Bachelor's Special

by Christine Warner

  Jill sat beside him, the heat from his body washed over her, and she inched to the edge of the stone bench. She was already confused enough without throwing her hormones into the mix.

  “How did everything go tonight? Get everything settled business-wise?”

  “We got a good start on it, but still need to work out the kinks.”

  “The idea you have for the scaled-down equipment for kids is wonderful. I hope everything works out in your favor.” She crossed her feet at the ankles, then dared a peek at him from beneath her lashes.

  He smiled. “Thanks, Jill. I hope so, too. At least knowing I have you here to plan the menus has been a load off my mind. Last year when I had contracts with several caterers, I never knew who was cooking, what was being served, or if I’d forgotten to even make the arrangements.”

  “I’m glad to help. I can tell this is important to you.”

  “Very much. I’ve been mulling all of this over for years, and it’s finally time to start putting my plans into action. I’m worried, stressed, and a little frightened of being able to pull it off.”

  “You’ll do it. Look what you’ve done so far.” She squeezed his hand. “You just have to try to remember you’re working with a wonderful group of people who seem to care as much as you do. If you get your fund-raisers in line and build the excitement, you’ll raise what you need, and it’ll all come to be a reality.”

  “You make it sound easy.” He playfully nudged her shoulder with his, and she gave it back with a chuckle.

  This felt right. How they could talk and tease each other so easily, as if they’d been friends for years. She got that warm, fuzzy feeling again. Total happiness.

  “Dinner was excellent, by the way. Thanks again for being so conscientious.”

  She licked her lips before she felt safe enough to speak. “You’re welcome.”

  They sat in a silence.

  Chet cleared his throat. “Do you think if I needed your help for a few dinner parties that might go over our eight-week agreement, you’d be willing?”

  Surprise shot through her. “What are friends for? I’m here to help anytime.” Jill meant it. She couldn’t stop from getting caught up in Chet’s excitement just a little bit.

  Chet shifted and his thigh brushed against her leg, and for some reason the contact reminded her of Gina. Confusion about the Chet-Gina story rushed through her, and in an instant the camaraderie they’d shared as friends changed gears.

  One part of her didn’t think it was possible, but another part reminded her that she really didn’t know Chet well enough to form an opinion on anything he might say or do. Or did she? His morals seemed locked solid on the side of good. But then again, everyone had a dark side. Didn’t they?

  She shivered, and wordlessly Chet shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders.

  “Thank you.” She tried to pull back, but he kept his arm around her and pulled her tightly to his side.

  “Must be a little chilly out here in a dress with no sleeves.”

  She couldn’t look at him, but she heard the smile in his voice and it only made the blood bubbling in her veins heat up another degree. Damn him and his sexiness. She didn’t need the confusion of her attraction sabotaging her good sense.

  What she needed was to distance herself from this man and his home. Should she bring up the idea about moving out—maybe taking Mel up on her offer for a few weeks, and just coming in to cook daily, or when he had a business dinner? The calendar showed that dinners would really start to wind down within the next two weeks. Should she hold onto her emotions a little more, erect a brick wall, and keep her tongue in check until then? Maybe by that time he’d consider a little bit of a shift in their agreement.

  She shivered again, but this time it had more to do with her own indecision than his nearness. Although the hardness of his body pressed alongside hers and his fingers rubbing circles on her shoulders—even though they had the barrier of his jacket between them—played havoc with her brain and her body.

  Jill rubbed her hands together, forgetting her friend mantra. She’d make a graceful exit and blame it on the cool night air. But before she could act, Chet grabbed her hands in his and held them up to his mouth, blowing his warm breath over them while rubbing them between his palms.

  “Your fingers are like ice.”

  “I guess it’s colder than I realized.”

  He leaned in and the breath that moments ago warmed her hands now caressed her face. She sighed when his soft, warm lips brushed against hers. The cricket chirps and the owl hoot faded into the distance with a gust of air, and she sank into the warmth of Chet’s chest. His arms circled around her, hugging her tight. Her hands—still clasped—lay against his ribs and she snaked them around his waist until her palms pressed against his back. She dug her fingertips into his muscles and he moaned.

  He felt so good. So right.

  So wrong. So not friend-zone.

  She hadn’t had enough time to think any of this through. For one, he was her boss. For another, was he sneaking around with Gina? Or was he sneaking around with her? Should she approach him and make an exit from living under his roof because she feared what she might see happening between him and Gina?

  And why did she fear it?

  Jill pulled away and stood, shrugging Chet’s jacket from her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Chet. I-I can’t do this.” She stepped back, tripping off the edge of the brick path, regaining her footing before she could fall.

  “Jill—”

  But she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. She dashed down the path veering off to the left until she reached her bedroom garden door. She pushed her way into her room, then thrust the door closed and sagged against the glass, sliding down to the floor until she sat with her knees tucked to her chest.

  She’d never claimed life would be easy, but did it need to be this difficult?

  “The schedule is lightening up. Most of the dinner parties are done. At this point I don’t see what difference it’ll make?” Jill thrust her hands on her hips to stop them from shaking and to give herself the look of outward confidence she didn’t feel.

