Chapter 21

Building a Relationship

House made an offer on the property. After a week of negotiations he purchased it for two hundred thousand. By the end of May he owned a buildable, wooded lot with a creek. Sitting in Triumph's, an antsy House was on his second whiskey when Wilson walked through the door looking for him. They exchanged nods as Wilson approached. The circles around Wilson's eyes, the relaxed tie around his neck and the slumped shoulders told House that Wilson's heart wasn't really here, he'd rather be home relaxing in front of the television with a beer.

"Why here?" Wilson asked as he took a seat at the bar next to House and looked around.

"I like to watch the coeds."

"Really?" Wilson asked because clearly there weren't that many coeds in the bar or restaurant even though the establishment sat across the street from the entrance to Princeton.

"Nah, I got a tip that someone was going to be here tonight."

"Who?"

"My architect."

"Darcy?"

"Darcy Finnegan herself." House announced as he swirled the whiskey in his glass and took a long sip.

"She's meeting you here?"

"Not exactly."

Suspicious as usual, Wilson narrowed his eyes. "House? What are you up to?"

"I got her contract in the mail and I want to make some changes."

"Like what?"

"I want more one on one. She has down a total of 10 additional hours of on-site inspections after the design is approved. I want 40."

"Why? Oh wait, I know this answer. You just want more one on one, literally."

House wasn't listening; he had spied Darcy walking into the restaurant with a man on her arm. His brows knitted together as he continued to stare in her direction, dissecting the looks of the man who was accompanying her.

"Who is that with her?" Wilson asked.

"Who indeed?" House put his drink down and waited as she approached, unaware that he was in front of her until it was too late to deviate from her advance.

Swallowing hard, Darcy shook her head but addressed him, "Hello, Greg. Fancy meeting you here," she said with some sarcasm. "Gregory House, this is Lawrence Rutger, Lawrence this is Dr. Gregory House and Dr. James Wilson from PPTH. Dr. House is a client."

The medium height man with silver hair reached out to shake hands. The impression given from his haircut and Armani suit was that this man was probably a banker or straight off of Wall Street. "Really? I'm quite impressed. You managed to get Darcy to design a home for you? She hasn't taken on many clients recently. What did you have to do-sleep with her?" He laughed indicating he was teasing.

"Something like that." House said, his blue eyes making contact with Darcy. "How do you know Darcy?"

"Her husband and I went to college together."

"He's dead, so you figure you'll just swoop in for the leftovers"

Lawrence pulled his head back in shock and knitted his eyebrows. "I can assure you doctor, that I'm not swooping in for anything. Darcy is a very old friend—"

"She's not that old."

"—and I wanted to see how she was doing."

"Greg, you're impossible." Darcy grumbled as she shook her head with disapproval. "Well, we have reservations in the restaurant. It was nice seeing you both." It was said, but everyone knew she didn't mean it.

"Wait a moment." House said, grabbing her shoulder.

She turned and faced him, looking down on his hand which he slowly removed. Staring up into his face, she raised a questioning eyebrow. "What, Greg?"

"I need to discuss your contract."

"Not here. Call me."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

He nodded.

The next morning at 7:45 am Darcy rolled over and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Were you asleep?"

"I had a late night."

"With ol' Lawrence?"

"Yes, Lawrence and I stayed up late talking."

"And screwing?"

"None of your business." She covered the receiver and pretended to talk to someone just to annoy him.

"Who were you talking to?" House growled.

"No one."

"Is he there in bed with you?"

There was a click. She had hung up. House bit his lower lip to keep from screaming. Cuddy walked into his office and could see he was fuming.

"You're here early. What's wrong?" She stood, tight Glen-plaid suit with a blue low-cut blouse, holding a file in her well manicured hands.

"Women."

Cuddy shifted to one leg and frowned. "What about women?"

"I think she's sleeping around on me."

"Who? I didn't know you were in a relationship."

"It's all in his head." Wilson said from the door. "He thinks he's having a relationship with his architect when all it really happens to be is one night of alcohol induced sex."

Cuddy looked over at House with disgust. "You got a woman drunk and took advantage of her?"

"More the other way around."

