by Cindy Kirk
By the time they reached the checkout lane, the trolley was full. He waited for the cashier to call for someone to assist her. But when Shannon began to drop items into the sacks once they were scanned, Oliver stepped up.
“You picked out the food,” he told her. “I’ll place them into the sacks.”
Ignoring her dubious look, he attacked the task with gusto. His logical mind concluded heavier items should go at the bottom and he shouldn’t place cleaning supplies next to food items. Shannon offered additional tips as she sorted the groceries into groups.
“I was a sacker in high school,” she said when he gaped at her quick hands.
“You held a position while you were in school?” He paused, nonplussed, a bag of organic apples in his hand.
“Of course.” She distracted a whining Ollie by having his stuffed tiger zoom toward him like an airplane. “When there are five kids in your family, if you want something extra you have to work for it.”
Oliver simply nodded, though he couldn’t relate at all to that logic. In his family there were six children. He and his brother Brodie were from his mother’s first marriage. There were four children, his half siblings, from her second marriage to Sir Simon Chesterfield. Oliver felt confident all had received the same admonition growing up: excelling in the classroom was the only priority.
Once the groceries were stowed, he pointed the rental car toward home. As had become his pattern, Ollie fell asleep in his car seat. And when Oliver pulled into the driveway of the ranch house, Ollie woke up, all smiles and full of energy.
Oliver rounded the car to open Shannon’s door, but she was already out of the vehicle and releasing Ollie from his car seat. She helped the boy climb down, then turned to help Oliver with the groceries.
He held up a hand when she reached for a sack. “I will bring these inside. You can put them wherever you like in the cabinets.”
“Okay.” Despite her agreement, she snatched a small bag of produce. “I’ll take this one in with me. That way you’ll have one less bag to carry. Oh, and don’t worry about Barnaby. Ollie and I will let him out.”
With a sassy toss of her head, she strode to the door with Ollie on her hip and a sack of produce in her arms. She had a terrific figure. The way the denim hugged her backside brought a stab of heat and a plethora of lascivious thoughts.
Belatedly reminding himself that the woman he was lusting after was his employee, Oliver forced his gaze from her derriere and back to the groceries in the boot. By the time he’d brought all of the sacks inside and Shannon had put the food away, they were all hungry.
While Shannon whipped up the frittata, he put Ollie in the high chair and fed him leftover chicken from lunch, apples and a pureed pouch of sweet potatoes.
The boy ate with a single-minded determination Oliver couldn’t help but admire. Though the cook had tended to Ollie’s culinary needs back in London, Oliver found he enjoyed watching his son dive into the food and learning what he liked...and didn’t like.
When Ollie finished eating, the sun had set and the serviceable kitchen took on a warm, pleasant glow. The unexpected sound of rain pattering on the roof only added to the ambiance.
“Looks like we arrived home just in time.” Oliver pushed back the curtains. Rain fell in sheets and when the thunder boomed, Barnaby left Ollie’s side to dive under the table.
Shannon moved to where Oliver stood and gazed out. The arousing scent of vanilla teased Oliver’s nostrils. He wanted nothing more than to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. But if his nearness had a similar effect on her, it didn’t show.
She stepped back and turned toward the stove. “I love the sound of rain on a roof.”
I love being with you.
Considering that he’d already acknowledged enjoying her company, the sentiment shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.
The frittata, accompanied by a green salad, was soon on the table. Oliver brought out a bottle of Chablis, and once he’d poured them each a glass, he held his up in a toast. “To an enjoyable working relationship.”
Her glass clinked against his. She smiled. When she took a sip, he felt a hard punch of awareness. Heat simmered in the air, and once their eyes locked he couldn’t look away.
Shannon’s eyes darkened until they looked almost black in the light. A splash of pink colored both her cheeks. When she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, Oliver nearly groaned in agony.
He wanted her. In his bed. On the floor. Heck, the kitchen table would do quite nicely in a pinch.
He wanted to strip off her clothes, touch her...
“Oliver.”
Through his haze of desire, he became aware that she was speaking to him.
“Uh, yes?” His gaze remained focused on her lips, as full and lush as a ripe strawberry. He had no doubt she would taste just as sweet.
“I brought some snickerdoodle cookies with me. My mom and I made them earlier today. Would you like one for dessert?”
His foggy brain fought to process the words. Snickerdoodle? Had she really just asked if he wanted a cookie?
He opened his mouth to say he wanted her, not some damned biscuit, but instead found himself nodding.
“You won’t be sorry.” A pleased smile lifted those delectable lips. “They’re delicious.”
Oliver was already sorry. Sorry he had to settle for a biscuit instead of what he really wanted for dessert tonight.
* * *
After dinner, Oliver surprised Shannon by offering to clean up the kitchen so she could get settled. She immediately accepted the offer. Happy to have the time to get settled, Shannon fled to her room before Oliver changed his mind and decided he needed her to watch Ollie.
