Читать книгу Once Upon A Kiss... - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 10

Sinclair usually preferred to help himself to some toast and coffee, but Annie never knew what guests might want, so she hovered in the kitchen ready to make an omelet or oatmeal. She wondered if Sinclair would come down first and they would have their talk before the others awoke.

To her dismay, Vicki was the first down the stairs, yawning, her sleek black hair knotted into a casual but elegant twist and her taut body showcased in skimpy capris and a cutoff T-shirt. “Morning, Annie. Is this where you ask me if I want breakfast?”

“You’re way ahead of me. What can I get you?” Annoying guests weren’t unusual. She managed a cheerful smile.

“Do you have any grapefruit?”

“I made a fruit salad of cantaloupe, grapes, honeydew and pineapple, but no grapefruit, I’m afraid. Would you like me to get you some?” Probably she was on some crackpot diet eating twenty-seven grapefruits a day and nothing else. She had that kind of body.

“God, no. Your fruit salad sounds fab. I’d kill for some scrambled eggs and bacon to go with it, if that’s a possibility. Any sign of Sinclair?”

Annie blinked. “Not so far.”

“Probably snuck out early to avoid us.” Vicki shot her a conspiratorial smile. “Not much of a people person, is he?”

Annie glanced up the stairs. Had Sinclair really left the house already? He did sometimes slip away right at dawn. She wasn’t sure where he went but he often came back wet, so possibly the beach. He didn’t do that when guests were staying, though.

She didn’t answer Vicki’s question. He seemed very good with people from what she could see. He wouldn’t have a successful investment company if he wasn’t a people person. “Do you like your bacon well-done?”

“That would be perfect.” Vicki wandered into the dining room and picked up the New York Times.

Annie headed for the kitchen. People like Vicki gave orders effortlessly. She’d been brought up that way. It was her own job to make sure those orders were carried out without a moment’s hesitation, even if she had to run out and wrestle down a pig to make the bacon.

Happily she was well prepared and kept the freshest local bacon on hand. Three rashers were sizzling on the stove and the eggs bubbling in a pan when the kitchen door swung open. Annie nearly jumped out of her skin, expecting to see Sinclair’s imposing form and stern gaze.

A smile settled across Vicki’s shapely mouth. “Goodness, you are jumpy. Expecting someone else?”

“No.” Annie answered too fast. She whisked the bacon and eggs onto a plate, hoping her red face would be attributed to the heat from the stove.

Vicki lounged in the doorway, watching her. “Sinclair is a dark horse.”

Annie burned to disagree, or at least ask why she would say such a thing, but her gut told her that would be playing into some plan of Vicki’s. “Will you take it in the dining room?”

“I’ll take it from you right here.” She thrust out her hands and took the fork and knife from Annie. “And thank you very much for making this. It looks yummy.” She flashed another oh-so-charming smile.

Annie let out a hard breath when the door closed behind Vicki. What did she mean by that comment? Did she suspect something between herself and Sinclair? Sweat had broken out on her forehead and she pushed a few strands of hair off it. Surely she hadn’t given anything away?

Katherine came down around 10:00 a.m. and ate a few bites of her custom-made muesli. “Has my son already abandoned us?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him all morning.” Annie refilled her juice. How had Sinclair managed to slip away? She’d been up since before first light. He must be very determined to avoid her. That didn’t bode well for their planned talk.

“I’m dying to head up to the attic, though I have to take it slow. The doctor says I’m not allowed to stand up for more than thirty minutes at a time.” She shook her head, and her elegant blond bob swung. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to do anything when you have to sit down every thirty minutes, but he is the top man in his field and I promised Sinclair I’d follow his instructions slavishly.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Weak.” She laughed a little. “I poop out easily. I’m supposed to eat all kinds of super foods to boost my energy but I don’t have any appetite, either. I might try acupuncture. A friend of mine swears by it.”

Annie ventured into the conversation. “My sister tried it to give up smoking and it didn’t work. I blame my sister, though, not the acupuncturist. I think she was more determined to prove him wrong than she was to quit.”

Katherine’s warm smile lit up the room. “I’m determined to get well. I have far too much to live for. I haven’t even met my first grandchild yet.”

Juice sloshed in the jug as Annie’s hand jerked. Sinclair was Katherine Drummond’s only child so obviously her fondest dreams lay in his next marriage. A prospect that made Annie’s muscles limp with dismay. “That is something to look forward to.”

“What about you, Annie? Is there anyone in your life?” A blond brow lifted.

Annie froze. Did she also suspect something between her and Sinclair?

“You seem to live here so quietly and I worry that we’ve cut you off from civilization. Maybe you should try one of those online dating services.”

