What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) (28 page)

S
EAN
walked out of the restaurant his broker had wanted to meet at and headed back to the estate with a sick feeling in his gut and a sense of relief in his head. It was done. The cottage was sold. With this and putting off the island electrification, he had a shot at matching the offers he’d heard. His brothers’ ROI was still in question, but he’d cross that hurdle when he got there.
If
he got there. There was no guarantee she was going to sell. Or that she would sell to him. Not once she found out he’d wanted this place the whole time.

Sean exhaled. One more thing to worry about.

At least his conscience was clear, though. The sense of relief he felt as the burden of his lies left his shoulders was huge. Now he and Livvy could deal on a level playing field with no secret sabotages between them.

He parked the truck and was heading toward the kitchen when he noticed the door to the salon was open. Now what?

He changed direction and—oh hell. They’d destroyed the room. Again.

Muddy paw prints of all sizes were everywhere. The furniture, the floor, on the floor-length curtains, on the walls, the paintings—

The
paintings
? How the hell did that happen?
Why
the hell did it happen?

“Livvy?”

Nothing. Not even Orwell’s “
Sonofabitch.”

He walked farther into the room. “Livvy? Orwell? Davy?” Thank God the Lladró were still standing in the curio cabinet, but they were about the only thing that was. Lampshades were cockeyed, pillows mashed onto the floor—paw-printed, of course—and one of the coffee table legs had given way so the thing listed drunkenly against the sofa. The table corner had torn a hole in the sofa’s upholstery. Great. There went more money.

He pulled the doors to the hallway closed behind him. They, thank God, stayed shut. “Livvy? You here?”

“Upstairs!” came her disembodied voice.

He found her in her bathroom, a slew of candles tumbling lilac and rose and some sort of berry scent through the room, the perfect set-up for a seduction.

“
Sonofabitch.
”

Or, with Orwell in there, maybe not.

He turned the corner and was greeted with a smile that would have lured him into the tub with her
if
she weren’t fully dressed and knee-deep in soap suds and wet dogs. There were four in with her, one trying to get in, and two others rolling around on towels on the floor. Davy was sitting on a towel on the toilet lid, his casted leg crossed daintily over the non-broken one.

“What happened?”

She puffed a swath of hair out of her face.

It didn’t stay.

She brushed it away with her shoulder.

It still didn’t stay.

Sean leaned over and tucked it behind her ear.

“Thanks.” She took a deep breath. “It was the damn peacock. He was on the other side of the hedge, taunting the dogs, who, I guess, finally had it. Near as I can figure, Ringo went first and the others somehow managed to wiggle out of the fence. I don’t know. All I do know is we’ve got one practically tail-less peacock running around that could use some therapy or medication, a walkway that’s been dug up and destroyed, hedges that need to be reshaped, and I’ve been picking prickers and thorns out of their noses, fur, ears, tails, and the pads of their feet for the past four hours. And trying to bathe them because whatever they chased that peacock through does not smell good.”

That explained the candles.

Sean grabbed a towel, rolled it up, and stuck it next to the tub for him to kneel on. “What do you need me to do?”

She looked like she was ready to cry. “Nothing. This isn’t part of your job description.”

“Haven’t we established that I don’t
have
a job description? Besides, I want to do this for
you
, not because I’m on the clock.” He grabbed a brush from her. “Who’s next?”

“I could kiss you for this.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to that when we’re finished here. So who needs a bath?”

“Paula. No, Petra. No, I think I did her already.” Livvy sat back on the far edge of the tub, her shorts getting soaked. “I’m not sure.”

Sean grabbed the shampoo bottle from the edge of the tub. “Okay, then we’ll just start over. The two on the towels; are they done?”

“Yes. John and Mike were the worst so I did them first.”

“Okay, two down, one out of commission, five left to go.”

He was soaked by the time all the dogs had been bathed. So was Livvy.

That was a plus.

Her cami was clinging again, her nipples had tightened, and she’d lost the blousy thing along the way. With his first-hand knowledge of her body, it was a good thing he had
eau de
wet dog
to keep his senses engaged, otherwise he’d be as hard as the porcelain they were bathing the animals in.

He gave Georgia a good rubbing down. She was an older dog; he didn’t want her to catch cold, but the others were twisting the towels into corkscrews. He helped Livvy out of the tub so she wouldn’t slip on the water the dogs flung all over the place when they shook themselves dry.

“Now what do we do with them? We don’t need a repeat of the salon in every room in the place.”

She sighed. “They destroyed it, I know. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s no big deal. I’ve cleaned it before; I’ll clean it again.”

Some fire came back to her eyes. She straightened and scraped her hair back and twisted it into a weird, messy bun. That was sexy as hell.

“Oh no you
won’t
clean up after them. They’re my animals; I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have time. It’ll take you the better part of a day to clean that mess up and we need to find that clue, remember?” Sean did a mental double take. If he wanted her to fail, why was he pushing her to go searching? “We’ll put them on the patio, but this time, we’ll use leashes.”

“They’ll hate it.”

He grabbed a pair of soaking wet towels off the floor and tossed them into the tub. Another thing he was going to clean. He was definitely hiring Mac once he bought the place.

Bought the place
sounded so much better than
tricked her out of her inheritance
. Now he could be with Livvy and not have to lie to her anymore. It felt so good to have
the knot in his stomach gone—only to be replaced with something else when she tugged on her soaking wet cami.

“And I’ll hate bathing them again even more. So which do you want? Angry, tired, frustrated dogs, or angry, tired, frustrated,
cranky
Sean?”

Livvy handed him another soaked towel. “Can’t I have Um-Sean the Pool Boy instead? He was a lot more fun.”

