Maid in Montana. SUSAN MEIERЧитать онлайн книгу.
and my home. I set the rules. I told you I didn’t want to see your baby, but you either chose not to keep him out of my way or couldn’t keep him out of my way as requested. The arrangement failed.” He leaned back in his chair again. “Now, you can stay three weeks because I do need the house cleaned for the clients, and I’m even giving you the extra thousand you asked for. But after that you’re gone. I won’t have a baby here.”
CHAPTER THREE
SOPHIE watched television until eleven that night, hoping to make herself tired. But even after hours of mindless TV her upset over losing her job made her too restless to go to bed.
After checking to make sure Brady was in a deep sleep, she slid into her one-piece bathing suit and the matching terry-cloth cover-up then grabbed the portable baby monitor from the bedside table. Slim had shown her a swimming pool when he gave her the tour of the house and said she was free to use it. Of course, that was before she had been fired, but she didn’t care. She was restless and needed to make herself tired. She was having a swim.
She opened the door to her suite slowly, not wanting to run in to anyone since her cover-up was short and she felt uncomfortable walking around only half dressed.
Common sense told her she had no reason to fear. It was late. She was on the first floor. Her boss’s suite of rooms was on the second floor. Slim had a cabin behind the homestead. Only a few hands actually slept in the bunkhouse, but even they were so far from the house that no one would see her. She was perfectly safe.
She took a breath, stole down the short hall that led to the kitchen and then slipped into the family room with French doors that led to the pool. In another two steps, she was standing on the stone patio.
Silence descended on her like a warm blanket. The city always had sound. Background noise. A person might grow accustomed to it and not “hear” it, but it was always there. On this ranch, so far away from civilization, she learned the meaning of the word silence.
Removing her cover-up, she glanced around in awe. Except for dim lights illuminating the blue water of the pool, this world was also inky-black. Remembering something about seeing stars in the country, she quickly glanced up and sighed.
“Oh, my gosh.”
“Oh, my gosh what?”
On a gasp, Sophie spun around to find Jeb walking out of the shadows behind her. Water flattened his thick black hair and droplets cascaded from his shoulders and down his broad chest, making trails through whorls of dark hair leading to six-pack abs. Wet black swimming trucks clung precariously to lean hips and a butt made for a woman to sink her fingernails into in the throes of passion.
Even as her mouth went dry, she groaned inwardly. How could she be attracted to the man who had just fired her?
“Oh, my gosh what?” He repeated his question as he walked over to her, stopping within arm’s reach.
Awareness shimmied through her. With her cover-up in her hand and wearing only her bathing suit, she wasn’t quite as naked as he was, but they were both scantily dressed, alone, in the darkness.
She pulled in a breath. This was ridiculous. Not only were they were both sufficiently covered, but also she was furious with him and he clearly didn’t like her. There was no reason to remind him of that, but she wouldn’t cower from him, either.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “The stars. There are so many.”
“You have big city syndrome,” he growled, back to being the grouchy boss. “The sky is always lit over a city, blocking one of nature’s greatest gifts. A starry night.”
He looked up into the star-spangled darkness and her gaze skimmed his broad chest and perfect tummy. He was, quite literally, the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
“Yeah. We certainly don’t have stars like this in the city.” She swallowed, desperately trying to will away her attraction. He was a self-centered grouch, who had fired her. He was the last person she wanted to feel anything for. But she couldn’t deny that being this close to him, her whole body hummed. She told herself it was just plain foolish to be attracted to a man she didn’t even like. Yet, here she stood, her breathing erratic, her nerve endings on red alert.
“I’ll go back to my room.”
He snatched a huge green towel from a nearby chaise. “No, I’ll go. I’m done with my swim. In about ten seconds the patio will be all yours.”
A nervous laugh bubbled up from her. There was no way she’d force him to leave his own swimming pool. No way she’d give him another thing to complain about. “No. That’s okay. You stay. I only came out here to get a breath of fresh air.”
She watched his gaze move from her face, down her one-piece suit, pausing on the length of leg exposed beneath the high-cut bottom.
“If you only came out for fresh air, then why are you in a swimsuit?”
Her breathing, which had been erratic, stalled in her chest. His voice might have been strong, detached, but the look he’d given her had been long and slow. He’d taken in every square inch of her and lingered on the part of her that usually drew a man—her legs.
She swallowed.
Knowing she had to get herself out of this and quickly, she tried to fall back on humor. “All right. You caught me. I’m guilty as charged. I wanted a quick swim, but I didn’t realize you were using the pool or I wouldn’t have come out.”
He took a step closer. “I didn’t picture you as the one-piece suit type. I figured you more for a bikini girl.”
Another nervous laugh escaped her. Was it her imagination, or was he flirting with her? If he made a pass at her, she wasn’t sure if she would melt or faint.
Of course, she could be jumping to conclusions. One little comment didn’t necessarily mean he was flirting. He could actually be confused by her choice of swimwear.
“Why a bikini?”
“Don’t you surf?”
“No.”
“Hum. A California girl who doesn’t surf. Another myth debunked.”
Relief skittered through her. He wasn’t flirting but confused by her. She could breathe again. “You think all California girls surf?”
He caught her gaze, his pale eyes soft and serious in the moonlight. “Yes.”
Realization of how close they were slid over her. He was a very different man when he wasn’t yelling at her. In fact, from the way he was looking at her she’d never guess he had a problem with her at all.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, feeling reactions and emotions that were more instinctive than conscious. Her eyes desperately wanted to move down again, soak in the beauty and masculinity of his chest, and she struggled to keep them locked with his. Her nerve endings sparkled like the stars overhead.
He stepped back, his gaze still locked with hers. “You’d do well to remember that I’m a grouch and check to make sure the pool isn’t occupied the next time you want to swim.”
Embarrassment poured through her in a rush of heat. So much for him being a different man when he wasn’t yelling.
But even if he couldn’t rise above their differences, she could. “I’m sorry. Next time I want to swim I’ll ask.”
“There’s no reason to ask. Just remember that I swim every night around ten-thirty and we’ll be fine.”
Though his words were appropriate, his voice went back to being soft, hypnotic, resurrecting the sprinkle of gooseflesh that covered her body. She peeked at him, confused again. What was going on here?
Before she could say anything, he turned to the French doors and within seconds was gone.
She shook her head. If she didn’t desperately need the money she’d get working here