by Fiona Lowe
Al’s gaze took in the sling. “Hell, son, what did you do to yourself, eh?”
Ben gave a wry smile. “Had a bit of an accident when I arrived on Friday night.”
“On the chopper?” Al’s eyes shot straight to his precious bike just as Ben’s would have done.
The bright-eyed woman standing next to him clicked her tongue. “Dangerous machines, motorcycles.”
“Not that sort of accident,” Ben said, patting the gas tank. “She’s fine. I was just polishing her up for you. I left you a note on your workbench on Saturday, explaining things.”
“That chicken scrawl?” Al shook his head. “I had no clue what that said.”
The woman gave Ben an endearing smile. “You poor boy. You probably injured your writing hand.”
It had been a long time since Ben had been called a boy, but there was something about this woman that reminded him of his mother so it seemed perfectly natural. Come to think of it, Al, with his collection of junk and love of engines, shared a lot in common with his father. He smiled, thinking about his parents. How odd to cross the world and meet parental doppelgängers. “I’m fast learning how to use my left hand, though, Mrs. Swenson.”
She quickly shook her head. “I’m not Mrs. Swenson, dear. I’m Ella Norell.”
“Ella’s my neighbor,” Al said with a warm look in his eyes, “and she likes to feed people. Apparently, she gave a set of keys to a young woman on Friday who’s staying here too, eh?”
Ben looked between the two of them. “Isn’t Amy the daughter of your client?”
Ella laughed. “Oh, no, dear. She’s not a Rasmussen.”
Surprise dumped all over him and yet, it felt like the pieces of a puzzle falling into their rightful place.
It’s my house. Yet she seemed completely ignorant of where anything was kept in the kitchen.
I packed quickly. Her crazy wardrobe combinations when she should have had clothes here.
Ella continued, “She arrived in town unexpectedly late on Friday and looking like she desperately needed a vacation. I didn’t know Al had given you keys,” she said apologetically. “I hope neither of you got too much of a surprise.”
The memory of Amy’s naked body sprawled out in front of him returned in stunning 3-D. He cleared his throat. “Not too much of a surprise, no.”
But did he have a surprise for Ms. This-is-my-house Amy who’d lied to him. Lying meant she was hiding something. He’d allowed Lexie to lie to him and, damn it, he was never letting another woman do that to him again.
He smiled at Ella and Al. “Please come inside. I just know Amy will be thrilled to see you.”
* * *
Amy was checking out potential sewing rooms downstairs when she heard voices. Had Melissa arrived already? She excitedly made her way to the great room only to stop short just inside.
Ben must have heard her footsteps because he turned and said, “Here she is now. Amy, you know Ella and this is Al Swenson.”
Mrs. Norell stared at her momentarily stunned as if trying to assimilate evening wear with hiking boots, and then rushed forward with arms open wide. “Amy, dear, you look like you’re getting into the vacation spirit.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Ben mumbled.
Amy, her body utterly rigid, let Ella hug her, all the while frantically trying to think how she could avoid Ben finding out that this wasn’t actually her house.
Does it really matter?
Yes! The man wielded enough charismatic power over her when he thought he was a guest in her house. Without that caveat, he’d feel he owned equal rights. Oh, God, he might even stay longer.
A ridiculous skip of anticipation shot through her.
What is wrong with you? she admonished her wayward body. One kiss was enough for him to make it clear he doesn’t want us. Besides, we need to be here on our own to re-strategize.
“I brought you some casseroles which Ben has kindly put in the freezer,” Ella said, “and I’m sorry about the confusion on Friday but it sounds like the two of you are getting along famously.”
“I really fell on my feet, Ella,” Ben said.
Amy’s ears heard mocking sarcasm in his delectable melodic voice, but it was lost on Ella who, going by the expression on her face, was utterly captivated by his sexy accent and good looks.
“Not only is Amy an excellent caregiver,” Ben continued, his lovely green eyes suddenly sharp and piercing, “she’s also an excellent cook. Why don’t you and Al stay for tea...I mean supper? You’ll be amazed by her ratatouille.”
An odd squeak involuntarily left her mouth as her stomach plummeted to her toes. He knew she had no clue how to make ratatouille, which meant he already knew that this wasn’t her house.
Standing by the fireplace, all model good looks and easygoing charm, he raised one sardonic, honey-brown brow in her direction. The look seared her with its potency but it wasn’t sexual. If anything, it resembled pain.
That makes no sense. She discarded the thought. He was just pissed at her so he planned to embarrass the hell out of her. She pursed her lips. Two could play at this game.
Earlier this afternoon when he’d teased her, he’d thought she should have teased him back so who was she to disappoint him now. “Supper’s a great idea, Ben,” she said, smiling sweetly, while meeting his mocking expression head-on. She took great delight in the slight frown that scored his high, smooth forehead.
That’s right, buddy. Be afraid, be very afraid.
She addressed Ella and Al. “We’d love for you both to stay seeing as you so kindly arranged for us to spend time in this lovely house, but...” She shrugged her shoulders in her best pleading way—a skill she’d learned in mediation. “It’s just I’m going to need a little bit of help.”
