I’d prefer cash. If that’s all right.” She stood and brushed her hands down her shirt, then moved to the fireplace, studying the framed photos that sat on the plain mantel. “I’m not trying to avoid taxes or anything,” she assured. “I just don’t have a bank account.”
“Don’t trust bankers?”
She plucked one photo off the mantel. Her shoulder lifted casually. “What can I say? I’m strictly a money-in-the-mattress kind of girl.”
Right. It was no skin off his nose how she preferred to be paid. “Cash it is, then. I’ll have Carmel take care of it in the morning. I’ll be gone all day tomorrow, so if you need anything you can call her at the office. She can track me down, though I doubt there’s anything you’ll need me for, anyway. I’ll make sure to leave the numbers for you.”
She smiled at him, but it was quick and nervous. Then she changed the subject. “This is a nice photograph of the falls.”
Apparently, she still wasn’t too anxious to take over his bed. He looked at the framed photo in her hand. “Is it? They all came with the place.” He certainly made no claim to the pictures. Not the ones on the mantel or those hanging on the walls. The house had come furnished, right down to the ugly pink vases with the faded silk flower bouquets that bracketed the mantel.
“Georgie once mentioned that there is a legend surrounding the waterfall, but she didn’t tell me what it was. Do you know?”
He knew. He just didn’t believe. “That when two people discover love while looking at the falls, they’ll have that love for a lifetime and beyond. Bull, if you ask me.”
She nibbled her lip and set down the photo. “Did you, um, get all this stuff from your sister’s house, too? Along with the cribs?” She touched her hand to a wind-up swing and set it in motion. “It’s amazing how much stuff you need for children.”
He nodded. The room was littered with enough baby equipment and toys to stock a children’s boutique. “It would have been easier to move into Elise’s place, but apparently Caldwell owns it. He’s already put it on the market. Carmel managed to get this stuff out of the house before he sold all of it, too.” Or moved it to his stone mansion on the hill in preparation for the grandchildren he was probably certain he’d be able to take away from Garrett.
Darby latched on to yet another topic. Almost desperately. “Your secretary seems very nice.”
“Assistant. And she is nice. Worth twice her pay, but don’t tell her I said that.”
“Does she have children?”
“No.”
“Mmm.” Finally Darby seemed to run out of questions to ask, inane topics to broach. “Well. I guess I’ll go to…go on up. Stairs. Now.”
He stood and pretended that he didn’t see her nearly jump out of her cute white tennis shoes. “I’ll take your bag up for you.” It was still where she’d left it in the kitchen.
“No!” She darted in front of him and snatched up the long strap, practically yanking it out of his hand. “Don’t be silly. It’s not heavy.”
He looked down at her. “You’re an intriguing mixture, Darby White,” he murmured. A natural with the children. A woman with a voluptuous voice that sent shivers down his back.
“There’s nothing intriguing about me.” She slid past him. “I’m just a…regular woman. Nothing special.” Her voice whispered down the stairs as she lightly ran up. “Good night.”
Garrett slowly reached out and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He heard the soft thump of a door closing. Even though the house was silent, he knew it wasn’t empty. It was an odd feeling.
Whether it was the presence of children he’d chosen to take responsibility for, or the presence of a woman who seemed panicked at the idea of spending the night under the same roof as a man, Garrett couldn’t say.
The longer he thought about it, the more he was certain he was better off not knowing the answer.
Finally he went into the den. But instead of pulling out the sofa bed, he sat down at the desk and the pile of work waiting for him. He’d returned to Fisher Falls for one specific purpose.
Taking in his sister’s children hadn’t changed that in the least.
Chapter Five
Intriguing. The word kept hovering in Darby’s mind. Annoying her.
She shook out a miniature-size T-shirt, folded it in two and added it to the growing stack on the kitchen table. Between three nine-month-olds and Reid and Regan, Darby had lost count of how many loads of wash she’d done in the past few days.
She didn’t mind, though. Doing laundry was something that an “ordinary” woman would take care of. Cutting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into cute triangles and strips was something an “ordinary” woman would do. An “intriguing” woman would not do those things.
Darby certainly hadn’t done any of those things. Not even the last time she’d gotten entangled with a man and his winsome children. Bryan had had a host of servants and—
She pushed away the thought as she heard the distinctive jingle of keys in the front door. She finished folding the last shirt and stowed the laundry basket in the small laundry room and came out just as Garrett walked into the kitchen.
He dropped several long, cardboard tubes on the table. “Thought you’d be in bed by now.”
She picked up the stack of laundry, catching one of the tubes as it began rolling off the table. Good evening to you, too, she thought. “I need to talk to you. You haven’t been around much.” Talk about an understatement. The man had practically vanished after the first evening Darby had arrived. He obviously worked killing hours, whether it was the weekend or not.
“I’m here now.”
Even though she’d spent hours, days, building up a nicely steaming need to resolve a few things with this man, the words she’d thought, rehearsed, planned, stuck in her throat. It was the jeans he was wearing, she decided. Jeans and a gray T-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders in an unsettling way. Up to now she’d only seen him wearing dress shirts, loosened ties and well-cut dark suits.
“You want me to guess what’s on your mind?” Garrett asked after a moment. “Kids doing okay?”
She nodded. He hadn’t shaved, either, she noticed. And he had a dingy piece of gauze bandage wrapped around one of his fingers.
“Nobody sick?”
“No.” Her hands curled at her side. So what if he looked big and tough and tired and had a bandage that was positively raggedy? She’d never seen the appeal in whisker-bristled men, and he was certainly big enough to get himself a clean bandage for his banged finger.
“Well, actually, Tad’s been running a bit of a temp,” she admitted. “He’s cutting another tooth. They’re all asleep, now. I hope you don’t mind, but I took them with me earlier today to visit Georgie.”
“How’s
