he quickly corrected.
The way her blue eyes, clear and deep as a summer sky, measured him, he knew he’d made a mistake moving into familiarity so soon. He’d have to be more careful. Undoubtedly, she was used to fending off people.
She turned to Nick. “Grandmother is planning a fireworks display on the lake in the evening. Getting the boathouse in shape is a priority.”
“Along with a dozen others,” Nick muttered.
“I know.”
“With an extra hand, it’s more likely to get ready in time. I’m not even sure I could manage clearing out the debris by myself,” Nick insisted.
“All right, then. We accept your offer, Mr. Keller. If you don’t have other plans?”
“No, my time is my own,” he assured her. “Spending a few days at Stoneview will be more than a pleasure.”
AS ROBYN LEFT THE MEN and started walking up the long sidewalk to the house, she could feel them watching her. She kept her head up and her carriage straight. If Nick hadn’t been running on overload, she wouldn’t have even considered accepting the offer of this stranger. With a dozen “have-to-dos” in the house and grounds waiting for his attention, an extra pair of hands would be a godsend. Her grandmother would have a fit about letting a guest move in with them more than a week before the party, but Lynette wasn’t in charge, Robyn reminded herself.
For weeks, her grandmother had been making plans and giving orders—from a distance, of course. At the moment, Lynette was in the Bahamas. She had decided at the last minute to attend a “divine socialite wedding-of-the-year” that she vowed “just couldn’t be missed.”
Even Lynette’s loyal hired cook and housekeeper, Olga Dietz, was rebelling at all the extra work. She was a sturdy German woman in her forties who had been with Robyn’s grandparents since their duties at the German embassy almost twenty years ago. Her husband had died before the Valcourts moved to Stoneview. Mrs. Dietz had never quite become “Americanized,” and her stubborn manner kept Lynette from trying to dictate how to run the kitchen and supervise the day help.
Every telephone call from Lynette brought more instructions about engaging the right caterers, photographers, florists, entertainers, and getting the house and grounds in perfect condition.
It wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle the responsibility, Robyn reminded herself. She could. She knew it, and her grandmother knew it. But the truth was that at some deep level she was utterly sick and tired of being reliable, capable and dependable. Robyn longed to get in her car and head north to the oceanside resort where she’d planned to spend her summer vacation. But even as the desire crossed her mind, she knew she’d never do it. Such irresponsible action would be unthinkable. What she didn’t need was an early guest to complicate matters. Under different conditions she might have been more hospitable, but at the moment she wasn’t in the mood to handle any unexpected demands. Already she was having second thoughts about agreeing to accept Brian Keller’s help.
On some intuitive level, she sensed he was going to be a disruptive force. His manner seemed sincere, but there had been a pure masculine energy about him that she didn’t trust. His clinging white T-shirt accented the breadth and hardness of his chest, and tight jeans followed the shape of his long muscular legs. Dark brown hair was nicely layered, and everything about him seemed calculated to impress any female within a fifty-mile radius. Robyn chided herself for even noticing.
She purposefully made her way through the dark halls of the house to the library. After sitting down at a massive walnut desk, she turned on the computer to view the full agenda waiting for her attention, and put Brian Keller firmly out of her mind….
NICK AND BRIAN WORKED well together. They were both tired and sweaty when they climbed a circular iron staircase to the second floor of the boathouse, which had been made into a recreation room, complete with comfortable furniture and a refreshment bar. Fortunately, the devastation of the winter ice storm last January had been confined to the lower level, and the party room had been spared.
“When the Valcourts bought the house from the Sheldons, this was a workout room with exercise equipment, and they remodeled it into a party room. I liked it better the other way,” Nick told him as he walked over to a small refrigerator. “Beer or water?”
“Water, thanks.”
“Beer for me.”
He handed Brian a bottle of water and popped the cap on his beer. After taking a deep swig, he dropped down in a large leather chair opposite the couch where Brian was sitting.
“How long have you been at Stoneview, Nick?” Brian asked in a relaxed, chatty tone.
“Too long,” he answered bluntly as he lit a cigarette. “I came here with the Sheldons when they bought the estate, mainly because I’d been their caretaker at their previous home. And when they up and sold Stoneview, I decided to stay on and work for the Valcourts. I like the cottage and the lake, and most of the year there’s not much that has to be done. It’s a pretty neat place to live.”
“You must feel kind of possessive of it.”
“I guess ruts get comfortable after awhile,” he admitted. “And I like having the run of the place. Old lady Valcourt travels a lot, and the granddaughter has her own town house where she teaches. The Sheldons were easy to work for, too.”
“So you were here at Stoneview when the unfortunate tragedy happened?” Brian asked casually, hoping he wasn’t moving too fast. The fact that Nick had brought up the topic of the Sheldons was a welcome surprise. It gave him hope that if Nick was in a reminiscing mood, he might share some valuable on-the-scene insights that didn’t get into the police reports.
“Oh, you heard about that, did you? Yep, I was here.” Nick nearly emptied his bottle of beer before he added, “The police were all over the place. Asked a lot of questions, but, hell, I didn’t have anything to tell them. I’ve never made it my business to know what goes on in the big house. Not with the Sheldons. Not with the Valcourts. I keep to myself.” Nick drank more of his beer. “I couldn’t tell them anything.”
Or wouldn’t? Brian wondered silently. Something about Nick’s denial rang false. He’d bet anything that little got past those sharp eyes of his. Before Brian could come up with a comment that might encourage more confidences, Nick changed the subject. Brian had to content himself with waiting for another time when, perhaps, Nick had more beer under his belt.
“We can’t do much more until I check the lumber-yard, and order more material and hardware.” Nick finished off his beer. “Let’s call it a day.”
Brian nodded in agreement, and as they made their way out of the boathouse, he told Nick, “I have a backpack and small bag in the boat. I was thinking about spending a few days at one of those resorts on the lake, but this is a whole lot better.”
Nick seemed to accept the explanation without question. After Brian retrieved his bags, they made their way around the house to a small cottage at the back of property where a wooded area met an access road. A curved driveway led past the small house to a four-car garage, and a tree-lined walk led to the back door of the mansion. Another wide sidewalk circled the house to the front entrance.
As Nick opened the cottage door, he waved Brian inside. “Home sweet home. You’ll have to excuse the mess.”
Brian
