together looking after the two small children. More than special—astonishing. They hadn’t clashed once or found a single thing to squabble over.
“I enjoy teasing you. Your eyes have an irresistible way of lighting up when you’re angry.”
“If you continue to insist that I eat with these absurd pieces of wood, you’ll see my eyes brighten the entire room.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” he murmured with a laugh. “No forks. You can’t properly enjoy Chinese food unless you use chopsticks.”
“I can’t properly taste it without a fork.”
“Here, I’ll feed you.” Again he brought a spicy morsel to her mouth.
A drop of the sauce fell onto her chin and Ellen wiped it off. “You aren’t any better at this than me.” She dipped the chopsticks into the chicken mixture and attempted to transport a tidbit to Reed’s mouth. It balanced precariously on the end of her chopsticks, and Reed lowered his mouth to catch it before it could land in his lap.
“You’re improving,” he told her, his voice low and slightly husky.
Their eyes met. Unable to face the caressing look in his warm gaze, Ellen bent her head and pretended to be engrossed in her dinner. But her appetite was instantly gone—vanished.
A tense silence filled the room. The air between them was so charged that she felt breathless and weak, as though she’d lost the energy to move or speak. Ellen didn’t dare raise her eyes for fear of what she’d see in his.
“Ellen.”
She took a deep breath and scrambled to her feet. “I think I hear Jimmy,” she whispered.
“Maybe it was Jenny,” Reed added hurriedly.
Ellen paused in the doorway between the two rooms. They were both overwhelmingly aware that neither child had made a sound. “I guess they’re still asleep.”
“That’s good.” The scraping sound of his chair against the floor told her that Reed, too, had risen from the table. When she turned, she found him depositing the leftovers in the refrigerator. His preoccupation with the task gave her a moment to reflect on what had just happened. There were too many problems involved in pursuing this attraction; the best thing was to ignore it and hope the craziness passed. They were mature adults, not adolescents, and besides, this would complicate her life, which was something she didn’t need right now. Neither, she was sure, did he. Especially with Danielle in the picture...
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to head upstairs,” she began awkwardly, taking a step in retreat.
“Okay, then. And thanks. I appreciated the help.”
“I appreciated the dinner,” she returned.
“See you in the morning.”
“Right.” Neither seemed eager to bring the evening to an end.
“Good night, Ellen.”
“Night, Reed. Call if you need me.”
“I will.”
Turning decisively, she took the stairs and was panting by the time she’d climbed up the second narrow flight. Since the third floor had originally been built to accommodate servants, the five bedrooms were small and opened onto a large central room, which was where Ellen had placed her bed. She’d chosen the largest of the bedrooms as her study.
She sat resolutely down at her desk and leafed through several books, hoping to come across an idea she could use for her term paper. But her thoughts were dominated by the man two floors below. Clutching a study on the origins of algebra to her chest, she sighed deeply and wondered whether Danielle truly valued Reed. She must, Ellen decided, or she wouldn’t be so willing to sit at home waiting, while her fiancé traipsed around the world directing a variety of projects.
Reed had been so patient and good-natured with Jimmy and Jenny. When the little boy had climbed into his lap, Reed had read to him and held him with a tenderness that stirred her heart. And Reed was generous to a fault. Another man might have told Pat, Monte and Ellen to pack their bags. This was his home, after all, and Derek had been wrong to rent out the rooms without Reed’s knowledge. But Reed had let them stay.
Disgruntled with the trend her thoughts were taking, Ellen forced her mind back to the books in front of her. But it wasn’t long before her concentration started to drift again. Reed had Danielle, and she had... Charlie Hanson. First thing in the morning, she’d call dependable old Charlie and suggest they get together; he’d probably be as surprised as he was pleased to hear from her. Feeling relieved and a little light-headed, Ellen turned off the light and went to bed.
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Reed arrived in the kitchen early the next afternoon, looking as though he’d just finished eighteen holes of golf or a vigorous game of tennis. He’d already left by the time she’d wandered down to the kitchen that morning.
“Ellen?” he repeated impatiently.
She’d taken the wall plates off the electrical outlets and pulled the receptacle out of its box, from which two thin colored wires now protruded. “I’m trying to figure out why this outlet won’t heat the iron,” she answered without looking in his direction.
“You’re what!” he bellowed.
She wiped her face to remove a layer of dust before she straightened. “Don’t yell at me.”
“Good grief, woman. You run around on the roof like a trapeze artist, cook like a dream and do electrical work on the side. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Algebra,” she muttered.
Reed closed the instruction manual Ellen had propped against the sugar bowl in the middle of the table. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her gently aside, then reattached the electrical wires and fastened the whole thing back in place.
As he finished securing the wall plate, Ellen burst out, “What did you do that for? I’ve almost got the problem traced.”
“No doubt, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather have a real electrician look at this.”
“What can I say? It’s your house.”
“Right. Now sit down.” He nudged her into a chair. “How much longer are you going to delay writing that term paper?”
“It’s written,” she snapped. She wasn’t particularly pleased with it, but at least the assignment was done. Her subject matter might impress four-year-old Jimmy, but she wasn’t too confident that her professor would feel the same way.
“Do you want me to look it over?”
The offer surprised her. “No, thanks.” She stuck the screwdriver in the pocket of her gray-striped coveralls.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I just don’t think I’ve got a snowball’s chance of getting a decent grade on it. Anyway, I have to go and iron a dress. I’ve got
