Traded

by Tess Thompson

  She settled back against the couch cushions and released her hair from behind her ears. It fell in waves over her chest. “I imagine you’re a magnet for people with ill intentions. I understand your caution.”

  He cocked his head to the right, observing her. A vulnerability had crept into her voice.

  “I have to be careful, that’s all. Your competence doesn’t mean a thing if you put my family in danger.”

  “I do understand, Mr. Mullen. But there’s nothing nefarious. I have no family. My mother died when I was ten. My father died when I was in high school, so no one cares where I am or why. The boyfriend I left behind has happily moved on from me. He’s now engaged to his high school sweetheart who, after twelve years, he discovered on Facebook and they just rekindled everything like no time had passed. That, and other reasons, make me hate social media. If you call my references, they’ll tell you that I’m good at what I do, and I have no history of drama or violence in my life.”

  “Maybe we should start over?” he asked.

  She smiled and hooked her hands around one knee. “Good idea.”

  “I’ll start with Flora. She basically raised my brother and me—she’s like a second mother to us.” Brody cracked the knuckle on his index finger. He needed a second to control the emotion in his voice. “Whatever happens, I want the best care for her.” He took in a deep breath.

  “What have the doctors said about her prognosis?”

  He launched into what he knew about the tumor. Kara obviously understood the details better than he, as she nodded and asked clarifying questions.

  “So, no chemo? That’s wonderful. She could make a full recovery,” Kara said.

  “The oncologist I spoke with yesterday wasn’t as encouraging. He kept throwing statistics at me.”

  “I’ll tell you a little secret. We’re trained to present worst-case scenarios.” Her tone was hushed, sympathetic. He had an image of a piece of silk sliding through his fingers. “The word tumor is terrifying. Given the type of tumor and its location, there’s no reason she can’t make a full recovery.”

  Her words soothed him. He rubbed his eyes. “I’ve gently suggested that it’s time to retire.”

  “How did that go over?”

  “Not well.” Dammit, could he just control his voice? “She doesn’t listen to me about that or anything else. She drives me nuts.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first man to say that about the woman in his life.” Kara shifted in her chair and glanced toward the fire before speaking. “As far as her recovery goes—like grief, everyone heals in different ways. If continuing her duties makes her feel better, then it might be just what she needs.”

  “I don’t like it,” he said.

  “It’s not really up to you,” she said.

  He gathered himself, considering the woman in front of him. All he needed was another bossy woman in his house, but Kara’s pragmatic attitude, in combination with her sensitivity, made him less anxious. It was as if she’d whipped about a messy room and set it straight without breaking a sweat. “Nora explained about the confidentiality agreement?”

  “Yes, I can appreciate your desire for anonymity. I’m a nurse. Privacy is part of our oath.”

  To avoid her intense gaze, he glanced out the window. Rain ran in rivulets down the glass, blurring the firs and pines outside the windows. “I don’t want to hide in my own home. It’s the only place I can be myself.”

  “Understandable.”

  “You don’t mind living here with us?”

  “Do you remember where I’m living now?” Her brown eyes seemed to dance with mischief as she crossed her shapely legs. “Tell me what’s going on with your mother. Nora said her leg’s broken?”

  “That’s right. Doc Waller says she’ll need a week or so of staying put so that the break can begin to heal.” Should he mention her depression? “She’s been kind of depressed since my dad died a few years back. This winter it seems to have gotten worse. Doc thinks an antidepressant might help.”

  “It’s a possibility. Has she seen anyone?”

  “Seen?”

  “A mental health professional.”

  Right. He must look like an idiot. “Not yet.”

  “There are a lot of options. I could help you wade through them, if you’d like.”

  “Maybe, yeah.”

  Her full mouth turned up into a gorgeous smile. “You should know, however, before we reach any agreement about employment that I was serious about being a Philadelphia fan. I have no intention of changing.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” He grimaced. “For one, they’re terrible.”

  “There’s always a new season. You’re on top this year, but who knows what next season will bring?”

  “No one knows that more than a thirty-year-old quarterback.”

  “You’ve got plenty of game left in you. Your performance in the Super Bowl game was like watching an artist at the height of their craft.”

  The compliment pleased him more than it should. “I’m surprised you’re such a football fan.”

  “Why is that exactly? Something with my demographic?” She raised an eyebrow.

  He ran his hands through his hair. This woman was too smart for him. “No, no. Nothing like that. Some women don’t like the game. And some men. A few, anyway.”

  “I feel sorry for those people,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Think of all the fun they’re missing.”

  “Right?” She liked football. That was a plus. Maybe. Not really. What did that have to do with anything? Nothing. She was a nurse who would care for Flora, not his girlfriend. What had possessed him suddenly? Kara Eaton, that’s what. This woman twisted his thoughts. As uncomfortable as he’d been when she was dressing him down like a coach after a bad game, he couldn’t help but admire her fortitude and intelligence. She obviously didn’t care about who he was. He liked that.

  “What would make you think I wouldn’t like football?” she asked.

  “Concussion problems, I guess. Or, you might think it’s a barbaric sport designed and run by men. And then, there’s the issue of the cheerleaders.”

