by Sandy James
“Don’t go to any trouble. I’m fine with this.” Nate followed her through the garage, stopping to stare at the empty pegboard and shelves. “You don’t have any tools?”
“I’ve got a hammer, a couple of screwdrivers, and a wrench. They’re in a drawer in the kitchen.” She shrugged. “Haven’t really needed anything else.”
“That’s ’cause this place is new. Trust me, you’ll need more as it ages.” His gaze returned to her, his eyes capturing hers. “Sorry. That was too pessimistic, wasn’t it?”
Unnerved by his intense scrutiny, she went to the door and opened it. “Not pessimistic. Realistic. A trait we share. I guess I always thought I’d have Ben or Robert to call on if I needed any help.” She stepped into the foyer and held the door for him.
Nate followed her, moving out of the way so she could close the door. Then he looked around her two-story foyer, eyes wide. “Wow. This place is amazing.”
Although she thought so, too, she didn’t want to sound as though she were bragging. “Robert builds amazing houses.”
He pointed at the etched glass chandelier. “I love the light fixture. So modern.”
They evidently had the same taste, because she’d loved it from the moment she saw it in the lighting store.
“Did Robert pick it out?” He brushed his foot across the ceramic tile lining the foyer’s floor. “And this? The color’s fantastic.”
“He pointed out some choices for me.”
“So you picked it.”
Since Nate had made it a statement, Dani wasn’t sure whether she should respond. It was easier to continue the tour. She was too rattled having him in her house to hold a genuine conversation.
That didn’t bode well. If he took the basement, he’d be in her house all the time.
Grow up, Dani. You’re not sixteen anymore.
On that admonition, she got her pluck back. “Want to see the basement?”
“Nope.” He headed right to the staircase, running his fingertips over the carved cherry banister. “I want to see the whole house first. This place is a masterpiece!” Before she could say a word, he bounded up the stairs.
Dani loved his enthusiasm for her home. Robert worked miracles, no doubt about it. He’d helped a single woman living on a teacher’s salary build a beautiful, spacious home. A part of her enjoyed the fact that Nate felt comfortable enough with her to give himself an impromptu house tour.
He was waiting at the top when she followed him up the staircase. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. If you don’t want to show me the house…” His fingers raked through his hair. “I shouldn’t have gone nosing around.”
“It’s fine, Nate. Really. I’m happy you like my house.”
Each room earned more praise as she led him through the bedrooms and baths. When she’d picked out the design, she’d known she might never have a need for four bedrooms. She’d decided a long time ago never to have kids of her own. She made her living with children. Day in, day out, her life was a revolving door of educating—and sometimes mothering—young people. That left her emotionally depleted. Her personal life would only include adults. And maybe a dog.
Not that she didn’t want a family. It was that her definition of the word was nothing more than a husband and wife. Two people who would share their lives, spending time traveling and seeking out all the experiences the world had to offer.
Maybe she’d chosen four bedrooms because in the back of her mind she was thinking about the Ladies Who Lunch. Or maybe because four was her lucky number.
The longer Nate was in her home, the more Dani relaxed. By the time she led him back downstairs and to the kitchen, things between them seemed natural. Easy. Exactly like at school.
“And here’s the pièce de résistance,” she said, sweeping her arm toward the kitchen.
Nate strode to the enormous island, smoothed his hands over the gray granite, and gaped like a child seeing the bounty left by Santa Claus on a Christmas morning. “My, oh my…” He glanced at her, smiling. That dimple was going to be the death of her. “Did I tell you how much I love to cook?”
“No, you didn’t.” They’d talked. A lot. About books. About music. About running. Although she was getting to know him better, there was still much about Nate Ryan she needed to learn.
“Well, I do.”
“So do I.”
He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hope the apartment’s kitchen is half this nice.”
“Um, about that…” She nibbled on her bottom lip, feeling guilty.
His touch turned to a caress as he rubbed her bare upper arms. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t tell you, and I probably should have, especially since you’re so excited now…”
“Tell me what?”
She couldn’t speak; she was simply too tongue-tied. He was sure to be disappointed that she hadn’t told him, probably doubly disappointed since he enjoyed cooking so much.
That, and his touch evoked memories of his kiss—that incredible kiss that Dani wished she could forget.
But she couldn’t.
“C’mon, Dani. It can’t be that bad.”
The best thing to do was just spit it out. “There’s no kitchen in the basement.”
Nate blinked a few times. “You built an apartment without a kitchen?”
Dani shook her head. “I wanted to host exchange students. The basement would give them privacy.”
“So exchange students don’t need a kitchen?”
“Well, yeah. But—”
Mischief filled his features. “Pretty damn cruel to bring exchange students all the way over to America and never let them eat.”
“They’d eat up here. With me. In my kitchen. And the dining room, too.” Great. Now she was babbling. “Look, there’s a sink, a dorm fridge, and a microwave. But that’s it.”
A few long seconds passed before Nate said, “Then what’s the problem?”