As she stood in the bedroom with the pale yellow walls and lace curtains, Shannon felt a twinge of unease. She hadn’t realized how personal bringing her stuff into a man’s home would feel. Though she and Oliver wouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, she was supremely aware that his bed was just on the other side of the wall.
Shopping at the Superette had also felt intimate. Almost as if they were a couple, instead of just employer and employee. Part of it, she knew, was because instead of simply going in and grabbing a few things, they’d strolled up and down the aisle chatting with various friends and family.
She’d seen the look of surprise on the faces of the people they’d run across. Oliver must have seen it, too, because he made a point of explaining she was Ollie’s nanny. Still, some had continued to look skeptical.
After all, Oliver was hardly treating her like an employee, laughing and joking and giving her almost carte blanche on choosing what they needed.
Then he’d surprised her by insisting on bagging the groceries. When they reached home, he carried the items inside. Had she even thanked him? She paused, a pair of lace panties in her hand, and tried to recall.
Though her door was partially open, a knock sounded.
“Come in,” she said absently and turned.
Oliver stood in the doorway, an odd expression on his face.
It took her a second to realize he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was riveted to the black thong dangling from her fingers.
Lightning fast, Shannon whirled and dropped the scrap of lingerie into the drawer. She cleared her throat. “I was just unpacking.”
“I saw.”
She flushed.
“Ollie is in his cot.” Oliver’s gaze slid to the open dresser drawer. “I thought I’d take a quick shower but wanted to make sure you didn’t need the facilities first.”
Shannon shoved aside the thought of him wet and naked and her wet and naked with him. She shut the drawer. “I’m fine. I’ll just be unpacking.”
He gave a curt nod and turned to leave, but stopped when she said his name.
“Uh, hey, I just wanted to say thanks for everything.” She waved a vague hand in the air, but his confused look told Shannon she needed to be more specific. “For putting fresh sheets on my bed. For having the house so clean and organized. For your assistance at the Superette. I didn’t expect you to pack up the groceries or carry them inside.”
His brows pulled together in puzzlement. “I’ve learned that taking care of Oliver and the home is a daunting task. Be assured I shall attempt to lessen the burden on you as much as possible.”
Shannon stared at him for a long moment. Who was this man? She thought she’d had a good handle on Oliver Fortune Hayes, but she was beginning to think she didn’t know him at all.
Almost of their own accord, her feet crossed the room to where he stood. Without giving herself a chance to think, she placed her hands on his forearms and brushed a kiss across his mouth. “Thank you.”
He visibly stiffened. “What’s going on, Shannon?”
She took a casual step back. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The kiss.” A muscle in Oliver’s jaw jumped. “You made a point of insisting we keep things between us strictly business. I agreed. I gave you my word.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She wasn’t an impulsive person and had no idea what had gotten into her. “Technically that wasn’t a kiss.”
Obviously confused, Oliver cocked his head.
“Take your shower.” She patted his cheek. “And trust me. If I ever do kiss you, really kiss you, you’ll know it.”
* * *
Over the next few days, Oliver and Shannon settled into a routine. There was no touching or kissing, but neither was ever far from his mind. He made a concerted effort not to dwell on such matters because he didn’t want to screw up what was turning out to be an extremely satisfying business arrangement.
In the span of a few short days, Shannon had turned a small, slightly battered house into a home. The smell of baking bread often greeted him when he awoke. Ollie was always fed, bathed and entertained. Oliver didn’t take any of this for granted.
The initial plan was for her to be off duty at five, but Shannon insisted he sleep until he woke. When he got up, supper would be waiting. She insisted she loved to cook and had discovered it was fun to make dinner for someone besides herself.
But this evening they wouldn’t be eating at home. They’d been invited to her parents’ house for dinner. When Lilian had called, Oliver had attempted to decline the invitation, but had felt sorry for her when she told him Shep had sprained his ankle and was making her life miserable. She needed company, a distraction for Shep.
Oliver suggested Shannon go alone but Lilian said quite seriously that her husband would behave better with another man in the house. Though he doubted Shep would be happy to see him, Oliver had reluctantly accepted the invitation.
Now he was faced with what to wear. He glanced into his closet. If he wore a suit he’d be overdressed. He pulled out a pair of dark trousers and a charcoal shirt. But when he saw his reflection in the mirror, Oliver realized he needed to go even more casual.
With one last longing look at his suits, he changed into a pair of jeans and a thin-striped cotton shirt. He pulled out a pair of leather dress boots. Ignoring his unease, Oliver reminded himself this was suitable attire for dinner at a Horseback Hollow ranch.
When he came out of his bedroom shortly before they had to leave, Oliver was surprised to see Shannon wearing a maroon dress with heeled boots.
“You look lovely...and I’m underdressed.”
She grabbed his arm when he spun to head back to his room to change.
“You’re perfect,” she said with obvious sincerity. “You’ll put my dad at ease. You know he’ll be wearing jeans and one of his flannel shirts.”
Oliver narrowed his gaze. “If dinner is casual, why are you wearing a dress?”
Her cheeks pinked. “Mom got on me the other day about my appearance. She said every time she saw me lately, I looked more like a ranch hand than a young woman.”