Cuddy started laughing. "And she doesn't call, write, send flowers?"

Wilson joined in.

"Yeah, make fun of the guy you dumped." House snapped.

Cuddy stopped laughing. "Here, your new patient is being transferred." She threw the file on the desk and took off leaving Wilson, lab coat on, to listen to House's rant.

"I don't believe her. She's screwing that guy."

"House, she's over 21 and single, she can screw whoever she wants."

Taking the file, he barged into the next office, threw it on the table and after forty minutes of differentials, told the team to, 'deal with it.' They watched as he grabbed his keys, helmet and took off. It was a crisp spring day with a promise to get warmer. He zipped through the streets of Princeton towards her house, arriving at her doorstep fuming even more than when she hung up. When he got to the house, he banged on the door but no one answered. Using the key he had copied, he walked in calling out her name but there was no response.

Her bed was made and the room straightened. He couldn't tell if there had been a man in her bed or not. Walking down to the guest room, it was clean and tidy too. The only signs that someone had been there with her were two dirty wine glasses and an empty bottle of pinot noir on the kitchen island bar.

The office yielded nothing, her calendar on the computer had nothing written for the day except a deadline to file for a permit with the city on a project. Frustrated, he took off, thinking about the day they found the property; how elated she was. He hadn't been back to the property since that day so he took a detour and drove through the back roads to the street it was on, Santa Lucia. Driving up his new street he saw her car parked next to the 'Sold' sign. His heart started to race.

When he got off the motorcycle, he could see her sitting on a small blanket in the middle of the property staring down at the water, a sketch pad in her lap. He took his helmet off, pulled out his cane and walked towards her. She had on a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with jeans. A twig snapped under his boot, making her turn sharply towards the sound. She smiled.

"Hello, Greg."

"Why did you hang up?"

"Because you were being a child. You and I are not a couple and you're just my client, not my boyfriend. I don't owe you an explanation about my whereabouts or who I've been with."

He used his cane to drop himself onto the blanket next to her. They said nothing for a few minutes and then she turned to him.

"I'm jealous." She said sincerely.

"Jealous?" He asked.

"I love this property. That creek, the falls, they're all so beautiful."

He could hear longing in her voice, the kind of longing a child has when they see their friend with a new bike. They don't hate their friend; they just wish they possessed the bike. "Play your cards right and I might invite you over for barbeques and sleep overs."

She chuckled. "I came over to get some ideas. Would you like to see some of my sketches?"

"More than one design?"

"I wasn't sure what kind of house you would like me to design. I put numbers on the back of each one in the order of what I think would go well on this property, but don't look at the, just look at the design and let me know. They're not in order."

He took the four sketches and studied them. "Is there a name for their style?"

"This is contemporary, lots of angles, windows; that's prairie style, designed to compliment flatter areas, but I could adapt it to do well here too; here's French Country and finally, this one is a blend of bungalow and craftsman."

"I don't like the French Country, so that's out. The prairie is nice, I like it better than the contemporary and I really like the Craftsman. So, what's your favorite?"

"Turn them over."

He turned them over and saw that she had the Craftsman as number one and the Prairie style second. He smiled and nodded. "I think the Craftsman is a good choice, it fits the topography too."

"I'm glad you agree. But, do you really agree? Or are you saying this because I like it?"

"I'm not spending $600,000 on a house to please you. No, I'm kind of an old fashion guy with a modern twist."

"Exactly my thought. You work all day in a contemporary environment, but when you go home it's brick and mortar, a fireplace, tall ceilings, molding, shaker cabinets, library shelves. It's definitely not a modern look, but it has contemporary fixtures. Greg, do you want me to design this house as if you'll be alone?"

"What do you mean?" He looked offended.

"I would normally put in two walk-in closets in the master, double vanities, you know, some features that appeal to women. But your apartment was very masculine and I was just wondering. What do you think is in your future, Gregster?"

"Gregster? You just called me Gregster."

She looked shocked. "No, I didn't."

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He wanted her in his life, or Annie, or both. "Well, I should make it marketable, right? Design it as if a couple were going to live in it."

She leaned back on her elbows. "Okay. I can do that."

