but…“I’m trying. I’m sure as hell trying.” She cocked her head to the left to look at the island as it came into view and felt a searing pain in her neck. She groaned.
Ethan cursed softly. “You can hardly turn your head.”
“I’m fine. Nothing that a hot shower and a massage won’t cure.”
He touched her shoulder. “You know, I’d offer to help you with both of those forms of physical therapy, but—”
“But you pretty much hate me right now,” she answered, trying to ignore the heat from his hand.
“Nope, that logic doesn’t matter so much for a guy.”
She tried to look shocked, but laughter quickly bubbled in her throat. “Okay, so what is it, then? You can’t help me take a shower because I can’t stand you?”
He considered this for about two seconds. “Ah…no. A guy can get past that sad fact, too.”
She laughed again.
His voice lowered to a sexy timbre. “And you don’t hate me, Mary.”
His arrogance and unflinching confidence could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially when his assumptions were right on target. “Well, so what is it, then? Don’t tell me you won’t assist my shower time out of some misplaced sense of duty.”
“No.” He faced the coming island and looked pensive. “I’m just afraid it might make me happy, and as I said, I’m not looking for that.”
The Birches was an authentic 1890s Queen Anne Victorian, and when Mary first stepped inside the entryway, she thought she’d fallen asleep and woken up in a dream—or at the very least a movie. The nine-bedroom, six-bath original Victorian had beautifully restored hardwood floors, luscious paneled ceilings, three fireplaces, extensive property, and from the wraparound porch, a panoramic view of the Straits of Mackinac, Round Island, Mackinac Bridge and the Grand Hotel.
She couldn’t even imagine how much it cost to rent such a place. Harold, the real estate agent Ethan had used for their trip, gestured gleefully around himself. “Here we are, Mr. Curtis. Beautiful home, isn’t it.”
“Nice,” Ethan said unenthusiastically as he checked his Blackberry.
Poor Harold looked so dejected that Mary felt compelled to offer up her best smile. “Well, I think it’s lovely.”
He gave her a grateful look. “It was rumored that Rudolph Valentino and Nita Naldi stayed here at one time.”
“Really?”
“Right after Blood and Sand.”
“Wasn’t Valentino married?”
Harold nodded and said conspiratorially, “To two women, actually. He hadn’t yet divorced the other.”
“I hate silent films,” Ethan muttered, checking his e-mail.
Mary rolled her eyes at Harold. “So, where am I staying?”
Before Harold could even open his mouth, Ethan jumped in with, “I arranged for you to have the house next door.”
“What?” Mary looked from Ethan to Harold and back again. “A whole house? Come on, Curtis. I thought I’d just get a hotel room close by.”
Harold cleared his throat, his neck growing as red as a ripe tomato as he tried to make eye contact with Ethan. “Actually, sir, we had an emergency, and the family staying there had to remain on. But,” he said, brightening, “we have a lovely suite for Ms. Kelley across town at the Mackinac Inn.”
“That will be fine,” Mary said pleasantly, but she could feel Ethan already shaking his head.
“No, it won’t,” he informed her. “We have work to do, and you need to be here. Across town…” he said in a tone that sounded as though she were going to stay somewhere in Paris. “You can’t even get anywhere around here without a horse or a bicycle. It’ll take forever.”
“Sir,” Harold attempted deferentially. “I assure you that on an island so small, transportation is quick and very easy to—”
Ethan ignored him, his gaze hard and fixated on Mary. “You’ll stay with me.”
She was getting awfully tired of Ethan Curtis’s demands. “No way.”
“This house is large enough for ten people,” he said.
“Again. No way.”
He scowled. “You’re acting like a child.”
“I’m acting like a professional. Forget for a moment how it looks and feels to me, but how would it look to your clients if the woman you hired is also staying in the home you rented?”
He shrugged. “Practical.”
“No.” She lowered her voice as Harold pretended to inspect a wall sconce. “Like she’s also being hired for another purpose.”
They stared at each other, a haze of lust blanketing Ethan’s expression. Mary felt helpless, weak for a moment as a quick shiver shot through her. She tried to control the sudden pounding of her heart, until finally the look on Ethan’s face dissolved.
“You’re being paranoid,” he said roughly. “This is business. I’ll have offices here and so will you. You can take the entire second floor and I’ll remain down here. Barring business, we never have to see each other.”
Mary sighed. She didn’t want to argue the point anymore, and poor, miserable Harold had all but tried to crawl up inside the wall sconce and disappear. She would figure out her situation on her own. “All right, Harold. Can you show me upstairs?”
The man released a weary breath and started up the stairs. “There are some beautiful rooms to choose from and incredible views of the water.”
Before she followed him, Ethan put his hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you get that shower. You’re still walking like a robot.” Then he leaned in, whispered in her ear, “And if you need any help…”
Yes, she’d have to find another arrangement as soon as possible. Just the warmth of Ethan’s hand made her want to curl into him, nuzzle his neck and remove his shirt, but she detached herself anyway, and followed the agent up the stairs. “Hey, Harold, how old is this house did you say?”
“It was built in 1891, but everything’s been updated for your convenience.”
“Like the plumbing?”
“Of course.”
“And locks on the doors?”
“Every one of them, miss.”
She heard Ethan chuckle below, and the sound shot to every nerve, every muscle, every spot that ached for his touch.
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