so genuine, so gorgeous, she was sure it could move mountains. The air thinned in her lungs and for a few seconds she struggled for breath, but she’d already recognized this attraction would come to nothing. He was her employer and she was his employee. That was that. Even if she had to pretend to cough to recoup her air supply every time he smiled at her, he’d never have a clue that he took her breath away.
“Is your bag in the trunk?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll get that first then I’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Great.” She headed for the door and he followed her. Confused that he was coming with her, she stopped. “I only have one small suitcase. I can get it.”
Mac shook his head. “My mother would shoot me for making a lady carry her own bag.”
His courtesy caught her off guard. Employers were not supposed to help their employees. Or even be overly nice to them for that matter. And she didn’t want him to. She wanted their relationship to be as professional as possible. Decorum was what would keep her safe. She hadn’t slept alone in a house with a man since Sam and part of her would be shimmying with fear except this wasn’t a personal relationship. It was a professional relationship. And as long as they both abided by that, she’d be fine.
“The bag won’t weigh any more than the laundry baskets I’ll be carrying down the stairs to the washer.”
“Washer and dryer are upstairs.” He headed to the left. “Besides, this will be a good opportunity for me to familiarize you with this part of the house.”
Relieved that the trip to her car had more of a purpose than just a courtesy—which was inappropriate—she nodded and he led her through the butler’s pantry. The cupboards were the same rich cherrywood as the kitchen. The countertops the same salmon-colored granite. When he reached the door at the back, he opened it and motioned for her to precede him.
Stepping into the garage, she took note of the four cars—a Bentley, a Corvette, a black Suburban and a Mercedes—and could have happily swooned. But she knew better. Just as she couldn’t even once let her attraction to her new employer show, it was bad form to admire his possessions.
He stepped in front of her again to quickly open the door. Her beat-up compact car came into view. He said nothing—commenting on her possessions would have been bad form for him—and waited while she hit the button on her key fob and popped the trunk.
Without a word, he pulled out her suitcase. Because he still wore his swimming trunks she could see the muscles of his arm bunch and his chest ripple with the simple movement. She averted her eyes instead of reacting, firmly putting herself in “household employee” mode where she belonged.
Retracing their steps, she reached the garage entry first and pulled open the door for him.
“Your suitcase weighs about two pounds. I could have gotten the door.”
“I know.”
Still, she hustled to get ahead of him to open the door to the butler’s pantry. She knew her place and she fully intended to stay in it.
Seeing her stilted smile, a shiver of something worked its way through Mac. He’d grown up around servants and knew that technically Ellie should have gotten her own bag. He also knew she felt duty-bound to open the door for him. Yet, when she mentioned going out to her car an odd stirring of unease started in his stomach and worked its way to his chest. He couldn’t let her carry her own bag. It felt ungentlemanly.
He chalked it up to their unusual meeting. He hadn’t met her as a household employee, but as a woman who was currently running the company he’d needed to cajole into his employ. So he wasn’t seeing her as an employee first, but a woman. An equal. Though that wasn’t exactly good, he could control that. He could even shift their positions back to employer and employee.
Just as soon as he got her settled.
After all, he had sort of manipulated her into taking a job she hadn’t wanted. And he wasn’t being forthright even now. When he discovered Pamela’s new movie was to be released next month, he’d bought the empty house next to Mrs. Pomeroy and put it in the name of one of his family’s smaller corporations so he and his kids could disappear.
Ellie didn’t know any of that. She didn’t need the information, but more than that her being in the dark was another layer of protection for Mac. As long as she didn’t know anything, she couldn’t accidently talk to a reporter in disguise as a grocery bagger.
He was keeping her in the dark, forcing her into a job she normally wouldn’t have done. A little social nicety wasn’t out of line.
In the kitchen, she faced him with a pretty smile. Her full lips turned upward. Her amber eyes sparkled. The blond hair that floated around her head to her shoulders gave her the look of an angel.
“Where to?”
Okay. Maybe this attraction would be a little harder to handle than he’d imagined. She was pretty and sweet. Agreeable. Genuine. She looked like a woman who couldn’t tell a lie if her life depended on it, like somebody he could trust with his life. He wanted to melt into a puddle at her feet, to tell her his secrets, ask for her help protecting his kids.
He almost snorted a laugh. Right. With the exception of Mrs. Pomeroy, the last woman he trusted ran out on those same kids. He already knew his instincts about women were way off-kilter. He didn’t need another experiment with a woman to prove it.
“Turn right and go up the back stairs.”
She frowned. “I don’t have quarters near the kitchen?”
“Since you’ll be the one waking with Henry in the middle of the night, you need to be close to him.”
She hesitated. He couldn’t figure out why she’d want to be by the kitchen. She was far too thin to be a midnight snacker. She could want assurance that she wouldn’t disturb him when she woke to make Lacy’s breakfast—
Or maybe she wanted private space? Damn. He’d forgotten about that. She wasn’t normally a live-in employee. She probably didn’t know how she’d get downtime.
“When I’m home, I care for the kids. With the exception of getting up with Henry for his 2:00 a.m. feeding when I go back to work. That will be your domain. So you can go to your room any time you’re not busy. You can watch TV all you want. You have use of the pool, and you can also leave when I’m here if your work is all caught up.”
She nodded, but didn’t look reassured. Still, she started up the stairs.
Averting his eyes to resist the temptation of watching her bottom as she walked the thin flight of steps, Mac said, “First door on the right is yours.”
She tossed a shaky smile over her shoulder. “So I’m right by the stairway?”
He almost laughed. It sounded as if she wanted assurance that she could make a quick getaway. “Yes. You’re right by the stairway.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and his brow furrowed. Maybe he hadn’t been so far off the mark about the quick getaway? Or at least the possibility of one. She wasn’t normally a live-in worker. If assurance that she had an escape route pleased her, then who was he to argue?
