him hike it all the way down to his water dish, dunk it carefully a few times, then scoot down the rung to the middle of his cage and quietly enjoy his soggy feast. She changed his paper from the sliding tray beneath the cage, dumped it in the trash, then turned around and put her hands on her hips. The dogs had all but shadowed her every step since she’d come in the kitchen and were right behind her, looking at her expectantly. “I’m guessing you guys want to come with me.”
Martha enthusiastically bumped her head into Emma’s stomach, while Jack wriggled around her ankles, his tail slapping back and forth. “Well, we need to find out where we’re bunking in first.” She really wished she’d done that first upon arriving, but it was too late to worry about that now.
Cicero was done with his snack, so she said her good nights and covered him up, heard him fluff his feathers out, and relaxed a little. One down, anyway. She walked back over to the counter. “Any luck?”
“No,” Trevor said, his head buried in one of the lower cupboards. “Mind sticking around here for a few minutes and letting me use the flashlight to finish looking in the cupboards and pantry? One candle and I’m good.”
“Go right ahead.” She handed him the flashlight and watched him as he turned his back on her and began systematically going through drawers and cupboards. This left her time to wonder how she’d ended up stuck in a house with a man who did things to her libido that should be illegal, when she was supposed to be stuck only with a couple of dogs and an unruly parrot. Why her? She scooted onto a stool, sighed, and propped her elbows on the counter.
“That was a particularly plaintive sigh. Am I keeping you from something?”
She hadn’t realized she’d made a sound, but she really couldn’t be faulted for it. Didn’t he know how ridiculously attractive he was? Didn’t he know that when he bent over like that to look through the lower cupboards, his jeans cupped a rear end so fine it was male model worthy? Didn’t he know that she’d spent the last seven months building her business, leaving her no time for men of any kind? Much less the kind with magazine-cover asses? “No,” she finally managed, when she realized she hadn’t answered him. Because she was staring. Again.
“Not finding much,” he said, and straightened. “Why don’t I lead you to your room, get you settled and see if maybe there are any candles in there so you can have some lighting, then borrow this”—he waved the flashlight around—“and dig around a little more.”
Oh, great. Trevor Hamilton was going to be in her bedroom after all. While she was in it. That’s what she needed. Well, that was exactly what she needed, or wanted anyway, but she doubted he’d be on board with the suggestion, especially as he’d so quickly shot down her earlier assumption that he’d been looking for temporary companionship. “Sure.” She slid off the stool, slapped her thigh so the dogs fell in beside her, hefted her nylon bag and reached for her other duffel.
“I’ll get these.”
She didn’t bother arguing. With her luck she’d swing around a corner and take out some eighth-century figurine or something. Better if he was the one who took that risk. At least he was family.
“Where are we headed?” he asked, hovering at the entrance to the front hallway.
“I haven’t a clue. I looked at the map earlier, but—” She stopped short of telling him she’d gone off exploring in the opposite direction. She didn’t need him reporting to Lionel that his sitter had been snooping. “I think I got turned around.”
He slid one bag to the floor. “Here, let me look at the map.” He held out his hand for her notebook.
She hesitated.
He smiled. “Trust me, I’m not interested in Lionel’s dog-sitting mandates and endless house rules.”
What are you interested in? She shoved the book in his hand, thankful she’d managed not to say that out loud. In her head it had sounded sexily suggestive. Best she’d left it right there.
“Good God,” Trevor murmured, juggling the book and the flashlight.
“You’re skimming.”
“Is there an index to this thing? How long are you staying, anyway?”
“Twelve days. And the section on my accommodations is in the front.”
“Ah. Says here you can choose any room in the upper east wing.” He looked up. “You were in the west wing when I found you.”
She shrugged casually. Or so she hoped. “I’m better with left and right than east and west.”
He eyed her for a moment longer, then flipped the book shut and handed it to her. “Follow me.”
As they left the kitchen for the front hall, the air got noticeably cooler.
“Uh-oh.”
“What, uh-oh?” Emma said.
“No heat.” He started trudging up the main staircase. The dogs wove their way between them, with Martha quickly out in front, and Jack trying his best to kill them both by sending them falling backward as he nudged through their feet.
When Trevor got to the main landing of the second floor, he said, “Change of plans. Follow me.”
“What change of plans? Wait a minute.” But she had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“We can look for the generator switch and whatever else we need in the morning when we have daylight. And, hopefully, some sun to go with it. But for tonight, we can huddle in here.” He paused in front of a pair of double doors and swung them open. “Follow me.”
Emma stuck her head inside the door. As Trevor moved inside, the small beam of yellow light illuminated enough furniture to show that it was a sitting room or parlor of some kind. A rather large one.
“Aha,” he said, flashing his beam across the room to highlight the detailed filigree in the masonry surrounding a huge fireplace. Another flick of his wrist showed the wood stacked next to it. “That’ll do. For the night anyway.”
“Wait a minute. You’re proposing we both stay…in here? Together?”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Conserve heat. There are a few bedrooms with fireplaces, but not in your designated wing. Of course, we could break Lionel’s rule book and go find one with—”
Just the brief visual of her and Trevor stumbling together through the dark house, looking for a bedroom with a fireplace—where they would both, presumably, stay for the night—was enough to make up her mind. “Here is fine.”
She walked in with Jack on her heels. Martha obviously knew the room as she trotted right over to the long curtains covering one of the windows and nosed it aside. Not even a glimmer of moonlight trickled in. Once Emma’s racing heartbeat subsided a little, she realized she could hear the steady tapping of ice hitting the windowpanes. Great.
She heard the scrape of a match on flint, and minutes later the room was filled with a warm yellow glow as Trevor nursed a fire to life in the fireplace.
Emma slid her satchels to the floor and watched him as he alternately blew on the embers and added more wood. Was there anything sexier
