What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel)

by Fennell, Judi

  She plunked her butt onto the closest chair and hugged as many of the wiggling furry bodies as she could while dodging the slobbery kisses they were intent on bestowing. There was only one person’s kisses she wanted and he was standing across the kitchen, smiling and shaking his head at her.

  “Is that a Hodgeson?”

  “A what?” Livvy asked, looking where Sher pointed.

  “A Hodgeson. That tea set. They’re pretty rare.”

  “If they’re rare and worth something, I’ll go with a yes. Merriweather would have only the best.”

  Sher handed Mr. Choo to Kerry then picked up the creamer. “It is.” He showed it to them. “From the mid-eighteen hundreds is my guess. The company created custom pieces for members of the ton and did commemorative work for the Crown.” He picked up the sugar bowl. “Very chi-chi to have one of these hanging around. Someone must have done something important to get one of these. You come from some pretty upper-crust stock, Livs.”

  “Which has gotten me all of where?” She took the sugar bowl from him and set it down.

  “Well, here for starters.”

  “And the plus in that is . . . ?”

  “Because you ended up next door to us, and Kerry and I want to take you away from all of it this weekend.” Sher took Mr. Choo back from his partner and tightened the topknot bow.

  “I’m kind of on a deadline, Sher.”

  “I get that, sweetie, but you’re going to die when you hear why.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite.”

  Sherwood fluttered his eyelashes, put a hand to his chest, and only needed that gold dress and a subway vent for his Marilyn Monroe impersonation. “We have a booth at the Tri-State Farmer’s Market this Sunday.”

  He might be a bit of a drama queen, but in this instance, Sher was fully justified.

  “How? I thought they were booked solid like eight months ago.” Back when she’d been struggling to come up with the funds to pay for the leaky roof and hadn’t had any extra cash for the registration fee. The Tri-State Market was the largest in the area, and sales from even one day could pay her rent for months. If she failed Merriweather’s little test, she’d need that money.

  “They were booked. But Philip Johnson knows a girl named Mary who works for a guy whose sister-in-law runs the whole shindig, and when they got the cancellation, Mary overheard and was on the phone to Philip. He already has his booth, but he knew we were interested and voila! We’re in. We want you to join us. Think of the crowds. The business we could do. I’m planning to unload our entire inventory.”

  She’d always done well at the market. Lots of referral business for the rest of the year and the exposure helped build name recognition. She’d been bummed to miss it this year. “But it’s a two-night trip. Who will I get to take care of the animals on such short notice? Richard signed up all the college kids for his place, and you guys are going with me. That’s why I brought them here in the first place.”

  “I’m sure we can find someone.” Sher tapped his lips. “There is that new guy, what’s his name? Matthew, Mark, Mike . . . Something with an mmmmm.”

  Kerry rolled his eyes. Livvy hid a giggle. For all Sher’s flirtatiousness, he was utterly devoted to Kerry and they all knew it.

  “Well, no matter. I’m sure we can come up with someone.”

  “Uh, hello?” Sean set down the spray bottle he was using to clean up after Orwell. “I can do it.”

  “But you don’t even like my animals,” said Livvy.

  “It’s not that I don’t like them; it’s just that there are so many of them.”

  “And they eat antiques.”

  “Well, yeah.” He smiled and it did funny little flippy things to her stomach. “There’s that.”

  “And they leave presents all over the place.”

  “That, too.” His smile got bigger—and so did the flippy things.

  Not optimal with Sher and Kerry staring at her so intently—and her hormones reacting so intensely to the memory. And to his smile. “But it’s not in your job description.”

  “Oh, I’m sure a little bonus in his pocket would eradicate that worry, Livs,” Sher piped in with enough innuendo that even the dogs knew what he meant.

  “Watch it, Sherwood.” Sean put his hands on his hips, the action stretching that shirt he’d had off an hour ago over the abs and pecs she’d run her hands all over and, oh, the memory—

  “I’m offering to help, so you can keep your insinuations to yourself.”

  Blush number two hundred and thirteen started. How sweet was it that Sean rushed to her defense? How strange it felt, too, because no one had ever done that for her before. But sweet won out over strange, and she let the warmth of his action spread through her. If that caused another blush, so be it.

  Then he leaned onto the countertop and her blush happened for a whole other reason.

  “The hell with the job description, Livvy,” Sean went on as if he weren’t leaning over the very same spot he’d been leaning over her before Sher and Ker had shown up. “We pretty much shot that when the animals ate the rug and I made that pen for them. And then there’s the barn clean-out.” Not to mention the kissing-on-the-countertop thing. “I think we’re redefining my job as we go along.”

  “This sounds interesting.” Sher leaned a hip against the ice machine and crossed his arms.

  Kerry swatted his shoulder.

  Livvy brushed her hair back. “But it’s in less than two days. I don’t have anything ready.”

  “Sweetie,” said Sher. “I’ve seen you work. You’re a whirlwind in your tiny kitchen; imagine what you can do in this place. You’ve got all day tomorrow, and Mr. Volunteer here can help out with that, too, since he apparently can do anything.”

