“I doubt you’re ever at a loss for words, Cassie, but that doesn’t mean you talk too much. Why the picnic?”
“It doesn’t seem like you have many family outings. I thought this might be a good opportunity to spend time together—no pressure, just a simple picnic.”
He shrugged. “If it doesn’t take too long. I’ve got work to do tonight.”
“I doubt you’ll ever be at a loss for having work to do,” she replied, mimicking his words, although not unkindly.
He smiled again. “Got my number, haven’t you?”
“I know your business is important to you, Mr. Matthews.”
He made a sound of distinct displeasure.
Worried, she bit her lip. “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
“Yes, Cassie, you did. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous to keep calling me Mr. Matthews?”
“You’re my employer, and—”
“That’s right. I am. And we’re not at the boardinghouse anymore, where you set the rules. Since theoretically I’m in charge, I want you to call me Blake.”
“But it’s not necessary—”
“Yes. It is.”
His eyes held hers, and Cassie felt a new emotion thickening her throat, along with a sizzle that had nothing to do with the sun blazing through the oversize windows. “Whatever you say...Blake.” Seeing his eyes darken, she scrabbled for something to fill the throbbing silence, something to divert the sudden turn in their conversation. She couldn’t jeopardize her job by letting herself believe there could be anything more than an employer-employee relationship. Too much was at stake that could be lost. “It seems that this is a day for name changes. Jimmy Ray decided he wants to be called Jim, so he’ll fit in at school. Seems the kids are all abbreviating their names...” She tried to look anywhere but at him. “And now you want me to call you...”
“Blake,” he supplied.
She found it was difficult to answer when he spoke in such a dangerously soft voice. Swallowing, she struggled for normality.
The back door banged open suddenly, and a swimsuitclad D.J. burst inside. “Jimmy Ray said we had to come in and get dressed,” he complained. “How come, Mama? It’s not supper-time yet.”
The twins followed, dragging their feet, both quieter than usual.
“Because we’re going on a picnic,” Blake answered for her. “You guys better hustle, or I’m eating your fried chicken...and potato salad...and maybe your cake.”
Squalls of protest filled the air as D.J. ran upstairs, not wanting to miss out on his favorites. The twins trailed him, obviously less concerned about their father’s threats.
Still, the noise rousted Kevin, who strolled into the kitchen. “Who’s torturing the twins?”
“Your father and I take turns,” Cassie replied.
“So, what’s up?”
“We’re going on a picnic,” she answered, offering him the bowl of fruit.
He ignored the outstretched bowl. “I don’t have time for junk like that.”
“I think you can take time out of your busy schedule,” Blake replied dryly.
“What is this? Now we’re supposed to be doing some sort of ‘Brady Bunch’ garbage?”
“Would you rather be ‘The Addams Family’?” Blake questioned, reaching for a nectarine.
Kevin rolled his eyes. “This is so dumb. Before she came here, we never had to do this hick stuff.”
Blake saw that Cassie was trying not to let Kevin’s comment affect her, but it was difficult to miss the tightened lips, the quick flash of hurt. He sensed that she’d been working hard to erase the signs of her rural back-ground—from her clothing to her way of speaking. “Just because we’re not used to going on picnics doesn’t make them hick stuff.” Blake draped his arm over Kevin’s shoulders. “Come on, champ. Let’s change, and you can help me load the cooler.” Blake led his grumbling son away, the door to the kitchen swinging shut behind them.
“Dad, how come you couldn’t hire someone from L.A.?”
“Why do you think I had to go all the way to Texas to find a nanny? Everybody in L.A. knows about you three.”
Kevin grinned unexpectedly. “Yeah, I guess we’re famous.”
“I think that’s
notorious
,” Blake replied dryly.
“Think Cassie knows why?”
Blake felt a sudden spurt of misgiving. “I don’t know. But don’t plan on anything that’ll get you more P.R.”
Kevin grinned again. “Sure, Dad.”
Darting a glance at his son, Blake wondered what was going through his ingenious mind, then, just as quickly, decided he didn’t want to know. Besides, after a few more great family outings, they’d all be singing a different tune.
THE TUNE, as they trooped back into the house a few hours later, was a cross between “Raindrops Are Falling on My Head” and “How Wet I Am.”
Clouds had scuttled across the sky as they arrived at the park, dimming the previously bright sunshine, along with a great deal of Cassie’s enthusiasm.
After D.J. and the twins dropped the hamper upside down, spilling all the food into the grass, Blake had heartily insisted the meal was still fine. While everyone was picking blades of grass from the potato salad and between their teeth, a huge wind had come up, sending the tablecloth, the quilts and the paper plates, cups and napkins flying. While everyone tried to catch the scattered debris, Gulliver had chased a nearby cat that turned on the dog, scratched his nose and then chased him through the adjoining picnic sites. Before the kids could corral him, Gulliver had made an even bigger mess of their upturned hamper and debris, not to mention the picnic supplies of several angry strangers.
As they struggled to gather their things, rain had poured suddenly and insistently, soaking them all as they battled the wind to retrieve the runaway quilts and paper goods.
An accusing silence had filled the van as they rode home, everyone shivering in the chill of sodden clothes. Now, as they trooped inside one by one, the Matthews children divided their glares between Cassie and Blake.
“I told you this was a dumb idea,” Kevin threw back over his shoulder before pounding up the stairs.
“Yeah,” the twins chimed, following their brother.
Jimmy Ray headed into the laundry room with the sodden quilts and tablecloth, sending his mother a comforting glance. “You can’t control the weather.”
Blake put the destroyed hamper on the counter. “You’re right about that, Jim.”
