Chapter Thirteen


Astonished, Marnie allowed herself to be kissed—at first—and then kissed John back, her hands sliding up his back. It felt so good! She had no idea what she'd been missing.
When he pulled away, gazing at her to check her reaction, she turned away so he couldn't see the admission of pleasure in her eyes. She'd been kissed and left before, and John was a traveling man—maybe it meant nothing at all.
Then again, maybe it did.
"Convinced?" he asked, his voice husky.
"That you want to be here?" Her heart thundered. She so wanted to believe that he felt something for her, something more than a garden-variety attraction.
"Maybe that I want to be with you."
The thunder in her heart subsided. Maybe. That dreaded word. The in-between word. Finally, she fell back on the hesitation she felt. "Maybe, perhaps, possibly." She turned to look at Liza, who was beginning to get restless in the crib, a sure sign that a full-blown meal request was about to be made. Marnie could feel her breasts start to tingle, a sure sign that she needed privacy very soon. "You'll have to excuse me, John."
He frowned. "Maybe, perhaps, possibly?" he repeated. "Is that your answer?"
"No." Desperately, she motioned toward the door with her hand. "If you don't mind, I need to feed Liza."
"Oh."
She was sure he didn't mean to, but his gaze fell to her breasts instantaneously. Marnie's cheeks warmed. Liza let out a yell, and Marnie and John both reached for her at the same time, their hands bumping awkwardly.
"I'm so sorry," John said.
Marnie replied, "It's fine. But this is a job I've got to do myself."
He nodded and with one last glance at the baby, he said, "What time do you want to work in the morning?"
"Nine o'clock."
"I'll be here."
He left and she heard the front door close a moment later. Sighing, she sat down with a very wriggly Liza and started to nurse her. Slowly, the baby began to relax.
She heard the front door open. Her eyes widened. This was certainly a moment she didn't want John witnessing!
"Marnie," he called.
She quickly called back, "Don't come in!"
"I'm not," he said. "I'm staying right here in the hallway. But I just wanted to tell you that maybe sometimes means that I really wanted to kiss you and it was hard to work the courage up, so I hope you didn't mind. At least for a guy who hopes you're not mad at him, that's what maybe means."
She heard the front door close again. "Great," she murmured to Liza, "he's a gentleman on top of everything else."
A hot, sexy gentleman who kissed so well and made her feel things she'd never experienced.
Her own "maybe" was in great danger of turning into a "yes."

Chapter Fourteen


When John arrived the next morning, Marnie was ready for him. She'd had the night to think about how she was beginning to feel about this man she knew nothing about, and her female intuition was warning her that she needed to be cautious. "About those letters of introduction or whatever you said you had," she said as he set eggs and croissants down on two plates in the kitchen.
"Well, one's from my sister, and one's from my ex-wife as I said and there's even one from my mother. She can't bear to be left out of anything, and she felt for you about your artwork that I ran over," John said, licking a finger. "All of them sympathized with your situation, so I think they really worked that woman-to-woman bond in their notes. Hungry?"
She blinked. "I can definitely eat. That smells so good." Hunger could be used to define different states of being, so she told herself she needed food more than romance and sat down at the table. "I assume they say nice things about you."
"Intolerably nice." He grinned at her. "They'd like you, too, though. They're wonderful women."
She was annoyed to find jealousy creeping into her emotions. How many men were on best-friends-only terms with their ex-wives—really?
"Don't be jealous," he said cheerfully, just to rub her the wrong way. The twinkle in his eyes gave him away.
"I'm not," she fibbed. "Anyways, the dollhouse is lovely. I don't know if I thanked you properly for it, but it's certainly a keepsake Liza will love."
"Thank you. It was a pleasure to do it for her."
She looked at him carefully, admiring his strong fingers as he held his fork, his broad chest stretching the fabric of a Lacoste shirt and decided to give in to her curiosity. "You said it was a replica of your house."
He nodded, his gaze on her.
"It seems awfully large. For just you."
"Five thousand square feet." He laid his fork down, his eyes dimming a bit. "I was hoping to have a lot of children, but you might have been able to figure that out yourself."
Marnie wondered if she should stop now before she asked something he didn't want to talk about, and then decided the fact that he'd kissed her gave her a reason to ask more. The reference letters he had weren't going to tell her what she was beginning to want to know—that could only come from him. "I did wonder," she admitted. "Your wife didn't want children?"
"We waited too long," he said slowly. "One day, we woke up to find out that our careers had taken precedence over romance. We decided that having children might be best between two people who were still interested in being married to each other—especially when only one of us was really interested in having them at all. The funny thing is, we liked each other better when we weren't trying to force the romance and realized we were more comfortable as friends."
She looked at him, remembering the wistful quotation he'd painted on the kitchen wall of the dollhouse.
"Not that I'm making a statement about your situation," he said, "but it wasn't right for us."
"Well, my situation is not ideal," Marnie said. "You've been a big help in making it better." She hesitated. "John, I know you made the first payment on the house for me."
It was his turn to be silent. His dark eyes watched her closely.
"There's a big difference between my fifteen-hundred-square-foot house and your five thousand square feet," Marnie said, "and I guess I have to wonder if—"
"If I'm trying on the role of Prince Charming?" he asked, his gaze glinting. "I didn't hit the road to look for a replacement family to fill up my empty house, if that's what you're asking, Marnie."