  Chet pushed his barely touched breakfast plate away, rose from the counter, then stalked to the cabinet that held his car keys.

  Although almost two weeks had passed since the dinner party with Gina, Jill hadn’t been able to broach the subject of moving out and driving in each day until now. She hadn’t expected anger to be Chet’s reaction.

  Jill planned to finish their deal, but she had her own life, and the longer she stayed here, the more distant her reality became. Chet helping her out was one thing, but she didn’t need to get too comfortable. She also didn’t want to witness Gina trying to lay her claim on Chet, even though she’d come to grips with her doubt and didn’t believe Chet would encourage her. Friends or not, the show would be too painful to watch either way.

  “Is this because of what happened in the pool?” Chet bit out his words, closing the cabinet door with a resounding thud.

  “No. No, this has nothing to do with…with that—”

  “Then no. A deal is a deal.”

  “Wait…”

  Chet stormed into the garage, slamming the door closed behind him.

  Sudden deafening silence.

  If it had been about the pool, would he have agreed? He made no sense. Jill sank against the counter, her heart thudding into her ribs. She’d never liked raised voices and heated words. They reminded her of her parents’ vicious fights before her father left and moved out of state, never to be seen again.

  “You all right, cookie?”

  Startled, Jill pasted a smile on her face, then turned toward the kind voice of Gretchen. Tuesday. The older woman’s day to clean.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Gretchen. I forgot you were here.”

  “No worries.” Gretchen’s heavy German accent forced her to pronounce each syllable with exactness if she wanted to be understood. She ambled into the room, her sligh
t limp a reminder of her recent knee surgery. “You fight with my Chet?”

  Jill nodded. Afraid to speak as tears still clung to her throat.

  “Don’t be hard on him. He is very good man.”

  “I think you’re slightly biased.” Jill grinned. Already the soft spot in her heart for the round, gray-haired woman had grown.

  “I tell you story.”

  “Maybe some other time, Gretchen.” She wasn’t in the mood to hear more of Gretchen’s childhood in Germany.

  “No, cookie. This is story about my Chet.”

  Her interest rose and, with a sigh, Jill perched on the edge of a barstool to listen. “Okay.”

  “Do you know how I come to work here?”

  Jill shook her head. She’d laughed at herself for her earlier comment suggesting Chet made moves on his housekeeper. After she’d met Gretchen it became obvious Chet favored her as a grandmother, as any person would. She smelled of freshly baked cookies and lemon-scented furniture polish. Her arthritic fingers and awkward gait made her movements slow, but it didn’t seem to curb her determination.

  “Albert, my husband of forty-seven years, bless his heart, he worked for my Chet as an engineer.” Her chin lifted with pride. “Chet’s father hired him all the way from Germany when we first marry.”

  Jill had no idea Gretchen’s long-dead husband was an engineer.

  “When Albert died, I have nothing.” She lowered her eyes. “By this time my Chet own the company. I’m old woman. He finds how difficult things become for me. He visits me and tells me he will look out for me. I shouldn’t worry.”

  Gretchen’s words melted Jill’s anger toward Chet. The man was a walking contradiction. One part of him a true giver—he cared and looked out for others. At the same time, he wouldn’t listen to reason or change plans unless it was his idea.

  “I tell him no charity. We make deal.”

  “Your Chet loves to make deals.”

  Gretchen’s face lit up with her smile, erasing any traces of sadness around her eyes. “I clean for him so I not charity. He very good man. He does same for Joe.”

  “Joe?”

  “He takes care of lawn. He lived on the streets. My Chet help him get on his feet and give him place to live. He my Chet’s gardener.”

  “Point taken, Gretchen. I won’t judge him too harshly.”

  “Good, cookie. You good girl, too. Smart, like my Chet.” The older woman fingered the dust cloth hanging out of her front pocket and made her way toward the archway separating the kitchen and dining area.

  Gretchen’s broken English made everything clear. Jill had seen Chet run the vacuum, empty trash, and handle his own laundry. She’d found it odd Chet took much of the housework on himself instead of hiring someone else. Damn him for having a heart. But Joe topped the deal. To take in a complete stranger off the streets and give him a job and a place to live? How could she distrust a man who took care of people on instinct?

  How could she have even speculated for a moment that he might be carrying on with Gina? Guilt consumed her. Deep down she’d known that wouldn’t be Chet’s style, but it was an added bonus to hear Gretchen’s story to help her confirm.

  Jill should’ve listened to her inner voice the moment Gina opened her mouth. It wasn’t Chet who’d lied but a bleached-blond barracuda named Gina. The other woman wanted Jill out of the way to keep the path to Chet clear. Gina might love Chet, if she even understood the meaning of the word, but Chet had been over Gina for years.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chet placed the velvet box with the bow on the passenger seat, then brushed his hands over his face. Work had gone later than expected. All day he’d counted down the hours until he could go home.

  To Jill.

  Whoa, Castle. Don’t get carried away. He had to remind himself that she only wanted to be friends—nothing more. Hell, wasn’t that all he wanted, too?

  But the way their morning ended bothered him to no end. He didn’t want to fight with her, but he didn’t understand why she wanted to leave.