  Sean raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I can help.”

  “There, see? It’s all settled.” Sher straightened and swatted Kerry back. “Let’s get going so these two have time to strategize tomorrow’s baking extravaganza. Plus, I need to price out those corkscrews we found. I have a feeling they’re going to be big sellers.”

  Kerry rolled his eyes as he followed Sher toward the door. “Pirates,” he said to her and Sean. “He bought pirate corkscrews, with the screw part in an, um, interesting location. I think he’s going to have a harder time passing them off as a ‘family friendly’ item than meeting any big demand, but if it makes him happy . . .” Kerry pulled the door behind. “See you tomorrow, Liv. About five.” He looked at Sean. “Nice meeting you.”

  Sean nodded back.

  And then they were alone.

  Well, as alone as they could be with eight dogs looking at them expectantly.

  Livvy had a funny sensation that’s how she looked at Sean, too. “You didn’t have to do that you know. Volunteer.”

  “If that’s what you call it.” Sean removed his palms from the countertop.

  The countertop.

  “Sherwood can be a bit of a steamroller.”

  He walked around the island. “You think?”

  “I don’t really have to go.”

  Sean closed the distance between them. “Do you want to go?”

  Hell no she didn’t. She wanted to stay right here and pick up where they left off. “I—”

  “You should go.”

  “What?” Okay, he obviously wasn’t on the same wavelength as she was when it came to picking back up . . .

  “Even I’ve heard about the market. It’s a big deal and from what I gathered from that conversation, it could be important to your business. Go. I can hold down the fort here. It’s only one night.”

  So many things could happen in a night.

  “It’s two nights.” Even more could happen in two nights.

  “Okay, that’s fine. I’m a big boy; I can handle a few animals.”

  Not thinking of hi
m and big in the same sentence . . .

  “Plus, I think it’s a good idea.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded and reached out to touch her, but then pulled back. “It’ll give us some perspective.”

  “Perspective?”

  “On what happened earlier.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  He looked at her.

  She looked at him.

  Was it wrong to want to kiss him? To go back to earlier?

  And if so, why?

  Ringo started to whine. Yeah, she could relate.

  But then Mickey joined in, followed by John, and when Georgia added her high-pitched yowl, well, there went that moment.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Sean stepped away from her, looking as confused as could be.

  And he wanted to take care of them? He didn’t look like he was handling this well with her standing right here, let alone doing it on his own.

  Of course, she doubted the dogs would be picking up on raging pheromones when she wasn’t here.

  Davy stood up on his hind legs and joined in the ensemble, twirling like poodles do. Give him a tutu and he’d be a circus performer.

  Livvy had to smile. They wanted her attention. He always did that when she was sad or upset, somehow knowing it’d make her smile. Even the way his tongue drooped out the side of his mouth made him look as if he was smiling.

  “Livvy? What do we do?”

  She took pity on him and the dogs and knelt down. Instantly, she was inundated with eight wet noses and snuffles of joy. “It’s simple, Sean. They just want some loving.”

  SEAN could totally relate. And hell, if all it took was a few pitiful whines and some twirling on his toes, he might go that route.

  Not.

  Livvy was trouble. He’d followed her up those stairs and into her bedroom, then his own, and all the others down that god-awful long hallway and all he could think of was hauling her into one, slamming the door, and finishing what they’d started in the kitchen. God, he wanted her.

  And, God, he so couldn’t have her.

  He needed her to go on this market trip. He needed perspective. He needed to be able to think clearly and figure some way out of this mess, and with her around, clear thinking was nonexistent in the haze of sensuality that governed her every move. From the way she slipped those wispy curls over her ear, to the sexy little nibble on the corner of her lip and the way she flounced and bounced and breathed life into every movement she made, even the way she turned her head to accept the slobbery kisses of her dogs, something in Livvy reached out to him, wrapped itself around him, and reeled him in.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back around the counter. The counter.

  Christ.

  He backed away. He didn’t need any reminders of how she’d looked there, wanting him.

  He opened the drawer where he’d found pens and paper on one of his forays through this room for clues. “I’m assuming you’re going to need some baking supplies for tomorrow. Give me a list and I’ll go shopping.” It spoke to his level of frustration—both with the situation and with his pain-in-the-ass libido—that he was willing to not only go shopping, but also write it down in his pictographic shorthand. In his world, writing was second in torture only to reading aloud.

  Livvy looked up at him, her gorgeous amber eyes framed by those rust-colored lashes, like a sunflower in the fall.

  There he went with the poetry again.

  “I do need certain things, but I just wing the other stuff when I get there. Plus, you won’t know which brands, so I’ll have to go with you.”

  He almost whined like the dogs. The purpose of making this list was so that she wouldn’t have to go with him. Sean exhaled. He just couldn’t win.

  Chapter Twenty

  SHOPPING with Livvy turned out to be a pretty winning experience, surprisingly. The free spirit-ness of being with her was contagious. She was like a ray of sunshine in a dingy world—oh, hell. There he went again.

  Sean had to chuckle at himself. Livvy created a perpetual state of happy and no one, not even he, was immune, so he ought to just stop fighting it and go along for the ride.

