Outside of writing steamy romance novels, cooking was another one of her talents. When in the kitchen, Amy often slipped in the zone. She danced and hummed along with the music from her MP3 player while flipping pancakes like a pro. Keeping an eye on the sizzling bacon, she stirred the eggs and turned the hash browns. There was orange juice in the fridge and fresh brew in the coffeemaker. Everything was almost ready.
A feeling of being watched crept over her and Amy turned.
Eddie Fitzgerald rested his arms on top of the chest-level wall surrounding the sunken living room and studied her, a hint of a smile on his lips. A mask slipped into place as soon as he realized she’d noticed him. Her jaw almost dropped when he straightened his tall body and started toward her.
He was gorgeous. Masculine. Naked. Half-naked, but pot-
tay
-toes, pot-at-toes. Her gaze ran across his broad, masculine shoulders, a chest that went on forever, before dipping to a ridged stomach, which seemed to contract under her eyes. A thin line of hair disappeared under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, which hung way too low to be decent.
The first sign that he didn’t appreciate her ogling him was when she backtracked to his face and saw his lips pressed tight in a thin line, the earlier glimpse of a smile long gone. Her gaze flew to his and she swallowed at the flash of silver in the gray eyes. Pissing him off wasn’t a good way to earn brownie points.
“Good morning,” she said in an upbeat voice, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed his annoyance.
He pointed at his ear.
“What?” Amy asked.
He closed the gap between them, bringing with him a wave of sexual energy that had Amy taking a step back. She hated that he made her nervous. It was one thing ogling him across the floor. He was overwhelming up close.
He plucked the ear buds from her ears.
Her face hot, Amy turned off the MP3 player and flashed him an apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. I forgot I had them in.”
“Do you always make this much noise in morning?” he asked.
Amy blinked at his frosty voice. “Noise?”
He crossed his arms and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Banging pots…singing at the top of your lungs.”
Was she? Probably. “Humming.”
“Screaming.”
She rolled her eyes. She could either take offense at his attitude or be the bigger person and make light of the situation.
“I sing all the time. Beautifully. No caterwauling or
screaming
. Just a sec.” She removed the last pancake, turned off the stove and took a few steps back, making sure there was considerable space between her and his chest. That expanse of pure muscle was too distracting. “Did I wake you?”
He made derisive sound. “No. I was already up.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Something like that.”
“Being in a strange bed does that to some people. Me? I can sleep anywhere…sofa, sleeping bag, bet I could even sleep under rock. Are you a morning person?”
A confused expression flashed across his face. “Yes. Why?”
“Because Raelynn likes music, too. She usually plays the MP3 on the docking station and cranks up the volume.”
“What
kind
of music?”
“Zumba.”
He scowled. “What?”
“Salsa, merengue, cha-cha, samba, hip-hop…anything with rhythm.”
His scowl deepened. “Of course.”
“You don’t like dance music?”
“Does classic rock count?”
She chuckled. “No. How do you like your coffee?” she asked, indicating the coffeemaker.
“Black, strong.”
“Then you’ll like this. I tend to use creamers myself.” She was babbling. She tended to do that when nervous. She placed the mug in front of him then propped her hip against the counter and studied him since he was busy studying her.
He had an unforgettable face. Sharp cheekbones, square jaws and piercing gray eyes that didn’t say much. His dark wavy hair was cut short, but not too short. Unruly strands rebelled and curled across his brow and at his nape. His skin was bronze, like he spent time outdoors. The turned down waistband indicated no tan lines either. A nudist? Interesting.
“About last night,” she said casually, noticing he hadn’t touched his coffee. “I don’t usually pull a gun on unsuspecting people, and I make a really mean cup of coffee.” She slid the steaming cup closer. “Go on, try it.”
She’d hoped for a smile, but got a frown instead. Mr. Fitzgerald was obviously not a morning person. How long was he planning on staying? Baron and Kara Fitzgerald tended to visit for a few days to a week before heading back to L.A.
“Excuse me for asking a dumb question, but who is Raelynn?” Eddie asked.
“My daughter.”
He looked around, his gaze zeroing on the toys piled by the door leading to the patio before coming back to her. “How old is she?”
“Almost five going on thirty. Her birthday is in two weeks.”
“Where is she?”
“Still asleep, but she’ll be up any minute. Why do you ask?”
“I’d like us to have an adult discussion without a child clouding anyone’s judgment.”
He was going to say he didn’t need a housekeeper again. She just knew it. “Okay, but FYI, I have an iron-clad contract, so if you are thinking of kicking us out, I will sue you from here to kingdom come and win,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
Eddie scowled. “Why would I kick you out?”
“Because you said you didn’t need me last night and that I should take a hike.”
“I never said that.”
“That’s what I heard.” She picked up her coffee mug with an unsteady hand and sipped, her gaze not shifting from his. “Why don’t we talk outside? You go put on a shirt or something while I dish up your breakfast.”
Eddie stared down at his bare chest as though realizing for the first time he was shirtless. A sheepish expression softened his features and heat coiled in Amy’s stomach, surprising her. It shot up a notch when he turned, giving her a view of his back. Powerful broad shoulders. Narrow hips. Killer ass. The man had a beautiful body.
Just before he disappeared into the hallway leading to the master bedroom, Eddie turned and caught her in the act. Without slowing down, he raised the mug to his lips and sipped, heat flashing in his eyes.
Amy blinked then exhaled. What the hell was that about? She chewed her lower lip contemplating her next move. Eddie Fitzgerald was an impossible man to read and that bugged her. She wasn’t used to being around such…raw power. It wasn’t cultivated. Some men, like Eddie, just had a presence. Others faked it. Nolan, despite being a cop, couldn’t drum up a reaction from people unless he held a gun, so he compensated by being a bully.
