“Nothing.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have a date tonight,” he said, leaning in to brush a quick kiss across her lips. “Although I don’t understand why you’re not taken.”
He felt her stiffen, like he’d said something she didn’t want to hear. “Maybe I like being a single Pringle,” she said.
“A single Pringle,” he repeated. “Is that a thing?”
She made a face. “Not really. I mean, who can eat only one potato chip?”
“You’re trying to distract me,” he said with a smile. “You’re really not dating anyone?”
“The inn is my priority. It’s all I have time for.”
“You have time for this.” He kissed her again then trailed his mouth along the underside of her jaw, nipping at the soft flesh of her earlobe.
“You’re here,” she said, her voice breathless. “It’s convenient.”
“You do wonders for my ego.”
She laughed. “Your ego doesn’t need any help from me.”
The wind picked up, and Shep felt a shiver go through her.
“We should go inside,” he said, and before she could argue he picked her up and straightened from the swing.
“I can walk,” she protested, clutching his shoulders.
“This is better. I can keep you close.”
“We live together.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m already close.”
He tightened his grip on her. “Not like this.”
“Or this,” she suggested and fused her mouth to his.
She absolutely undid him, and it was difficult to remember why he wanted to keep his distance. Not when holding her felt so right. He bent and grabbed the baby monitor he’d set on the porch rail then maneuvered her through the front door, trying hard not to embarrass himself by running into any furniture as her fingernails grazed his upper back.
But as they neared her bedroom, she pulled away, shifted so that he released her. She stumbled a step but held up a hand when he would have steadied her.
“I need to go to bed,” she said, clutching her hands together.
“Me, too,” he agreed readily.
“Alone.”
He sighed, frustration rolling through him. “I thought you might say that.”
“I can’t do this,” she said, almost apologetically. “What you want, I can’t give it to you.”
“I bet we could give each other something great.” Hell, he’d never felt this much need.
She shook her head. “You’ve got Rosie, and I have The Bumblebee. We need to remember who we are to each other.”
“What about who we want to be?”
“I don’t think that matters.” She paused then added, “Enough.”
Ouch.
He wanted to argue, to convince her, to kiss her again. He wanted to beg just to be allowed to hold her in his arms. But he respected her too much. She was taking a stand, and he understood how much that meant to a woman like Paige.
“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered instead.
Her brows furrowed. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You listened.”
She took a step forward, but he shook his head. “I’m trying my damnedest to be a gentleman.”
“I know.”
“Good night, Paige.”
She scrunched up her nose and gave a little wave. “Good night, Shep.”
Then she turned, walked into her bedroom and shut the door.
Chapter Nine
The doorbell rang three days later at one minute to noon.
Punctuality, Paige checked off her mental list of attributes important for a potential nanny. She didn’t think Shep would care much about today’s candidate being prompt, but Paige had to consider that the woman would be in charge of Rosie’s feeding and sleeping schedule most days of the week. Babies and toddlers needed a routine, especially a child with Rosie’s history.
She placed the one-page résumé on the counter and headed for the front door. The woman she was interviewing today, Carly Maldero, didn’t have much childcare experience as far as Paige could tell but her professional credentials were impeccable. She’d graduated with honors from Princeton and had worked at a Fortune 500 technology company for the entirety of her career.
Her last position was listed as “software development manager.” Paige figured anyone who could succeed in the technology industry had the discipline and appreciation for routines and structure to handle a toddler.
Secretly, she also hoped to work a few questions about the inn’s website into the conversation. She might learn a thing or two from Carly Maldero.
“Oh, heck no,” she muttered under her breath as she opened the door to one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in real life.
“Excuse me?” the woman on the other side said, one perfectly arched brow raised in question.
Or judgment. It was difficult to tell, but Paige knew in an instant that Carly wasn’t going to get the nanny job, even if she had the personality of Mary Poppins and Mother Teresa combined.
Carly Maldero looked like a modern-day version of young Sophia Loren. She was quite a bit taller than Paige and wore a pair of skinny jeans that molded stylishly to her long legs. Her top was pale pink silk and her shoulder-length chestnut hair looked like it had just been styled by a professional. The purse on her arm, a petite handbag in rich chocolate leather probably cost about as much as Paige’s entire wardrobe.
No way was Paige letting this woman anywhere near Shep. Except, what if she was great with Rosie? The little girl had to be most important.
“Are you Paige Harper?” Carly asked with a hesitant smile. “I’m Carly Maldero. I’m here for the interview.”
Paige took a breath and stepped back to let Carly into the house. As much as she wanted to slam the door shut and lock it tight, she knew her reaction was petty and unfair.
Carly couldn’t help being drop-dead gorgeous. Or her perfect body.
