One
“Hi, I’m your new housekeeper.”
Tanner King looked the woman up and down, then once more, taking in her lush curves, heart shaped face and full lips. Late twenties, he guessed, she had long, blond hair tumbling around the shoulders of her yellow T-shirt and her faded jeans hugged her short, shapely legs like plastic wrap on a new CD. Her pale blue eyes sparkled and when she smiled, a dimple winked in her left cheek.
His body stirred and he shook his head, both at her and at the completely physical response the woman engendered. “No, you’re not.”
“What?” She laughed and the sound of it rolled up and over him, sending blasts of heat through his body so fast, Tanner thought it had been way too long since he’d been with a woman.
He shook his head and said, “You’re no housekeeper.”
One of her blond eyebrows lifted. “And you know this because…”
“You’re not old enough, for one.”
“Well,” she said, “as nice as that is, I can assure you I am old enough to clean a house. So who were you expecting? Mrs. Doubtfire?”
He instantly thought of that old comedy with the man dressed up like a fat old woman and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” She grinned at him and that single dimple of hers made another appearance.
Oh, she hadn’t disappointed. That was the problem. There was nothing about this woman that was disappointing. Except for the fact that there was no way he was going to be able to hire her. He really didn’t need the kind of distraction this woman so obviously was.
“Let’s start over,” she said, holding out her right hand. “My name’s Ivy Holloway and you’re Tanner King.”
It was a long second or two before he shook her hand and quickly let her go again. He didn’t much care for the buzz of something hot and sinful that had zipped up the length of his arm the moment he touched her. Which was proof enough to him that this was a bad idea.
Nothing had gone right since he had moved into what should have been a perfect house two months before. Why he was surprised at this latest setback, he couldn’t say.
Sunset was spilling over the valley, twilight shifting slowly to night and the woman’s soft, blond hair lifted with the cool breeze sliding off the mountain. She was watching him as if he were from Mars or something. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her.
This is what happened when a man with a penchant for privacy moved to a tiny town where everyone knew everything about everybody. He had no doubt that the town of Cabot Valley was curious about him. But he was in no hurry to satisfy that curiosity. He’d come here hoping to find some peace and quiet where he could work and be left the hell alone.
Of course, the peace and quiet thing had already disintegrated. He lifted his gaze to the borders of his property where acres of Christmas trees spread out as far as a man could see. It looked placid. Serene. And was anything but. Frustration simmered inside him briefly before he deliberately tamped it down again.
“Look,” he said, moving to block the doorway by slapping one palm on the doorjamb, “I’m sorry you had to come out here, but you’re not exactly what I was looking for. I’m happy to pay you for your time.”
In Tanner’s experience people—especially women—were always willing to be paid off. Former girlfriends received tasteful diamond bracelets and housekeepers who would clearly not work out could get a nice check. No harm. No foul.
“Why would you pay me when I haven’t worked yet?”
“Because this is not a good idea.”
“You don’t need a housekeeper?” she asked, folding her arms beneath her br**sts and at the same time lifting them high enough that he couldn’t ignore them—not that he had been. Her br**sts were round and full and the tops of them were just visible over the neckline of that T-shirt. Oh, he’d noticed.
“Of course I do.”
“And your lawyer hired me for the job. What’s the problem?”
The problem, he told himself, was that he hadn’t been specific enough when his best friend and lawyer, Mitchell Tyler had offered to hire him a housekeeper. It was Tanner’s own damn fault that he hadn’t told the man to make sure the woman he hired was old and quiet and well past tempting.
Tanner was already behind on work thanks to all the disruptions around here. He didn’t need yet another distraction right under his nose all the time.
And Ivy Holloway would definitely be a distraction.
While he was lost in his own thoughts, the woman ducked beneath his arm and scooted into the house before he could stop her. There was no way to get her out again without just picking her up and carrying her. It wouldn’t have been difficult. She was small enough that he could toss her over one shoulder and have her across the porch, down the steps and onto the lawn in a few seconds. But as if she knew just what he was considering, she walked further into the main room. Then she stopped and turned a slow circle, taking it all in.
“This place is amazing,” she whispered and he followed her gaze.
Dark wood and glass made up most of the house, affording him a glorious view of the very Christmas tree lot that had become the bane of his existence in the last two months. The main room of the house was massive, dotted with oversized couches and chairs, grouped together in conversation knots that were never used. The hearth was river stone and was tall enough for Tanner to stand up in. Three-foot high bookcases ringed the room like a chair rail and gleaming tables sat atop warm, honey-colored oak floors. It was everything he’d wanted his house to be. Would have been perfect if not for—
“People have been dying to get a look at this house,” she mused. “Ever since you bought the place and started your renovations, the town’s been fascinated.”
“I’m sure, but—”
“It’s understandable,” she added, throwing him a quick look. “After all, this place was empty for years before you bought it and it didn’t look anything like this.”
Oh, he knew that. Hadn’t he paid a fortune to the King construction crews to spend ten months doing what should have taken two years? He’d known exactly what he wanted, and had one of his cousins, an architect, draw up the plans. Tanner had been meticulous. He’d built this place to be his sanctuary. His corner of the world, safe and inviolate.
He snorted derisively at how quickly his plans had fallen apart.
“Where’s the kitchen?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts again.