“I think that’s a given.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him Cynthia saw three men all carrying large boxes.
“It’s an invasion,” Jonathan said.
“I’m not sure about your choice of words, but there
“I’m not complaining, Cynthia. I’ve never had any experience with a small child. I appreciate your expertise.”
She nodded. “I was happy to help. I’ll admit that I enjoyed the shopping, but I can’t help wondering if it was all necessary. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but your brother and his wife would have had a full nursery at their home. Didn’t you want to use any of that furniture?”
His expression tightened and she knew she’d overstepped her bounds. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s not my business.”
“No need to apologize,” he told her. “However I would prefer that my nephew had a fresh start here.”
Which told her precisely nothing. Cynthia had the feeling that there was much she didn’t know about Jonathan’s relationship with his late brother. She wanted to ask, but then she reminded herself that she was just the hired help. It wasn’t her job to get personally involved with the family.
“He’ll need a few things from the house,” she said, pressing the point because she knew it was important. “Favorite toys and some photos of his parents. Colton won’t remember them but it’s important for him to have a connection with his past.”
Jonathan looked at the little boy dozing in her arms. “That’s an excellent point. I’ll make a note of it.” He glanced at his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve heard from the police that the bodies will be released Thursday. I came home from the office because I need to make arrangements for the funeral.”
He spoke so matter-of-factly-as if he were simply working his way down a to-do list. But she didn’t believe that for a second. Cynthia remembered the pain of having to make arrangements for her stepfather. Her heart went out to Jonathan. She took a step toward him.
“I know this is all difficult for you. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll be happy to help. It doesn’t matter what you need. I mean that.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “One or two things come to mind, but I doubt that is what you were thinking. So no, Cynthia. I’m fine. But I appreciate the offer.”
She stared at him, not sure what he was talking about. What could he want from her that she wouldn’t be willing to do? If there were phone calls to make or details to be arranged, she would be happy to-
“How old are you?” he asked abruptly.
She frowned. “Twenty-six. Why on earth would you ask me that?”
“Because I could tell that my comment confused you. Which goes to prove my theory that you are much too innocent.” His gaze traveled up and down her body. “And too young for me.”
Now she was
“Not at all.”
“Then what…” Her voice trailed off. Realization came slowly but with great conviction. Sex? Were they talking about sex?
Even as heat flared on her face, she replayed the last bits of their conversation. Then she had to fight off a very clear visual of her and Jonathan stretched out in the bed not five feet from where they were standing. After that her imagination lost the ability to fill in the pieces, mostly because she’d never gone that far.
“Oh,” she murmured, not able to meet his gaze. “I see.”
“Don’t worry,” Jonathan told her. “You are now an employee of mine and I have a strict policy against sexual harassment. If I have to, I will fire myself.”
That made her smile. She risked looking at him.
His expression was intense. “I mean it,” he said. “I want you to feel safe here.”
“I’m not worried.” She wasn’t. If anything she was intrigued. Did he really find her attractive in that way? He might think there was too much of an age difference between them but she didn’t believe it for one second. “And I understand what you’re saying.”
“Are you sure?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Not really. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“I’m aware of that.” He raised his eyebrows. “You keep wanting to make me one of the good guys and I keep telling you that I’m not. You would do well to remember that, Cynthia. Heed my warning and you won’t get hurt.”
Jonathan had planned to spend the afternoon making arrangements for David and Lisa’s funerals. However he found he couldn’t concentrate with all the activity in the house. After the baby furniture was delivered, it had to be assembled. There were clothes to unpack and supplies to be put away. Lucinda interrupted him three times in less than fifteen minutes, the last time to show him a mobile of fuzzy jungle animals that spun gently to the music of a lullaby. Obviously the smell of baby powder had affected his housekeeper’s brain.
So he returned to his office in downtown Grand Springs. At least he had more control in the steel-and-glass structure. He could inform his assistant that he didn’t want to be disturbed and she would make sure no one interrupted him.
He walked into his office with the intention of telling her just that, but he didn’t get the chance. Because when he pushed open the heavy glass doors that led to the Steele Enterprises executive suite, a tall, sultry brunette rose to her feet and smiled at him.
“Ms. Porter is here to see you,” the receptionist behind the cherry wood desk said unnecessarily.
Martha Jean Porter glided across the thickly carpeted floor and smiled at him. “Hello, Jonathan.”
Martha Jean was in her mid-thirties, with the perfect skin and wide green eyes of a classic beauty. She’d been turning men’s heads since she was thirteen. Years of dance had given an already perfect body amazing posture and grace. She had the face of an angel, the body of a centerfold and the heart of a snake. She was his kind of woman.
“Martha Jean.” He studied her simple black dress. It clung in all the right places, exposing enough cleavage to tempt a saint and legs long enough to be the envy of a racehorse. “I’m surprised to see you,” he said ushering her into his private office. “You must be between husbands.”
Her hips swayed as she walked. He found himself watching the movement with less interest than usual.
Martha Jean tossed her small leopard print handbag onto his desk, then sank onto the leather sofa in the corner. She patted the cushion next to her and smiled.
“Come sit next to me and I’ll tell you all about the pitiful state of my marriage.”
“So you’re leaving Frederick?”
He put his briefcase next to her purse and joined her. She angled herself toward him and tucked a silky raven curl behind one shell-shaped ear.
“He’s boring. Rich, but boring.” She slid toward him and placed her hand on his thigh. “Why are you the only interesting, wealthy man I know?”
Her fingers had a familiar warmth. He and Martha Jean had played this game many times before. He picked up her hand and placed it on her own lap. “You know I don’t want to get married. Not
