“I’ll take that overwhelmingly green room. It will have the least appeal.” And was the one closest to hers.
“Um… I won’t be a very good host. I’m going to need to focus to meet that deadline.”
Maybe he hadn’t thought it out well, setting her such a daunting task. But surely she’d come to see it as such that much quicker and he’d find a way to let her back out gracefully. His gut told him she was worth it and he wasn’t about to challenge his instincts now. “I don’t require a host, Regan.” Just you in my bed. “We can discuss an extension when the time comes.”
“And your business…”
“I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time and I have people I can count on. I can work via my laptop and phone. I’ll supervise the construction crew you find and assist with the marketing.” He looked forward to spending such time with her.
“I thought I’d do the repairs. I mean, I can save money.”
“You’re licensed to do that kind of work?” He was polite, if unconvinced.
“I know how to do it and I rewired the downstairs. An inspector has to check it out to make it legal is all.”
He regarded her intently and was again filled with admiration, though he inwardly flinched at the thought of her wearing herself out. Wanting some of that energy focused on him, he floundered a little, torn between doing what was right and fair, and meeting his own, more carnal needs. “I didn’t know that. And the plumbing?”
“That, too. I’m maybe not as accomplished in that area but I’m a quick study.”
She was going to kill herself with work, and his protective instincts surged, something new. Outside of his mother and sister, he never felt that way about women. Instincts yet again. “That’s a huge amount of work for one person. I think you should hire someone. At least to help.”
“I’ll do it myself if I can. Though I will hire someone to come in and clean. I don’t think I can keep up with everything.”
“Are you finally admitting there’s something you can’t do?” he teased. He found himself grinning as her wide mouth upturned into a charming smile.
“There’s lots I can’t do.”
Reminded part of this was business, he narrowed his stare. She gazed back, her smile fading, her eyes filled with anxiety. He was throwing money into a huge, empty pit and couldn’t seem to help himself. The attraction had somehow gone far past what he’d initially felt, maybe sometime during the painful tour or the marvel of the grounds.
With an effort, he bore down. “I’m inflexible on the amount of the loan, Regan, and the time frame. I understand business, and I want you to understand that. Do we have a deal?”
“I’m not great with budgets, but I won’t ask for a penny more. Deal.”
She stuck out her hand, and he fancied she saw it as an olive branch. The hostility she’d initially projected was gone, and he took the opportunity to encroach into her space. Clasping her small, work-roughened hand in his much larger one, a frisson of energy sparked between them and he felt her quiver.
Fascinated, he watched as she strove to regain her composure, while he allowed his desire to show. Staring into her eyes, the pale-blue of her irises consumed by the dilation of her pupils, he read her need. He tugged her to his chest, the clean smell of soap and water, and something uniquely Regan, wafting from her.
Her head tipped back and he dropped his mouth down on hers, the immediate connection hardening his flesh to the point of pain. She relaxed into his hold and he tasted her with desperate intent. His fingers wove through the silky mass of her hair, holding her steady, and she moaned deep in her throat. She pressed closer, her arms wreathing around his neck.
He somehow brought it to a close, over long before he wanted it to be, but his conscience pricked hard. He’d promised her the time and money to bring The Inn up to snuff, somehow unable to resist. And now he’d honor his commitment, intuiting the importance of this woman determining her own destiny. Not a fling, not like with his other women.
His libido jeered and prodded at him but knew to allow nature to take its course. Wherever this connection with Regan was going, he wouldn’t hurry nor derail it.
As they both caught their breath, he gently set her away from him, his hands on her lithe waist, until she steadied on her stool. “I normally don’t seal business deals with a kiss,” he said, aware his tone held a certain rasp. Clearing his throat, he continued, “It’s been a … momentous day.”
Her slender throat working in a swallow, she said, “I’ve never sealed a business deal before.”
He knew she wasn’t experienced and doubted she kissed every man she’d just met with fervor and without meaning anything by it. Aching for her, he clamped down on his physical need and did his best to appear suave and unruffled. “We have a deal, Regan. I’ll bring my things in and get settled while you get organized. You’ll need a material list, among other things.”
Visibly drawing her composure around her like flexible armor, she slipped from the stool and turned her back on him, clearing away the dishes on the island. “Sounds good. I’ll just tidy up and then sit down with pen and paper. Lists are good.”
Holding hard on to his own equanimity, he nodded and headed out for his car. Some fresh air would clear his head and cool him down.
Chapter Three
The dishes clattered in her hands as she got them to the sink for rinsing. Sealing a business deal? With a kiss? Her lips tingled.
She scrambled to get hold of herself as she processed his words. They smacked of apology, so he regretted it. Maybe she’d imagined the depth of the kiss, given her own state of mind. Momentous pretty much summed things up. She and Maddox hadn’t known about one another, her feeling alone in the world, and now she not only had a cousin—two cousins—and an aunt. He’d inherited a white elephant as well as a cousin. A kissing cousin, a little voice in the back of her head suggested before she tuned it out. They might be staying in the same place but there’d be no more kissing. Not if she wanted to focus.
