High Energy, Joy, Dara [books to read this summer .txt] 📗

a dream or a nightmare.

She parked her car in the circular driveway in front of the house. When she had

closed the car door, she leaned back against it to gaze up at the facade of the

painted lady in front of her. The house was a fabulous example of Victorian

architecture, brilliantly restored and lovingly maintained. She decided it was

definitely a dream and was now very eager to see the interior.

Climbing the few steps up to the wide veranda, skirting the hanging swing, she

approached the wooden double front doors, wondering where on earth Tyber had

found these beautiful stained-glass panels. She had no doubt that they were by

Tiffany. The scenes depicted were celestial in nature, showing stars, comets,

heavenly bodies, a few angels, and Cupids cavorting amongst the stars.

Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open to a smiling Tyber Evans. He

was barefoot, in faded jeans and an old white tee shirt. His long gold-streaked

hair swung free around his shoulders.

So that's what torture looks like.

As usual, his sexy appearence was licensed to kill.

"Hi—glad you could make it." He held the door open for her, gesturing to her to

enter.

"You know, Tyber, you really should make an effort to break out of your

introverted mold," Zanita quipped as she walked past him.

He rubbed his ear. "I take it you don't appreciate the nuances in my subtle

foray into design?"

"Subtle? Tyber, next to you, an elephant wearing a pink pinstriped suit dancing

on two legs down Wall Street is subtle. I love it."

He gave her an ear-to-ear grin. "Somehow I knew you would, Curls. Come on, let

me give you a tour of the house." He casually draped his arm around her

shoulders as he led her out of the foyer into the living room. She was soon to

find out that it was one of the few rooms in the house that looked normal.

The room was a tastefully recreated late-1800s drawing room decorated with dark

maroon carpets, heavy emerald-green upholstered chairs sporting antimacassars,

tables in dark woods, a large pouf, lots of hanging fringe, and elaborate

drapery composed of yards and yards of rich jacquard material. On the highly

polished wooden mantel of a large fireplace was set an inlaid cabinet containing

a collection of antique music boxes.

It was altogether lovely and she told him so.

"Did you design and decorate the entire house, Tyber?"

"Most of it. I love Victorian architecture—the flights of fancy, the imagination

run amuck appeals to me. When I found this house several years ago, I was

intrigued. My real estate agent tried to talk me out of it. You should've seen

it then— it was a real mess, but I knew the house was structurally sound. When I

saw that most of the original fixtures and detailing were still intact, I

immediately put in an offer. The main house was restored, then I let my

imagination loose on the twenty-five acres of grounds. After that, I decided to

let my own flight of fancy take over. I added several wings decorated in what I

call Neo-Victorian Evans." He smiled at her engagingly. "It was a lot of fun."

Tyber's own version of Victorian turned out to be peculiarly fascinating. Rooms

led into rooms, corridors took strange twists and turns, and stairways led into

solid ceilings or around corners before going down or up.

Every room they passed in the wings had a different theme; there was a cave room

with rock walls, a medieval room with a bed hanging from the ceiling on chains,

an observation deck with a telescope on one part of the roof, a room done all in

black except for the ceiling, which had tiny phosphorescent stars painted on it,

and other rooms all unique in theme.

The feature he seemed most proud of was a doorway on the third floor that led to

nowhere; it opened up to the outside with no supporting structures around it,

like a window in space.

Zanita stared out the open door, careful not to lean over too far. "I don't get

it."

"You'd have to be a physicist to understand—it has to do with the Uncertainty

Principle."

She looked at him strangely. "Uh-huh."

There was an enormous English conservatory to the rear of the house, nicely

decorated in white wicker. Zanita sank down into a cushioned chair, admiring the

flowering plants around her.

"So, where do you work, in your laboratory in the dungeon?" she joked. Tyber

nodded quite seriously. "You're not joking, are you?"

Tyber raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

"Whyever would you work in a musty old cellar?"

"I'm a traditionalist. All us mad scientists have a certain reputation to

maintain." She laughed outright. The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint

smile, then he held his hand out to her. "I want to introduce you to a few…

friends. Then, if you like, we can go sit out by the pool."

She placed her hand in his large palm; his skin was warm and dry, the strong

fingers enclosing her hand, gentle.

"We are going to venture into forbidden territory, Ms. Masterson," he whispered.

"We are about to enter into the outer limits known as Blooey's kitchen." He led

her down several corridors.

"Do you ever get lost here?"

"No, but others have. Until I can get you a map, don't go anywhere without

either me or Blooey leading you. I once lost a colleague for two whole days in

the south wing. He hasn't visited us since." He grinned wickedly.

"You didn't by any chance engineer this occurrence, did you?"

"I'm surprised at you, Ms. Masterson. Just how unchivalrous do you think I am?"

He mocked her with the term, recalling the moment she had awakened in his arms.

She flushed faintly. "As a guest in your home, I won't answer that question."

He pushed a swinging wooden door open with his bare foot, pulling her behind him

into a very large, sunny kitchen.

An island with a malachite surface stood in the center of the cooking area.

Copper pots dangled from rack above the island. The cabinets were rich cherry

wood. All the appliances seemed to be restaurant-style equipment. Even the

chrome gas stove, although designed to look like a turn of the century

appliance, was completely modern. Several kinds of herbs grew along the base of

the windows. The kitchen table was nestled in