“What do you need me to do, dear?” Ella immediately offered.
“Ben needs help getting undressed and showering and as I’m cooking supper...”
“Oh, no problem.” Ella clapped her hands together, smiling at Ben. “I was a nurse so there’s nothing I don’t know about showering and shaving a man.”
Al grunted, his face suddenly scowling.
Ben paled. “I really don’t want to impose and—”
“Nonsense,” Ella said, walking toward him. “We’ll have you all freshened up in no time.”
“Give in now, son,” Al said with a weary resignation. “Once Ella gets an idea into her head, there’s no talking her out of it.”
Ben shot Amy a deadly look that said, I will so get you back for this, but instead of making her anxious, she felt the now-familiar zip of sexy anticipation. That worried her far more. She didn’t want to feel this way about him when he was so far out of her league. When she sucked so badly at anything to do with men.
But as Ella marched Ben up the stairs, talking nonstop about the importance of male hygiene, Amy burst into laughter.
“Private joke?” Al said to her with a look that saw far too much.
“Just a tiny bit of payback. I don’t suppose you know how to make ratatouille?”
“I’m more a meat-and-potatoes guy, but isn’t that just a whole heap of vegetables cooked up in a pan?”
“Is it? Well in that case I can probably handle it.”
He glanced up the stairs as if he wanted to follow, but Ben and Ella had already disappeared from view. “Tell you what. I’m happy to be your kitchen hand for the price of a beer, eh?”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Deal.”
* * *
Amy turned on the dishwasher and then poured herself a glass of Merlot before glancing around the kitchen. It was clean, tidy and ordered, which was exactly the way she liked things. For the first time since Friday, she had a sense of control.
This isn’t control. This is just the wine
. Plus, you didn’t clean up.
Ella had done most of the after-dinner cleaning and tidying, insisting that Amy just sit and rest as she’d done all the meal preparation.
Amy had felt slightly guilty given that Al had done most of the cooking and all she’d done was follow his instructions, but as Al and Ben had conveniently gone outside to lovingly gaze at the chopper, she’d acquiesced. The evening had been unexpectedly fun despite the knowledge that Ben now knew she wasn’t who she’d led him to believe. Not that he’d said anything about it to her or the others.
He’d been entertaining for the whole evening, telling Al and Ella about drop bears, deadly snakes and sharks, and not once had he ever mentioned to them that she’d been the one to injure him. She wasn’t certain if that was because he was protecting himself from ridicule or if he was protecting her.
Why would he protect you? Apart from Daddy, no man ever has.
“So, Amy.”
She started at Ben’s smooth, bass voice, which seemed deeper than usual, and she turned around slowly to face him.
He was leaning up against the doorway wearing jeans and a light wool sweater that clung to him, outlining his deliciously toned and lean torso. Someone who’d not met him before would say he was relaxed.
Amy knew better. His green eyes flickered with predatory intent—a look she’d not seen on him before—and she gave an involuntary shiver. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but he looked coolly angry. Restrained. As if it wouldn’t take much to unleash his fury in a torrent of words.
She took a gulp of the wine. “So, Ben, did you manage to wheel the trash can to the road?”
“I did. I survived that task just like I survived Ella’s ministrations and her no-nonsense advice on the care of certain body parts I don’t usually discuss with anyone.”
She sucked in her lips, desperately trying not to laugh. “So I heard.”
“And it entertained you more than it did me.” He pushed off the doorjamb, his long legs quickly covering the distance between them and he stopped just inside what she considered her personal space.
Her heart skipped a beat. He was so close and his heat radiated into her in delicious waves.
He slowly lifted up his left arm so it skated as close to her as it could without touching and then he slid a wineglass out of the rack above her head.
She was staring straight into his armpit and her nose caught the whiff of sports deodorant and the hint of masculine sweat. Every part of her wanted to lean in, bury her face and inhale deeply.
His armpit? Isn’t that totally gross?
But her body overruled her mind.
He stepped back and her body whimpered.
Stop it now. He walked away from the kiss, remember. This is just a power play because I buried the truth.
He flipped the glass in his hand, placing it down on the counter before picking up the wine bottle and filling the glass with the velvet maroon contents. Then he took a sip, closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he said, “So, Amy, who are you?”
Oh, no. I’m not doing this. “I’m Amy, just like I told you.”
His brows rose in an I don’t believe you action. “The night I arrived you seemed very hesitant about what you did. Are you even a lawyer?”
“Yes, I’m a lawyer,” she said briskly to silence the cawing crows that declared hourly that currently she was not.
He pulled out a chair and spun it around before sitting and leaning his good arm over the top. “So what’s with the crazy clothing?”
Don’t let him get too close. “Like I told you already, I packed quickly.”
“Because?”
She made herself meet his suddenly penetrating gaze and swallowed hard. How could she have thought this guy was laid-back? “I don’t believe I agreed to be in the witness box, Ben.”
