“Just as long as it doesn’t impact my family.”
She heaved a sigh. “How many times am I going to have to say it? Nothing about who I am will hurt your mother, her inn, or your family. I won’t let it.”
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger. “We need some ground rules.”
“Let’s start with you keeping your hands to yourself.”
His chin shot up. “Wait just a minute there, Sweet Cheeks. You weren’t putting up much of a protest this morning. If Cassidy hadn’t crashed the party, you would have been fully participating in whatever came next and you know it.”
She was suddenly damp at the thought of “whatever came next.” All the more reason for ground rules, she told herself. Especially if they included the provision that neither one of them could be in the same room at the same time.
“How about you run off onto the campaign trail and I mind my own business cooking and cleaning,” Lori suggested. “That offer has got to be every man’s total fantasy.”
His hands were back in his pockets again as if he needed to forcibly restrain them. “You clearly don’t know what men fantasize about.” The rough edge in his voice sent a shiver of arousal through her.
“Excuse me. Miles, is that you?”
The sound of a male voice startled her. Miles spun around, facing the kitchen, his body blocking hers from view. Whether it was conscious or not, Lori appreciated the gesture.
“Evening, Mr. Swanston. Can I help you with something?”
She heard Mr. Swanston step farther into the kitchen. “Sorry to bother you, but my wife has misplaced a bracelet. It was one of those ones with all the charms. The kids have been adding to it every holiday. I was wondering if anyone found it, or turned it in.”
Miles glanced over his shoulder at her. Lori shook her head as a trickle of unease crawled down her spine. She’d searched every nook and cranny in her room looking for her grandmother’s ring, but still hadn’t found it. While she knew she hadn’t misplaced the ring, she hated the idea that it might have been stolen.
“No one’s turned anything in,” Miles said.
Mr. Swanston sighed heavily. “The darn thing probably came unlatched and fell off. It could be anywhere.”
Lori stepped around Miles. Mr. and Mrs. Swanston were a kind older couple who were staying at the B and B for a few days on their way home to Florence, South Carolina, following the high school graduation of one of their grandchildren. The odds of either of them recognizing her were slim to none. Mr. Swanston was probably right about the bracelet. Lori wanted to believe that the two missing items were just a coincidence.
“I’ll look around for it, Mr. Swanston,” she offered. “I can check all the common areas. And Miles will ask around in town tomorrow. He can even check with the sheriff’s office. Maybe someone turned it in there.”
Mr. Swanston’s face relaxed. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. Linda has a bee in her bonnet about finding it, but it will put her at ease to know you’ll keep looking for it even after we leave tomorrow.”
“If it’s here, we’ll find it.” Miles’ resolute tone prompted a nod from the older man.
“See you at breakfast.” Mr. Swanston waved his way out of the kitchen.
Lori edged out of the laundry room, hoping to make her escape up to her room.
“Nice of you to volunteer my services there, Sweet Cheeks.” Miles opened the Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled out some cold cuts.
“I know how you like to be in charge.” She checked the automatic times for the ovens. “Just leave whatever dishes you use on the drain board. I’ll get them in the morning.”
He stopped in the middle of piling meat on top of a hoagie roll. “You don’t have to clean up after me.”
“I only meant that the drain is clogged. You can’t run the water right now.”
Miles shot her a confused look before walking over to the sink and peering down at it. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked as he turned on the light above.
“The garbage disposal is stuck. Nothing major. I’ll call Gavin first thing in the morning.”
He made a sound of disgust before he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“What are you doing?” Not that she minded him doing a striptease in the dimly lit kitchen, but she wasn’t sure she had as much control of that idiot part of her brain as she needed right now.
“My father believed in raising children who are self-sufficient.” He pulled off the shirt in one fluid move and tossed it over a kitchen chair. The muscles beneath his T-shirt flexed as he strode into the laundry room and retrieved a large yellow toolbox. “It doesn’t have to be Gavin who fixes everything. I’m perfectly capable.”
Lori got the impression that he was aggravated by more than just a clogged kitchen drain. Before she knew it, he was on his back and under the sink with the ease and familiarity of someone who’d been there a time or two before. He pulled a flashlight out of the toolbox and propped it beside him.
“So are you saying Kate could do this if she had to?”
His voice echoed from within the cabinet. “I’m saying even my little brother with the Golden Glove could do this. Although his contract might prohibit it.” He blindly reached into the toolbox and grabbed a wrench. “My sisters both know their way around a toolbox, too. If you ever need a piece of furniture from IKEA assembled, they’re your go-to girls.”
Lori didn’t hold back the grin that escaped at the pride in Miles’ voice. Not for the first time she thought how delightful it would have been to grow up in a family with siblings and parents who looked after you, instead of ones who sold you out.
There was a clink of metal on metal and Miles swore. “Can you get me a plastic bowl or something?”
She fished into a cabinet and pulled out a bowl. When she crouched down to hand it to him, her thigh brushed against Miles’ firm one and she sucked in a breath at the heat that seared through her. Miles stilled for a moment before reaching for the bowl. Lori quickly found her feet and took a few steps back toward the opposite counter and kept her eyes glued to his Cole Haan loafers rather than his muscular legs.