“Are you saying I’m not fun?”

“Well, Um-Sean would suggest playing catch with them in the yard to tire them out before tying them up on the patio.”

“Um-Sean doesn’t have to clean up after them,” he muttered, scooping yet more towels off the floor. The washing machine was going to blow a circuit by the time this mess was through with it.

“They’re going to be miserable.”

He flicked some soapsuds off her nose. “Better them than us.” He rubbed the small of his back and tried to stretch it out. “Look at the bright side: the peacock will thank you.”

“I’d rather tie the
peacock
up. Damned nuisance. First thing I’m going to do when I officially own this place is donate that thing to a local zoo.”

“Speaking of which, any thoughts for the combination to the safe?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to try. The Great Peacock Fiasco happened pretty much as soon as I got in.”

“Then there’s no time like the present to give it a shot.”

Livvy picked up Davy. “Can’t we shoot the peacock instead?”

F
IVE
hours later, Livvy was ready to forget the peacock and shoot whoever had designed this stupid safe. She and Sean had tried every number combination they could think of: birthdays, anniversaries, death dates, important dates in history, the summer and winter solstices, holidays . . . but the darn thing hadn’t budged. To add to the fun, they weren’t even sure how many numbers were in the darn combination, so the whole thing was one giant crap shoot. She was
so
over Merriweather’s little game.

“What about one-two-three-four-five?” She flopped onto the Chesterfield sofa beneath the windows in the study.

“Didn’t we try that?”

“I don’t know. I’m seeing strings of numbers behind my eyelids every time I close them.” She tossed an arm over her forehead. “We’re never going to figure this out.”

“And I don’t have much longer to try.”

“Hot date?” She tried to put a whole bunch of nonchalance into the question, but really, it practically choked her.

Sean turned around. “Are you actually expecting me to date someone else after sleeping with you?”

“There wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping going on.” She was trying to be blasé about it, so cool and hip and with-it, but sex was a pretty big deal to her.

“Exactly my point. Why would you think I’d have a date?”

“I didn’t.” Well, not for more than a second.

“I don’t buy it, Livvy. That shot out of your mouth so fast you didn’t have time to come up with something to be cute. You meant it. Now why? What have I done to give you the impression that you were so unimportant I’d see other people? I don’t jump into bed with every beautiful woman I meet, you know. I didn’t think you did, either.”

She was blushing again, but this time it was in anger. At herself. She’d jumped to conclusions and hurt his feelings when he’d given her absolutely no reason to think what she’d thought. “I don’t jump into bed with every beautiful woman I meet, either.”

“Not funny.”

Okay, so humor was out.

Livvy sat up and tucked her feet beneath the sofa and her hands beneath her thighs. “I’m sorry. I guess . . . I guess I’m just a little scared. What I’m feeling for you . . .” She blew out a big breath. “It’s new. And it’s exciting, but it’s also a little scary. I don’t exactly have the best track record with people caring about me.”

Sean stared at her for so long she wanted to shrivel up and die of humiliation. Great, now she’d put the pressure on. Caring about her—God. When would she learn not to get her hopes up? When would she learn to just accept what someone was willing to give and not want more? It wasn’t as if sex with Sean wasn’t amazing enough. She should have just kept her big mouth shut and enjoyed this for what it was and not let herself get all caught up in the moment.

But, dammit, she was
tired
of having to settle. Of going along with another person’s program. And she wasn’t just talking about guys. Merriweather, her mother, her father . . . All the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally hadn’t. They’d all dumped her on someone else. Why would she expect a guy to waltz in on his vacuum cleaner and be the answer to her prayers?

She needed to stop believing in fairy tales. She was no Cinderella and he was no Prince Charming and maybe that hadn’t worked out so well for ol’ Cindy in the long run anyhow. Those Grimm brothers never did put out a sequel. Maybe because there hadn’t been one.

“Livvy?”

She didn’t want to look at him. “It’s okay, Sean, I—”

“Livvy, look at me.”

She did. She couldn’t
not.

“I have to go. My brothers will be waiting and I have a lot of things I need to discuss with them. But when I get back, we’ll talk, okay?”

She licked her dry lips. “Okay.”

And this is why you get your heart broken every time. You
believe
in people, and they always let you down.

Sean wouldn’t.

Uh huh.

He wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of a guy. He wouldn’t leave someone he cared about. He wouldn’t betray their trust, dash their dreams, mess with their life. Sean was a good guy.

And maybe, after their talk tonight, he’d be
her
guy.

M
ANY
more hours later than he’d planned, Sean let himself in the kitchen door—
after
he’d checked the ones to the salon. Thankfully, they were still jimmied shut from the inside so the barnyard animals were where they were supposed to be. Good. He wasn’t up for dealing with them tonight.

He looked at his cell. Actually, it was this morning. He hadn’t planned to stay out so late, but his brothers had drilled him on what he was planning to do all the while taking his money in the poker game, and while it hadn’t been fun, at least they were now all on the same page. Though Bry did think he was nuts for giving up his dream for a woman.

“And you’re not even married to her,” he’d said.

Funny he should say that . . .

Sean glanced at
the
counter. The thought of Livvy there, like she’d been before Sher and Kerry had interrupted . . .

They would think he was completely out of his mind if they knew what he was thinking. But why not? Why couldn’t Livvy be The One? He wasn’t talking immediate proposal, but down the line? She made him smile, she made him laugh; she certainly made him horny. Livvy was a go-getter who didn’t let the world beat her down. He admired that about her. He liked her sunny spirit, her strong work ethic, and her fierce loyalty to those she cared about, be they two-legged or four. She had a soft, caring heart, a willingness to give, and the way she blushed . . .