With a Little Help

by Valerie Parv

  He dragged his left hand over his hair. “How the devil do you reach a conclusion like that? All I did was try to help.”

  “The way my parents have tried to help all my adult life. With no consideration for what matters to me, and no respect for my achievements.”

  He looked frustrated. “I can’t see what’s pushing your buttons, Emma. Yesterday I thought we’d reached a new understanding.”

  “I did, too.” Her sharp tone conveyed how disheartened she was to find they were farther apart than before.

  As Nate prowled around the room, conflict raged through her. Despite all logic, she ached to be held against him, his seductive mouth on hers. Wanted much more if she was honest.

  How could she feel so attracted to Nate when he thought he knew better than she did what was best for her? “What happened yesterday was a mistake,” she said, wondering which of them she hoped to convince. “It won’t happen again.”

  Pausing, he grasped the back of a chair. “You know that’s bull. It happens whenever you and I are in the same room. Tell me you don’t feel the sexual tension between us right now?”

  “Of course I don’t.” But her blood was racing through her veins like wildfire.

  His next words stunned her. “You mean you don’t want to. Damn it, what makes you think I do?”

  Resentment rocked her. Not only did he share her parents’ disdain for her life choices, he didn’t want to be attracted to her, either. Shouldn’t she be relieved? Instead she felt a sense of rejection deeper than anything her family had inflicted. That was becoming a habit with him. “I’m glad we understand each other,” she said, striving to keep her voice level.

  His expression darkened. “Unlikely. Hasn’t it occurred to you that you’re not the only one committed to what you do?”

  This time she did push herself to her feet. “Believe me, I’ve had a doctor’s commitment drummed into me for most of my life.”

  “I’m not talking about being a doctor. I’m talking about saving lives, being able to help.”

  Her shoulders lifted. “Is there a difference?”

  “The difference is between doing something for status and recognition, and doing it because it needs to be done.”

  She thought of Joanna’s comment on the phone. “And of course, only you can do it.”

  “Far from it. Grace made it clear that my department will power along very well until I’m fully recovered.”

  Emma looked for signs of resentment, surprised to find none. Her puzzlement must have shown because Nate added, “We still have to deal with what’s between us. Basically, I can see two choices.”

  Warily, she met his gaze. “What’s number one?”

  “We go to bed right now.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EMMA WAS SPEECHLESS. They seemed to be on a merry-go-round—covering the same ground yet unable to get off. “How is sleeping with you supposed to help?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  “A famous writer once said the best way to deal with temptation is to give in to it.”

  “I can’t wait to hear what’s behind door number two.”

  “We go cold turkey. Kill what we feel with neglect.”

  Swallowing was suddenly a challenge. “That might be the safest way.”

  He swiveled to face her. “You like the safe way, don’t you, Emma?”

  “If I did, I would never have gone into business for myself.” Or be having this discussion.

  “I’m talking about emotionally. Dealing with ingredients is easier than dealing with people,” he said.

  “I deal with people all the time. Not only staff and suppliers but clients.” Was he still suggesting she had it easy? “Why don’t you say what you mean.”

  “Okay. Looks to me like you’ve invested so much energy into not being like your parents that you haven’t taken the time to decide who Emma Jarrett really is.”

  Clearing the table gave her hands something to do, although she had to fight the temptation to aim a dish at him. She was reeling with resentment. “All this because I don’t want to make love with you?”

  “How would you know whether you do or not? Finding out would mean breaking down the wall you’ve built around your feelings.”

  “Now I’m frigid, as well. Charming.” She pushed past him to carry the dishes into the kitchen, where she dumped them on the nearest counter.

  “How the hell did you arrive at frigid from what I said?” he demanded, hard on her heels. When she didn’t respond, he took her arm and turned her around. “Do I have to kiss you again to get that crazy idea out of your head.”

  This close, he made her skin heat and her head spin. Hardly frigid. “What’s the point if I don’t have any feelings?”

  “Walling them off doesn’t mean you don’t have them. Yesterday when I kissed you, I saw the cracks appearing—until Joanna came back and you got cold feet.”

  “I did not get cold feet. To me, sex isn’t a spectator sport.”

  “I told you Joanna respects my privacy.”

  Emma avoided stating the obvious, that the housekeeper would be well aware of what was going on behind Nate’s closed bedroom door. “How come we’ve shifted the discussion to my shortcomings, instead of your interference in my work?”

  To her surprise, he calmed down. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have hired Mitch without telling you.”

  From experience with her family, she knew this was as close to an apology as she was likely to get. She decided to be gracious. “Thank you. For the admission, and for trying to help. I’ve asked Mitch to send me an invoice. Besides, nothing more can be done before the asbestos is dealt with.”

  Nate was silent, but Emma knew what he would say next. “Why don’t you run the business from here until the asbestos is gone?”

  Sophie would be ecstatic. But what about her? She was sick with worry about how to keep the business going during the removal, but did she want to be close to Nate on a daily basis? “What would you get out of it?” she asked warily.

  “Home-cooked meals until I can use my hand.”

  “Is that it?”