“Here’s your problem,” he said. “Eggshells in the trap.”
“I put eggs down there every day. It’s never been a problem before.”
“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but they build up over time. Morgan usually comes to clean out the trap a couple times a year. Looks like the clog didn’t want to wait for him.” He slid the soggy bowl out onto the floor. “You won’t have to worry about this again for a while.”
Lori didn’t bother pointing out that she wouldn’t be there in “a while.” It wouldn’t do to dwell on her uncertain future.
“You mean to tell me you’ve never run into this problem at the other restaurants or inns you’ve worked in?”
His question caught her off guard. He was quiet underneath the sink awaiting her answer. She knew Miles hoped to trap her into giving up information about herself, but she was wise to his tactics.
“What makes you think I’ve done this kind of work before?”
Miles snorted. “A person doesn’t have to be a Rhodes Scholar to deduce you’ve had some sort of culinary training. Maybe in the military?” He slid out from under the sink.
Lori laughed. “Why the military?”
“This place has never been cleaner.” Miles glanced down at the stains dotting his T-shirt. “Present company excluded, that is.”
He got to his feet before reaching behind his neck, tugging the T-shirt over his head, and balling it up to wipe his hands. The sight of his bare chest made Lori light-headed. Get out, you fool, her brain screamed, but her feet were glued to the floor. He must have heard her sharp intake of breath—how could he have not?—because he stilled in the act of tossing his shirt toward the laundry room. She licked her
lips and his eyes locked on to them like a laser missile honing in on its target.
Her hips bumped up against the counter when she took a step back. Miles followed, pinning her there by placing his hands on the countertop, one on each side of her. Keeping her eyes off his face wasn’t helping the situation; her lips ached to cover the pulse beating wildly at the base of his neck.
His own lips hovered near her ear. “Tell me your secret, Lori. Tell me something about you that will make me not want you so damn much.” His raspy words both shocked and aroused her. The knowledge that she had power over him was thrilling and frightening at the same time. She was wet and wanting and she very nearly did as he asked.
But if she admitted her sins to Miles McAlister, he definitely wouldn’t want her. Ever. And that would hurt worse than going to bed unfulfilled.
Lori shook her head, causing Miles to swear violently. He yanked his hands off the counter and turned toward the bay window behind the sink. “Go to bed. Now, Lori. Go, before we break the only rule we’ve been able to agree on.”
She stared at his broad back for a moment before quietly making her way upstairs.
EIGHT
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes! It’s no use. I’ll never be able to do this the way you do, Lori.”
Lori looked up from the bread she was kneading to see Ginger wadding up a fitted sheet in her hands.
“How do you make this look so easy?” Ginger asked while Cassidy laughed in the background.
I’ve had years of experience.
Lori didn’t bother admitting that out loud, though. It wouldn’t do for either of them to know she’d grown up in a B and B just like this one. She felt that familiar pang of regret she always did when thinking about the way she’d abandoned her mom and stepdad. But Lori had had bigger dreams back then, and they didn’t include cooking in the restaurant of a small inn in Oregon. It didn’t matter that her mother’s dining room had a two-star Michelin rating; Lori wanted her own kitchen. She’d practically had to sell her soul to the devil to get one. Too bad the devil in this case was her own father. Wiping her hands on a towel, she took the sheet from Ginger’s fingers.
“For one who’s so light on her feet, you’d think she’d be more graceful with her hands,” Cassidy teased.
A ballerina by training, Ginger no longer danced professionally because of an ailing Achilles tendon. She’d been working as the makeup artist for the television show Historical Restorations, which Gavin had teamed up with to restore Dresden House this spring. The show—and the eventual sale of Dresden House—had been Gavin’s plan to salvage Donald McAlister’s reputation by paying off his debt. Things hadn’t worked out exactly as Gavin planned, but Lori was glad Ginger had stuck around. She was pretty sure that Gavin was, too. Ginger was a great partner for Gavin. She was not, however, great at folding fitted sheets.
“Fold it once lengthwise.” Lori demonstrated while Ginger looked on. The pretty blonde pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she watched. “Then tuck one corner into the other. Do the same at the other end and then fold it in half once and then again and”—Lori held the folded square for Ginger to see—“you have a folded fitted sheet.”
Ginger let out a resigned sigh. “My arms are longer than yours and I still can’t do it like that.”
“You’re always welcome to practice.” Lori winked at Ginger. “I do at least one load a day.”
“Here, do it again, Lori.” Cassidy pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll video it and Ginger can watch it until she gets it right. Oooh, we can even put it up on the inn’s website. I’ll bet it would get a lot of hits. That would be great publicity.”
Lori shoved the folded sheet back at Ginger and turned her back to Cassidy’s beeping cell phone camera.
“Turn that off, Cassidy. You know Lori is camera shy.”
Ginger had never said anything, but Lori was pretty sure her friend knew at least part of her secret. Diesel Gold, the producer of Historical Restorations, and Ginger’s best friend, had arranged for Lori’s job in Chances Inlet. Diesel and Lori had lived in the same apartment building in New York. Both had traveled in the same social circles and he’d been a frequent visitor to her restaurant. Lori trusted Diesel with her life. She didn’t think that trust was misplaced with Ginger, either.