  She smiled at everyone, and everyone smiled back. It was a gift, actually, how she could turn someone’s bad mood around as if she were sprinkling pixie dust on them.

  Pixie dust? What the hell happened to his brain? To his vocabulary? He’d never said pixie dust in his life, not even to Mac when she’d been a kid. Of course, he hadn’t been the one reading her any bedtime stories where there could have been mention made of pixie dust, and why was he going on about this?

  “I was thinking I’d make scones. What flavors do you like?”

  Weren’t scones those tasteless flaky things the Brits loved? “Doesn’t matter to me. I’m easy.”

  She slid him a look that heated his blood.

  “I mean, whatever you want to make is fine with me. What are your best sellers?”

  “I don’t have any but—”

  “What do you mean you don’t have any best sellers? Livvy, you want to find out what your clientele wants and cater to them. You can’t just make whatever you feel in the mood for. Customers drive your business, and if they can’t get what they want from you, they’ll go elsewhere. Successful businesses tap into customer’s wants and needs, and back it up with excellent service. If you don’t provide what people want, you will have no revenue, and therefore no means to continue the company or your employment with it.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Sean. I know how businesses work. How do you think I’ve managed to keep mine running for so long? And managed to get the time off to come here for my grandmother’s little whim? Cash flow might be tight, but it’s been flowing. These guys don’t eat grass, you know. I was asking your opinion for personal interest. I wanted to make sure we’d make something you liked, too. And I don’t have any best sellers because all my scones sell well. I make a mean scone.” She raised her chin and stood a little straighter.

  And knocked Sean sideways. Metaphorically. She was too tiny to do much damage physically. But otherwise . . .

  Was it silly of him to get all warm and fuzzy inside that she’d wanted to make something he liked? That she’d asked because she wanted to do something nice for him? To include him? For too long he’d been running this tightrope of budgets and contingencies and stress and worry and now subterfuge . . .

  Her honesty was as refreshing as it was guilt-plaguing. She was going to hate him when she found out.

  If she finds out. You could still pull this off, Manley.

  “Uh, okay.” He swiped a hand through his hair and kneaded the tight muscles in the back of his neck. Today had been one big lesson in torture and it showed no signs of letting up any time soon.

  Then he heard a crash, followed by “Scene!”

  Enter his brother, Bryan. The fun just kept piling on. “Hey, Bry.”

  “Is that . . . Oh my God. Is that Bryan Manley?”

  Of course Livvy would know who his brother was. Was there a woman on the face of the planet who didn’t? Sean was shocked there wasn’t a harem trailing behind him as usual—though the two kids with him who were kicking the mac-n-cheese boxes they’d knocked over might have something to do with it. No one would expect the Bryan Manley to be food shopping with kids in tow. Probably the best cover his brother had ever had in public.

  “Yeah, that’s Bry.”

  “Bry? That sounds awfully familiar.”

  “Because he’s my brother.” No sense in keeping it from her. The truth was bound to come out. He couldn’t be around Bry for more than five minutes before someone snapped a picture and it was on every social media site in under twenty seconds. If he kept it from her, she’d get suspicious.

  “So that makes you Sean . . . Manley?”
<
br />   “That’s usually how it works.”

  “So you own the cleaning service?”

  “No, my sister does.”

  “Mac is your sister? How did you come to work for her?”

  He wasn’t going there. “Long story.” He didn’t elaborate, choosing to wait for the conversation to turn back to Bryan. It always did.

  “So Bryan Manley is your brother.”

  This time, though, it bothered him more than it ever had. “Yes he is. And, yes, he’s single. But he’s not exactly ready to settle down.”

  “Wow. Talk about jaded.”

  “No. Just used to it.” And he was. He had to remind himself of that fact. And the fact that Bryan wasn’t ready to settle down. Never would be to hear Bry talk.

  “Hey, Scene.” Bryan patted him on the back when he walked over. “And you must be Olivia.”

  Sean really hated how Livvy blushed. Her blushes should be reserved for him and him alone.

  Which was totally irrational.

  “Yes, I’m Olivia.”

  Olivia? What the hell happened to Livvy?

  “Bryan! Take us to your leader! We want soda!” The twin boys beside him brandished their lightsabers.

  Bryan nudged them aside with a finger. “Watch it, guys. You’ll poke your eye out.” He winked at Livvy.

  Winked.

  If they weren’t in a public place, Sean just might punch his brother for being too damn charming. Especially when Livvy blushed again.

  “What are you doing here, Bry?”

  “We. Want. So. Da!” The lightsabers were now doing circles in the air, complete with mechanized sound effects.

  “Guys! Chill! I know your mother didn’t teach you to be rude, so pipe down, will you? We’ll get what your mom said we should get and not a thing more.” Bryan exhaled. “Why do people have kids again?”

  Livvy knelt down to the boys’ level. “Guys, you know what you want to try? Put a hard-boiled egg in your favorite cola and wait to see what happens.”

  “Why, what happens?” The boys were just as enthralled with Livvy as their grown-up counterparts.