Oscar cleaned his face near the kitty door and she realized he’d helped himself to the remaining egg bake. Probably during that kiss that never should have happened, where she’d lost contact with reality. Hopefully, Maddox had been preoccupied enough not to notice Oscar’s faux pas, because the cat normally didn’t jump up on the kitchen surfaces.
She hissed at him. “If you get up on the island again—or any of the work surfaces—he’ll notice and there’ll be a health violation and you and I will be out on the freaking street!”
The animal actually seemed to consider her threat, moving to weave around her legs. She scooped him up, no easy feat, and cuddled him for a moment. He allowed it so perhaps he was ashamed of his behavior.
Setting him down, she got everything in the dishwasher and cleaned the counter. Time to get on that list. Time to get on everything. Three months was precious little time, and while she’d never balked at hard work in her life, she wondered if she’d bitten off too much. Maddox’s arrival had thrown her life into a tailspin. One thing was for certain, it was going to be a totally and absolutely professional relationship between them. No more momentous days—or hours—or any variants of time. Her brain wouldn’t stay functioning and nothing would get done except maybe some serious bedroom time. At least what she imagined would be serious bedroom time.
****
“You didn’t have to make breakfast.” Maddox strode in several days later, his suit jacket tossed over his shoulder, hanging from two fingers. “I could have grabbed something at the bakery.”
He’d become as familiar as her with what The Falls offered and in true small-town style, was probably as well known.
She said, “I have material coming first thing and wanted to pull down some sheetrock before the truck gets here. So I’m up a bit earlier. It would be churlish not to feed you.” Did he have to look so perfect every day? Even when he wasn’t going anywhere for whatever business he did, he dressed nice. She tore her gaze away and retu
rned to poking at the sausages.
Too close for comfort, he spoke quietly. “As incredibly competent as you look in your tool belt, Regan, you need to slow down. Or find some help. Hell, I’ll help you.”
She slipped away to pretend to look for something in the fridge. He was always worrying about her, yet he’d set the terms. “You’re not dressed for construction.”
“I have to make a couple of meetings. But I’ll pitch in tomorrow.”
He’d helped her with some of the heavy work without complaint, but he clearly had a business to run, judging by the numerous phone calls he made—and took—not to mention the flying trips to Boston. “No. It’s fine. You’re the money guy. I’m the labor. And time is getting away from me.”
She thought he muttered a profanity but when she turned to stare, his features were composed. “You’re exhausted. And tired people make mistakes. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Then maybe he could write her a blank check and she could hire a crew and make all the changes and… Her thoughts ran down like an old clock. She was being totally unfair. Maddox obviously wasn’t hurting for money, but it didn’t mean he had unlimited funds. He’d been more than reasonable.
Having him in the house wasn’t a hardship either, if she could overlook the main reason she didn’t sleep well at night, despite her exhaustion. Knowing he was in the room right next to hers kept her awake thinking Cinderella fantasies, and then, when she did crash, it was to sink into sexy dreams starring the one and only Maddox Ferguson. The financial obligation tainted her feelings when she let it and…
With an effort, she wrapped up her thoughts and turned back to making breakfast. One kiss did not a sexual connection make, and despite the prickle of awareness that swept over her in his company, compliments of certain looks, he couldn’t be interested. She was acting like a besotted teenager in the throes of her first crush.
“Don’t freeze me out. I’ve only seen you at breakfast and dinner the past couple of days.” His tone was quiet, and she heard the frustration and something close to a plea, but she didn’t want to read anything into his words or his tone. Unless— Nope. Crazy-making hopes and she knew better. Just look at the two of them. The plain country mouse and the handsome, big city cat.
Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was thinking, is all. And I’ll be fine. I’ve worked harder than this.”
He lowered onto a stool and ran a hand through his hair. She itched to smooth it from its tousled state, when he said, “Are you sure The Inn is worth it?”
All those confusing, softer feelings hardened into anger. How could he even ask her that? She cracked eggs into the pan with an emphatic snap of her wrist before she could be sure her voice would be level. “I’m sure.”
She heard him sigh but his tone was neutral. “I had one of my people revamp your website. It should help. There’s a reservation system set up on it too, so that will give you less to worry about.”
He was so good to her in so many ways when it came to things like that, helping and supporting her, but through it all, she felt something else. Probably, he hoped she would fail and the sooner the better so he could get back to his life in Boston. While she could admit to wanting him here—another stupid example of her infatuation—she sometimes felt he was staying to keep an eye on his investment, the better to choose the best time to lower the boom. Maybe before she spent all the money he’d loaned her. Sometimes it felt like she was lighting dollar bills on fire as she scrambled to keep ahead.
“Thanks. I’ll have a look tonight.” Sometime between reviewing her work and making more material lists and checking out some online videos on the intricacies of plumbing stacks and… She was glad she’d infused proper appreciation into her tone and wrestled with her ambivalence.
