Part 52 (1/2)
”My son Thomas is nine months old.”
He lowered her to the tattered sofa she'd bought at a yard sale. ”Where is he?”
”My sister watches him during the day. Oh G.o.d. The kids.”
”Excuse me?”
”I take over for my sister at the daycare at three so she can teach her dance cla.s.ses. She watches Thomas for me, and that's how I pay her back.”
”I'll do it.”
”What?”
”I'll watch the kids for you. How hard can it be?”
”Have you ever even changed a diaper?”
”I'm sure I have. Some time.”
”Right. Look, I know you're probably some sort of Boy Scout-”
”Actually, I'm an Eagle Scout,” he said with a proud smile.
”Of course you are, but you've really got to go now. Your family is expecting you-”
”They didn't know I was coming today.”
Maddie wanted to shriek in frustration. Why couldn't he get the message and leave me alone? And then it hit her in a wave of sickening despair. ”It's not going to happen,” she spat at him.
”What are you talking about now?”
”Get out of my cabinets! What're you doing?”
”Looking for some painkillers and a gla.s.s.” He produced a bottle of medicine and a gla.s.s of water and brought both to her.
”Thank you,” she muttered after she swallowed the pills. ”Now, please, just go, will you?”
But of course he sat on the coffee table, and Maddie prayed the flimsy table would hold his two-hundred-pounds-of-pure-muscle frame. ”So what's not going to happen?”
”I know what you're after.” She wanted to smack the amused expression off his face.
”And what's that?”
”You think if you're nice to me that you'll get something in return.”
Amus.e.m.e.nt faded to bafflement. ”Like what?”
”Don't be obtuse. I know you got a good look out there on the street, so you're hanging around hoping to get your hands-among other things-on Maddie Chester's famous b.r.e.a.s.t.s.”
He stared at her for a long, breathless moment. ”That is so not true.”
”And how are you different from every other man alive?”
”When I look at you, the first thing I see are gorgeous eyes that remind me of the way melted caramel looks over vanilla ice cream. They're a rather interesting combination of brown and gold. Your mouth, when it's not twisted with cynicism and bitterness, is so lush and pretty that my personal fantasies-if I had them about you, that is-would definitely be focused there, not on what's under your T-s.h.i.+rt. As spectacular as they may be, I'm more of an a.s.s-and-leg man myself.”
Maddie had never been more shocked in her life-or more seduced by words alone.
”Now that we've got that subject covered, let's talk money.”
That brought her right back to reality. ”What about it?”
”I want to pay for your lost wages.”
”Absolutely not.” She might be short on cash, but she still had her pride, and no one-especially someone named McCarthy-was going to take that from her.
”You have to let me help you, Maddie. I know you can't afford to miss work.”
”That's the least of it! If I miss more than one s.h.i.+ft, they'll replace me. They need the job done. They don't care who does it.”
”I believe we've established that I have some sway with the owners of the hotel and can prevent that from happening.”
”Good for you. That still doesn't get my job done, and it won't help me when they decide who they're keeping for the winter and who gets laid off.”
”Then I'll do the job for you until you're back on your feet.”
Maddie cracked up. ”Sure you will.”
”You don't think I can do it?”
She realized he was serious. ”You have no idea what it even entails. How can you be so sure you can do it?”