Lying back and rolling on his side he faced her. "You look beautiful today. So calm and peaceful."

She blushed. "Thank you, but I don't feel beautiful."

"You're nuts. This light, your outfit, you look like a young girl."

"You're flattering me to get something."

"No, but if it gives me an edge…"

She laughed and shook her head. "Damn, you're persistent, aren't you?"

"I like you."

"You do?" She said with a twinkle in her eye.

"You already know that though."

"Why are you really building this house?"

"So I can live in it."

"No, you've got the perfect place for you…a man cave for a very odd man."

He went silent for awhile. "You asked a few minutes ago about living alone. Well, I've been alone most of my life. I need to change things or I'll never find someone. If I live in a house that can accommodate someone else, then I've taken one step towards finding that person, haven't I?"

She thought about it. "Greg, you're good looking, smart, make plenty of money; you should have no problem finding someone."

"Oh, I can find someone as long as I have enough money in my wallet and don't kiss her on her mouth when we have sex. I'm looking for someone I can kiss on the mouth." House leaned in and brushed his lips over hers before pressing them, his tongue sliding gently between hers in search of her elusive tongue.

Lying there, Darcy had wanted him to kiss her and no matter how much she tried, she didn't understand why. After their lips connected, she didn't care why. He was gentle yet sensual, making the exploration of her mouth with his tongue a cross between romantic and erotic. If she didn't pull back she knew she'd find her panties around her ankles.

"Well, that was—" As she pulled back, Darcy's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and saw that it was from Lawrence. "Oh, it's Lawrence." Putting it up to her ear she answered. "Hello…how was the meeting this morning?" There was a lull while she listened.

House watched her, pissed that her phone had rung, even more pissed that it was Lawrence.

"Well, you have a key, just make yourself at home. I'll be home in half an hour. Bye." She put the phone back in her pocket and with some urgency asked, "So you want me to proceed on the Craftsman design?"

House did an abrupt change from kissing a willing participant to jealous lover. "Key? He has a key to your house?"

Shaking her head, she started to put her things away. "He has a key because he's going to stay with me. He's here in Princeton for a few weeks on business and it makes no sense for him to stay in a hotel when I have room. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get home to welcome my house guest." She picked up most of her things and tried to stand, but slipped on some wet leaves, coming back down onto House who cushioned her fall and eased her onto the blanket , taking the opportunity to kiss her again. At first she resisted, miffed at his assumption that he could tell her how to live her life. But when his hand found its way under her t-shirt and she felt his tentative touch on her skin around her waist, she could feel her entire body yield. As soon as the kiss ended, his hand started to slip slightly higher and his mouth sought hers out again.

Pushing him back, she cleared her throat and began to stand again. "I've got to go."

"You want it."

She snickered, pretending to be in control. "Yeah, I wanted it so much that I'm getting up to go home. Greg, you're my client, try to behave like one."

He sat up and grinned as she tried to pull the blanket out from under him. "You wanted it."

Rolling her eyes, she answered, "Yeah, right. You just keep believing it if it makes you feel better."

House stood up and followed ten paces behind her as she walked to her car. Turning around to confront him, she saw him stop in his tracks.

"Greg?"

He turned his head suspiciously, "Yes?"

"Do you want to sell this property?"

"To you?"

"Yes, I'll give you what you paid for it, plus all your expenses and some extra on top of it."

"What would you do with it?"

"Build a house."

"But you have one."

"I know and I don't think I'd be able to part with it, but this property just sings to me. I should have bought it out from under you, but…"

"You have scruples. Well, sorry, but it's mine. But, like I said, if you play your cards right, I'll let you stay over."

She chuckled as she opened her car door. "Yeah, but the price of a room might be too high."

"For you it's free—"

"As long as I let you kiss me on the lips."

"Yep, and I don't really care which set of lips I'm kissing."

"Oh, God." She climbed into the car shaking her head, but smiling.

House returned the smile with one of his own—a naughty smile.

Dear Readers...

Well, is he falling in love with Darcy's personality or the deeply buried Annie? Let me know if you're enjoying this. I appreciate the reviews! Gorby.