Dividing the food out between them, she took a piece of toast and added it to her plate. Maddox would devour the rest, true to form. She liked cooking for him and had come in twice after working on the grounds to find he’d made dinner. Or he brought her something to eat at lunch when she didn’t stop and he wasn’t out on business. She didn’t know what to make of him at times.
Perhaps this was how family treated one another—his family. She hadn’t had her adoptive mom for long before she got sick and her dad, while good to her, didn’t have a lot of time leftover. Not with caring for his wife and trying to run The Inn. But she thought they’d loved her. They’d chosen her, anyway, and she loved them.
“I’ll be back late tonight or tomorrow. Probably tomorrow. You’ll be okay?”
“Maddox, I was here by myself after Dad died. I’ll be fine.” In truth, she knew she’d miss him terribly but wouldn’t be selfish and wish him a long, dark drive back in the night.
“I don’t like it,” he muttered.
She wondered if he was worried about what she’d do in his absence because that was the only thing that made sense. Maybe spend his money frivolously or something.
Giving her head a mental shake, she finished eating and got up to clean her plate. As she passed behind him, within sniffing distance, her hormones did a happy dance. They escalated to an insane beat whenever he was close, and how he didn’t notice…
She tried to hide her interest, playing it cool, having had limited experience with the opposite sex and thought she was successful.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated and went to get that tool belt. It was nice to be regarded as competent but it would be nice to have been perceived as sexy too. Ha. Yup, flannel shirts, threadbare old jeans, and scarred work boots were such a fashion trend. Not to mention her lack of makeup and no recent visit to the local hair salon for a passing greet with a pair of scissors.
He hollered a farewell and her feet hesitated, hinting she might want to turn back and walk him to the car. But seeing him off smacked of domesticity or something. And that wasn’t what this was about. They had a professional relationship. Okay, he was family, and once the three months were over, she hoped to meet his sister and mom, but she shouldn’t be thinking about him with anything other than professionalism. Like her banker.
That comparison put things into perspective. The thought of Ichabod Crane-styled George Clark in any other context than her banker cooled her jets.
The day unfolded as she expected and while she found herself listening for Maddox’s return into the late hours of the evening, she remonstrated with that part of her. He called her right around bedtime to say he wouldn’t be back until the following day, and they had a brief chat. About nothing in particular. A brief overview of how the repairs were coming, a reference to his business, and he always asked after the cat.
There was a strange sense he was holding back, as if wanting to say something else, but that too would be her imagination. He was just being kind. It was a curious sensation to know someone out there cared enough to make sure she was okay, and she reminded herself it was because she was family. Sort of.
And she’d been mistaken when she felt she had no one. She had Gloria, her mother’s best friend, who cared. That woman lived out in Montana, however, and while she’d made it for Regan’s dad’s funeral, they didn’t see one another very often. But it was comforting to remember to add Gloria to the list, making her less dependent on the tenuous connection with Maddox.
Sleep came with difficulty despite his call—or maybe because of it. But the sun came up as it always did and she launched herself into another day of unending repairs and yard work until Maddox came home with takeout.
“It’ll need warming, but I thought you might want something different.”
The Falls didn’t have Thai food, of course, and her mouth watered at what might be considered an exotic meal. Salivating had nothing to do with how amazing he looked in his suit, perfectly shaved, his hair smooth. “That’s really nice of you.”
“No problem.” He declined to share the food and went off to the section of the sitting room he’d claimed for his office. Regan stared after him and wondered
at his sudden aloofness. She was continually off balance where he was concerned and she hated it.
Later that day, Maddox was as helpful and kind as ever, but there was a certain distance between them and she wondered if something had happened in Boston to cause it. The Falls had nothing to offer a man like him, and perhaps he was regretting his so-called vacation while he monitored The Inn’s progress.
So she threw herself into her work, extending her days and checking the reservation system obsessively in her paltry, spare moments. The sooner she got the place up and running, the sooner he could get back to his real life. She put the despondency that thought incurred down to losing contact with a pseudo-family member and told herself she’d long since come to terms with her ridiculous infatuation.
Chapter Four
She was killing herself, trying to do everything alone, and he couldn’t free up enough time to help her, not to mention he wasn’t much good for anything other than bull work and gophering in any event. She was amazing, what with her skills. No traditional roles for her. And it was making him crazy.
Not the fact she knew her way around a hammer. Nor her insane ability with plants and landscaping, but the way she threw herself into a thankless project in a vain effort to make something out of a place where there was no hope. It was going to break her heart and he could admit to fearing that losing The Inn would spoil what he hoped would burgeon between them.
Maybe he should have pressed his suit, gone down the hall to her room and banged on the door. Seduced her, as was his original plan. All his careful efforts to build a connection with her seemed appreciated, but she held back and it made him grit his teeth.
Being away from her overnight had been an absolute trial, so much so that when he’d seen her, he’d had to head off to his makeshift office to wrestle with the urge to demonstrate just how much he’d missed her. Leaving her to eat the Thai food he hoped to share with her.
A Far Cry from Home Page 3