  She crossed her arms over chest. “I was a cheerleader. I went to college on a partial cheer scholarship.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes, I did. And I was proud of it. Still am,” she said.

  Just when he thought he had a read on her, she surprised him. “Makes perfect sense, now that you say it.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

  Why had he turned on the fireplace? It was hotter than hell in this room. “I mean, you’re...you could be a cheerleader. Or, I could see you being a cheerleader. I bet you were great.” He shook his head. “I should just stop talking.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” She smiled, obviously amused by his discomfort.

  Rip the bandage off. He had to tell her. There was no scenario in the world that made Kara Eaton a good idea for this house. He was half in love with her already and she’d only been in his living room for twenty minutes. “So, about the job. I’m not sure it’s a good fit.”

  “Oh, okay.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and took in a deep breath.

  Why had she worn that sweater dress to an interview? It was completely distracting, and a perfect example of why he couldn’t have her here. She had to go.

  “You’re just completely overqualified,” he said. “I’d hate you to be stuck with us when there are jobs in hospitals or clinics.”

  She scooted forward on the couch. “Sure, I understand.”

  A movement in the doorway drew his attention away from Kara. Thank God. Or maybe not.

  Flora, dressed in the pink silk pajamas he’d given her last Christmas, strode into the room.

  “Who do we have here?” Flora looked remarkably better than when he’d arrived home. The skin under her nose was red and raw from her pneumonia, but she seemed back to her usual energy levels.

  “This
is Kara Eaton. She’s here about the job,” he said.

  “I’m Flora Smith. The reluctant patient.” She scrutinized Kara like she was at the meat market picking out a slab of roast beef.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Kara said.

  “You understand this is a temporary position?” Flora asked as she settled into the chair closest to the fireplace.

  Kara’s eyes widened, but she didn’t miss a step. “Absolutely. You’ll be recovered from surgery before you know it.”

  “Yes, I will.” Flora snatched the resume from the coffee table and began to read. “You’re a nurse practitioner. Why in the world would you want to take a housekeeping position?”

  This question obviously stumped Kara. She glanced over at Brody then back to Flora. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Flora, this is a nurse position, not a housekeeper,” Brody said. “We’ll figure out your replacement later. The priority is getting someone in who can take care of you and Mom for the next several months.”

  “I’m not dying, if you’re wondering,” Flora said to Kara.

  “I wasn’t.” Kara crossed her ankles. “I’m quite familiar with your diagnosis.”

  “Why does this position interest you?” Flora asked.

  “I’m not licensed to practice medicine in California yet, so I’m looking for a temporary position.”

  “How lucky for us.” Flora turned up one side of her mouth. “The problem, however, is that I don’t need a nurse. We need someone to cook and look after the house and Mrs. Mullen, not someone to babysit me.”

  Kara clasped her hands together and addressed Flora like was a teacher with a promising but undisciplined student. “Whether you like it not, my nursing skills will be needed after your surgery and for the care of Mrs. Mullen while she recovers from her broken leg.”

  “I see.” Flora narrowed her eyes and stared at her.

  “You’re a strong woman, Ms. Smith, but even you will need assistance after they cut into your brain and remove a large mass.”

  Large mass. Scare tactics. He hadn’t seen that coming.

  “I suppose,” Flora said.

  “Flora, she’s right. You’re not going to instantly recover from brain surgery.”

  Flora glanced over at him before fixing her gaze back on Kara. “Brody told me I get to choose my caregiver.”

  “Good for you,” Kara said.

  “And I like you,” Flora said. “You have spunk.”

  “Thank you,” Kara said. “I like you too.”

  “That’s all well and good, but who will make Brody’s meals?” Flora asked.

  He cringed. “Flora, I don’t think we need to discuss this with Ms. Eaton.” She made him sound like a child. “I told you that your replacement is a separate issue.”

  For the first time since he voiced his rejection, Kara looked over at him. “Perhaps Mr. Mullen could make his own meals.”

  “Make his own meals? No, that wouldn’t do.” Flora pursed her lips and looked back at the resume. “It says here—under hobbies—that you enjoy cooking.”

  “I do.” Kara looked over at him and locked eyes. “It relaxes me.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her. She obviously knew where Flora was going with her line of questions.

  “So perhaps, you could help us out with meals while you’re here,” Flora said. “He has specific dietary needs, dictated by his nutritionist. It’s not as easy as making a grilled cheese sandwich like when he was little.”

  “I did take care of myself for years without you, Flora,” he said, almost to himself.

  “Yes, so you say,” Flora said. “But anyway, Ms. Eaton, would you be willing to help us out with some things around the house that are somewhat beneath you?”

  “I’d be happy to,” she said. “I love to cook. However, Mr. Mullen and I aren’t certain this is a good fit.”

  Interesting. She hadn’t thrown him under the bus.

  “Why?” Flora pinned him to his chair with her gaze.

  “She’s overqualified. For one,” he said.

  “For two?” Flora asked.

  “She’s...she’s...” She’s perfect. What could he say?