“You put yourself there when you lied to me,” he said in the harshest tone she’d ever heard him use.
What was going on here? She tilted her head, studying him. His lovely eyes, which could be so warm and full of fun, had developed a hard edge. “I withheld the truth.”
“That’s still lying in my book, Amy.”
His gaze made her feel small and she felt a waver in her resolve not to tell anyone she’d lost her job. “We barely know each other and I haven’t interrogated you.”
His body tensed. “I don’t like being lied to.”
Again, she had to fight the pull of feeling to tell him the truth, only this time it was because she thought it might remove the look of desolation from his eyes. “In the grand scheme of things, Ben, we’re just strangers forced to share a house for a short time before we go our separate ways.” Her hand had wandered to her mouth and she pushed it back by her side. “I’m sure you’ve got secrets too.”
He flinched.
Bull’s-eye. She instantly wanted to know what they were.
He stood up and set his glass down and by the time he glanced again in her direction, humor had returned to his eyes. “Can you at least promise me you’re not running from the law? That you’ve not buried a dead body in the garden. I really don’t want to be charged as an inadvertent accessory to a crime.”
She thought about how she’d daydreamed about emasculating Jonathon but that only made her stomach clench at what he was holding over her. She aimed for a glib tone. “Like you said, we lawyers like to avoid scandal.”
He moved and once again he was standing close to her but this time, the predatory anger was gone. This time he was gazing down into her eyes as if he was seeing right through her.
She shivered again, fighting every impulse to reach out and touch him.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently, concern clear on his face.
His question stunned her. “I’m fine.”
He frowned and wound the hair of one of her curls around his fingers. “I think you’re far from fine. Sometimes, Amy, it’s easier telling a stranger what’s going on than family.”
She didn’t know if it was the concern for her in his eyes, the heat of his body, which was making coherent thought impossible, or the fact he was a stranger, but suddenly she wanted some relief from the pressing pain that had dogged her for days. She dropped her head onto his chest. “I got fired.”
Ben heard Amy’s muffled voice but he couldn’t decipher the words. He wanted to cup her cheeks and lift her head but with only one hand, all he could do was tilt her chin.
“What did you say?”
Her lovely mouth wobbled for a moment before firming into a tight line. “I said I got fired.”
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting to hear but that certainly wasn’t it. Amy seemed so competent and organized. Sure, she could be bossy and irritating at times but professionals with high standards often were. Hell, he even recalled times close to the deadline of a project when he’d totally lost his cool.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his fingers from her chin before he was tempted to slide them down her neck to play in the small but seductive hollow.
Her chin shot up slightly higher, her look determined and steely, refusing to accept any sympathy. But it was the black smudges under her eyes and her unfamiliar aura of fragility that were doing his head in. All of it was the juxtaposition of Amy.
He wanted to hold her tight, tell her that things would improve but that was totally insane on two fronts. Holding her would just make him want to kiss her and he had no clue if her situation could be improved. “I gather you didn’t see it coming?”
“That’s possibly the understatement of the year.” She picked up her wine and walked quickly out of the kitchen.
He followed her and took a seat next to her on the couch by the fire. Al had lit it earlier and the embers now glowed orange as little red flames with blue tips raced between the logs.
>
“And?” He looked at Amy expectantly, wanting to know the full story.
“And nothing. I got fired and in my shock-filled brain coming up here seemed the perfect thing to do.”
He was sure what had happened fell a long way short of nothing. “Do you know why they fired you?”
She stared into her glass. “The guy who got promoted over me and was installed in my dream job decided I didn’t bring what he needed to the team.”
“Ouch.”
“You have no idea.” She drained her glass.
He could understand why she’d come up here to the peace and tranquility of the lake. “So you’re taking a few weeks’ break up here to regroup and do some sewing?”
She shook her head. “The wedding gown job was unexpected. It’s just something to keep me busy while I’m here but my plans are to get a new job as soon as possible.”
“In Chicago?” A thought snagged him. “Unless of course that was a lie too and you don’t live in Chicago?”
“The truth seems very important to you.” She gave him an unexpectedly long look which made him squirm. He wondered if she’d ever used her sweet and angelic looks to hoodwink a jury or a judge into underestimating her razor-sharp mind.
Well, he wasn’t playing ball and allowing her to ask him any questions. He lobbed her statement straight back at her. “The truth should be important to everyone. Especially lawyers.”
Her smile was wry. “Let the record reflect that apart from allowing you to think this was my house and that I was on vacation, everything else I’ve ever told you about myself, like not being able to cook and living in Chicago, is true. Now, I just need to find another job at a Fortune 500 company.”
“Why one of those in particular?”
Her gray eyes glowed with the silver of steel. “My expertise is in corporate law and I want a company with a career path that leads me to the top. Fortunately, there are another twenty-six of them in the Chicago area.”
“Knowing what you want is half the battle.” He thought about the career path she’d just been pushed off. “So how does it work getting a good reference from the company you’ve just been asked to leave?”