True Love, Inc.. Jackie BraunЧитать онлайн книгу.
into view. It was set back from the road on the crest of a hill, its lowest level partially built into the slope. A big bay window jutted from the stone facade, above it two cedar-shingled gables gazed cheerfully out over the orchards.
It was a beautiful home, a serene setting, but Maddie’s pulse throbbed in her temples as she parked the car and gathered her briefcase. What kind of mood would Cameron Foley be in today?
Shrugging off her nerves, she walked to the front door. It was yanked open before she could knock. A girl of about six stood in front of her. She wore denim overall shorts and a pink shirt. Her dark hair was pulled into a pair of adorably crooked pigtails. There were matching bandages on her knees and a smudge of something that looked like flour on one of her chubby cheeks.
She eyed Maddie speculatively before asking, “Who are you?” The words whistled out from the darling gap between her two front teeth.
Maddie leaned forward at the waist. When she was nearly eye level with the girl, she replied, “I’m Maddie Daniels. And who might you be?”
“I’m Caroline Foley. I live here.”
“You’re lucky. It’s a nice house.”
The girl shrugged, then her pixie face scrunched comically. “Are you the know-it-all I heard Daddy telling Mrs. Haversham about?”
The insult, delivered so earnestly in the child’s squeaky voice, caused Maddie to chuckle. “Yes, that would be me.”
So, Cameron Foley had a daughter, a delightful little imp of a girl who apparently had inherited her father’s gift for being blunt. The envy she felt was instantaneous and accompanied by a painful mental chorus of “if onlys.”
“Oh, Miss Daniels!” a woman called, rushing into the foyer behind Caroline. She was about sixty and as plump as a Thanksgiving turkey. “I’m Mrs. Haversham, Cam’s housekeeper. He told me to expect you.”
Maddie shook off her melancholy and sent Caroline a wink as she straightened. “So I hear. And call me Maddie, please.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Maddie.” Mrs. Haversham wiped a pair of thick hands on the apron she wore and glanced over her shoulder when a timer chimed.
“I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. Mr. Foley did tell me noon.”
“Not at all. That will be my apple pie. Cam is in the orchard. He said to send you out when you got here.” She turned to Caroline, surreptitiously wiping the flour from the little girl’s cheek with a grandmotherly pat. “Dearie, why don’t you show Maddie the way?”
Maddie followed Caroline around the side of the house, across the lawn and into the orchard, falling farther behind with each tentative step she took. Walking on a sidewalk often proved a trial, but walking on an uneven dirt path littered with nature’s debris had Maddie wishing she’d brought the cane she’d relegated to the back of her closet. She hated the thing and the way it advertised her disability, but using it would have been far less humiliating than what happened to her next. She stumbled, her foot twisting on an exposed root, and her world tilted. Windmilling her arms like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon did nothing to restore her precarious balance, but it did send her briefcase flying. To her utter mortification, Maddie landed with a jarring thud on her backside in the middle of Cameron Foley’s orchard.
“Caroline!” she called. The little girl had danced several yards ahead, propelled by the boundless energy of youth, but she bulleted back now, eyes huge at the sight of an adult sprawled on the ground.
“Gosh, are you hurt?”
“No.” Unless she counted her pride, Maddie thought wryly. “But I think I’ll just rest for a moment. Could you, um, go find your father and ask him to meet me here?”
Maddie watched Caroline shoot down a row of trees, envying the girl’s surefootedness. When she was alone, she put dignity aside and crawled on all fours to the briefcase and the smattering of papers that had tumbled out of its exterior pockets. She gathered them up, stuffed them back in and was preparing to use the case as leverage to help her stand when an incredulous deep voice stopped her cold.
“What the heck happened to you?”
Cameron Foley could hardly believe his eyes. Maddie Daniels was kneeling in the dirt. The woman had fallen, just as his daughter had claimed when she’d come tearing down one of the rows of tart cherries he’d been walking along with a worker. Cam almost smiled at the picture the woman presented. Dust covered her navy slacks and a wave of dark hair dangled in front of her eyes. He never would have taken the cool, competent Miss Daniels for such a klutz.
“She fell, Daddy. I told you,” Caroline chirped, clearly perplexed by her father’s short memory.
“I see that, honey. Now, why don’t you run back to the house and tell Mrs. Haversham to put on a fresh pot of coffee. We’ll be along shortly.”
When his daughter was out of hearing range, he said, “I hope you’re not going to sue me. I’d hate to have to turn my farm into a condo development to pay out a personal injury settlement to some clumsy female.”
“Your concern is truly enough to make me weep,” Maddie replied, her tone as dry as the dusty patch of earth beneath her knees. Cam gave her points for dignity. Her stiff upper lip appeared unaffected, which probably was more than could be said for her dust-covered derriere.
“Yeah, well, why don’t we head back to the house? Less chance for you to get hurt sitting in my kitchen. I hope.”
It was a cheap shot, but he wasn’t feeling particularly cordial at the moment. He didn’t have time for this today. He didn’t have time for her any day. How he wished he’d never let pride push him into this foolish bargain.
He glanced around the orchard and suppressed the urge to sigh. It was not quite July, but a warm spring had caused the cherries to ripen early. The sweets were almost two weeks ahead of schedule, and the tarts were right behind them. If some of the trees weren’t shaken soon the fruit would spoil. He’d lost some of his help to better-paying jobs, three of his best workers in the past month alone. The good economy made it hard to keep employees, especially when the same economy didn’t do much for the price that cherries brought at market.
“We’ll have to make this quick. Daylight is dollars to a farmer, Miss Daniels.” He snatched up the briefcase and started off for the house.
“Mr. Foley.”
She brought him up short when she called his name in that formal, Southern-sounding way of hers.
What now? He blew out an exasperated breath before turning around, but the pithy comment he planned died on his lips when he realized she had not moved. She was still on the ground, one leg pulled beneath her as if she had tried to stand. The other one, however, was bent at a rather awkward angle out to the side.
“I’m afraid I can’t get up on my own.” The words were issued in a stilted whisper and her gaze slid away as she said them. A blush the color of ripe tart cherries darkened her fair cheeks.
Still not looking directly at him, she extended the scarred hand and Cam’s memory stirred. That day in her office her movements had seemed stiff and hesitant, painful even. Clearly, whatever accident had left her hand so marred had done far more serious damage to her leg. And he’d left her sitting in the dirt. He closed his eyes briefly, ashamed that his rude behavior had forced her to all but beg for his help.
Cam clasped the hand Maddie held out and, as gently as possible, helped her to her feet, apologizing profusely as he did so.
“You know, I’m not usually such a jerk.”
She was gracious enough to let him off the hook easily. “It’s all right, really.” She reached for the briefcase he still held.
“I’ll carry it for you. Is your leg...how did...?” He let the questions trail away on a hastily expelled breath. “Sorry. It’s really none of my business.”
She