Bronwyn Jameson - The Ashtons - Jillian, Eli & Charlotte

He looked at her strangely. “I’m sorry. Did I miss the begging?”

“The other morning, at the stables.” She waved a hand in that general direction, but she did not want to go back there. She did not want to remember the desperate edge of panic that had driven her to swallow her pride and ask, straight out, for his help. “You said you’d take a look, no promises. What changed your mind?”

For a second he looked right at her, and something in his eyes made her draw herself back, as if that might deflect the impact of all that dark intensity. Then he hitched a shoulder and answered ever so casually. “Like you said, it’s a small job. And I’ve decided to take the opportunity to get my hands dirty.”

Oh, my Lord, it would be Villa Firenze all over again. The dangerous glint in his eyes. The masculine scent of hard work and hot muscles. The glimpse of his skin, glistening with sweat. Her own unaccustomed reaction, part fascination, part run-like-hell terror.

Jillian swallowed. “You’re going to do the work yourself?”

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“But you said you were booked solid right through summer. ” She scrambled to bring order to her thoughts. “How will you fit this in?”

“By juggling and overtime. Will working at night present any problems?”

Yes, no, probably not. Frowning, she considered the situation. If he worked nights, there’d be less disruption. Less bitching from Eli about builders under his feet. “No, that would work,” she said slowly. “But what about Rachel?”

He stared at her a moment. “I thought you wanted me on this job.”

“I do. Yes. Absolutely.”

“Then stop reminding me why it’s not going to be easy.”

“Okay,” she said, exhaling in a long rush. “But promise me that if there’s ever a problem with Rachel and child care, you’ll let me know.”

“Rachel’s not your problem, Jillian.”

“I know that.” And she had no reason to feel stung, no matter how she felt about his little girl who’d lost her mother due to Jason’s recklessness.

Not your fault, she reminded herself. You had no influence over him. You couldn’t slow him down, settle him down, or keep him satisfied. You can’t hold yourself responsible for his actions.

She lifted her chin and looked Seth square in the eye. “And I don’t want to create any problems for her, either, Seth. You’re doing me a big favor here. Let me do this one small thing in return.”

“ If it’s ever an issue.”

“You’ll call me, let me help you out?”

She didn’t think he would relent, and he did so finally with the barest inclination of his head. A small acknowledgment rather than any kind of surrender, but that was enough.

Unlike his brother, Seth Bennedict was a man of his word and Jillian intended to keep him to it.

Eager to get his quote approved and the project underway, Jillian had convened a meeting with her brothers and sister for late Friday afternoon. No problem, Seth assured her, when she called and asked him to attend. His sister was coming up from San Francisco for the weekend. Eve could leave earlier and babysit Rachel.

He didn’t count on the trailer rollover and Eve’s phone call from the middle of traffic chaos. His housekeeper Rosa had already left for a weekend off. What could he do but get on the phone and reschedule?

“Sorry, but it’s too late to arrange another sitter,” he explained to Jillian.

“Where is Rachel now?”

“I’m about to pick her up from day care.”

“Bring her with you,” she said. “We’ll shift the meeting to the house. Caroline will love the chance to spoil her.”

Seth frowned, not because of the Caroline-spoiling thing but because his daughter had a shy streak. She hadn’t ever met any of Jillian’s family. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

There was the tiniest hint of a pause. “You said you’d let me help out with Rachel. Are you going back on your word, Seth?”

Hell.

“We’ll see you in half an hour, then.”

Twenty-eight minutes later Seth pulled up outside the Vines.

Still dressed in her work uniform, Jillian jogged down from the portico of the big rustic house before he’d even turned off the engine. Like she’d been watching for his arrival. The kick of that notion—Jillian waiting for him—resonated through his body as she approached, a warm and welcoming smile curving her lips.

A warm smile welcoming his back seat passenger.

His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror and found it filled with his daughter’s anxious little face. Her thumb went straight into her mouth. Damn. After Karen’s death he’d vowed never to let work come before his daughter. He should not have compromised that vow. He should not have brought her here.

By the time his boots hit the ironstone drive, Jillian was unstrapping Rachel from her car seat. But she didn’t grab her and swing her into her arms. Nor did she overpower her with meaningless remember-me? prattle. Hunkered down by the open door, she smiled quietly at his daughter and fixed on the perfect opener.

“Is that Pinky Pony?” She leaned back a fraction and inspected the toy Rachel held clutched to her chest. The one Jillian had given her last Christmas. “I’m so glad you brought him back to visit with me and his friends.”

Slowly the thumb slid from Rachel’s mouth, although her big brown eyes maintained a note of suspicion. “Have you got other ponies?”

“I sure do.”

Rachel maintained her wariness for, oh, another three seconds before wriggling out of the seat and tucking her hand in Jillian’s. “Are they in your bedwoom?”

“Yup. Should we ask your daddy if it’s okay to go and see them?”

“He woan want to come. He doesn’t like ponies. He says they got bad additudes.”

“Really? I did not know that.”

As she straightened from three-year-old level to standing, Jillian’s eyes sought and found his, and while her face and voice echoed his daughter’s serious-subject tone, those green eyes danced with amusement. “Is that right, Seth? You don’t like ponies because of their attitude?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know where she gets these things.”

Lips twitching as if to suppress laughter, she tilted her head and fixed him with a challenging look. “So, do you want to come and look at ponies with Rachel, then?”

“In your bedroom? I don’t think so.”

Which probably wasn’t the smart thing to say, not when he’d been enjoying standing close enough to absorb the warmth of her teasing mood. Not pinot noir today, but something as lively and vibrant as that spark in her eyes. A sparkling rosé, perhaps.

And, she didn’t shy away as he’d expected. She blinked slowly and something shifted in her expression. A hint of man-woman awareness, a knowledge that to Seth her bedroom was not a place of ponies and girlie tea parties but of feminine scents and lacy garments and every midnight fantasy he could remember.

Of course he had to be imagining things. If she detected any of that on his face, she’d run a mile. Instead she stood eye-locked with him, a touch of pink in her cheeks and a touch of mystery in her green eyes.

Until Rachel tugged at her hand. “Come on, Aunt Jellie. Pinky wantsta see your ponies.”

Jillian allowed herself to be towed off toward the house by his purportedly shy daughter, pausing only to call back over her shoulder. “Come on inside. Cole’s waiting in the library and Mercedes isn’t far away. Eli may or may not make it.”

A timely reminder, Seth decided, of his purpose and place here today. Not in her bedroom, breathing the intoxicating mix of wine and woman that clung to her skin, but in the library, talking business. He would do well to keep that in mind.