She glanced at his empty hands. “I assume you have luggage. I’ll show you to your room, then bring your things up.”
“Thanks, but I’ll get everything.” His way wasn’t to let a woman carry his stuff, especially when that woman looked as if the first stiff breeze would blow her away. He admired her independence, but he did things his way, too. “There’s a lot and some of it is heavy.”
“Okay. Follow me.”
Now, that he didn’t mind doing, because she had an exceptionally fine backside. Aside from her obvious external attributes, there was a lot to like about his new landlady. Smart, straightforward, self-reliant. Salt of the earth. He would bet his last dime that she wasn’t a gold digger.
He almost wished she was.
* * *
The next morning Maggie settled her crabby daughter in the high chair beside the round oak kitchen table. After giving the little girl a piece of banana, she whipped up a batch of biscuits and popped them in the oven. When the idea had taken hold to rent out the upstairs rooms, she’d come up with a different breakfast menu for each day of the week. Today was scrambled eggs with spinach, mushrooms, onion and tomato. Fried potatoes. Country gravy for the biscuits. And blueberries. This was one of Josie’s favorites and made one wonder how the older woman stayed so trim. Could have something to do with her being tall and the brisk walk she took every morning after rolling out of bed.
Maggie hadn’t seen Sloan yet this morning and was just the tiniest bit curious about what his favorite breakfast was and how he stayed in such good shape. The snug T-shirt he’d had on when checking in yesterday had left little to the imagination, and the man had a serious six-pack going on. Ever since she’d opened the door, her nerves had been tingling, some kind of spidey sense. It was like the princess-and-the-pea story she read to Danielle. Even when he wasn’t near, she knew he was under her roof.
He wasn’t model handsome, but there was something compelling in his eyes, which were light brown with flecks of green and gold.
“Mama—” The single word was followed by the sound of a splat.
Maggie looked up from stirring the country gravy and saw that Danielle had thrown her banana on the floor. Very little had been ingested, but the little girl had mangled the fruit pretty well.
“Want some Cheerios, sweetie?”
“Cookie—”
Some words came out of this child’s mouth as mangled as that banana, but cookie wasn’t one of them. It was tempting to give in and let her have a treat. Just this once keep her happy so the first breakfast with their VIP guest would go smoothly and convince him she knew what she was doing in the B and B business. But her maternal instincts told her that was a bad habit to start.
“Good morning.” Josie walked into the kitchen freshly showered after her exercise. She was in her early sixties but looked at least ten years younger, in spite of her silver hair. The pixie cut suited her. She moved beside the high chair. “How are you, munchkin?”
The little girl babbled unintelligible sounds, which were no doubt a list of grievances about her mother being the food police.
“She’s not her sunny little self today,” Maggie apologized. “She was restless last night. Teething, I think. I hope she didn’t disturb you.”
“Not a bit. The insulation in these walls is amazing.” She looked around, blue eyes brimming with understanding. “How can I help?”
“Go relax with a cup of coffee. You’re a guest.”
“Oh, please. We both know I’m your friend more than a paying customer. Besides the discount I get for emergency babysitting, it’s a blessing to still be useful when you’re as old as I am.” She put a hand on her hip. “Now, what can I do?”
“You’re doing it. Being a godsend.” Maggie turned on the gas burner underneath the stainless-steel frying pan filled with potatoes. “If you could give Danielle a handful of that cereal, I’d be forever in your debt.”
“Done.” She grabbed the box from the pantry and did as requested. “Now I can get the eggs ready to scramble.”
“Maybe I should change things up.” Maggie grinned. “You know the menu by heart.”
“How many eggs are you thinking with Sloan here? A man like that could be a big eater.”
“So you met him?”
“Last night. We watched TV together in the upstairs game room. Some house-flipping program.” The older woman opened the refrigerator and removed the containers of veggies that had been cut up the night before.
Maggie hadn’t cooked breakfast for a man since the morning she’d said goodbye to her husband, before he deployed to Afghanistan. It wasn’t the first time she’d made sure he ate before leaving the house but she’d never considered it would be her last meal with him. She’d never been able to decide whether or not she would have made the food more special if she’d known. Or if the not knowing had made the ordinary a final blessing.
“I think eight should be enough,” Maggie said.
She couldn’t remember how many Danny would have eaten and felt guilty about that. Every time she realized the recollections were getting fuzzier, she felt disloyal to his memory.
“With all the rest of the food,” she continued, “it should be more than enough. If there are leftovers, I’ll put some on a tortilla later and call it lunch.”
“Okay.” Josie started cracking eggs into a bowl. “He sure is a good-looking man.”
“Who’s that?”
“Your new boarder. Sloan. Unless there’s another man you’re hiding under the bed.”
Just the sound of his name made Maggie’s heart skip a beat. “I suppose he wouldn’t have to wear a bag over his head in public.”
