entrance. She had chosen something quiet and floating with lots of violins this time. He’d been sorry when it had stopped and she had hurried down the hallway on her way to the dining room.
From his position on the second floor he couldn’t hear the bustle in the kitchen below, but he could imagine it. Mae and Dolores would be bickering as waffle or muffin batter was whipped up. Charity would have grabbed a quick cup of coffee before rushing out to help the waitress set up tables and write the morning’s menu.
Her hair would be damp, her voice calm as she smoothed over Dolores’s daily complaints. She’d smell of the rain. When the early risers wandered down she would smile, greet them by name and make them feel as though they were sharing a meal at an old friend’s house.
That was her greatest skill, Roman mused. Making a stranger feel at home.
Could she be as uncomplicated as she seemed? A part of him wanted badly to believe that. Another part of him found it impossible. Everyone had an angle, from the mailroom clerk dreaming of a desk job to the CEO wheeling another deal. She couldn’t be any different.
He wouldn’t have called the kiss they’d shared uncomplicated. There had been layers to it he couldn’t have begun to peel away. It seemed contradictory that such a calm-eyed, smooth-voiced woman could explode with such towering passion. Yet she had. Perhaps her passion was as much a part of the act as her serenity.
It annoyed him. Just remembering his helpless response to her infuriated him. So he made himself dissect it further. If he was attracted to what she seemed to be, that was reasonable enough. He’d lived a solitary and often turbulent life. Though he had chosen to live that way, and certainly preferred it, it wasn’t unusual that at some point he would find himself pulled toward a woman who represented everything he had never had. And had never wanted, Roman reminded himself as he tacked up a strip of molding.
He wasn’t going to pretend he’d found any answers in Charity. The only answers he was looking for pertained to the job.
For now he would wait until the morning rush was over. When Charity was busy in her office, he would go down and charm some breakfast out of Mae. There was a woman who didn’t trust him, Roman thought with a grin. There wasn’t a naive bone in her sturdy body. And except for Charity there was no one, he was sure, who knew the workings of the inn better.
Yes, he’d put some effort into charming Mae. And he’d keep some distance between himself and Charity. For the time being.
***
“You’re looking peaked this morning.”
“Thank you very much.” Charity swallowed a yawn as she poured her second cup of coffee.
Peaked
wasn’t the word, she thought. She was exhausted right down to the bone. Her body wasn’t used to functioning on three hours’ sleep. She had Roman to thank for that, she thought, and shoved the just-filled cup aside.
“Sit.” Mae pointed to the table. “I’ll fix you some eggs.”
“I haven’t got time. I—”
“Sit,” Mae repeated, waving a wooden spoon. “You need fuel.”
“Mae’s right,” Dolores put in. “A body can’t run on coffee. You need protein and carbohydrates.” She set a blueberry muffin on the table. “Why, if I don’t watch my protein intake I get weak as a lamb. ’Course, the doctor don’t say, but I think I’m hydroglycemic.”
“Hypoglycemic,” Charity murmured.
“That’s what I said.” Dolores decided she liked the sound of it. At the moment, however, it was just as much fun to worry about Charity as it was to worry about herself. “She could use some nice crisp bacon with those eggs, Mae. That’s what I think.”
“I’m putting it on.”
Outnumbered, Charity sat down. The two women could scrap for days, but when they had a common cause they stuck together like glue.
“I’m not peaked,” she said in her own defense. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“A warm bath
From his position on the second floor he couldn’t hear the bustle in the kitchen below, but he could imagine it. Mae and Dolores would be bickering as waffle or muffin batter was whipped up. Charity would have grabbed a quick cup of coffee before rushing out to help the waitress set up tables and write the morning’s menu.
Her hair would be damp, her voice calm as she smoothed over Dolores’s daily complaints. She’d smell of the rain. When the early risers wandered down she would smile, greet them by name and make them feel as though they were sharing a meal at an old friend’s house.
That was her greatest skill, Roman mused. Making a stranger feel at home.
Could she be as uncomplicated as she seemed? A part of him wanted badly to believe that. Another part of him found it impossible. Everyone had an angle, from the mailroom clerk dreaming of a desk job to the CEO wheeling another deal. She couldn’t be any different.
He wouldn’t have called the kiss they’d shared uncomplicated. There had been layers to it he couldn’t have begun to peel away. It seemed contradictory that such a calm-eyed, smooth-voiced woman could explode with such towering passion. Yet she had. Perhaps her passion was as much a part of the act as her serenity.
It annoyed him. Just remembering his helpless response to her infuriated him. So he made himself dissect it further. If he was attracted to what she seemed to be, that was reasonable enough. He’d lived a solitary and often turbulent life. Though he had chosen to live that way, and certainly preferred it, it wasn’t unusual that at some point he would find himself pulled toward a woman who represented everything he had never had. And had never wanted, Roman reminded himself as he tacked up a strip of molding.
He wasn’t going to pretend he’d found any answers in Charity. The only answers he was looking for pertained to the job.
For now he would wait until the morning rush was over. When Charity was busy in her office, he would go down and charm some breakfast out of Mae. There was a woman who didn’t trust him, Roman thought with a grin. There wasn’t a naive bone in her sturdy body. And except for Charity there was no one, he was sure, who knew the workings of the inn better.
Yes, he’d put some effort into charming Mae. And he’d keep some distance between himself and Charity. For the time being.
***
“You’re looking peaked this morning.”
“Thank you very much.” Charity swallowed a yawn as she poured her second cup of coffee.
Peaked
wasn’t the word, she thought. She was exhausted right down to the bone. Her body wasn’t used to functioning on three hours’ sleep. She had Roman to thank for that, she thought, and shoved the just-filled cup aside.
“Sit.” Mae pointed to the table. “I’ll fix you some eggs.”
“I haven’t got time. I—”
“Sit,” Mae repeated, waving a wooden spoon. “You need fuel.”
“Mae’s right,” Dolores put in. “A body can’t run on coffee. You need protein and carbohydrates.” She set a blueberry muffin on the table. “Why, if I don’t watch my protein intake I get weak as a lamb. ’Course, the doctor don’t say, but I think I’m hydroglycemic.”
“Hypoglycemic,” Charity murmured.
“That’s what I said.” Dolores decided she liked the sound of it. At the moment, however, it was just as much fun to worry about Charity as it was to worry about herself. “She could use some nice crisp bacon with those eggs, Mae. That’s what I think.”
“I’m putting it on.”
Outnumbered, Charity sat down. The two women could scrap for days, but when they had a common cause they stuck together like glue.
“I’m not peaked,” she said in her own defense. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
“A warm bath
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