Chaney demand, “Is she staying?”
“At least through breakfast, it seems,” Cal said. “After that, I guess we’ll see.”
Marilou couldn’t tell from his tone if it mattered to him one way or the other. The apparent indifference set her teeth on edge. She worked out her frustration by cooking the biggest, heartiest breakfast she could think of. By the time Cal and Chaney came back in, she had the food on the table.
“Well, boss, will you look at this,” Chaney said with glee, digging into the stack of pancakes she’d kept warm in the oven. Apparently he was willing to overlook his objections about her presence as long as she kept his stomach filled.
Cal grunted. He might be unwilling to acknowledge her new attitude, but she noticed that it didn’t keep him from taking five pancakes for himself. “You surprise me,” he said, swallowing the last of them. “For a minute there last night, I figured you for one of those types who can’t cook a lick.”
“Oh, I can cook. I just don’t like men making assumptions about the role I should play.”
His gaze narrowed. “Sounds like the usual rhetoric to me.”
Unintimidated by his fierce look, Marilou scowled right back. He laughed then and shook his head. “Lady, you really are a piece of work. So, tell me, what do you plan to do about clothes? I never met a woman yet who was satisfied to wear the same outfit day after day.”
That, of course, was a quandary that had crossed her mind already. She supposed there was no help forit. She was going to have to leave and drive back to her hotel, unless…
“I don’t suppose you’re ready to discuss this visit to your grandmother yet?”
He pushed back from the table and tilted his chair onto its back legs. Long fingers intertwined and rested on his belt buckle. “Nope.”
She sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“You decided about taking me up on my offer?”
“What offer’s that?” Chaney asked.
“I thought maybe she’d like to hire on as our housekeeper.”
Chaney choked on his coffee, then settled into a sullen pout.
“Hey, you liked the pancakes, didn’t you?” Cal teased. “And what about the spaghetti?”
“We wasn’t starving before she came.”
“The next thing to it. I was ready to start ordering pizza deliveries. What about it, Marilou? You gonna stick around?”
She suddenly realized that she wanted very much to stay, and it had very little to do with the letter anymore. She took a deep breath. “What about a trial run?”
“How long?”
“A month. That’s how long my vacation lasts.”
He stuck out his hand, enveloping hers. The currents that raced along her arm headed straight for her abdomen, spawning desire and confusion in equal measures. Oh, yes, she thought, she was definitely in over her head, definitely out of her mind.
“I guess I’ll go and get my things,” she said, lifting her gaze to his. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” He kept his gaze on her as she cleaned up the kitchen and got her purse.
“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” she said finally, still struggling to determine the wisdom of her decision.
Apparently he read her doubts and misinterpreted them. Frowning, he said, “And here I thought we’d been making progress. I was sure you trusted me to be here when you got back.”
“I don’t trust you a bit, but I’m going anyway,” she said, glad that he couldn’t read her so easily. “And don’t get your hopes up, because I will be back and I haven’t forgotten about the letter, either.”
He laughed at that, the first unrestrained emotion she’d seen. “I never doubted that for a minute, sweetheart.”
She hesitated at the door, then teased, “Don’t change the locks.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he countered with a wink.
If he meant the devilish wink to be a warning of some sort, it failed. Marilou found the challenge of it flat-out irresistible.
Chapter Five
C al stayed clear of the house until
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