“Not to be insensitive, Maggie. After all, I’m a widow, too. Also not blind. Take it from me, a man who looks like he does would have an almost nun thinking twice about taking final vows. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“Of course I did.” And even if she were blind, there would be no way not to notice the gravelly sex appeal lingering in his deep voice. “But you watched TV with him. What was that like?”
“He’s not just a pretty face. I can tell you that. Seems to know his stuff and, quite frankly, he took a lot of the joy and mystery out of what those TV construction guys do.”
“So it was like watching a medical show with a doctor who tells you how they’re doing CPR all wrong?”
“Exactly.” Josie grinned. “Still, he seems like a nice man. I wouldn’t believe all that stuff about him in the tabloids.”
“I sort of liked that story about him owning houses all over the world and swimming naked with the model.”
“It does give one an image,” Josie admitted.
“Did you ask him? Hanging out watching a house-flipping show seems like the perfect time to find out what inquiring minds want to know.”
“It didn’t occur to me, what with him talking about all the ways those TV guys could have reduced waste, pollution and environmental degradation.”
A piercing wail from the high chair interrupted the fascinating conversation. What Josie had just said made Maggie even more curious than she’d already been, but now wasn’t the time to pursue it. Danielle needed attention.
“Are you thirsty, baby girl?” She grabbed a sippy cup from the cupboard and filled it with milk. She handed it to her daughter, who eagerly stuck the spout in her mouth and drank. “So he’s a green builder?”
“Who?” There was a twinkle in Josie’s blue eyes as she stirred up eggs, veggies and seasoning in a bowl.
“Sloan. Unless there’s a man you’re hiding under the bed, Miss—”
“Good morning.”
That gravelly, deep, sexy voice belonged to the man they’d just been talking about. Maggie exchanged a guilty glance with Josie but couldn’t manage to come up with anything to say t
o him.
The sippy cup hit the wooden floor, interrupting the awkward silence. Maggie quickly stirred the potatoes before hurrying to her daughter, who was starting to squirm against the belt holding her in. Along with the high-pitched whining, it was clear the little girl wanted out. Maggie undid the strap and lifted the child from the high chair then tried to put her down. Danielle was having none of that and the screech kicked up a notch.
Please, not today, little one, Maggie silently begged. The man was accustomed to five-star hotels, and a two-year-old’s temper tantrum wasn’t the optimal way to put their best foot forward.
“Mommy has to finish cooking breakfast,” she whispered. But Danielle shook her head and clung for all she was worth.
“I’ll take her.” Josie walked over with her arms outstretched, but the little girl buried her face against Maggie’s shoulder.
She looked at Sloan. “I’m really sorry about this. I’ll get her settled down and food will be on the table in no time.”
“There’s no rush. Although I’d love some coffee.”
“It’s made. I’ll just put some in a carafe and you can have it in the dining room. Cups and saucers are already out—”
“A mug is fine.” He walked over to the coffeemaker and grabbed one of the mugs hanging from an under-the-cupboard hook. After pouring the steaming dark liquid, he blew on it, then took a sip. “Good.”
Danielle had lifted her head at the sound of the deep voice and was intently studying the stranger. Her uncle Brady visited regularly, but other than him, a man in this house was a rare occurrence.
Maggie tried to put the little girl down again and got another strong, squealing protest. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve cooked with this little girl on my hip, and it probably won’t be the last.”
“Maybe I can help.” Sloan set his mug on the granite island beside them and held out his arms.
“She doesn’t go to strangers,” Maggie said.
“It’s worth a try.” He held out his arms. “Hey, Shorty, what’s up?”
The little girl silently stared at him, probably didn’t know what to make of a man in the kitchen. Maggie braced for an earsplitting protest, but after a moment’s hesitation, Danielle went to him and settled her chubby little arm around his neck. Then she touched the collar of his white cotton shirt. Obviously the man had a way with women of all ages. The shock had Maggie blinking at him, until she remembered that her daughter’s hands were unwashed and still grubby.
“Oh, no—she’s dirty. I’ll get a washcloth—”
Sloan looked down at the banana streaks on his white shirt and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll wash it for you.”
“Whatever.” He grinned when the child put her hands on his face and turned it to look at her. “You rang?”
She pointed in the general direction of the backyard. “Go ’side?”
Sloan met Maggie’s gaze. “Is it okay if I take her out?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know. But I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to. Is it all right with you?”
“Yes,” she said helplessly.
“Okay, then. Let’s go, Shorty.”
Maggie’s heart melted at the sight of the big man carrying her little girl out of the room.
“I don’t remember any story in the tabloids about him having kids,” Josie said. “But he sure is good with yours.”
“I noticed.”
Charming, good with kids and not hard on the eyes. Sloan Holden was a triple threat. But he must have a flaw. Every man did.
Chapter Two
In Sloan’s opinion, Danielle Potter was the spitting image of her mother, minus the wariness in her big brown eyes. Or maybe it was sadness. Losing a husband must have been rough, especially the part where she was raising a child on her own. He set the little girl down on the patio and her feet had barely touched the ground before she headed for the grass, still wet with morning dew. It was early March, not quite spring, and a bit chilly. But the sun was shining in a clear blue sky that promised a beautiful day ahead.