“Besides, I’m sure there’s already a video like that on YouTube anyway, Cass.” Ginger gave Lori a reassuring smile before she picked up another sheet from the laundry basket.
“Isn’t this a homey scene,” Coy said, entering the kitchen through the screen door. “Maybe we should get Greer to film a spot with Miles here in the kitchen. I’m sure he could pull off domestic god.” Placing his tablet on the island, he grabbed a leftover muffin and peeled off the wrapper. “Ginger, Miles says he doesn’t need any makeup but you know what a television camera can do. Can you maybe work your magic on him?”
“Great, she gets to get out of folding laundry, but I don’t get to help at all.” Cassidy had been sulking all morning when Coy rebuffed her offer to help with some of the campaign spots.
Coy let out a beleaguered sigh. “You can grab a couple of bottles of water for Greer and her crew if you really want to help, Cassidy.”
Cassidy didn’t even bother looking up from where she sat at the oval table in the corner of the kitchen furiously typing on her laptop. “I’m pretty sure that falls under your job description.”
Lori exchanged an amused glance with Ginger, who grabbed some bottles of water out of the small cooler by the back door and took them outside with her.
“Lunch is being delivered from town, but if you have some of those awesome cupcakes to spare, I know Greer and her crew would appreciate it,” Coy said with a shy smile.
“Greer, Greer, Greer!” Cassidy snapped her laptop closed, tucking it under her arm as she stood. “You’d think she was the queen or something. I’m going to check on Mrs. Mac.”
Coy chuckled as Cassidy stomped out of the room. “She reminds me of my little sister.”
“Yeah, but let’s not mention that to her, okay?” Lori was pretty sure the teenager had a huge crush on Miles’ campaign manager. “I’ll put together a dessert tray for you. Is there anything else you need?” While Coy was easygoing and pleasant to have around, he was also observant and savvy. She didn’t need him initiating a game of twenty questions.
“Greer mentioned that she may stay the night. Miles said you have two rooms open and to check with you which one you want her assigned to.”
It figured Miles would send his minion rather than speak with her directly. Since their late-night encounter more than a week ago, he’d buried himself in his campaign, limiting his duties at the B and B to checking the guests in and out. He made his rounds of the breakfast room each morning after grabbing a quick meal with his mother. But other than that, the only sightings of him were through the kitchen window when he was coming and going from his early morning workouts. Miles even changed his own towels and sheets—a fact Lori was insanely grateful for because there was no telling what she’d do when faced with the bed he’d slept in. She couldn’t complain about the situation really. It was for the best, especially since both of them had trouble keeping their hands off each other.
“I’ll get the Aberdeen Suite ready for her as soon as I finish with the bread.”
Patricia had named all the rooms in the inn after cities and towns in Scotland. Decorated in the rich red, black, and yellow colors of the Aberdeen tartan, the suite featured a view of the Atlantic and an antique claw-foot tub. Best of all, it was on the opposite end of the B and B from Miles’ room.
Greer Rossi, with her chic wardrobe, her glossy long brown hair, and her even longer legs, had arrived at the inn earlier that morning complete with a worshipful camera crew in tow. From her vantage point within the butler’s pantry, Lori watched the affectionate greeting—complete with an intimate smile—the governor’
s daughter had bestowed on Miles. The image consultant was barely able to keep her hands to herself throughout their breakfast for two, never missing an opportunity to touch Miles possessively. For his part, Miles seemed unfazed by Greer’s excessive pawing. In fact, Lori hadn’t seen Miles so relaxed and carefree in the months she’d known him. The thought made her stomach clench. She told herself that her jealousy wasn’t fanned by Greer’s familiarity with Miles but rather that Greer was everything Lori used to be and never would be again.
Ginger came back into the kitchen, Midas at her heels. “Greer talked Miles into some powder. Can I borrow a dish towel, Lori? I don’t want to get anything on his shirt. Bernice would probably kill me.”
Coy threw the muffin liner into the trash before grabbing a bottle of water out of the cooler. “I figured Greer would convince him. She’s a sweet talker.”
Sweet talker, my ass. Lori gave the loaf of bread one last whack before tossing it into the bread pan.
“She is that,” Ginger said. “They seem to complement each other.”
“They would be the perfect couple.” Coy’s voice was filled with reverence. “A match made in political heaven. Just having her on his arm could gain us five percentage points. Voters like a candidate who’s settled and happy. And the male voters would definitely appreciate Greer.”
“I seriously doubt Miles is that shallow.” Ginger pulled a towel out of the drawer. “If there is something between them, I certainly hope it’s not based on blind ambition.”
Coy laughed. “There’s no room for romance when it comes to politics, Ginger.”
Ginger made a face behind Coy’s back before they both headed out to the veranda, leaving Lori alone in the kitchen with the dog. Was there actually something between Miles and Greer? Coy was correct; the two were a perfect match. A woman like Greer Rossi would certainly enhance Miles’ career. A woman like Lori would only destroy it.
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