Annie’s heart sank a little when she realized it hadn’t even crossed Katherine’s mind that she and Sinclair might be involved. “I’m quite happy. One day my prince will come.” She smiled and hoped it looked convincing.

“These days it doesn’t pay to wait around for princes to show up. Better to go out and find one yourself before all the good ones get snatched up.”

Sinclair’s been snatched up twice, but he’s still available. She did not voice her thoughts. And really, was a man who’d been divorced twice such a good prospect? She suppressed a sigh. “I don’t have time for dating. I’m planning to take an evening course at the local college.”

“Really?” Katherine’s eyes widened.

Annie regretted her words. The plan was still half-formed in her mind and now her employer would probably worry about her slacking off in her duties. Why had she said it? Was she so afraid of seeming like a pathetic spinster who’d be polishing silver for the rest of her life?

“Nothing very demanding. I was thinking of learning a little about business.” She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. Probably better not to tell Katherine about her dream of opening a shop one day.

“I think that’s wonderful, Annie. If there’s anything at all I can do to help, a reference to get you into the program, or something like that. I’m sure Sinclair will be thrilled.”

She doubted Sinclair would feel such strong emotion on the topic. Though he might be happy to hear she was trying to broaden her employment prospects. He’d hardly want her hanging around in his house for years after they’d had that … accident.

That’s what it felt like. A sudden car wreck. Or maybe just a fender bender. Either way it had left her bruised and dented and unsure of her previously planned route.

“Thanks, can I get you some more toast?”

“No, thanks. I’d like to head up to the attic, if you’re ready.”

They spent the day rifling through the boxes and crates of old possessions. The space grew hotter as the day went on. Vicki was surprisingly quiet, examining objects with a studious eye, as if making mental notes about them. They found several pieces of eighteenth-century scrimshaw and a carefully packed box with two old Chinese vases, but most of the stuff was obviously worthless—boxes of celluloid shirt collars and scrofulous-looking moleskin hats. By late afternoon they were winding down their search. “I think it’s time for a glass of iced tea,” Katherine said, getting up from the folding chair Annie had brought up for her.

“You go ahead, I’ll be down in a minute.” Vicki’s nose was deep in a black trunk.

“Something interesting in there?” Katherine fanned herself with a slim hand.

“Not sure yet. I’ll let you know if I find anything good.”

“Let’s go down, Annie.” Annie cast a backward glance at Vicki. It went against all her instincts to leave her here among the family treasures. “If you’ll just give me a hand down the stairs.”

With no choice but to help Katherine, Annie headed back into the house and spent the next hour making scones and spreading cream and jam on them, while listening for every slight hint that Sinclair’s car might be pulling back into the driveway.

Katherine was nodding off in a shaded armchair, and Vicki engrossed in texting on her phone, when she heard the purr of that familiar engine. Her heart immediately kicked into overdrive. She hurried into the kitchen so she didn’t have to watch him kiss Vicki warmly on the cheek. If he wanted to see her, he knew where to find her. She cursed herself for checking her reflection in the polished side of a stainless-steel pot and smoothing her hair back into its bun.

Heavy footfalls on the wood stairs sounded his ascent to his bedroom. She heaved a sigh of relief mingled with disappointment. Obviously he wasn’t burning with a desire to see her. She could easily go up there on the pretext of bringing fresh towels or collecting his laundry. In fact, on a normal weekend, she’d probably do just that.

But nothing would ever be normal again.

Softer footfalls on the stairs suggested Vicki heading up, too. Maybe she was going to throw her arms around Sinclair and beg him to tell her all about his sailing adventures.

Annie cursed herself for caring. Sinclair was never hers to be possessive about, not for a single instant. If she didn’t want to feel this way, she should never have let him kiss her. If only she could turn the clock back to that moment of madness when his lips hovered just in front of hers.

“He is one of the most insightful portraitists working today, but if you’re sure …” Vicki’s voice carried along the upstairs hallway later that afternoon. “Katherine, Sin doesn’t want to come with us. We’re on our own.”

“I keep telling him he should pay more attention to art, for its investment potential as well as its beauty, but he won’t listen. What time does it open?”

Annie listened to them plan their stroll through the village to the art opening and mentally calculated how long she’d be alone with Sinclair. Certainly long enough to talk. Probably long enough to get into a lot of trouble, too, but she had no intention of doing that again.

She prepped for dinner while the women primped themselves. Katherine was immaculate as usual, her golden hair cupping her cheekbones, dressed in a sleek pantsuit with a bold jade necklace. Vicki looked like she’d just climbed out of bed looking like a goddess, an effect that must take considerable effort. A diaphanous dress clung to her slender form, revealing long, graceful legs that ended in pointy ankle boots.

