totally unforgettable.
Great. Now she just had to spend the rest of her life comparing other men to Sinclair Drummond.
He walked across the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cabinets. She should have asked him if he wanted something, but it was too late now. His biceps flexed, tightening the cuff of his polo shirt as he reached to close the cabinet. She watched the muscles of his back extend and contract beneath the soft fabric, which pulled slightly from the top of his khakis. Just enough for her to remember sliding her fingers into his waistband and …
She turned and headed for the dishwasher. This line of thought was not at all productive. “Can I get you some iced tea?”
“No, thanks, Annie. I’ll help myself to some water.” He pushed the glass into the dispenser on the front of the fridge.
She’d have to find another job. This was way too awkward. How was she supposed to wait hand and foot on a man while remembering how his body felt pressed against hers?
There was no way she’d find a job that paid as well as this one, where she’d get to live—free of charge—in a beautiful house near the beach and be her own boss 95 percent of the time. She didn’t have a college degree. She hadn’t even finished high school properly. This job had allowed her to pile up savings in the bank, and she was about to fulfill her dream of going to college right nearby. If she left she’d probably eat into her savings subsidizing her “Would you like fries with that?” job.
Sinclair’s Adam’s apple moved as he drained his glass of water. How awkward that they were in the same room, not talking at all. Then again, that wouldn’t have been at all strange until two weeks ago. Sinclair wasn’t the chatty type, and neither was she. They were both the kind of people who enjoyed listening to the sounds of a spring evening, or just letting thoughts glide through their heads.
Or at least she presumed that’s what he was doing. Maybe it was all in her imagination. She was so different than the rest of her family, who seemed hell-bent on filling every moment with talk, music or the sound of the television. Maybe other people were quiet for different reasons.
“My mom wants to stay here for the rest of the summer.” A tiny line appeared between his brows as he said it. “And I do think it’s the best thing for her. The fresh air will do her good, and she can rest with you to take care of things.”
“That’s great.” Her heart was sinking. Much as she liked Katherine Drummond, all she wanted right now was to be alone to lick her wounds. The prospect of having to be “on” all the time seemed unbearable. And maybe this was Sinclair’s way of saying, Don’t quit until the summer’s over. My ailing mom needs you.
“Vicki will be here to keep her company, so you won’t have to feel obliged to entertain her.”
Annie flinched, accidentally knocking against a canister of sugar. Could this get any worse? Sinclair obviously knew this was all unwelcome news. He shoved his hand through his hair again, ruffling it. “And Mom’s convinced me to work from here for the next couple of weeks at least. She thinks I’m working too hard.” His dark gaze held hers for a second.
“Great.” The word sounded empty and insincere.
“You and I are both sensible adults.” His dark eyes fixed on hers. Was he trying to convince her? “I’m sure we can move beyond what happened.”
“Of course.” She didn’t want him to know how much that afternoon had meant to her. He must never know. It was hard to look at him. Even the world-weary aspect of his face only added to his charm, his gaze hooded and guarded. She wasn’t sure he wanted any woman, least of all her. “I’ll be the soul of discretion.”
The furrow in his brow deepened for a second. “I knew I could count on you, Annie.” The sound of her own name sent a jolt of pain to her heart. Hearing it on his lips made her yearn for when he’d breathed it in passion. It seemed so … intimate. She could never say Sinclair so boldly and often.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? They were from completely different social strata. In the twenty-first century that shouldn’t matter, but it did. She might have been able to climb to a different level herself if she’d managed to go to college and start a successful career, like his. She could have been an executive by now, rubbing shoulders with him in a New York City boardroom.
But that wasn’t how things had worked out. She was destined to rub shoulders with him while wielding a sponge in his kitchen.
She wished he would leave. This was so awkward. He kept … looking at her. But it was his kitchen and she was his employee. He could stand there and look pityingly on her all day if he wanted. And now she couldn’t even start combing the classifieds. She could hardly leave his mother in the lurch while she was still so weak.
“I’m heading out for a walk.” Still he hovered in the kitchen, his large, masculine presence filling the room.
“Okay.” As if her opinion mattered.
He hesitated again, brow furrowed, and pierced her soul one more time with that intense brown gaze before he turned and left.
She sank against the countertop as the sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway. How was she going to survive this summer? The worst part was that she kept feeling something that he wasn’t saying. Something odd and unsettling in the way he looked at her. Like some of the madness still lingered inside him the way it did inside her.
But that hardly mattered if he intended for them to forget that magical afternoon ever happened. She’d just have to get through it one day at a time. Starting with tonight’s dinner.
Sinclair stayed in his room as long as possible, reading research one of his staff had compiled on a gold-mining company in Uruguay. He’d much rather be at work than “relaxing” here with his mom organizing things for him to do every minute of the day. Today’s festivities included a croquet party she’d arranged, and he was expected to put in an appearance and actually wield a mallet. If she hadn’t come so close to death … He let out a long breath, then closed his laptop and swung his feet off the bed.
“Sinclair, is that you?” His mom’s voice came from the corridor. Had she been listening outside, waiting for him to betray signs of life? He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. She’d probably arranged for eight to ten attractive single women, dressed in designer croquet attire, to battle each other to win his heart.
Couldn’t any of them tell he didn’t have a heart to win?
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Good, dear, because everyone’s here.”
A glance out the window confirmed that “everyone” was at least fifteen of Dog Harbor’s most well-heeled citizens. They milled about clutching drinks, stiletto heels sinking into the smooth lawn. He yawned. His mother’s social occasions made even the most brutal business negotiations seem like a cakewalk.
And Annie would be there. Not playing croquet, or batting her eyelashes, but serving the iced tea and salmon squares. He searched for her among the small crowd but didn’t see her. The resulting wave of disappointment shocked him away
