in. “I’m just checking to see what the inventory is like.” Crossing to the island, she picked up a pen and tapped it against the pad of paper lying there. “The landline is still out, but when we can get through, here are some places I’ll call about the roof and repairs—with your permission, of course.”
Though he’d prefer to direct this discussion himself, focusing on action was a very good idea right now. “Why wait? I’ll get the satellite phone from my office.”
She raised a brow. “Murdoch didn’t mention that you had a satellite phone.”
“I prefer to forget I have it. My editor, Charles, insisted I get it because he got tired of my being out of reach and ignoring his emails. The landline goes down all the time out here. I only use it to call him and my agent and for emergencies.”
He could tell by her face that this little explanation puzzled her, but Tate wasn’t going out of his way to explain his eccentricities. That was the way he operated. She could take it or leave it.
He glanced over the list. “These two,” he said, pointing to a couple of companies he’d worked with in the past. She had good taste. “I’ll get your luggage while you put in the calls.”
“What? So you were serious—”
“If you haven’t slapped me yet, I guess we’re pretty close to compatible. And it saves me the time of searching for a housekeeper to hold me over for just two months.”
Willow started a little happy dance on her side of the island. Tate did his best to ignore the sway of soft body parts.
This decision was probably a mistake, but it was expedient. And after accosting her in his sleep he felt obligated to be rather generous.
“So let me know when they arrive, and I’ll show them around.”
“I can handle it,” she quickly countered.
Tate adopted his sternest expression. “But I know the house, so I will. Got it?”
“Yeeesss...” The drawn-out word made it clear she didn’t understand, but she would soon enough.
“I’ll give you a chance to clean up, then we’ll go over a few things,” he said, eager for a break from his unrelenting response to her presence.
“We can now,” she said, eagerness practically vibrating off her in waves. “I’m good.”
Maybe getting it over with was a good choice. Like ripping a bandage off a particularly sensitive patch of skin.
“Let’s start with the rules.”
She blinked, as if trying to comprehend what he was saying.
“What did Murdoch tell you?”
Her smile opened her face up, revealing a pleasure that sunk straight into Tate’s darkened heart. He couldn’t catch his breath for a moment. Luckily she didn’t notice as she bent over to pull a notebook from her backpack. Guess she wasn’t a designer purse kind of girl.
“He gave me a whole notebook on house procedures. Let’s see, gate and alarm codes, chore schedule, your favorite foods...”
But no real rules? Somehow at this point he wasn’t surprised. Yesterday he would have been. Not today.
But Tate was a big believer in start how you mean to go on...
“Rule number one. I am not to be disturbed.”
That seemed pretty self-explanatory, but Willow still asked, “You mean when you’re writing?”
Tate refused to show the jolt of surprise that shot through him. “So Murdoch told you what I do for a living?”
“Actually, the fact that you’re an author is pretty well-known and speculated on in Savannah. Though no one has been able to crack the answer to what you actually write.”
“And Murdoch didn’t share that.”
The solemn shake of her head didn’t dampen the curiosity in her expression. But he wasn’t about to satisfy her with an answer. Instead he ignored the whole line of questioning.
“Actually, when I’m in my office at all, I’m not to be disturbed. I’ll come down at the set mealtimes I’m sure Murdoch gave you.”
Willow quickly moved on. “What about mail? Do you want your mail when it comes, or for me to wait for a meal and give it to you then?”
As she opened her mouth to say something else, Tate raised his hand for her to stop. “Do. Not. Disturb. Understand?”
He could see another question brewing in those green eyes, but he forged ahead. “Rule number two. No talking about me or anything that happens here or that you see here outside of these premises.”
“What about with my family?”
That wasn’t an issue Tate had ever run into with Murdoch. He and his family had been estranged for the first ten years he had worked here, but even after the reconciliation Murdoch hadn’t shared important details of his job with them. He’d simply gotten into the habit of keeping Tate’s issues private.
But Willow’s family might be a different story.
“I think that rule is self-explanatory,” he said, injecting a stern note into his tone.
“Actually, it’s not,” Willow said. “I mean, I’m guessing you want me to keep quiet about who you are, since Murdoch did. What about the house? Can I talk about it? Am I supposed to keep quiet about everything I see? Where’s the line? Can I tell my family how to contact me?”
“Of course.”
She’d asked more than one question, and the litany confused him. Murdoch was a quiet, loner type. Willow was not quiet...at all.
“Of course you can tell your family the landline number, as long as they don’t abuse it or share it,” he amended. “But my home, my business, are to be kept private at all times.”
“Do I need to sign a nondisclosure agreement?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
The rapid shake of her head sent wisps of red hair flying. Man, that was gorgeous. This woman was all living color. He looked back out the windows.
“Certain rooms in the house are off-limits to everyone but me.”
“Murdoch mentioned that, but how will I know which ones they are?”
“Good God, woman, do you ever stop asking questions?”
Tate looked back at her just in time to see her blink hard. For a moment, he feared he might be facing tears, but no. Just a sad “Sorry. I guess I just want to do it right the first time.”
Man, I’m such a jerk.
Tate’s brain scrambled to rectify the situation. He heard himself say, “I’ll take you around and show you.”
