the tension.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just used to looking after myself.” He smiled disarmingly. “My mother would flay me alive if I let a woman carry my things.”
Maggie wondered what his mother would say if she knew Maggie looked after running the business and all the repairs on the large house single-handedly. She was used to being on her own and doing everything from starting a business to repairing a roof to raising a daughter.
“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see.” Her words came out cooler than she wanted as she moved past him to the stairs.
“No, ma’am.” His steps echoed behind her as she started up the staircase.
When they reached the top, she paused. Perhaps because of his job he was naturally suspicious, but she was trying hard not to feel snubbed after his curt words in the foyer. It should have been implicitly understood that whatever was in his bags was his business. She’d never go through a guest’s belongings!
“The Mountain Haven Bed and Breakfast is exactly that.A haven.” She led him to a sturdy white door, opened it. “A place to get away from worries and stress. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”
He looked down into her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. It was like he was deliberately keeping it blank. She’d hoped her words would thaw his cool manner just a bit, but he only replied, “I appreciate your discretion.”
He went inside, putting his duffel on the floor and the backpack on the wing chair in the corner.
“Local calls are free, long distance go on your bill, unless of course you use a prepaid card.” Maggie dismissed the futility of trying to draw him out and gave him the basic rundown instead. “There’s no television in your room, but there is a den downstairs that you’re welcome to use.”
Maggie paused. Nate was waiting patiently for her to finish her spiel. It was very odd, with him being her only guest. Knowing he’d be the only guest for the next few weeks. It didn’t seem right, telling him mealtimes and rules.
She softened her expression. “Look, normally there’s a whole schedule thing with meals and everything, but you’re my only guest. I think we can be a little more flexible. I usually serve breakfast between eight and nine, so if that suits you, great. I can work around your plans. Dinner is served at six-thirty. For lunch, things are fluid. I can provide it or not, for a minimum charge on your overall bill. I’m happy to tell you about local areas of interest, and you have dial-up Internet access in your room.”
Nate tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m your only guest?”
“That’s right. It’s not my busiest time right now.”
“Then…” His eyes met hers sheepishly. “Look, I’m going to feel awkward eating alone. I don’t suppose…we could all eat together.”
Nate watched her closely and she felt color creep into her cheeks yet again. Silly Jennifer and her suggestive comments. The front side was as attractive as the back and Maggie couldn’t help but notice as they stood together in the quiet room. It wasn’t how things were usually done. Normally guests ate in the dining room and she ate at the nook or she and Jen at the kitchen table. Yet it would seem odd, serving him all alone in the dining room. It was antisocial, somehow.
She struggled to keep her voice low and even. “Basically your stay should be enjoyable. If you prefer to eat with us, that would be fine. And if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know.”
“Everything here looks great, Ms. Taylor.”
“Then I’ll leave you to unpack. The bathroom is two doors down, and as my only guest it’s yours alone. Jennifer and I each have our own so you won’t have to share. I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if there’s anything you need. Otherwise, I’ll see you for dinner.”
She courteously shut the door, then leaned against it, closing her eyes. Nate Griffith wasn’t an ordinary guest, that much she knew already. She couldn’t shake the irrational feeling that he was hiding something. He hadn’t said or done anything to really make her think so, beyond being proprietary with his backpack. But something niggled at the back of her mind, something that made her un comfortable. Given his profession, she should be reassured. Who could be safer than someone in law enforcement? Why would he have any sort of ulterior motive?
His good looks were something she’d simply have to ignore. She’d have to get over her silly awkwardness in a hurry, since they were going to be essentially roommates for the next few weeks. Jen wouldn’t be here to run interference much longer, and Maggie would rely on her normal professional, warm persona. Piece of cake.
He was just a man, after all. A man on vacation from a stressful job. A man with an expense account that would make up for her lost plans by helping pay for her next trip.
Nate heaved out a sigh as the door shut with a firm click. Thank goodness she was gone.
He looked around the room. Very nice. Grant had assured him that the rural location didn’t mean substandard lodging, and so far he was right. What he’d seen of the house was clean, warm and welcoming. His room was no different.
The furniture was all of sturdy golden pine; the spread on the bed was thick and looked homemade with its country design in navy, burgundy, deep green and cream. An extra blanket in rich red lay over the foot of the bed. He ran his hand over the footboard. He would have preferred no footboard, so he could stretch out. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here and he had all the amenities he needed. To anyone in the area, he’d be a vacationing guest. To his superiors, he’d be consistently connected through the Internet and in liaison with local authorities. Creature comforts were secondary, but not unwelcome. Lord knew he’d stayed in a lot worse places while on assignment.
He unpacked his duffel, laying clothing neatly in the empty dresser drawers. His hand paused on a black sweater. When Grant had mentioned a bed and breakfast, Nate had instantly thought of some middle-aged couple. When he’d learned Maggie ran Mountain Haven alone, he’d pictured a woman in her mid-to-late forties who crocheted afghans for the furniture and exchanged recipes for chicken pot pie with her guests. Maggie Taylor didn’t fit his profile at all. Neither did Jen. He’d known she was here, but she seemed precocious and typically teenage. Certainly not the kind to get in trouble with the police.
He rested his hips on the curved footboard and frowned. It was hard to discern Maggie’s age. Initially he’d thought her maybe a year or two older than himself. But the appearance of her nearly grown daughter had changed that impression. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she had to be at least late thirties to have a daughter that age. Yet…her skin was still creamy and unlined, her eyes blue and full-lashed. Her hand had been much smaller than his, and soft.
But it was Maggie’s eyes that stuck in his mind. Eyes that smiled warmly with welcome but that held a hint of cool caution in their depths. Eyes that told him whatever her path had been, it probably hadn’t been an easy one.
He stood up abruptly and reached for the jeans in his duffel, going to hang them in the closet. He wasn’t here to make calf-eyes at the proprietress. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. He had a job to do. That was all. He had information to gather and who better to ask than someone in the know, someone who would take his questions for tourist curiosity? Inviting himself to dinner had put her on the spot, but with the desired results.
The
