business to know everything there was to know about the Turner place, just as she did with all the projects she was hired for.
    In many ways, staging an entire home or condo wasn’t any different than styling food for an elaborate magazine layout. She used to learn as much as she could about the cuisine being presented, including the history, the traditions, and, in many cases, preparing the dishes herself, or as close an approximation as she could, in order to come up with the most unique, authentically detailed settings possible. Knowing the history and setting of the property she was staging was as important as all the more glamorous, flashy details.
    Not that every client, or even most clients, were interested in half of what she took the time to find out. They might not care, specifically, about the fact that the refinished, hand-carved sliding panel doors were original to the house, or that she’d purposely matched the colors of the pottery and doorstops throughout the house to the terra-cotta shingling on the roof, but she knew it was that attention to detail that ended up selling them on the place. It didn’t matter that they didn’t appreciate why they loved it, just that they loved it enough to write Lois a big fat check. And, in turn, Scary Lois kept signing hers.
    “Why don’t you start with the ...” She’d been about to say the deck, pool, and gardens, but remembered the sunbathing Brutus. Crap . Normally she and her faithful companion were no longer on the premises when the actual event began. That she occasionally brought Brutus with her while staging various properties was also a teeny-tiny detail she’d neglected to tell Lois. This project had been so close to home, and she’d known he’d love lolling out on the deck. And, frankly, she enjoyed the company. Obviously not for protection purposes.
    “Uh, bedrooms,” she improvised, careful to keep her gaze averted from the sliding French doors. “Just up the stairs from the foyer entry. You’ll love the master suite.” Too late, she remembered it had a second-story deck that looked right down on the first-story deck. “Though you might want to begin with the guest bedrooms along the front of the house. The, uh, lighting, right now ... they have the morning sun. Truly spectacular.”
    If he sensed the slightly panicked edge in her tone, his affable expression didn’t show it. “And risk my dearly departed Grams coming back to chase after me with her wooden rolling pin for being anything less than the gentleman she raised my pa and me to be?” The easy grin returned. “No, ma’am. Especially considering I caused the calamity in the first place.” He gestured for her to lead the way to the kitchen. “Pretty sure she’s capable of it, too,” he added with a touch of dry reverence, as he followed her from the room.
    Riley smiled, and didn’t mind the wincing so much. It was impossible not to be charmed by him. But she needed to get him poking around upstairs as swiftly as possible. Not that she had any place in particular she could quickly stash a dog the size of a subcompact car, but she was due for a little luck.
    She entered the kitchen, and if Quinn was impressed by the newly installed, state-of-the-art appliances, the marble-topped center island, or the array of terra-cotta-toned Calphalon pots and pans hanging from the hand-hammered silver overhead rack, he didn’t mention it. Nor did he