Jackie Braun - Saying Yes to the Boss

“I’ll leave the flashlight with you. Good night, Dane Conlan,” she called over her shoulder when she reached the threshold. “Sleep well.”

He laughed, sounding bemused, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Yeah, like that’s going to happen now.”

Alone in the room upstairs, Ree lit a candle, tugged the dustcovers off the furniture and dropped heavily onto the side of her old bed. She’d never been this wound up or felt this…this physically aware. She scrubbed her hands over her face, amazed by and a little ashamed of her body’s reaction.

As she made up the bed with fresh linens, it dawned on Ree that she’d forgotten to grab a nightgown from the dresser before leaving Dane in her room. She wasn’t fool enough to tempt fate now by going back for it, so she stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed wearing only her underwear.

With a tortured sigh she realized that was one garment more than what the handsome man tucked between the sheets downstairs had on.

WHEN Ree descended the stairs early the next morning after dressing hastily in the cropped pants and pullover she’d worn the evening before, the scent of frying bacon greeted her. She found Dane in the kitchen standing in front of the stove, his hair wet from an apparent shower and a bath towel hooked low around his waist. A bouquet of bruises bloomed on the middle of his back, but that wasn’t the reason she sucked in a breath. The same outrageous tug of desire she’d felt the night before was still there. It hadn’t moved off with the last of the rain. And she still had no idea how to deal with it.

She cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

Dane turned and offered a smile, revealing that solitary dimple that had haunted her dreams.

“It’s better than a good morning. It’s a great morning. The sun’s shining. Birds are singing. I’m alive.”

Despite the offhanded way in which he said it, she got the feeling he truly meant it. Glancing out the window at Lake Michigan, she remembered the way the waves had heaved and bucked against the shore the evening before. The great lake was calm right now, but it could be brutal and unforgiving under the temper of a storm. He was indeed a lucky man.

“I take it you’re feeling better.”

“Much.” He nodded toward the frying bacon. “I hope you don’t mind, but I rummaged through your fridge and decided to start breakfast.”

She swallowed hard. A gorgeous, half-naked man was standing in her kitchen preparing a meal for her. He’d even made coffee.

“I could get used to this,” she murmured and then was pretty sure she blushed. She couldn’t believe the direction her thoughts were taking. To hide her consternation, she asked, “Finding everything okay?”

He nodded. “You have an amazingly organized kitchen. Everything is right where it should be. Well, except for the coffee.”

“You didn’t find it in the canister marked Coffee?” she asked dryly.

“I found it, but the grounds hold their freshness longer if you keep them in the freezer.”

Regina got down a mug from one of the cupboards and poured herself a cupful of the beverage in question. “I’ll take that under advisement,” she said on a chuckle as she stirred in some nondairy creamer.

She leaned against the counter and watched him flip the sizzling strips of bacon with a fork. He looked completely at ease in the kitchen, obviously no stranger to the workings of a stove. Taking a sip of coffee, she nearly sighed. He made a mean cup of joe on top of his other culinary skills. It was scary how the marks in the man’s plus column just kept mounting.

Although she didn’t mean to compare him to Paul Ritter, she found herself doing just that. Her husband didn’t know a coffee pot from a roasting pan. He had always been too distracted by his work and too disinterested in the mechanics of meal preparation to offer to cook her breakfast. He’d never so much as poured her a bowl of cereal. Ree’s gaze strayed to the towel around Dane’s hips. Moistening her lips, she admitted that Paul had never looked quite like that while wearing terry cloth, either.

The toaster popped up and she jumped right along with the delivery of two pieces of evenly browned bread. She wasn’t a woman to let passion overrule dignity and decorum. Nor was she a woman ruled by impulse. That had been her mother, with disastrous results. Ree wasn’t like Angela. She’d made a point of proving that her entire life. As for last night and that kiss, it was but a momentary lapse brought on by stress and the storm.

“Everything okay?” Dane asked.

She smiled to hide her embarrassment. “Barely a sip of coffee and I’m already jumpy.” As he buttered the toast, she added, “I see the electricity came back on.”

“Yep. About six this morning.”

“I wonder if that means phone service has been restored as well.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I already checked for a dial tone. Nothing.”

As she watched, he cracked an egg one-handed into a skillet of melted butter. The man was a regular Wolfgang Puck. Her grandmother would approve. To Nonna, cooking had been on par with praying.

Although he appeared as at ease as she wielding a spatula, good manners compelled her to ask, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nah. I’ve got everything under control. And cooking breakfast is the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I really didn’t do that much,” she demurred.

But Dane grinned. That solitary dimple flashed briefly in the stubble on his jaw, and her pulse shot off like a damned emergency flare.

“You did. More than you know.” Before she could ponder what he meant, he asked, “So, how do you like your eggs?”

“That’s an easy one. This morning calls for sunny-side up.”

Just as she had the night before, Ree found herself seated across from Dane at her kitchen table. The conversation flowed surprisingly easily given the way his gaze would sometimes linger on her lips. In the bright morning light Ree realized that his eyes were an interesting cross between gray and blue, and they definitely clashed with the green and purple welt protruding from his temple.

“You’ll need to see a doctor today.”

“I know. When the phone comes back on I’ll make an appointment right after I call my sisters to let them know I’m okay.”

“You’ll probably need stitches.”

He glanced at his bandaged hand. “Possibly.”

“And maybe even a tetanus shot.”

His lips twisted into a grimace. “Yeah, that’s a possibly, too.”

“Do you think they’ll recover your boat?”

“I don’t know how much of it will be left to recover.” Then he shrugged. “I’ve got insurance. It wasn’t fancy anyway.” He glanced around the kitchen. “Not like this house. I didn’t get a chance to appreciate it last night with the lights out and my head on fire.”

“That’s understandable.”

“The detail work is incredible. I’m guessing it was built in the late 1800s, probably between 1885 and 1890.”

“Eighteen eighty-seven,” she confirmed, surprised by his perception.

Motioning with his fork he asked, “Do you know if those are the original cabinets?”

“Yes. The hardware is vintage, too.” She frowned at the worn finish of the cabinet doors and tarnished brass knobs before her gaze dipped to the scored floorboards that peaked from beneath a faded throw rug in front of the stove. “I’m afraid most of the house could use a fresh coat of paint and other renovations.”

Ree could afford none of that right now. She would be lucky to scrape together enough money to pay the taxes when they came due in the fall. Her grandmother’s long illness and then Nonna’s request that both she and her deceased husband’s bodies be interred in the family plot in their native Italy, had depleted not just her grandmother’s bank account but Regina’s limited savings as well.