Oliver’s gaze slowly slid down her figure, the curves nicely emphasized by the clingy fabric of the dress.
“You could never look like a boy,” he said honestly.
She looked totally feminine and all too appealing. She wore a new scent, a sultry fragrance that reminded him of tangled limbs and sweat-soaked sheets.
“I like your new perfume,” he said as he helped her on with her jacket.
The pink on her cheeks deepened. “Rachel helped me pick it out. There’s going to be some new guys at the progressive dinner on Saturday. She says I’m never going to attract anyone smelling like vanilla.”
“Progressive dinner?”
“It’s where you have cocktails at one house, appetizers at another, salads at yet another, et cetera,” she explained. “Jensen and Amber are organizing it all. I believe they’re doing the entrée at their place.”
Oliver lifted Ollie from the floor, ignoring his howl of protest. “Who are these new men?”
“Friends of Quinn,” Shannon said absently, scooping up Ollie’s tiger and handing it to his son. “That’s all I know.”
“I look forward to meeting them,” Oliver said smoothly.
Shannon blinked. “I didn’t realize you were going.”
Oliver smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter Nine
“You actually took Oliver home for dinner?” Rachel gave a hoot of laughter, the sound so light and carefree that Shannon couldn’t help but smile.
From his perch in the high chair next to their table at the Vicker’s Corners ice cream shop, Ollie looked up from rearranging his Cheerios cereal. He garbled out a smattering of words.
Since the boy had eaten all but ten of the “Os,” Shannon grabbed the Tupperware container from her purse and put a few more on the table.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Shannon said, recalling the evening that had started off a bit awkwardly but ended quite well. “Oliver loves my mom’s cooking, and he and my dad talked horses. Apparently Oliver not only has a stable of Arabians at his country estate, he also owns a couple of racehorses.”
“From what I’ve heard he’s got big bucks. I’m sure he owns a lot more than a few horses.” Rachel leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Has he kissed you yet?”
“No,” Shannon answered quite honestly. “He’s been a perfect gentleman.”
She saw no need to add that she’d kissed him. Despite the havoc it had wreaked on her sleep, that brief one-time brush against his lips barely counted.
“Is he gay?”
“No, he’s not gay, he’s British.” Shannon saw Rachel’s lips twitch. She met her friend’s gaze. “Sometimes when we’re together, I can almost feel the heat between us scorch my skin, but he always shuts it down.”
Rachel took a long, thoughtful sip of her soda. “Why do you think that is?”
“My fault. I insisted we keep things strictly business.” For a second Shannon dropped her gaze to her hands, before focusing back on Rachel. “I still believe it’s for the best.”
“Seriously?” Rachel’s disbelieving expression was almost comical.
“Yes, seriously. Think how awkward it would be if we hopped into bed together,” Shannon pointed out.
“Honey, I’m betting the guy is fairly experienced in the bedroom. I don’t think there would be much awkwardness.”
“You thought he was gay.”
Rachel dismissed this with a flick of her wrist. “I was just trying to get a reaction.”
“Like you’re doing now.”
“Guilty as charged.” Rachel sounded not at all sorry as she slurped up the last of her Italian soda.
“If we did have a physical relationship, then decide it’s a mistake, I’d h
ave to face him every day.”
“You’re a big girl. You could handle it.”
“I don’t know, Rachel. He’s different from other guys I’ve dated. There’s something about him that—”
“Mama.” Ollie reached over and tugged on Shannon’s sleeve, then repeated more loudly. “Mama.”
Rachel gave an incredulous laugh. “Did the munchkin just call you ‘Mama’?”
“It’s his word for any woman.” She turned to Ollie. “What is it you want, sweet pea?”
“Dink.” He pointed to her malt. “Dink.”
“You want a drink, sweet boy? What do you say?”
“Pease.” Ollie batted his lashes. He had his father’s charm in spades, Shannon decided, and let him sip from her straw.
“That kid has you wrapped around his little finger,” Rachel said with a sly smile.
“I’m falling hard for both of them, Rachel,” Shannon admitted with a heavy sigh. “And I can’t seem to do a thing to stop it.”
* * *
The one thing she’d done right, Shannon decided that Saturday evening, was not attend the progressive dinner with Oliver. When he asked if she wanted to go with him, she’d told him she planned to ride with Rachel.
She and Rachel had decided that in the ice cream shop several days earlier. Her friend insisted it would be good for Oliver to not take her for granted. From Shannon’s perspective, it was all about making the two of them seem less like a couple. Not only in the mind of the community, but in hers, as well.
Oliver would soon be returning to England. Once he left, she’d likely never see him or Ollie again. She couldn’t afford to get too attached.
“These Crazy Coyote Margaritas are de-lish,” Rachel said, sipping hers.
“They’re good...and strong.” Shannon couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a drink where the alcohol was so prominent. “We’d better pace ourselves.”
“Let’s pace ourselves right over to those two hunky cowboys Quinn invited.”