  “You’d be doing me a huge favor. You saw what was supposed to be my dinner tonight. Joanna’s the first to admit she’s no cook.” He spread his good hand, fingers wide apart. “You’ll need a place to stay, as well. You could use the housekeeper’s suite.”

  Joanna lived out, Emma knew. But she was still hesitant. “Taking into account what you’ve paid Mitch, I’d still be getting the best of the deal.”

  “I’m prepared to call it even, if you are.”

  Since she couldn’t see too many other ways of keeping up with her commissions and paying her bills, she nodded. “All right then. It’s a deal.”

  She noticed his pallor and the lines of pain bracketing his mouth, appalled that she’d forgotten his injury. “There is one condition.”

  He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a bottle of pain pills. She took it from him and opened the bottle, shaking out two capsules. “What’s the condition?” he asked.

  She filled a glass with water and gave it to him. “By day I run my own show.”

  His eyes gleamed. “And by night?”

  “We lead our separate lives.”

  He swallowed the pills. “You think I can’t keep my hands off you if you’re living under my roof?”

  How could he be sure, when she wasn’t? “It isn’t a challenge. But we need some ground rules. I need some rules.” She couldn’t function professionally and deal with the way she practically went up in flames with little more than a touch. “I won’t deny there’s…chemistry…between us. But we don’t have to give in to it.”

  “Unless we both agree,” he added.

  She felt safe inclining her head. “No more thinking you know what’s best for me.”

  He gave her a rueful grin. “I try not to make the same mistake twice. Next time I’ll ask.”

  That was a start. “Then this could work. When Doug’s ready to start r
emoving the asbestos, I’ll let you know. Should be in the next few days. In the meantime, I’ll cook dinner each night for you as part of our deal.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  So would she, but she avoided examining her reasons too closely. She’d stated her rules, and would abide by them. If it killed her.

  NATE SAW HER OUT, THEN SANK onto the sofa in the den, waiting for the pills to kick in. He told himself having Emma in his house wasn’t the reason for his spirits lifting, although he’d needed some good news. In a couple of days he’d have the second X-ray to find out whether the first scan had missed an occult fracture. If it had, he’d be out of action for months instead of weeks. And he was already going stir-crazy.

  Keeping the peace between them would be a challenge. He couldn’t even do Emma a favor without setting her off like a firecracker. Paying Mitch when she obviously couldn’t afford the designer’s services had seemed like a nice thing to do. Where did she get off attributing his gesture to some kind of arrogance peculiar to doctors?

  He hated feeling like a lowlife for going behind her back. But he’d seen how defensive she was about her work and, knowing her parents, he shouldn’t be surprised. Cherie and Greg Jarrett had inflated ideas about medicine. As visiting medical officers at Nate’s hospital, they were notorious for resisting policies designed to make the senior medical staff more approachable.

  Nope, Nate couldn’t blame Emma for having a chip on her shoulder. He could and did blame her for lumping him in with her family. Okay, she had a point about Mitch. But surely Nate wasn’t totally self-important? He was fallible, human.

  Miserable.

  The pain in his wrist was only part of his discomfort. The rest had to do with Emma. She was making him miserable. No, scratch that. He was making himself miserable because she haunted his thoughts, gave him an outback-size erection at the most inconvenient times and made him wish he was different.

  He didn’t want to be different. He’d worked hard to get where he was and shouldn’t have to apologize for his achievements. If she didn’t like it, too bad. When she moved in, she’d better get used to taking him as he was. He’d defended himself to her for the last time.

  COOKING AN EVENING MEAL for Nate was very different from moving into his house, Emma thought as she unloaded cases from the rental car. For the past two days she’d managed to be pleasant but aloof when she’d come to prepare his dinners, and he’d responded in kind.

  Under protest, she’d agreed to eat with him. For company, he’d said. He had no idea how unsettled she felt sharing his table. Simple requests for salt or cream for coffee brought images of him doing the same with a wife someday. Emma wasn’t interested in the role, but the idea of another woman sitting opposite him was unaccountably upsetting. It hurt almost as much as finding out he’d been paying Mitch without telling her.

  Nate wasn’t going to change no matter what he said. She’d be a fool to let herself regard him as anything but a client. Not that she let her clients kiss her. When she thought about his seductive mouth on hers, just the memory made her reel.

  Apart from the weather, their only conversation was when she asked about his wrist, or he complimented her on the food. He was following her rules to the letter. Why, then, did she feel so on edge?

  Some people just didn’t know what they wanted, she chided herself. She didn’t need him interfering in her affairs, and she certainly didn’t want closeness between them. If the result was a feeling of general dissatisfaction, she’d have to live with it.

  So would her mother. Emma smiled. After toying with not telling her family where she’d be living, she concluded they’d find out via the medical grapevine if nothing else. Naturally, Cherie had Emma engaged to Nate before she’d finished explaining what was going on.

  Mitch had looked amused when she told him she’d made a deal with Nate. “I’m betting he won the argument.”

  “There was no argument. I agreed to let Nate pay for the work you’ve done so far, and in return I’m cooking for him until he can fend for himself.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Mitch muttered. At her baffled look, he went on, “I’ve never heard anyone say Nate couldn’t fend for himself. He’s one of the most self-sufficient people I know.”