“Thanks for coming here instead of meeting in town,” Paige said. “Rosie got up at the crack of dawn today, and I’ve adjusted her schedule so that she’s napping earlier than usual. I hope she’ll wake up around the time we finish talking.”
“Sure,” Carly agreed, not appearing particularly interested in Rosie or her routine. A mark against her. “What a beautiful piece of furniture.” She ran a hand over the antique church pew painted a deep tomato red positioned along one wall in the entry.
“Thank you.” Paige didn’t bother to hide her pride. “I found it at an estate sale and redid it myself with chalk paint.”
“You did an amazing job,” Carly told her, nodding. “Although painting over the original finish might diminish the resale value.”
“Oh.” Paige deflated a bit at that news, not that she was planning on selling the piece...but still.
Carly shrugged. “I like it better this way.”
“Do you have experience in antiques in addition to technology?” Paige inclined her head toward the hallway. “Let’s head to the kitchen. We can have a seat and talk in more detail.”
“I double majored in computer science and art history—obviously two opposite things to study, but I loved them both. I did an internship at a museum in Boston the summer between my junior and senior years and thought about going to grad school but got hired right after graduation. I still love antiques. When are you planning on opening your inn?”
“Um...” Paige forced a smile. “Hopefully by the fall. I’m in a bit of a strange predicament right now. The inn was sold recently. My mom had owned it, and although I was hoping to use the revenue from bookings to buy it from her, there were a couple of snags in my timeline.”
She lifted her hand and massaged her cheek, where already her muscles ached from faking a nonchalant attitude about her
future. “So as of last week I have a new landlord.”
Carly looked confused. “Is that a good thing?”
“Not exactly. Would you like coffee or a cup of tea?”
“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Have a seat at the table,” Paige told the other woman. “I’ll put the water on to boil.”
“I hope whoever the new owner is doesn’t want to change a thing. This place is perfect.”
Paige looked over her shoulder as she filled the kettle to see Carly still standing in the middle of the kitchen, turning in a small circle as she took in the well-loved furniture and pieces of folk art that decorated the space.
“It’s funny to hear you say that.” The burner on the stove clicked several times before the flame ignited. “Based on your résumé, it seems like you’ve had a high-level position. I bet you’ve stayed in some swanky hotels. I’d think your standards would be different.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” Carly’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she moved to the table, but for some reason the sound didn’t annoy Paige the way the snooty Realtor’s shoes had. “Your place fits perfectly with what I’ve seen of this town. You obviously have a knack for making things homey, and I bet you’re a great cook.”
“Mainly I bake,” Paige said. “But I know my way around the kitchen.”
“How many guests can you accommodate?” Carly asked as they sat across from each other.
“There are five bedrooms upstairs so if you assume double occupancy, that’s ten. My goal is to have at least three of the rooms booked at all times.”
Carly tapped one manicured finger on the table. “So that’s what you need to stay in the black? It should be doable during the summer and ski season. If you roll out some advertising or specials for the slow months, that would help. You need a reservation system integrated into the inn’s website and more of an online presence in database searches.”
“You realize I’m supposed to be interviewing you for the nanny position.”
Carly flashed a smile, looking almost embarrassed, which Paige imagined was unfamiliar for someone with so much inherent poise and polish. “Can I be honest?”
“Please.”
“I don’t really like kids,” Carly admitted. “They’re so sticky and they make noise.”
“As most humans do,” Paige agreed. “You applied for this job, remember?”
“I’m sorry to have come here under false pretenses.” Carly sat back in her chair. “I drove over from Aspen last week and got lost. I saw this place and the adorable sign out front.” She smiled. “The Bumblebee. What a perfect name for a bed-and-breakfast. But when I looked online I couldn’t find much beyond a bare-bones website or any current information on the place.”
Paige sighed. “I’m working on that.”
“I figured as much,” Carly said, “and that’s why I’m here. I asked around town and found out more about you and the inn. I want to help you get it up and running, especially the web presence and an online marketing plan.”
“But I need a nanny more,” Paige protested, even though she’d initially planned to ask Carly for advice. But not at Rosie’s expense.
Carly cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“You were referred for the nanny position by—”
“Olivia Travers at the community center. We’re friends from college. I came to Crimson to see her in the first place, and stayed because I’m between jobs so have some time on my hands. Just so you know, she was hesitant about not being straight with you up front.”
“For good reason.” Paige crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t understand why you’re here. I need a nanny.”
“Olivia told me you’re helping a friend find a nanny.”
“Something like that.”
“What you need is a business plan.” Carly studied Paige. “I can help. Look at my résumé. I’m an expert on software development and online marketing using website tools and apps. I have so many ideas for you.”