Looking pleased that Blake used the shortened version of his name casually, Jimmy Ray came back into the kitchen, taking some fruit from the fridge. “I’ve got a project due next week I’d better work on.”
Smiling wearily, Cassie tapped his arm. “That’s fine Jim—” She stopped before calling him Jimmy Ray. Barely.
Katherine Ann and D.J. trailed in the back door, with a sad-looking Gulliver.
“I think he’s okay, Mama,” Katherine Ann announced. “That cat hurt his pride more than his nose.”
“But I think I’d better take him upstairs with me,” DJ. added.
“Hold on—” Cassie began.
Blake intervened, sensing that Cassie was close to the end of her patience. “Sounds like a good idea. He’ll settle down after he dries out.”
Cassie tried again. “But the wooden floor—”
“I’ll put down lots of towels,” DJ. pleaded. “And he’ll be good.”
Blake waved D.J. and Gulliver toward the back staircase.
“Try not to use the best towels,” Cassie relented, before muttering under her breath, “although all of your towels are good ones.”
“That can be washed,” Blake pointed out.
Cassie leaned back against the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Well, I guess that wasn’t exactly a smashing success.”
“As your son pointed out, you couldn’t control the weather.”
Earnestly Cassie glanced up at him. “But I wanted it to be a good experience, one to build on, so your boys would want to spend time with you as a family. But after today, they’ll all probably run shrieking the next time I suggest something.”
“I don’t know....” he mused. “I doubt you could top yourself—unless, of course, you can whip up an earthquake or tornado.”
She smiled finally—a flash of sunshine amid the storm—and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d have expected her to either rage, sulk or whine, but instead it seemed she was finding a renewed burst of good humor, despite her drenched clothing. He allowed his gaze to drift downward, something he’d restrained himself from doing until now.
The rain had plastered her T-shirt and shorts to her form, leaving only a few flimsy barriers between her body and his gaze. And the more he looked, the more he wanted to continue looking.
She pushed suddenly at the heavy sheet of her wet hair. “I’d probably better go take a shower.”
Their eyes met at her unfortunate choice of words, their meeting that morning in the hallway flashing between them.
Blake couldn’t understand the strong effect she was having on him, the pull he felt. Although he’d dated since Elizabeth’s death, none of the casual dates had involved any emotional connection. And that was what he was feeling now. He had a strong urge to peel away the layers, to learn more about this so-surprising woman. He wondered at the secrets she kept hidden, the many sides of her personality that continued to startle him.
And the undeniable attraction that ricocheted between them.
Unable to resist, Blake reached out one hand, seeing the sudden trembling of her lips, the darkening of her silver eyes.
Footsteps sounded on the back stairs as the twins came into the room.
“We’re hungry,” Mark announced.
Blake tore his gaze from Cassie, knowing they’d interrupted a hunger of his own, a far different hunger.
“And we don’t want anything with grass in it,” Todd added, his tone far nastier than usual.
“That’s enough, Todd,” Blake warned.
The boy stuck out his lip belligerently. Still, it trembled slightly. “Fine. I don’t want anything, anyway.” He ran back up the stairs before Blake could reply.
Mark filled his arms with a loaf of bread, peanut butter, jelly, grapes, and at least a dozen cookies. He sent Cassie a challenging look, but she didn’t question his choices. As he retreated up the stairs, no doubt to share his loot with Todd, Blake shook his head.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into them. I’m sorry, Cassie. They shouldn’t speak to you in that tone.”
But she wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed after Mark with a worried expression. “Something’s wrong with them.”
“They’re probably just cranky because they’re hungry.”
“No. They’ve been quiet the last few days, too quiet. I thought maybe they were coming down with colds or the flu, but I don’t think that’s it.”
“Don’t worry so much, Cassie. Kids act up, they get over it.”
She raised her gaze to him. “Much like adults?”
“What do you mean?”
“That adults sometimes think they can start something, then walk away. It’s not always that easy.”
Feeling as though his hand had been slapped...simply for his thoughts...Blake drew his brows together. “Meaning?”
“That I need to be concentrating on my job...your children rather than being distracted.”
“Am I distracting you?” He studied her face, wondering whether she would admit that she was equally affected.
“Maybe I’m simply distracting myself,” she replied, not answering his question.
He saw her resolve assert itself, saw the strength he knew she possessed chase away the softness. Perhaps she was right. He’d hired her to work with his kids, not to work him into a frenzy. So she wanted distance. That shouldn’t be too difficult. But he planned to find a plumber tomorrow, if he had to pay a king’s ransom. Any more towel-draped encounters, and the only distance she’d find would be on the path to his bedroom.
The doorbell rang suddenly and insistently. Cursing beneath his breath, Blake turned just as Maria entered the kitchen, the sound of impatient high heels tapping behind her. “Mrs. Kerara is here,” Maria announced unnecessarily as Daphne walked past her, eclipsing the need for a reply.
Blake saw the unguarded look on Cassie’s face before she fixed a resolute expression in place. Sighing inwardly, Blake wondered why his sister-in-law had chosen to make more appearances in the past month than she had in the past year. True, she asked for investment advice, but most of her questions could have been answered by phone or fax. “Slumming again, Daphne?”
She presented her flawless cheek for a kiss. “Hardly, darling.” Then her gaze settled on Cassie’s bedraggled appearance, and her lips curved in wicked pleasure. “Although I can see why you asked.”
Blake winced on Cassie’s behalf. He knew no woman enjoyed being caught looking her worst. Purposely, he glanced down ruefully at his drenched shirt and jeans. “I’ve never looked my best wearing wet clothes,” he replied, hoping to direct Daphne’s unkind comment away from Cassie.