sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I didn’t mean to—” He shook his head and went around the car to open her door. First opportunity he got, he was going to fire Tom Snyder’s ass. The guy had been such a jerk to the poor girl; she thought she had to apologize for getting sick.
She’d already opened her door and swung her legs out of the car by the time he got there. He stopped and stared at her shapely calves and slim ankles. She was short but all legs. Great legs.
Fortunately she was too busy trying to hold her stomach and lift herself out of the car to notice him staring. His reaction disgusted him. He had no business wondering what the rest of her looked like under that big coat. None whatsoever.
“Here.” He offered her a hand.
“I’m okay, but if you’d get my bag I’d appreciate it.” Her gaze warily slid up the stairs going to the kitchen door.
Hell, he’d forgotten about that. The garage had been built under the house and his mother sometimes complained the stairs were too steep.
He stood aside while she got out by herself but as they approached the stairs he took her elbow.
She didn’t protest, but simply held the railing with one hand and her tummy with the other. He hoped she was right, and that her queasiness was a result of carsickness. That would pass within an hour.
“I’m really not such a wimp, you know,” she said, a little breathless, as she looked over at him.
Her eyes were the clearest blue he’d ever seen and her skin was nearly flawless. Her face was still pale but some rest and a good meal would probably take care of that.
“Not for a moment have I thought of you as a wimp. Watch your step.”
“Oops.” She faltered, but he tightened his hold on her elbow and she leaned into him.
A subtle fragrance drifted up from her hair. Jasmine. Or maybe gardenia. He inhaled deeply. Definitely jasmine. “Okay?”
She nodded and straightened. “My coat’s too big. I almost tripped on the hem.” She looked up at him, her eyes so innocent and blue and something stirred inside him.
“We’ll have to do something about that,” he murmured, thrown off balance by the sudden urge he had to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way up the stairs.
“David?”
At his mother’s voice, he looked up at the top of the stairs. She stood at the open door, a perplexed look on her face as her gaze slid between him and Beth.
He quelled the asinine impulse to release Beth. But they’d done nothing wrong. “Hi, Mother, I hope I’m not keeping you awake.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled at Beth, and then stepped back to hold the door open for them. “He didn’t worry about keeping me awake forty years ago,” she said, winking at Beth. “The little monster kept me in labor for thirty-two hours.”
Beth darted a surprised look at him.
He glared at his mother. He wasn’t forty yet.
“Mother, this is Beth—” He stopped when he realized he had no idea what Beth’s last name was.
“Anderson.”
“I’m Maude.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as the women took over. Or more accurately, his mother had taken charge. She ushered Beth through the laundry room to the kitchen, sat her down and got her a glass of water. Ida was already in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. It smelled like her homemade chicken soup. David hadn’t had any in ages.
“Be a love and put Beth’s bag in the blue guest room,” his mother said, “and then come back down and have something to eat.”
She gave him only a brief glance and then all her attention went back to Beth who looked a bit overwhelmed. David didn’t bother telling her he’d had a late lunch and would have a snack later while he worked in his den. He seldom got home early enough to eat dinner at home. Anyway, she was already busy tending to Beth, looking more animated than he’d seen her in a long time.
He carried the bag to the first floor guest room, and then went to his own room upstairs to get out of his suit. At least two hours of work waited for him in his briefcase and…
His briefcase—he’d left it in the car.
Dammit.
He shrugged out of his coat, loosened and pulled off his tie, got rid of the gold cuff links. He hated the possibility of going through the kitchen and getting waylaid. Bad enough he’d lost an hour already, but he had no choice. He needed the briefs and his day planner.
David swore. He’d left his day planner on his desk again. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his socks. God, he hated being thrown off his routine.
“NOW, BETH, anything you need, you feel free to ask.” Mrs. Matthews set the cup of tea beside the glass of water she’d already filled twice, and Beth wanted to cry. “In fact, if you see it, don’t ask, help yourself.”
“You’re being so kind,” Beth murmured, overwhelmed with gratitude for the unexpected thoughtfulness these strangers showed her. “Please don’t make a big fuss. I’m fine.”
“Nonsense. We’re not fussing. Are we, Ida?”
The housekeeper gave a dismissive snort as she ladled rich yellow broth into a bowl. Her round face had been wreathed in a welcoming smile from the minute Beth laid eyes on her. She was probably the same age as Mrs. Matthews, early sixties, Beth guessed. But as slim and tall as Mrs. Matthews was, Ida was short and plump. They made quite a pair in their contrasting red silk and gray chenille robes.
“It’s been too long since David has brought a friend home,” Mrs. Matthews put a carafe of coffee on the table, and then brought out cups. Not mugs, but real china cups and saucers.
“I’m not exactly a friend,” Beth muttered, not sure what David had told them.
“Well, we’re delighted to have you. Would you rather eat in the dining room?”
“This is fine.” Beth watched Ida root through the refrigerator. “Please don’t go to any more trouble.”
She brought out what looked like a lemon meringue pie. Only one small piece was missing. “Trouble?” Ida grunted. “About time there’s someone around here to eat my pastries. Those two take one little nibble and start worrying about their arteries.”
Mrs. Matthews sighed and threw Ida a long-suffering look. “You put a pound of butter in everything you bake.”
“Neither of my parents knew what an artery was and they both lived until ninety-six.” Ida sniffed. “Mind you, they ate plenty of butter and cheese, too.”
Beth laughed. The two women obviously shared a friendship beyond the employer-employee relationship.
Mrs. Matthews laughed, too. “Don’t mind us. Ida and I go back more years than
