she’d ever seen.
“Yeah. We certainly don’t have stars like this in the city.” She swallowed, desperately trying to will away her attraction. He was a self-centered grouch, who had fired her. He was the last person she wanted to feel anything for. But she couldn’t deny that being this close to him, her whole body hummed. She told herself it was just plain foolish to be attracted to a man she didn’t even like. Yet, here she stood, her breathing erratic, her nerve endings on red alert.
“I’ll go back to my room.”
He snatched a huge green towel from a nearby chaise. “No, I’ll go. I’m done with my swim. In about ten seconds the patio will be all yours.”
A nervous laugh bubbled up from her. There was no way she’d force him to leave his own swimming pool. No way she’d give him another thing to complain about. “No. That’s okay. You stay. I only came out here to get a breath of fresh air.”
She watched his gaze move from her face, down her one-piece suit, pausing on the length of leg exposed beneath the high-cut bottom.
“If you only came out for fresh air, then why are you in a swimsuit?”
Her breathing, which had been erratic, stalled in her chest. His voice might have been strong, detached, but the look he’d given her had been long and slow. He’d taken in every square inch of her and lingered on the part of her that usually drew a man—her legs.
She swallowed.
Knowing she had to get herself out of this and quickly, she tried to fall back on humor. “All right. You caught me. I’m guilty as charged. I wanted a quick swim, but I didn’t realize you were using the pool or I wouldn’t have come out.”
He took a step closer. “I didn’t picture you as the one-piece suit type. I figured you more for a bikini girl.”
Another nervous laugh escaped her. Was it her imagination, or was he flirting with her? If he made a pass at her, she wasn’t sure if she would melt or faint.
Of course, she could be jumping to conclusions. One little comment didn’t necessarily mean he was flirting. He could actually be confused by her choice of swimwear.
“Why a bikini?”
“Don’t you surf?”
“No.”
“Hum. A California girl who doesn’t surf. Another myth debunked.”
Relief skittered through her. He wasn’t flirting but confused by her. She could breathe again. “You think all California girls surf?”
He caught her gaze, his pale eyes soft and serious in the moonlight. “Yes.”
Realization of how close they were slid over her. He was a very different man when he wasn’t yelling at her. In fact, from the way he was looking at her she’d never guess he had a problem with her at all.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, feeling reactions and emotions that were more instinctive than conscious. Her eyes desperately wanted to move down again, soak in the beauty and masculinity of his chest, and she struggled to keep them locked with his. Her nerve endings sparkled like the stars overhead.
He stepped back, his gaze still locked with hers. “You’d do well to remember that I’m a grouch and check to make sure the pool isn’t occupied the next time you want to swim.”
Embarrassment poured through her in a rush of heat. So much for him being a different man when he wasn’t yelling.
But even if he couldn’t rise above their differences, she could. “I’m sorry. Next time I want to swim I’ll ask.”
“There’s no reason to ask. Just remember that I swim every night around ten-thirty and we’ll be fine.”
Though his words were appropriate, his voice went back to being soft, hypnotic, resurrecting the sprinkle of gooseflesh that covered her body. She peeked at him, confused again. What was going on here?
Before she could say anything, he turned to the French doors and within seconds was gone.
She shook her head. If she didn’t desperately need the money she’d get working here for three weeks, she might be tempted to simply pack her bags and go now. But she did need the money. Not for herself, but for her child. Once again, her motherly instincts won out. But as soon as she had her three weeks pay and the extra thousand dollars, she was out of here.
The next morning, Jeb waited until he heard Sophie head upstairs before he walked into a blissfully empty kitchen. He poured himself a cup of the coffee she’d brewed, and with a huge sigh of relief made his way to his office.
Listening to the messages on his answering machine, he rooted through the stacks of paper looking for a pad to jot down a few numbers, but instead found a note of complaint Maria had left about a leaky faucet. At the time she’d lodged it, she’d been shamelessly coming on to him and he hadn’t been sure if it was a genuine complaint or a way to get him to her bedroom.
He cursed. He’d never checked this out and now that he had someone using the suite again, he couldn’t let it slide. With Sophie upstairs, he knew he could sneak into her rooms and try the faucet without her even knowing there’d been a problem. After the episode at the swimming pool the night before, that was probably for the best. He’d decided he wasn’t even going to be in the same room with her again, if at all possible. So it was good he found the note now when he could check it out.
He left his office and stealthily made his way to her suite. The door opened to a sitting room that smelled soft and feminine. Brady’s baby powders and soaps mixed with more mature scents of something smoky and sexy, undoubtedly belonging to Brady’s mom and a picture of her in her innocent one-piece bathing suite popped into his head. He could almost feel the warmth of the night, hear her soft voice as she told him about the stars, and his groin tightened. He didn’t know what it was about that woman that got to him, but she had something. He thanked his lucky stars she’d be leaving soon.
On his way to the bathroom, his gaze fell on a four-foot-by-four-foot square thing that sat in the corner of the sitting room and he stopped. Covered in net, with a bumper guard decorated with childish characters and images, the thing was obviously a convenient place for the baby to sit and play while his mother worked. But he didn’t know that for sure. He didn’t know anything about babies.
He glanced around. With no one in the room to see him, he could indulge his curiosity. He walked over to it and ran his fingers along the smooth plastic that formed a soft rim, probably to protect the kid in someway. He stooped down, peering inside at the toys Sophie had left behind. A stuffed bear. A doll made of soft-looking fabric with yarn for hair. Brightly colored balls and rattles. They were curious things, foreign, almost exotic to a man who hadn’t spent two minutes with a baby until his housekeeper had brought one to his home.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
At the sound of Sophie’s voice, his heart all but pounded out of his chest. But with the ease that comes with years of practice, he glanced over indolently, as if she were the one in the wrong.
She stood in the doorway, wild-haired baby on her arm. Her eyes shone brightly with fear, and her breath stuttered into her chest. She should have been angry that he was in her quarters without her permission or even her knowledge.