  “Haven’t you heard the saying about no man being an island?”

  “You haven’t seen the good Dr. Hale in his element, at the hospital. His word is practically law.”

  One reason why she was determined to keep her cool. She’d had more than enough of her parents throwing their professional weight around. She had no wish to see Nate do the same. She hated to think she was still deluding herself that he was somehow different. When would she learn?

  Probably over the next few days, she concluded, depositing the last of her things in the housekeeper’s suite. Nate might be able to keep up his good guy act for a short time, but living and working under his roof, Emma was bound to see his true colors. By the time she could return home, she should be well and truly over any delusions about Nate. Strange, but the idea gave her no satisfaction.

  Her rooms were located at the opposite end of the house from his. The suite comprised a spacious bedroom with an en suite bathroom, a sitting room with a plasma TV on one wall and French doors leading to a private terrace. Opening the doors, she breathed in the scent of old-fashioned roses. Too bad she wouldn’t have much time to enjoy the outdoor area. According to Doug, her home would be cleared as safe within a few days, provided he didn’t find any more problems.

  Joanna had said Nate was having the second X-ray on his wrist today. Emma told herself she was glad of the chance to settle in without having Nate around. But after putting her clothes and personal items away, and setting up her computer in the sitting room, she found herself clock watching. How long did one X-ray take, anyway?

  NATE LEANED BACK IN HIS CHAIR to sniff and sample the jewel-colored cabernet shiraz the waiter poured for him. When he nodded his approval, the man left. “There’s one thing to be said for not being able to drive.”

  His friend Troy Lawler frowned at his glass of sparkling water. “All right for some.” He picked up the glass. “To your X-ray showing no sign of a fracture.”

  Nate raised his own glass. “I’ll drink to that.” He didn’t want to admit how worried he’d been that the second X-ray would reveal more damage than the first. He hadn’t relaxed until Amy Lester had given him the all-clear. “Your timing was perfect, Troy. When you called to suggest lunch, I was getting into a cab outside the hospital.”

  His friend grinned. “Naturally. Timing’s my specialty.”

  “So’s modesty.” But Troy was right. As a Formula One driver, he’d been crowned world champion three times in a stellar career driving for Team Branxton. Three years ago, Troy had been staying at a winery outside Canberra when Nate’s gourmet group had arrived for lunch. After asking the winemaker to introduce them, Troy had become an occasional member of the group. His friendship with Nate had developed in tandem, and they made a point of getting together as often as their work allowed.

  Troy watched the waiter serve the mezze they’d ordered, a combination of hummus, baba ghanoush, labneh, pureed peppers, walnuts and breadcrumbs, a generous serving of warmed pita bread and fresh mint leaves as a palate cleanser. “I hear your birthday dinner was spectacular. Shame I was in Spain and had to miss her.”

  About to sample the creamy labneh served with salt, red pepper and olive oil, Nate paused. “Excuse me?”

  Troy bit into a chunk of serrano pepper. “News travels fast. Your lady chef is…wow, hot.”

  “I assume you mean the pepper?” Nate said, keeping his tone neutral.

  Troy cooled his mouth by tasting the labneh. “Word is she’s hot, too.”

  Since many of their friends had attended the dinner, Nate was left wondering who’d been talking. “Emma wasn’t hired for her looks. She’s a top-notch caterer.”

  “And hot. I looked her up on the Net.”


  “Because?”

  “I wanted to see who’d caught your eye. You have to agree, it’s been a long time between drinks.”

  Nate balled his good hand into a fist, keeping it out of sight under the table. “Good to know you’re keeping score.”

  “Out of concern for your well-being, my friend.”

  “I’m touched. Now can we drop the subject?”

  Troy reached for more pita bread. “Hey, this woman’s really important to you, isn’t she? When do I get to meet her?”

  There was no way around it. “She’ll be at the house when you drop me home.”

  The other man’s eyes widened. “She’s living with you?”

  “Not in the way you think.” Nate explained about the asbestos problem.

  Troy looked unconvinced. “There are lots of ways to help without setting up house together.”

  “We haven’t set up house, damn it. For the time being, Emma’s my live-in cook.”

  His friend only smiled.

  Nate was glad when Troy switched his attention to the meal. Emma wasn’t important to Nate and she didn’t want to be. Fine by him. He didn’t need the complication, either. Nor was he thrilled to have his friends discussing his love life behind his back. Not that Emma was part of his love life.

  In an attempt to stop his thoughts going round in circles, he drained his wineglass, intercepting a look from Troy. “Now what?”

  “Nothing. I was thinking this mohammara is excellent. Does your Emma cook Lebanese food?”

  “She can cook anything she sets her mind to,” Nate said, then realized he’d missed the key part of the question. “And she isn’t my Emma.”

  A waiter brought more pita bread and a dish of slow-cooked fava beans known as fool, richer and meatier than the fruit-based European dish of the same name. But Nate’s appetite had vanished. He wished there were some way to get out of Troy driving him home. He could imagine the other man’s response if he tried. Nate might as well announce his engagement to Emma.