“What do you mean?” She was having a hard time following how quickly his mind jumped from thought to thought, so she tried to clarify. “If you stay in my basement, you won’t have any place to cook.”
He gave the kitchen a good, long look as he rubbed his chin. “There’s a sink?”
She nodded.
“And a fridge?”
“A dorm fridge.”
“There’s a microwave, too?”
“Yes.”
“Do they all work?” he asked, the teasing plain in his voice.
“Of course they work.”
“Then I’ll be better off than I am now. But there is one thing that would help—one thing you can do to make me feel more at home.”
* * *
Nate savored the confused expression on Dani’s face.
She’d sounded so forlorn when she’d admitted her basement didn’t have a full kitchen. He’d been disappointed for a few seconds before he realized that her revelation wasn’t a disaster. There might not be a gourmet kitchen, but a kitchenette would do just fine.
It also left the door open—hopefully literally—for him to spend time upstairs, using her kitchen. He could cook enough to shove some meals in the freezer; then he’d be able to warm them up during the week. Maybe she’d even let him create special meals for her so they could talk some more about their favorite books. They might be able to share some mealtimes, something that bordered on intimacy.
In his mind’s eye, he could see them now, standing side by side at the big island, cutting vegetables. She’d dip one of her long fingers in a special sauce and offer it to him. He’d lick it off before tugging her into his arms and kissing her.
Yep. He had it bad for her. And for the time being, he didn’t intend to let that bother him one bit.
“I want to be able to use this kitchen,” he said. “As part of the deal, I want you to let me cook in this awesome kitchen.”
“B-but…” Dani kept opening and closing her mouth like a kissing fish.
“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll clean
up after myself.”
“Then you’re okay with just having a kitchenette?” she asked.
He swept his hand out toward the six-burner gas stove. “I am if you’ll share this. And if you’ll let me cook for you from time to time.”
“Of course!”
“Well, then… I’m anxious to see my new place. How do we get to the basement?”
She pointed at a door.
“Let’s go.” Taking her hand, Nate dragged her there and then let her lead him down the stairs.
The basement was no less dazzling than the rest of the house. Instead of being decorated in boring neutral colors, the walls popped with red and white. An enormous flat-screen TV was mounted on one wall, and a black leather sectional gave whoever was watching something a great place to kick back and get comfortable.
Nate skipped his fingers across the back of the couch. “I won’t even need my beat-up old sofa.”
Tucked away under the stairs was the kitchenette—a small stainless steel sink, a thigh-high fridge, and microwave. “It’s not much…”
“Like I said, it’s better than what I’ve got now.”
“You still want to stay here?” Her incredulous tone made him worry for a moment that she wasn’t nearly as attracted to him as he was to her.
Then he remembered their kiss, remembered how passionately she’d melted in his arms. No way she could’ve faked that kind of attraction.
“Gotta see the bathroom first. No stand-up shower is a deal breaker.” He peeked into the large bedroom, pleased with the size; then he poked his head in the bathroom. “Oh, yeah. This’ll do nicely.”
A large vanity gave him plenty of room for his stuff. The subway tiles in the shower had to have taken forever to arrange into the intricate herringbone pattern. Hell, this basement would probably be the nicest place he’d ever call home, even if he lived to be ninety. At that moment, he made himself a promise that if he did decide to stay in Cloverleaf, he’d find a way to get enough money scraped together to have Robert Ashford build a house for him.
“I’m ready to move in right now,” he announced.
“Nate, I’m not sure—”
“Wait. Before you say anything… there’s something important I have to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Time for some major league begging.”
“Begging?” Her brows knit.
He loved keeping her off balance. “Yeah, begging. Shameful, pitiful begging. This place is amazing. If I have to go back to that long-term hotel after having this carrot dangled in front of me, I’ll just curl up into a ball and die.”
The confusion on her face morphed into a smile. “That bad, huh?”
“The ninth circle of hell.”
“The ninth? Wow. That’s pretty bad.”
“Really bad. Have I mentioned the noise?”
“Nate…”
Getting down on one knee, he clasped his hands. “Or the smell?” He raised his hands as if seeking divine intervention. “Dear God, the smell!” When she laughed, he knew he had her. He clasped his hands and held them to his chest. “Do I get this gorgeous basement as my new home?”
“I should be ‘deaf to pleading and excuses. Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase.’ ”
It was his turn to laugh as he got to his feet. “What if I told you that women who quote Shakespeare make me hot?”
“I’ll have to reconsider letting you have my basement.”
“Then women who quote Shakespeare no longer make me hot.”
“Good.” Dani glanced around her basement. “So you’ll take it?”
“Oh, yeah,” Nate replied.
* * *
Although Dani was happy, she was also terrified. “I haven’t even told you the rent yet.”
“Can’t be any worse than the long-term place. Trust me, this is a huge step up in my world.” His smile slowly bowed to a frown, but the spark of humor remained in his eyes. “There’s only one problem that I see.”