He’d never before been responsible for a child. Ever. How hard could it be? Glancing around the big yard made him glad it was fenced in and the wrought iron bars were too close together for the toddler to squeeze through. He knew because that was the first thing she tried. After a quick check, he was satisfied that the gates on either side were secure and there would be no escape that way.
Sloan watched her squat and touch something with her tiny, probing finger. Bug? Snake? In two long strides he was beside her. “Whatcha got there, Shorty?”
She pointed to something he couldn’t see and a stream of unintelligible sounds came out of her mouth. The expression on her face said she was looking for an appropriate response from him, but he had nothing. That happened when the party with whom you were conversing spoke a foreign language known only to herself, and possibly her mother.
“Is it grass?” He looked closer, hoping there was no dangerous, venomous creature lurking that would force him to do something manly, like deal with it.
She shook her head, then stood and toddled over to an area with bushes surrounded by bark chips to set it off from the grass. He was almost sure he’d heard somewhere that bugs collected in this environment, and it seemed like a bad idea to let her continue to explore unchaperoned.
Glancing around, he saw a brightly colored swing set with a slide and climbing equipment all rolled into one. Clearly it was there for Danielle’s pleasure, so maybe he could channel her attention in that direction. And away from insect central.
He scooped her up in his arms, which set off instant rebellion. Sloan’s response to this was a revelation. Size and strength were on his side and ought to count for something but really didn’t. He would give her anything she wanted to make her happy.
“Want to go on the slide?” He held her high above him, pleased when she giggled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He set her at the top of the thing. It wasn’t that high, but he was loath to let go and give her over to the unpredictability of gravity. It was remarkably astonishing to him how powerful his urge was to protect this small girl he’d voluntarily taken responsibility for. He held on to her as she slid down the short slide, then helped steady her at the bottom.
“Again,” she said very clearly.
“Okay. And we have a winner.” The sense of accomplishment he experienced at pleasing her wasn’t all that dissimilar from the satisfaction he felt at overcoming a particularly challenging construction problem.
Sloan set her at the top of the structure and held on a little more loosely this time, although he was ready to scoop her up if the situation went south. Fortunately it didn’t.
She grinned up at him and said, “Again.”
“Your wish is my command, milady.”
But before he could lift her up, the back door opened and Maggie stood there.
“Mama. Cookie,” Danielle said, toddling over to her mother.
“Breakfast first.” She met his gaze and there was a dash of respect in hers. “It’s ready. Thanks to you for entertaining her.”
“The pleasure was mine.” He truly meant that. “I enjoyed hanging out with her.”
“You’re very good with her. Do you spend a lot of time with kids?”
“Actually, no. That was a first for me,” he admitted.
“So you’re a natural. Someone should alert the paparazzi,” she teased.
“Oh, please no. I’ll give you anything to keep my secret.”
“You might change your mind after breakfast. And you must be starving. Everything is on the dining room table. Help yourself.” She grabbed up her daughter and settled the child on her hip. “I’ll get this one fed in the kitchen. So
you can have some peace and quiet. If you’re interested, I’ve set out newspapers—local and national.”
“Thanks.” Sloan was less interested in newsprint than he was the sight in front of him—the beautiful young mother snuggling her rosy-cheeked toddler close.
He understood her struggle to make a home for boarders while carving out a private space for her own family, but would rather have filled a plate and followed the two of them to the kitchen.
That was different.
* * *
An hour later, after changing out of his banana-slimed shirt into a clean one, Sloan drove into the parking lot of the O’Keefe Building, where his cousin Burke had rented office space. Maggie’s brother, Brady, had built the place for his tech company’s corporate office. At this point there was more room than he needed for his business, so he leased out the extra space. Sloan figured since he’d be working under the same roof as Brady, their paths would cross, and he was looking forward to meeting Maggie’s brother.
Having visited on more than one occasion, Sloan knew where his cousin’s office was located. After pushing the button for the correct floor, he rode the elevator up. The car stopped and the doors opened into a spacious waiting area. There was a reception desk straight ahead where Burke’s assistant, Lydia, normally sat. She wasn’t there now, so he walked over to the closed door, knocked once, then went inside.
“Hey, Burke, I—”
Sloan stopped dead in his tracks. His cousin was there, all right, holding a beautiful brunette in his arms while kissing her soundly. He recognized the lady. Sydney McKnight, Burke’s fiancée. The scene in front of him was different from the usual all-work-all-the-time environment, and Sloan was beginning to wonder if he’d taken a tumble down the rabbit hole. His morning had started off with him entertaining a two-year-old before breakfast—not what normally happened in the five-star hotels he frequented, although not altogether objectionable, either. He’d been complimented on everything from his business expertise to the length of his eyelashes. But never had a flattering remark pleased him more than Maggie saying he was good with kids.
The Widow's Bachelor Bargain Page 2