Chapter Fifteen


Marnie stood, not certain how to reply to John's statement. "I think I'll clean the kitchen and then get to work."
Reaching out, he touched her arm. "I'll clean. You go work."
"I can—"
"I'm the house husband," he said firmly, "and you'd better use this time wisely because this is the end of my vacation."
"John," she said, "how do you manage to be gone from your job so long?"
"Blackberry," he said, pulling one from his pocket. "Cell phone. And I have a laptop in the truck. Life is good."
"I see." Marnie blinked. "I don't even own a cell phone."
"We should rectify that at once," John said, but Marnie quickly shook her head. "If you buy me one more thing, I'm taking a month off your time with Liza."
He looked at her, his eyes crinkled at the sides. "Ouch. That hurt."
"I know." She gave him a saucy look. "I have figured out exactly which woman in the house has your attention."
"I hope you're not disappointed." His expression was wry.
"Not at all," she said breezily. "I'm just glad to find that you actually have a weak spot."
"Oh, I'm not the rescuing hero you seem to think I am." John lightly pinched her arm. "While my sister and ex-wife might like me very well, my business partners probably wouldn't write me anything but a check. I can be very tough on them, which is why we're successful. And my nieces and nephews say I snore. I know this is true because they tried to tape my mouth shut once when I fell asleep on my sister's sofa. So you can see I am far from princely."
"Good," Marnie said, "you were starting to get on my nerves."
He laughed. "You should come visit my house and family in West Virginia. You'd hear tales then."
She went to the back door. "I can safely say I'll never be any closer to West Virginia than John Denver's wonderful song." As soon as she made that claim, she wondered if that was really the way she felt, but John just shrugged and turned to the sink.
Marnie looked at his broad back, somehow disappointed that he didn't intend to reply. She'd been enjoying their banter. "John," she said, and he turned toward her, "you really seem like a nice guy. And I do appreciate everything you're doing."
"Thanks. Kind of funny how some broken glass can bring two strangers together, isn't it?" He looked at her for a long moment, then put the dishes in the sink and turned the water on, his back to her again.
Marnie hesitated for a half second too long, looking at the man who'd designated himself as her house husband. He was the closest thing she'd ever come to having a husband at all, she realized, and she was beginning to wonder if she was tempted to fill the position—permanently.

Chapter Sixteen



John wasn't surprised by Marnie's lack of trust—he even admired her caution. He wondered about the guy who wanted no part of his little child's life—the man didn't know what he was missing. Obviously, Marnie had been interested in marriage at one time, but now it was obvious that she'd run in the opposite direction if she sensed John had anything on his mind other than helping her through a rough spot.
"Do you blame her?" his sister asked him when he told her the situation by cell phone while Marnie was in the cottage. "Her fiancé was clearly emotionally under-developed. You, on the other hand, are an old soul in a great bod, something I tell you reluctantly because I like your humble side."
He laughed at her. "Smart aleck." He knew too well Jane thought he was arrogant; so did his business partners.
"So when does she get to see the real you?" Jane asked, and John chuckled.
"The me you didn't describe in your reference letter?"
She laughed. "I love you, John. And the kids miss their uncle. When are you coming home?"
"Soon," he murmured, watching Marnie walk back from the cottage. She had the nicest sway in her hips when she moved.
"Don't decide to stay," Jane cautioned. "West Virginia is where you belong."
She hung up and John put away his cell phone. "Hi," he said to Marnie from his spot on the sofa.
"Hi." She looked adorably rumpled from working all morning. "Is Liza in the nursery?"
"Nope. She's right here."
Marnie peered over his shoulder, her lips curving when she saw the baby asleep in his lap. "I thought she'd be getting restless for her lunch."
"She will. She's very punctual, a good trait in a woman." He winked at Marnie.
"Have you been sitting there since I went to work?"
He pointed to his laptop and Blackberry. "I've been working, too."
Marnie looked at her daughter with longing. "I thought she'd miss me."
"Not with her Uncle John seeing to her every whim."
Marnie pursed her lips, and he appreciated the unconscious gesture.
"I think I can be done in three weeks," she said, surprising him. "I have the old pattern, which was time-consuming because I wanted the details small and intricate. I realized the design was what took the most time. It's just a matter of speeding up the process and I can be much quicker this time. Plus I'm much faster with the foiling process."
His heart thudded with disappointment. "You're really not comfortable around me, are you?"
She met his gaze. "I just don't want any distractions."
"Distractions?"
She nodded. "In learning who I am. In growing my relationship with my baby. In developing my own way in life."
Damn. He might have known she'd be one of those independent, wonderfully un-shallow women to whom life and all its varying colors and shades mattered.
He realized he'd hoped to convince her to blend him into her life, slowly, if need be, but blend just the same. She'd probably sensed that—Jane said a woman could detect a man's radar locking on to her and some were smart enough to move out of the target range.
Marnie was one of the smart ones. "Actually," he said smoothly, "my business partners called today and they really need me back on site." I can tell you're extremely uncomfortable around me, no matter how much I'd give anything to taste your lips again.
"I see."
He thought he heard relief in her voice. His hand moved across Liza's back, enjoying the feel of a baby in his world. He would miss holding her and touching her soft skin. He'd most definitely miss the smooth suppleness of Marnie's mouth under his.
But she had to want the closeness as much as he did—and it appeared she didn't.

