She wanted to elbow him a good one, right in the ribs. At the same time, she became intimately aware of the hardness of his body, pressed right up against hers. She not only ached to poke him in the ribs, but she also longed to turn in his arms, sighing, to slide her hands up the warm contours of his big chest and link them around his strong neck. To offer her mouth for his kiss.
But she didn’t. Lizzie Landry was made of sterner stuff. She didn’t jab him in the side and she didn’t kiss him, either.
She held it together. “Sorry, I really can’t.” She ducked out from under his hold. And she sent Grant a grin, just to show the other man that she was in control and not the least fazed by the sudden too-friendly behavior of her boss. “I’m his housekeeper, too,” she explained. “And his cook.” Then she looked straight at Ethan again. He still wore that annoying, overbearing smile. “And I really need to start thinking about what to put together for dinner…”
“No problem,” said Ethan. “We’ll have a drink with Grant. And then I’ll take you out.”
Chapter Five
“This is not acceptable,” Lizzie said under her breath as the host pulled out a chair for her in the Gallatin Room.
It was just Lizzie and Ethan by then. They’d had that drink with Grant and then Ethan had decided they might as well stay at the resort for dinner.
“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie,” Ethan chided from across the way-too-intimate corner table for two. “Come on, have a seat.”
Reluctantly, she took the chair and thanked the host, who then handed her a lushly tooled leather menu that was practically as big as their table.
“Your waiter will be right with you,” he said.
Ethan thanked him and he went away.
She lowered her giant menu and leaned toward the too-good-looking, totally annoying man across the table. “You keep saying you’re not up to anything,” she accused softly, in an effort not to broadcast her issues with him to the whole graciously appointed restaurant with its fabulous view of snowcapped Thunder Mountain. “And then you act like you’re up to something.”
He looked at her with reproach in those dark chocolate eyes. “I’m taking you out for a nice dinner after a long day of hard work. I’m only being an appreciative boss. Why would you think that I’m up to something?”
“Because you—”
He stopped her with a raised hand and sent a glance in the direction of the guy in the snowy-white shirt, black trousers and black vest who was approaching their table. “Our waiter’s here.”
Ethan ordered a very pricey bottle of Cabernet. The waiter left them. “Now, you were saying?”
“You know,” she said pleasantly, “I think I’ll wait to ream you a new one until we have the wine and our food.”
He gave her that slow killer smile of his. “An excellent idea.”
The waiter returned with the wine. Ethan tasted it, gave a nod of approval and the waiter poured. They both ordered filets and baked potatoes, with house salads to start.
Again, the waiter departed.
Ethan raised his wineglass. “To success in Thunder Canyon.”
“I’m suspicious of just about everything you do lately.” She lifted her glass, too. “But I see no reason not to drink to that.”
“Lizzie.” He pretended to look hurt. “Be nice.”
“I am nice. Until you push me too far.” She clinked her glass with his and sipped. It was delicious, smooth and layered. “Really good,” she told him grudgingly as she set her glass back down.
He beamed in pride, as if he’d stomped the grapes himself. “I thought you would like it.” He sat back in the chair and studied her for a moment. She wondered what over-the-line move he was going to make next. But then he only asked the sort of question he often asked her when he was in the middle of deciding on an investment or an acquisition. “So, what do you think of the resort? Just your impressions after today.”
She glanced around the dining room. There was no one nearby to overhear her remarks. And she kept her voice low. “I think it’s a beautiful facility and I think Grant runs a very tight ship. From what I saw of the books, they’re doing better than they were a year ago. I think it’s impressive, the range and quality of services….”
He was leaning closer. “But?”
“It’s so ambitious. Not only the clubhouse and the endless array of high-end options, the shops, the spa, the three restaurants, the Lounge and the coffee bar. I noticed there are also condos up the mountain, and private cabins, too.”
“Yeah. And?”
“And it’s way out here in the middle of…” she hesitated. She really liked Thunder Canyon. Four days since they’d arrived from Midland. And already it seemed disloyal to say anything critical about the charming little town.
He prompted, “In the middle of nowhere. Right?”
She gave a low laugh. “That sounds a little harsh, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t call Thunder Canyon nowhere exactly. Tourists love towns like this.”
“True,” she said, meaning it. “It’s the kind of place most people think doesn’t exist anymore. The classic, homey, welcoming small town.”
“And this is a destination resort,” he reminded her. “That’s supposed to be part of the draw, that you travel to get here, and that makes it more…exclusive. But I know what you mean. It’s not that easy to get here. And with the economy still not exactly booming, well, luxury destinations are going to continue to take a hit.”
She could always read him. “Still, you want to invest.”
He took another slow sip of wine. “Am I that trans parent?”
She shook her head. “Only to me. It’s the price you pay for having someone who works side by side with you and lives in your house.” It seemed a good moment to add, “Which is a good reason you might want to split the job again when I go, hire a housekeeper and an assistant. Get a little distance from the help. You don’t need your employees knowing all your secrets.”