Panic and excitement warred in Paige. Excitement because she actually believed Carly could really help her get the opening of the inn on track. Panic for very same reason. The kettle whistled and she hopped up from the table, nervous energy running through her. She glanced at the baby monitor, confirming that Rosie hadn’t yet woken from her nap then poured hot water over the tea bags in the two mugs she’d set on the counter.
“Sugar or milk?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” Carly was furiously punching in something on her cell phone. “Look at this,” she said when Paige returned to the table, holding out her phone with the screen facing Paige. “I did some research on B and Bs in this area. Most of them have no vacancies for the rest of the summer and well into fall. There’s a need for you to open The Bumblebee.”
“I still don’t understand.” Paige set one of the mugs in front of Carly. She tapped a finger on Carly’s résumé. “Your experience is with software development at a huge technology company.”
“I can make it transfer,” Carly assured her.
“But why do you want to? I thought you were new to Crimson.”
“I am.”
“And that you wanted a nanny job?”
“I’ll admit that was misleading on my part.”
“If you have some kind of burning desire to work at an inn—”
“This one, specifically,” Carly interrupted. “You can talk to Olivia. She’ll vouch for me. I’m not some weirdie creeper or anything.”
“Good to know,” Paige murmured.
“I’m new to town and want a fresh start.”
“Why did you leave your last job?” Paige asked.
Carly’s gaze dropped, and for the first time since walking into the house, she looked uncomfortable. “I needed a change.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Not really. All I can tell you is I’ll work my butt off for you. I’m really good.”
Paige shook her head. “I have no doubt, but even with Olivia in your corner, this is more than a little odd. Without details to explain why you want to go from this—” She held up the résumé, chock-full of credentials that made Carly Maldero overqualified for most jobs in Crimson, and then motioned with one hand to the space around them “—to this, I’m going to have to say no.”
“You can’t.”
“I just did.”
“Please,” Carly said, clearing her voice when it cracked on the word. “Call it an unpaid internship.”
“You want to work for me without pay?”
“At least until The Bumblebee is bringing in revenue.” The other woman nodded, swiping a hand across her cheek. Were those tears? “I want a new start and I have a good feeling about this place. Have you ever wanted to try something totally out of your comfort zone just to prove you could do it?”
“You’re in the middle of it,” Paige said with a soft laugh.
“I was unhappy at my last job,” Carly said quietly. “I need a change, and I have enough money saved that I can take some time to figure out what I want to do next.”
“Have you thought of going on vacation?” Paige asked. “Maybe your own Eat Pray Love kind of trip.”
“This is it,” Carly told her. “The Bumblebee is my version of a spiritual journey.”
“You’re kind of intense.”
“Yes, but it can work in your favor. If you really want to make a go of this place, I can help. Ignoring your to-do list won’t make it go away. Efficiency is my specialty.”
Paige studied the woman across from her then sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn’t seen it at first, sidetracked by the tumble of glossy hair and polished beauty. Or maybe Carly was simply too good at hiding behind the mask she’d created. But there in her light brown eyes was the holy trifecta—doubt, pain and vulnerability.
Paige recognized the heartbreaking mix because they were the emotions she saw so often staring back from her own reflection.
Something awful had happened to Carly. Paige would bet her life that the woman had a story, one that had led her to this town and to Paige’s kitchen table.
“I’ll have to talk to Olivia and confirm everything you’re telling me.”
“Of course.”
“If she still supports you—”
“She will,” Carly promised, hope blossoming in her gaze.
“Then plan to begin tomorrow. We can start with a tour of the inn and go through what I’ve done so far, not much of it online.” She felt color rise to her cheeks. “I’m not an expert.”
Carly flashed a bright smile. “Lucky for both of us, I am.”
The baby monitor crackled then Rosie’s cry filled the room.
“Looks like we’re finished here,” Carly said quickly. “Thank you for giving me a chance.” She held out her hand, wincing ever so slightly as Rosie’s voice got louder.
“Are you sure you don’t want to meet her?” Paige shook Carly’s hand then hitched a thumb at the baby monitor. “You know, the kid you were supposed to be interviewing to nanny for?”
“She’ll hate me,” Carly said with confidence. “All kids do. I’ll let myself out. Good luck with the nanny search, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As if she expected Rosie to come barreling out of her room demanding to have her massive dirty diaper changed, Carly turned and hurried toward the front door.
Paige clicked off the monitor then headed for the stairs. She was no closer to a caregiver for Rosie, but it seemed like she’d taken a huge step toward reopening the inn.
She hoped that was a good thing.
* * *
Shep glanced out the window of the trailer that housed the ski resort construction office later that afternoon. “It’s running,” he said, grinning as he watched the two-person chairs glide across the sky above them.
Bob McConnell rolled up the plans that were spread across Shep’s desk. “It’s a damned miracle,” he muttered. “I was afraid we’d have to replace the whole thing.”
Anything for His Baby Page 10
