“Expectations,” he said. “I need quiet to work. But I suppose I do need a housekeeper, too. What we need to do is work out a timetable that’s acceptable to both of us.”
“Seems reasonable,” she mused and walked to the cooking island.
His gaze followed her. “You made bread?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing special. Just quick bread. I mean, I didn’t have time to let yeast rise and everything, but this is good, trust me.”
He studied her as she moved comfortably around the big room. She’d baked bread and if he wasn’t mistaken that was homemade soup on the stove. She’d been in the house for two hours and somehow she’d already taken over. How was it possible? And was it that important, his mind taunted as he savored the scents filling the brightly lit kitchen.
Wouldn’t hurt, he told himself, to eat what she’d prepared. Then they’d talk about this and find a way for her to be here while not bothering him. He wasn’t a damn hermit, he told himself. He was a busy man with no time for interruptions. There was a difference. He preferred order to chaos, that was all.
There were rules that Tanner lived by. Simple. Uncomplicated. He kept to himself. He trusted his brothers and cousins. And most importantly, he avoided relationships that lasted more than a week or two. When he wanted a woman, he went out and found someone looking for nothing more than he was—a couple of weeks of pleasure and a quick goodbye.
Ivy Holloway was definitely not that kind of woman.
So there was no reason for him to allow her to stay, was there?
Three
“Well,” she asked. “You hungry?”
“Yeah,” he said, tearing his gaze from her pale blue eyes. “I am.”
“I’ll join you if that’s okay,” she said, motioning for him to take a seat at the pedestal table set into the curve of the bay window. “I didn’t have a chance to eat before I left home.”
“Where is home?”
There was a long pause before she said, “Um, here. Cabot Valley.” She filled the bowls at the stove, then carried them to the table.
The scent of the soup wafted up to him and Tanner breathed deep, reaching for his napkin and soupspoon. “I guessed that much,” he said dryly. “I meant, do you live close by?”
“Sure.” She slipped a bread knife from a drawer and cut two thick slices of fresh bread. Lightly buttering them, she carried them to the table and offered him one. Then she sat down opposite him and added, “You know what they say. In a small town, nothing’s far from anything.”
He frowned at her evasion, but let it go. Frankly, his stomach was demanding more attention at the moment, so he gave in and sampled her soup. Good. Very good. He’d eaten half the bowl before he knew what was happening and then glanced up to see her smiling at him.
“What’s so funny?”
“Not funny,” she told him. “Is it so wrong for a cook to enjoy watching someone appreciate what she made?”
“No,” he said with a shrug. “I suppose not. And the bread’s good, too, but you do know you can buy this stuff now. Packaged and sliced.”
She frowned at him. “And is it as good as this bread?”
“No, but it’s easier.”
“Easier isn’t always better.”
“Actually, I agree with you on that,” he admitted, looking into her eyes. She was more, he reminded himself, than just a gorgeous woman with a body to make a grown man weep. Which, as he’d already warned himself, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Smart, sexy women could bring an unwary man down faster than anything else.
“Look at that,” she told him. “We’re practically friends already!”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, finishing his soup. Before he could get up to refill his bowl, she was already standing and walking to the stove.
“You don’t have to wait on me,” he said.
“Trust me,” she answered. “If I had to, I probably wouldn’t. But consider it part of my job, okay? Housekeepers generally take care of more than the house, don’t they? I mean,” she continued as she carried the bowl back and set it down in front of him. “I’ve never been a housekeeper before, but seems to me that the job also includes taking care of the house owner.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need taking care of, thanks. Been doing just fine on my own most of my life.”
“No family then?”
“Why would you say that?”
She pulled off a piece of her bread and popped it into her mouth. “Just that, if you’ve got family, you’re not really on your own, are you?”
“That would depend on the family, wouldn’t it?”
“Good point.” She sat back in her chair and studied him until Tanner frowned. “What?”
“Nothing, just wondering about why you don’t like your family.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Sure you did.”
“Are you always this direct?” He set his spoon down and leaned back in his chair. Folding his arms across his chest, he assumed an instinctive defensive posture.
“I try to be,” she said. “No point in playing games, is there? Then you never get to know people because everyone’s too busy pretending to be something they’re not. Easier all the way around to be up front and…”
Her voice trailed off and Tanner said, “Well don’t stop now, you’re on a roll.”
Ivy shook her head. “Never mind.”
Uncomfortable now, because she was playing a game that she wished she weren’t, Ivy changed the subject. Leaning her forearms on the table she said, “Why don’t we talk about the job instead. What you want. What you don’t want. Then we’ll work from there.”
“Okay.” He nodded, thought for a moment and said, “What I want is quiet. Something that seems to be damned hard to come by around here.”
She stiffened a little, stung and unable to show it. “I don’t know,” she said offhandedly, “Cabot Valley’s really a very quiet place.”
“Maybe the town is, but Christmas central here is a different story.”
“You have something against Christmas?”
“In August, yeah.”
She bit her tongue to keep the sharp retort she wanted to give him locked inside. Instead, she only said, “A year-round Christmas spirit seems like a good idea to me. People are always friendlier during the season. Kinder, somehow.”