His expression had changed, become blank. Unreadable. “I never minded your knowing my secrets. I trust you, Lizzie. Absolutely.”
Tenderness welled in her. The thing was, she believed him. She knew very well that he trusted her. As she trusted him. Maybe not so unconditionally as she once had. Lately, her trust was a tiny bit shaky, because he’d refused to acknowledge her need to make her own way now, because he seemed to be putting the moves on her—and yet constantly denied he was doing that.
The waiter came with their salads.
The food provided an excuse not to say anything more for a few minutes, to let those dangerous tender feelings subside.
“Good, huh?” he asked.
“Excellent.”
They ate in silence.
She tried to remember how pissed off she was at him. But it was difficult, when he talked about trusting her and she knew that he meant it. When she couldn’t help thinking how generous and kind he was at heart, of the ways he’d been there for her when she’d desperately needed a helping hand.
Once, in the first few months that she worked for him, long before she started taking care of his house, when she was simply his assistant at the office and nothing more, her dad had been arrested for drunk driving. Ethan caught her crying at her desk and demanded to know what the problem was. She lied and said it was nothing.
He signaled her into his private office, shut the door, handed her a box of tissues and waited until she gave in and it all came pouring out. She confessed everything. That her dad had never been right after her mom died, that his heart was broken and he didn’t know how to heal it. That he’d lost the family bakery while she was away at college and she’d never had any idea what was happening until it was all gone and they were broke. How her father had a drinking problem now and he’d just gotten a DUI. How they’d hauled him off to jail and she didn’t have the money to bail him out.
Ethan told her not to worry. That he would take care of it.
And he did. He made calls and got
her dad a good lawyer. He paid for everything, made sure that Vernon Landry got community service and counseling rather than jail time. And when Lizzie insisted on paying him back, he told her she was a great worker and deserved a giant bonus exactly equal to the amount he had spent on getting her poor dad out of trouble. She signed that bonus back over to him and he said they were even.
Then, a year and a half ago, when her dad died of a stroke in his sleep, Ethan had been there, offering his broad shoulder to cry on. After the funeral, he’d given her three extra weeks off with pay and a vacation package to Hawaii. Her injured heart had started to heal there, on the wide sandy beaches under the palms.
Ironically, it was her dad’s death that had made it possible for her to start planning on opening her bakery sooner than she’d ever thought could be possible. It had turned out that no matter how broke Vernon Landry had gotten, he’d always made the payments on his life-insurance policy. And Lizzie was his only beneficiary. Between the insurance payout and the great money Ethan had always paid her, she had what she needed now to make her dream come true.
The waiter cleared off their empty salad plates and brought the main course.
“You’re way too quiet,” Ethan said gently when they were alone again.
She swallowed a bite of tender filet, put on a smile. “Just…thinking.”
His eyes were so dark, so deep and soft. “About?”
“The past.”
“What about it?”
“Never mind.”
“Lizzie…”
She gave him a long, solemn look. “You know exactly what you did, Ethan. You put your arm around me during working hours.”
“Lizzie…”
“Don’t Lizzie me. We have rules between us. Unspoken rules, but rules nonetheless. We never get chummy during working hours. But suddenly, you’re throwing an arm around me in front of Grant Clifton, acting like I’m one of your girlfriends or something.”
He didn’t say anything. He only put down his fork, sat back in his chair and…watched her, a strange, unreadable expression on his face.
Although a hot flush flowed up over her cheeks, she made herself go on. “The other day, I asked you if you were putting a move on me. You denied it. You got all hurt and shocked-looking that I would even suggest such a thing. But still, since we’ve been here, in Thunder Canyon, you have been acting…differently toward me. You know you have.”
He sat forward then, picked up his fork again, ate some potato. And then he took his knife and cut another bite of tender steak.
“Will you please just…say something?” She kept her voice low, but there was tension in it that she couldn’t hide.
He took his time chewing and swallowing. Finally, he said with no inflection, “I apologize for crossing the line at work. I won’t do that again.”
“Great,” she said tightly. And then she waited for him to continue.
He didn’t. “More wine?” He refilled her wineglass even though she hadn’t said yes.
The beautiful meal waited in front of her, almost untouched. She picked up her fork and started eating again, her gaze on her plate because the last place she wanted to be looking right then was at the man across from her.
She felt so strange—edgy and angry. With Ethan, with the whole situation between them lately.
Was she being unreasonable, to want more from him in this exchange? He’d dealt with her issue, after all. He’d promised to keep his hands to himself during working hours, which was all she’d been going for when she started this uncomfortable conversation.
But no. Unreasonable of her or not, she was far from satisfied. He’d said nothing about his behavior the rest of the time lately, and his behavior had become seriously suspect. He darn well had to know that.
“Lizzie, come on, don’t be mad at me,” he finally said softly. Warmly. Gently.
She made herself lift her chin and face him. His dark eyes were waiting. He looked hopeful and worried. Was that how he actually felt? Lately, it was so hard to know with him. “I’m just…confused, that’s all.”