Annie resisted the urge to look down at herself. She was not in competition with these women. She was not even on the same playing field as them, and no one expected her to be. But then, why did her usual “uniform” of preppy classics feel dowdy and frumpier than ever?

She hid in the kitchen after the door closed behind them. If Sinclair wanted to talk to her he could come find her. And he did.

“I didn’t hear you,” she stammered, when she saw him standing, tall and serious, in the narrow doorway. The old colonial kitchen had been remodeled with the most extravagant chefs’ appliances, but that didn’t change the low ceiling and old-fashioned proportions that made Sinclair look like a giant, standing next to the hand-carved spice racks.

His hair was wet, slicked back but with a long tendril falling over his forehead. He wore a pale gray polo shirt and well-worn khakis, and she noticed with a start that his feet were bare. How could he manage to look so elegant and breathtakingly handsome in such casual clothing?

“Listen, Annie …”

Like she had any choice?

“About the other day.” He frowned. “I don’t know how to explain—”

“Me either,” she cut in. “It was very unexpected.”

He looked relieved. Somehow that hurt. Still, at least he wasn’t trying to act as if nothing happened.

“I think we should both forget that it ever happened.”

His mocking echo of her thoughts cut her to the quick. “Of course.” The words flew from her mouth, a desperate attempt to save face.

He could have left right then, the pact between them safely sealed, but he didn’t. He stood in the doorway, blocking her view of the hallway and—now that she thought of it—her only escape route. “You’re a nice girl, Annie.”

Oh no, here it came. The “don’t be too hurt that I’m not at all interested in you, some other schlub will be” speech. If only she could run from the room and spare herself his pity.

“You’re nice, too.” She cringed. It sounded like something a preschooler would come up with. No wonder he had no enduring interest in her—she sounded like someone who had the intellect of a turnip.

“Not really.” He rubbed at his chest with a tense hand, and she could remember the thick, taut muscle hidden beneath his gray shirt. She’d rested her cheek on his chest and sighed with sheer pleasure. Now his dark eyes looked pained.

He was probably thinking of his ex-wives. The last one had said all kinds of nasty things about him in the press after she realized she hadn’t been married long enough to get alimony. “I know you didn’t want to … do that.” She couldn’t even say it. What had they done? It wasn’t “making love” or “sleeping together.” Having sex. Pretty simple, really, but she still couldn’t voice the words. “I know you didn’t plan it and that you regret it.” She swallowed. What had possibly been the most perfectly blissful hour of her life was an embarrassing footnote in his.

“Exactly.”

His words sank through her like a stone. Why could she not shake the pathetic hope that all those kisses and so much passion had meant something to him? It seemed so strange that his breathless moans could be nothing more than a gut physical reaction.

“I don’t know what came over me, either.” Except for the fact that I’ve adored you from afar for far too long. “But I’ll make sure not to try one of those dresses on again.” She managed a shaky smile.

One side of Sinclair’s mouth lifted, revealing a devastating dimple. “You looked breathtaking in that dress, Annie.”

The sound of her name coming from his mouth, right after the compliment, made her heart jump.

“Oh, I think it was the dress that looked breathtaking. They’re all so beautifully made. I haven’t looked at them since I hung them in the closet but they don’t seem to have ever been worn.”

“Except that one, now.”

“And that wasn’t worn for long.” She let out a breath. Being in such close quarters with Sinclair played havoc with her sanity. She could smell the familiar scent of that old-fashioned soap he used. She had a close-up view of the lines at the corners of his eyes, which showed how often he smiled, despite all rumors to the contrary. “Maybe there’s a reason those clothes ended up in a trunk in the attic and were never worn.”

“A curse?” He lifted a dark brow. Humor danced in his eyes. She could tell he didn’t believe a word of the superstitions that so excited his mom.

“A spell, perhaps.” She played along. “To turn even a sensible woman into a wanton.”

“That was a very effective spell.” His eyes darkened and held her gaze for a moment until her breath was coming in tiny gasps. “Not that you were a wanton, of course, but …”

“I think we both know what you meant.” She shoved a lock off her forehead. She was sweating. If only he knew that the slightest touch from him might accidentally turn her into a wanton at a moment’s notice.

Had she imagined it, or did he just sneak a glance at her body? Her breasts tingled slightly under her yellow shirt, and her thighs trembled beneath her khakis. She could almost swear his dark gaze had swept over them and right back up to her face.

But she had no proof and right now that seemed like idle fantasy. Or maybe he was wondering what the heck came over him to find himself in a compromising position with such a frump. He was hardly the type to risk legal trouble with an employee for a quick roll in the hay. The whole incident was truly bizarre.

And 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.