Chapter Seventeen


Marnie was scared, though she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone. John was a prince of a man. Surely she was crazy for wanting him to leave, but she kept thinking about Liza. She needed to focus on her daughter and on her job, and not a wonderfully charismatic male who'd rolled into her life. One man had already left their lives, and it was safer to have no man than a man who would eventually leave—she couldn't let Liza suffer in the process.
She didn't want that heartache for Liza.
"So we agree?" John asked. "I'll stay another three weeks or until you finish."
She told herself to breathe a sigh of relief, but somehow the relief she'd expected didn't come. Disappointment carved out a hollow spot in her instead. "Thank you."
Liza scooched and then snuffled, precursors to a wail.
"Dinner," John said, and Marnie took her baby from him, her fingers brushing his as he carefully handed Liza to her. Liza was warm from snuggling with John. It occurred to Marnie that John would be a great place for any woman to rest and find warmth. He was so big and strong—
"Is something wrong?" he asked, and Marnie blinked, realizing she'd been daydreaming.
"No. I was just trying to decide if I should change Liza before or after I feed her," she said quickly. "Excuse me."
She left the room, not able to meet John's gaze. Sitting in the rocker in Liza's nursery, Marnie comforted her baby and began to feed her. She could hear John moving around in the kitchen, opening cabinets and taking out pots. She closed her eyes against the cozy, homey sounds. He'd seemed so disappointed by her announcement that she could finish in three weeks, but ever since he'd kissed her, she'd felt herself in a dangerous place of longing.
After she finished feeding Liza and changed her, she laid her in the crib, covering her with a light blanket before joining John in the kitchen. He was stirring something that smelled heavenly. "It's the playing house aspect that bothers me."
Smiling he put down the wooden spoon and began chopping peppers. "You're not comfortable with a man working at home, are you? And being responsible for half the load."
She looked at him before picking up a tomato and dicing it on the same board he was using. "Maybe not."
"This is my job, Marnie," he said. "No different than what I do at home. I'm not playing house with you. It's real. Not pretend, like the dollhouse I built for Liza to decorate and imagine her own family in one day. No more chopping for you, lady," he said, moving her gently away from the board. "Until you start taking my work seriously, you have to watch."
"I feel like I'm in a restaurant."
"You think I'm doing this for you, but it's just part of my bachelor routine."
She hadn't considered that. A little humility popped her worries. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to anyone doing anything for me."
"Like I said, I'm not doing anything for you." His smile turned into a grin. "I'm working on my job, and I'm [محذوف][محذوف][محذوف][محذوف][محذوف]ng because I'm hungry and I would anyway—you don't eat enough to make this chicken cacciatore just for you—and I watch Liza because I want to. She's small and delicate and only gives me sass when she's ready to eat. In fact, she's much easier to get along with than her mother."
That was probably true. Marnie knew she'd been very stiff around John. Did she want fear and insecurity to rule her life? "It's all very new to me."
He laid down the knife, washed his hands before turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm here because I want to be. Relax. I'm not going to eat you, Red Riding Hood."
"But you did kiss me," she said.
And he said, "And you kissed me back, I noticed."
Darn him. "Does that fit into your everyday job description?"
"Do you want it to?"
She could go through life completely afraid of losing again. But life was made up of choices. Some were better choices than others.
She threw her troublesome caution to the wind. "Let's evaluate that aspect of the job."