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Sure, there were checks and balances built into Grammy’s trust, but Mitchell was smart enough to find ways around those if he’d wanted to, and so far as she knew, he hadn’t. Grammy had chosen well.
    “I don’t know what I’d do,” she admitted. “But definitely I would have to put this photography plan on hold until I found your replacement.”
If I can find a replacement.
    “Well, I’m not quitting.”
    She let out her breath. “Thank you. You about killed my appetite with that subject.” Ready for a truce, she gazed across the table. “Go ahead and eat, Mitchell. I’m not planning to get engaged to Rudy, and you’re not quitting your job. And it looks like we won’t be having a wild and crazy affair, despite having a supply of condoms not twelve feet away. So there’s nothing left to do but eat this moose-meat pie. Think of it as smoking the peace pipe.”
    His mouth twitched.
    “Feel free to smile, too. It wouldn’t kill you.”
    He did more than that. He laughed. “Since you’re not gagging and rolling on the floor, I guess this meal is safe to eat.”
    “Nice. You let the heiress be your food taster. I thought it was supposed to work the other way around.”
    “But you don’t want to be treated like an heiress.” He took a sizable bite and stuck it in his mouth.
    “You’ve got that right.”
    He chewed and swallowed. “You know, it really isn’t bad. A little gamey, but what can you expect from road-kill?”
    “Exactly.” She settled in to enjoy the rest of her meal. But when she’d nearly cleaned her plate, she suddenly thought of how close she’d come to disaster tonight. She glanced up. “Mitchell, please don’t ever quit.”
    His brown gaze softened. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
    That’s when she knew for sure. No matter what he said, he had the hots for her. But he’d pretend that he didn’t, and that was okay, too. She could do worse than having a secret admirer like Mitchell.
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Chapter Six

    M itch wasn’t entirely happy with the status quo, but at least he and Ally had managed to finish the meal and do the dishes together without getting in a fight. She still thought he wanted her, and maybe that was okay. For one thing, he did want her, and he was having a tough time pretending not to.
    Women had a sixth sense about these things. No matter what he said, she’d picked up on his lust vibes, and he didn’t know how to block those. Her bulky red sweater and jeans didn’t entirely disguise the curves that he’d spent way too much time thinking about.
    True, he had to pay close attention to catch the moments when the sweater shifted to reveal the line of her breast. He had to keep his eyes open so he wouldn’t miss the times when she leaned over to put away a pan and her jeans would pull tight over her ass. He didn’t miss anything. He tried to rationalize it as his PI training kicking in. Yeah, right. What he was doing was engaging in covert ogling.
    Not covert enough, either, because he felt certain she was aware of his thinly veiled obsession with her body. She probably liked it, the little tease. Matter of fact, he was convinced she liked it, because her green eyes got all sparkly during their dishwashing episode.
    “So where did you learn to wash dishes?” he asked, as she finished wiping down the counters.
    “In college.”
    “You took home ec?” If so, he’d missed that piece of info when he’d briefed himself on her past.
    “No, I joined a sorority. As a pledge, I had to do chores around the sorority house. I was bad at it, but eventually I learned out of self-defense.” She set the sponge on the back of the sink.
    He knew about the sorority gig, and that she’d graduated with honors. “Because they’d make you do it over?”
    She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “No, because they’d make fun of me for being a rich bitch who didn’t know how to do anything useful.”
    “Ouch.” He tried to concentrate on what she was