“Don’t be. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“Fine. What do you mean by fine?”
“I mean, it’s all going to work out and there’s no need to make a big deal out of nothing.”
“Nothing. That’s what’s going on with you? Nothing?”
He picked up his wine but set it down without drinking any. “Look, it’s just a crazy time, that’s all. Everything’s…changing. Maybe I’m a little on edge, okay? I’m sorry if it seems to you that I’m taking my problems out on you.”
She set down her fork. It clinked against her plate. “That is not what I said—or at least, it’s not what I meant. I was talking about the way you’re always getting close to me. I mean physically close. I was talking about the way you’re always…flirting with me lately. The way you’ve been treating me like I’m one of your pretty little girlfriends when you know very well I’m not.”
The hooded look was there in his eyes again. He lounged back in the chair, one muscular arm outstretched, his big hand resting on the snowy linen tablecloth. “Beyond working together, beyond what a great job you do keeping my house for me, we are friends, Lizzie. Good friends. We’re…BFFNB.”
“Uh. Excuse me?”
He gave a lazy shrug. “Best Friends Forever, No Benefits.”
She blinked. “Where did you get that?”
“It doesn’t matter where I got it. It’s the truth, right?”
She shook her head. “How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Put me on the defensive when all I asked is why you’re suddenly treating me like one of your girlfriends?”
Now he wore a look of endless patience. “I’m only saying that you never minded before if I was affectionate. I’m only saying, yeah. You’re right. I shouldn’t have put my arm around you while we were working—though if you think back, we were done working at the time, and talking about having a drink in the Lounge.”
No wonder his girlfriends never lasted. He probably exhausted them by staying miles ahead of them in any argument. “You know, you could probably convince a stabbing victim that she shouldn’t have gotten in the way of the knife.”
“Lizzie.” He gave her the melting-chocolate look from those amazing dark eyes. “What are you saying? You feel like a stabbing victim?”
“Of course not. I feel like my brain is going to explode before I ever get you to understand what’s bothering me.”
“But I do understand what’s bothering you.”
News to her. “Uh. You do?”
“Yeah. You think I’m flirting with you and you want me to stop. You don’t like me flirting with you. You find it offensive.”
“Wait a minute. So you admit you’ve been flirting with me?”
“And you find my flirting offensive.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So…you do like it when I flirt with you?”
Lizzie glared at him. And then she picked up her knife and fork for the third time. “Let’s just eat. Let’s just…move on. Okay?”
He tipped his head to the side and smiled in a wry way. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”
The next morning at breakfast, Lizzie told Ethan she’d like to have lunch with Tori McFarlane and Allaire Traub at that tea shop Connor had mentioned the day before. “I’d like from about eleven-thirty to one-thirty for lunch. Is that too long?”
“Go,” he said. “Have a great time.”
“Thank you.” She set down her coffee cup and gave him a warm smile.
He arched a brow. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Huh?”
“Well, Lizzie, I’m just trying to get clear on what constitutes flirting. Does a smile constitute flirting?”
“Uh, why are we suddenly talking about flirting?”
“Because I need to know. If you smile at me, are you flirting with me?”
“Well, Ethan, no. A s
mile is not necessarily a sign that someone’s flirting with you—and I’m certainly not. You know I’m not.”
“So how do you know if I’m flirting with you? Or if I’m not?”
She had the distinct feeling she was being cornered. And she had no idea how to keep it from happening. “I just…I know. That’s all. I just know.”
“So you know I’ve been flirting with you.”
She scrunched up her nose at him. “I thought we settled this last night.”
“Well, I’m just saying that you might think I’m flirting when I’m really not. Maybe I’m just being affectionate. Or friendly. Or maybe I just like you and so I smile at you—like you just did to me.”
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?” He slathered jam on his sourdough toast.
“It’s one thing if you refuse to really talk to me about any given subject. It’s another thing if you refuse to talk to me—and then bring the subject up again when I’ve already given up on it.”
He frowned. “I have no idea what you’re saying.”
“You know what? At this point, neither do I.”
“But if I kissed you, now that would definitely be flirting, right?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I’ve been thinking it over, that’s all.”
“Thinking what over?”
“Kissing you—and don’t worry, it won’t happen during working hours.”
“Ethan!” She gaped. She couldn’t help it.
He laughed, a low, deep rumble. “Don’t look so shocked.”
She knew her cheeks were hot-pink. She sputtered, “Well, it’s just…that’s not who we are.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking about that, too. About who we are. About how really stupid it is to ruin a good thing—which we definitely would—with flirting and kisses.” He paused. “With sex.”
She felt breathless. “Well. Then, good. We won’t, then. We won’t, um, ruin a good thing.” She could not sit still suddenly. She grabbed her unfinished plate, jumped up and carried it over to the sink.
Behind her, she could hear him. He had pushed back his chair.
He came toward her much too quietly.
Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan Page 7