  His chest ached as he replayed their conversation in his head. Jill’s request to move in with Mel and Jared had thrown him into an emotional tailspin. Anger, confusion, and a few other emotions he couldn’t pinpoint rushed through him. He didn’t want anything long term, but he sure as hell wasn’t prepared for her to leave. Not yet.

  Although she made sure to stress her request wasn’t the end of their arrangement, he didn’t want to even consider her not being there at night when he returned home. The sparkle of her eyes when she smiled, how her throaty laughter unsettled his heart, and the way she moved around the kitchen when she cooked. He wasn’t prepared to not have that. Not yet. Just a little more time.

  In order to stop himself from saying something he’d regret earlier that morning, he’d forced himself through the kitchen door to his car. He’d had to, especially when her eyes glistened with tears and her bottom lip trembled.

  You’re a heel, Castle.

  Teary-eyed women made him powerless—and he sure as hell didn’t want to be the cause of any waterworks. Especially when it came to Jill—the wide-eyed look on her face as she fought back tears sent waves of something foreign through him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, until he could talk her into banishing thoughts of leaving from her mind.

  Chet pulled away from the parking ramp, his stomach in knots. He let realization sink in—he might value Jill as a friend, but his thoughts weren’t always focused on the friendship angle. The attraction between them was undeniable. Could you be attracted to a friend?

  He tossed those thoughts aside—unwilling to go there just yet. He needed to figure out their disagreement from this morning. What had made Jill so unhappy that she preferred to drive in to plan meals and parties rather than living in his home? She already confessed she loved the mini vacation of the sauna, pool, and even the movie theater. What was the problem then?

  The clock on his dash showed him well over two hours late. Hopefully Jill would still be up and they could get to the bottom of what troubled her without their words turning hot.

  …

  Jill rubbed her abdomen, nerves gnawing at her stomach. The grumbling in her belly didn’t help matters. She’d barely eaten all day—even finding it difficult to choke down half the sandwich she’d made for lunch.

  She eyeballed the clock for the millionth time. Already half past nine, she’d double-checked his calendar and there were no plans written there. He should’ve been home long ago.

  Earlier in the day, she’d gone to the grocery store to buy the ingredients for a special dinner. The Szechwan beef and cabbage salad were ready and waiting. If he stayed away much longer it’d be ruined.

  Her plan to talk to Chet and make peace wasn’t starting out as she’d hoped—for one he was late, and for another all the waiting had forced her nerves to eat a hole in her stomach. After their exchange that morning, if she aired some of her concerns maybe they could return to their normal camaraderie. She’d never be totally at ease after what happened in the pool, but at least they’d be able to talk like they used to.

  Jill never had a problem being blunt, so why stop now with Chet? She’d lay it on the line, tell Chet about her conversation with Gina and the confusion it evoked, and move on. Who knew, maybe Chet didn’t even recognize the fact Gina was chasing after him. If Jill told him tonight, at least he’d know. She’d also decided that staying under his roof would be doable. She’d stick to their original agreement.

  If he’d only get home.

  The sound of the garage door opening quickened her heart. He was here. Late, but here. Minutes later, the side door opened, and he paused to meet her gaze as he entered.

  She couldn’t move toward him, her feet held back by invisible weights.

  “Here.” He offered her a long, slender, velvet box. A baby-sized white bow placed in the center. Heightened color accented the lines of his cheekbones.

  Chet
Castle embarrassed? She stared at the box until he broke her trance by shaking it at her.

  “Take it.” His gruff voice filled her with self-doubt. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a good time to air her concerns.

  “Thanks.” She grasped the box with stiff fingers and continued to stare at it.

  “Are you counting the velvet fibers or are you going to open it?”

  “Whoa, turn down the white-hot charm, Prince, you’re blinding me.”

  One side of his mouth twitched in a halfhearted smile. Tension slid down her body and disappeared as they shared their smile, the one missing ever since the day at the pool.

  “First off, what’s this for?”

  “A gift of appreciation for the other night. You went above and beyond my expectations.”

  Jill’s heart thumped. “The other night?”

  “Dinner party. Knock knock.” He pretended to tap his knuckles against the side of her head. “Anyone home? Well, not just that one dinner party, but the several you’ve done in the last few weeks actually.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Oh. The dinner parties. For a minute there I thought you were giving me… Never mind.” Yeah, a reward for pool sex. Good grief. Must she always think of sex when he was near?

  “What? You honestly thought I was giving you a gift for what happened in the pool?”

  Damn him and his psychic powers.

  “Well, um…” Heat flooded her face, and probably the skin hidden beneath her red capri pants and black sleeveless blouse.

  “Come on, Jill. Stop being so flustered around me. Just be you. Do you really think I’m such a cad?” Chet brushed his hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I even want to hear your answer.”

  “Well, no. No. Deep down I think you’re…”

  “What? You think I’m a swell guy?” His word choice mocked her love of the fifties. “Since the pool, you can hardly bring yourself to look at me. I admit, things got out of hand, and then on the stairs…” He brushed his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” He turned away from her, but she heard his soft mutter. “I won’t let it.”