How easy it would be to become accustomed to the way he loved to tease her. “Problem? Hmmm…” She deliberately waited a few moments. “Sorry. I can’t think of a single problem… besides having to use the upstairs kitchen from time to time.”
“It’s not that.”
Although she would probably regret asking, she did anyway. “Then what’s the problem?”
Nate grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward him hard enough she ran right into his chest. He slipped his arms around her waist, giving her little choice on what to do with her arms—either shove him away with them or loop them around his neck.
Dani chose the latter.
“The problem is”—he kissed her nose—“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
Before she could say a word, his mouth was on hers.
She’d almost forgotten how wonderful his lips felt pressed against hers, how much those lips could make fire shoot through every limb. And when his tongue tickled the seam of her lips, she stopped thinking and tried to just… feel.
Her heart hammered a rough beat as her tongue rubbed against his. No man had ever made her so hot so quickly. Her breasts tingled as her nipples tightened, and her core throbbed with want.
The kiss ended only long enough for her to catch a breath. At least her pride was saved since Nate panted for air as well. Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue probing and teasing and raising her desire to a fever pitch.
Dani couldn’t stop a soft moan when he slid his hands down to cup her backside and pulled her pelvis hard against his, letting her feel his erection.
Nate kissed his way across her cheek and traced the ridges of her ear with his tongue before burying his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. Each little nip and soothing lick sent her head whirling.
“I want you, Dani,” he whispered, his voice ragged and full of need.
Good sense came back in a flood that felt like being dunked in cold water. “Stop.”
Easing back, he knit his brows and stared down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“J-just stop.” She put her hands against his chest and pushed.
He only resisted for a heartbeat or two before releasing her. “I don’t understand.”
With trembling legs, Dani made her way to the stairs. “We can’t do this again, Nate.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me?”
She let out a sad little snort. “Of course I want you.”
“And you know I want you. So what’s the problem?”
“Problem? Try problems.”
“You’re still stuck on the you’re-my-boss crap?”
“It’s not crap!” Fisting her hands to keep from shouting, she tried to explain her tumbling emotions. “I am your boss. I’d think that growing up with a teacher would’ve ingrained the teaching hierarchy in you.”
He shrugged. “Department head really isn’t that big a deal. You know it, and I know it. I sure didn’t see any rules about teachers being forbidden from dating other teachers. Aren’t there even some married couples teaching at Douglas?”
He had her there. “There are. And you’re right; there’s no rule against it. But there is common sense. You’re new, Nate. The first two years are probationary. You don’t want to give them any reason to look at you too hard. Sure, being department head isn’t a big deal, but it’s important to me. I want to move up in the world, hopefully be a principal one day. You think the school board would approve me for any administrative job if I got involved with someone under my supervision?”
Nate’s lips thinned to a tight line.
“And you and I both know that there’s also a difference in our ages, and not just a year or two.”
“Not enough to matter to me,” he insisted.
“It’s eight years, Nate. That’s a lot in my book.”
The frustration of desire unquenched was bad enough, but now she had to deal with something she wasn’t at all used to.
Self-pity.
Dani folded he
r arms under her breasts. “I don’t want to fight about this anymore.”
“We’re not fighting,” he said. “We’re… discussing.”
“We’re fighting,” she insisted. “Which is exactly why we can’t do this. We have to work together, and now we have to live together. It’s better if we don’t complicate things. Okay?”
He reached his hand out. “Dani, please.”
“I mean it. We can’t do this. Not now. Not ever.”
Nate heaved a sigh before he gave her a curt nod. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. I’ll be nothing but your colleague and your tenant. Happy now?”
Dani nodded, glad she’d won.
So why did she feel like crying?
Chapter Eight
The next Saturday, Dani stepped out on her porch, cradling her cup of coffee between her hands. It was moving day for Nate, and she was worried about meeting his brother.
A blue pickup was backing into the driveway as he signaled directions to the driver. A walnut bedroom set, a thick mattress, and a box spring were piled in the truck bed. Since the basement was furnished in every room but the bedroom, those items would be all he would need to settle in.
“That’s it!” Nate smiled as he hopped up the porch steps. “Do I need a key?” His smile was better than caffeine to perk her up. “Or did you leave the door open?”
“No key needed this time,” she replied. “But I do have your spare. It’s sitting on the kitchen island with the garage door remote. There’s a Post-it note on it with the keypad code.”
A brunette with short, stylish hair exited the passenger side of the pickup while a tall blond guy jumped out of the driver’s side. The man looked like Nate with glasses, which meant he had to be his brother. She blinked, trying to clear her sleep-fogged brain so she could remember his name.
Patrick.
At least she wasn’t so old her memory was starting to go.
The woman came to join Dani and Nate on the porch while Patrick popped open the truck’s tailgate.
“You must be Nate’s mom.” Dani smiled, not sure whether she should shake the woman’s hand. Since she hadn’t known his mother was coming, she wasn’t at all prepared for what to say.