Stop it, Amy.
Finding flaws in men was a deplorable habit she’d picked up after her divorce. She always searched for a physical feature or a character trait they shared with Nolan. It gave her an excuse not to become involved. Unfortunately, she often found something.
Amy carried plates and utensils to the patio table. Golden sun rays kissed the alpine vegetation and a gentle breeze blew ripples across the lake. She preferred eating outside because of the crisp morning air and the amazing view from the patio. Today, she chose it in case Raelynn woke up and saw their new guest before Amy could talk to her. Her daughter didn’t take well to strangers, especially men.
Eddie returned just as Amy brought out the pitcher of orange juice. He came back in a pair of jeans that showcased his long masculine legs and a T-shirt that hugged his chest and arms. His feet were bare, which drew her attention to his toes. She never thought a guy’s feet would be attractive. She dragged her gaze away.
“This looks good.” Eddie pulled out a chair for her before taking one himself.
“Thank you.”
For a moment, there was silence as they stared at each other. Amy fidgeted when he didn’t speak. “I slaved hard to make this, so go ahead.” And then another thought hit her and she added, “Unless you need to pray.”
He smiled and his face softened. The smile cinched it. This guy was dangerous. On the scale of one to ten, Eddie was an eleven
plus.
Nothing like the men she’d foolishly dated. Was he married? She hadn’t noticed a ring. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t interested in him that way.
“Can we discuss the logistics of our new living arrangements first?” he said, sounding so serious she chuckled.
“You make it sound so formal. I will do everything your wife does except sleep with you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“It’s Eddie. And I wouldn’t know everything a wife does. I’m not married.”
“Then think of me as your housekeeper,” she said.
“I’ve never had one.”
From what Lauren had told her, the Fitzgeralds were loaded. Baron had mentioned a housekeeper too. Maybe she was assuming too much about their family.
“Then I’ll be your first. As per my contract, I do laundry, cook, clean, water the plants and take care of the yard. Raelynn and I have called this our home the last several months, and moving out now is not…convenient.”
If her monologue impressed him, he didn’t show it. “What if I said I didn’t need these services?”
“Then I’d say you are a fool.”
“No one has ever considered me a fool.” He reached for the pancakes and took a pile, then offered her the plate.
Amy placed the plate down without serving herself. Her stomach was churning with tension now.
“Since I don’t pay you, you are not obliged to do anything for me for the few weeks I’ll be here,” he said. “I have done my own laundry since I was fourteen, so I can manage. I will do the yard work because that’s a man’s job. If you choose to include me in your meals, I will pay for the groceries. If you don’t want to cook for me, that’s fine too.” He paused before serving himself some eggs and frowned. “Egg whites?”
He really thought he’d dictate what he wanted and close the subject? “Yes. They’re healthier.”
A weird expression crossed his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He put the serving plate down. The amount of eggs he’d placed on his plate couldn’t satisfy a child. He took some hash browns.
“You don’t like egg whites?” She didn’t bother to keep the disappointment in her voice.
He appeared to weigh his words. “They are…bland. I prefer real eggs.”
She couldn’t believe he just said that. “Egg whites come from eggs. Let me guess, you don’t think turkey bacon is bacon either.”
“Damn straight.” He stared at the crispy bacon with longing. “Please tell me that’s real.”
Amy bristled. “You are unbelievable.
Real
is subjective.”
“You aren’t vegetarian, are you?” he asked, helping himself to more eggs and ignoring the bacon.
“Nope, but we are adventurous when it comes to food.”
“Adventurous how?”
“We eat a lot of tofu and veggie burgers.”
He made a face as though he’d swallowed something rotten.
She couldn’t help teasing him. “You must try my tofu lasagna, spaghetti sauce, tofu soups, stir-fried with crisp vegetables or smothered in oyster sauce. Yummy.” She closed her eyes, licked her lips and sighed.
***
His eyes locked on her lips, the soft, intimate sighs hit him to the core and Eddie shifted in his seat as blood rushed to his groin. He tried to tune her out, which was impossible. Amy was not the kind of woman a man ignored. Everything about her stirred his senses.
That he couldn’t control the strong attraction he felt toward her irritated him. She wasn’t even his type. He dated tall women. The more quiet and reflective the better. Amy spoke her mind without thought and most of the things she said were outrageous. She was short, curvy with lush breasts and hips. Worse, her tank top emphasized her cleavage and every time she moved, it took all his will power not to stare at her chest.
In the kitchen, she’d mesmerized him as she hummed and danced, her tank top showing a thin line of soft, golden skin around her waist. Every time he looked at her skimpy cut-off jeans, fantasies zipped through his head. They hugged her ass and hips, and bared most of her smooth, tanned legs.
“No, thanks,” he said. “I’m a meat man. Give me steak, roasts and burgers and I’m good.”
She winced. “Every day?”
“With an occasional chicken thrown in.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, even though the thought of slabs of red meat…” She shuddered and pursed her lips, then added, “but if I want to mow the lawn, I will mow the lawn. You go ahead and beat your chest and pretend to be King Kong.”
“I’m not a Neanderthal. I just believe that you should go into a relationship knowing exactly what is expected of you, so you shoulder your share of responsibility. It makes everything run smoother.”
“What happened to spontaneity?”
“Leads to chaos.”
Her eyes narrowed, dark clouds adrift in their blue depth. Her lips parted as though she was about to speak then she snapped them shut. Silence followed. He ate while she chewed on her lower lip and studied him. He was tempted to say, “What?” but that would only encourage her to ask more personal questions and make him focus on her.