  Flora turned to Kara. “Ms. Eaton, how do you feel about being overqualified? Will you be bored?”

  “I’ve worked hard in a traditional setting for a long time. A change of pace might be just the thing I need.”

  “And you’re willing to go quietly once I’m back on my feet?” Flora asked.

  “Yes, as you said, it’s only temporary.” Kara tugged on her earring.

  Flora clapped her hands together. “This couldn’t be more perfect. You can help out while I’m healing and when I’m back on my feet, I’ll take back my life. This way, Brody, we won’t have to hire another person and waste the time and money for a new housekeeper.” Flora’s gaze remained on Kara for a moment longer. “So, it’s decided. Can you start tomorrow?”

  Flora was a snowplow.

  He sighed.

  “I can start anytime,” Kara said.

  Flora stood. “I’ll let you two negotiate the details. I must excuse myself, as I need to plan our dinner.” She patted Kara on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early. We have only a few weeks before surgery, and I’ll need to teach you about feeding this guy. You have to trick him into eating his vegetables, but don’t you worry; I have my ways.”

  A moment later, she was gone. What in the hell had just happened?

  “Are you really willing to cook for us?” he asked.

  “Why do you ask it like that?”

  “It’s kind of out of line. I mean, you’re a highly skilled healer.”

  “Let’s be honest. I don’t have a lot of options here in town. This is a great opportunity for me to pass my boards and conduct a job search while I take care of your family.” Her dark eyes glittered with what appeared to be excitement. “Flora’s right. It’s the perfect fit.”

  “So, it seems.”

  “Then why the hesitation?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He knew. He very much knew. “I’m not great with boundaries. The people who work for me end up like family.”

  “I could use a family.” She met his gaze for an instant before looking at her hands.

  His heart turned over in his chest. Despite her self-assured persona, Kara Eaton needed them more than they needed her. This was a bad idea. He knew it. But Flora wanted her. He had to hire her.

  “What are your pay requirements?” he asked.

  “Twenty-five hundred a week, plus room and board.”

  She didn’t mess around when it came time to negotiating pay. Good for her. Women were notorious for asking for less than they were worth. “That’s steep, isn’t it?”

  “I’m a nurse practitioner. It’s almost like having a doctor on staff.”

  “Yes, but I don’t need a doctor.”

  “It doesn’t change what I am,” she said. “Plus, it’s a temporary position without benefits. Not to mention, the cooking and taking care of the house. It’s almost like two jobs.”

  She had a point. “Two thousand a week. Plus room and board.”

  “Fine.”

  “Excellent,” he said.

  She blinked. Maybe he should’ve negotiated harder. Honor usually took care of this kind of thing. It wasn’t important. He wanted the best for Flora and his mother. Kara Eaton was the best this town had to offer. Any town, if his guess was correct.

  He held out his hand. “Deal?”

  “Deal,” she said.

  His skin tingled as she squeezed his hand. Damn, Zane was right. There was a spark between them. Invisible, but there just the same. And so strong, it might burn his house down.

  HE STOOD AT THE FRONT door with Kara. “You know how to get back to town?” he asked.

  “I believe so. Just a left out of the driveway and then follow the road into town, right?”

  “That’s right,” he said. In the brighter light of the foyer, the dark circle
s under Kara’s eyes hinted at fatigue. Again, he wondered what parts of her story she was leaving out.

  He grabbed her jacket from the closet and helped her into it as he stole a glance at her curvy behind. When she turned back around, he zeroed in on her full mouth. Look at her eyes. Not her plump lips. She probably tasted like honey. “I’ll call Nora and tell her we’ve worked out a deal.”

  “I’ll do my best to make everything easier for all of you. I really want to. Please know that.” She met his gaze for an instant before looking at her hands. He wasn’t the most sensitive guy in the world, but he knew there was something wrong with this girl. She seemed sad under her perfectly put together makeup and clothes. In addition, there was something about her past that didn’t add up. Nothing concrete, nothing she said or did—more what she didn’t say. It was like she had more to say, but held it inside. Incongruent. Off-sides. Something.

  Regardless, a man could get lost in her beautiful eyes if he allowed himself to, which he would not. No sir, he would not. “I’m sorry we got off to a rough start.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve worked for a lot of difficult men,” she said.

  Was she saying he was difficult?

  “I’m not used to being out of control.” He caught a whiff of her hair. His fingers itched to slide through the silky strands.

  “No one likes it,” she said.

  “Especially people like me.”

  She stepped closer to the door. “What time tomorrow?”

  They agreed on nine to go over paperwork.

  “Enjoy your night.” He opened the door. A draft of cold air cooled his overheated cheeks.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mullen.”

  “Please, call me Brody.”

  “And please call me Kara.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and flashed him that pretty smile. “We’ll make a great team.”

  For a mad second, he let himself imagine what it would be like to have a woman like this at his side, not just in his bed. He’d snap her up in an instant if he could. If the circumstances were different. Which they were not. He must remain focused on his career. Kara would eventually leave them to take another job. Soon she would find a man who loved her so much he would give up anything to be with her. But Brody’s mistress and wife were football. Always had been and always would be.