The Seaview Employment Agency’s employee of the month had been more than helpful but Rowan had still been forced to accept a series of temping positions that were less than ideal. She wasn’t cut out for temping. The uncertainty of it left her wrung out and more exhausted than usual. So far she’d sold Christmas trees, gift-wrapped Christmas gifts, waited tables, given out perfume samples, and played the role of Santa’s little helper. The very brief outfit she’d had to wear for that last one had been borderline scandalous. Never again.
The job giving out perfume samples had been disastrous for a very different reason. She’d been sucked into a lonely old man’s death, and had almost emptied a sample bottle of expensive scent over a prospective customer before crumpling to the floor. She’d been politely informed another “epileptic fit” wouldn’t benefit the department. As it turned out, Mrs. Riddick hadn’t believed the migraine explanation and had been spreading gossip all over town. Evil cow. Even Mona, her über-understanding employment agent, had started asking questions.
Now only a week remained until Christmas, and the chances of snapping up a permanent position before the New Year were increasingly remote. She’d have to tighten her belt a few more notches and hope something came up after the holidays.
The phone blared. Rowan jerked and spilled her tea. That was another thing she couldn’t get used to—the early morning phone calls.
“Hi, Rowan!” Mona’s gushing tones bubbled from the phone.
Rowan made a rude face at the receiver. It wasn’t natural to be that chirpy early in the morning.
“I’ve excellent news. I’ve found you the perfect job—a permanent one! I simply can’t believe our luck! He needs an assistant and he sounds absolutely divine. I’ve told him your qualifications and he’s really, really impressed. He’d like to meet you. Today. And for you to start immediately if it suits.”
Too good to be true—
“There’s just one catch.”
Wasn’t there always?
“He may need you to work during the Christmas break. I told him given your—” a delicate pause “—situation that shouldn’t be a problem. I’m sure you’d rather be working than coping on your own over Christmas, right?”
Rowan winced. The cruelty was unintentional but it hurt all the same. “What line of business is he in?” she asked.
“I believe he’s a naturopath? I’m a bit vague about all the details. “ Mona giggled and Rowan suppressed a snort. Mona was frequently a bit vague about all the details, which was surprising given her line of work.
Mona must have read something into Rowan’s silence for she hastened to reassure her. “He’s doing some pro bono work up at Seaview Children’s Home so he’s legit. Oooh, here’s a thought. He might be able to help you with your nasty migraines, too!”
When she didn’t respond Mona hurried on as though sensing her growing impatience. “He’ll meet you at the Prime Roast Café at half-eight. That’s half-eight this morning, by the way. Oh, and Rowan? If you could pop on a teensy little bit more makeup so you don’t look so pale and wan? First impressions and all that, dear.”
“Sure thing.” Rowan visualized the woman checking on her own heavily made-up features in a mirror. Mona, regrettably, subscribed to the apply-your-makeup-with-a-trowel school.
“And ring me as soon as the meeting’s over,” Mona ordered. “I want to hear all about it. He sounded gooorgeous over the phone—his voice made my knees go weak. Don’t forget!”
“I won’t.” Rowan glanced at her watch. It was already quarter to eight. “Better fly or I’ll be late. Bye, Mona.” She rang off before the woman could prattle on further.
Assistant to a naturopath. Sounded intriguing. At least he might be sympathetic to her needing time off for a debilitating “illness”. Heck, maybe he could help her with her little problem….
Hah. Doubtless he’d think she was a complete whack-job. Here’s hoping he didn’t turn out to be one.
~~~
Right on half-eight she entered the café, and as she glanced around her stomach tied itself into a big old knot of dismay. Half a dozen of the patrons were male, all sipping coffees with their noses buried in newspapers. Crap. In her haste to get Mona off the phone she’d forgotten to ask how she would identify this mystery man. Talk about a classic head-desk moment. Not to mention a great way to kick off an interview—having to approach strangers and ask stupid questions like, “Would you happen to be the naturopath I’m supposed to be meeting?” Heck, she hadn’t even asked for the guy’s name. What a dumbass.
She fished her ancient cell phone from her bag just as the door swung open and another patron entered the café. And she was scrolling through the phone numbers to find Mona’s when someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Ms Havers?”
Her girly “Eeep!” was attention-getting and cringe-worthy. Worse, the phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the polished concrete floor with an ominous tinny thud.
“Oh no!” If it was broken she couldn’t afford another one. She bent to snatch up the phone but he was quicker… and she smacked her nose on his bent head. She bit her lips against an unladylike imprecation and rocked back on her heels, rubbing her nose.
He scooped up the phone and grasped her elbow to help her to her feet. “Gods. Sorry about that. Let’s grab a table so you can sit down. I’ll get you a drink—my shout.”
Before she could protest he’d ushered her to a seat, pressed a napkin into her hand, and headed for the counter to place their orders.
She blotted watering eyes with the napkin. Her nose felt huge—swollen and kind of numb but still managing to throb painfully at the same time. Fabulous. Truly excellent first impression. Mona would be so pleased. She blinked back tears—because of her sore nose of course, not because she was feeling sorry for herself—and spotted him heading for her table balancing a tray laden with cups… and a pot of tea.
His lips curved at her startled expression. “How’d I know you liked herbal tea? Lucky guess.”
She didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. In a town full of dedicated coffee-drinkers, those who preferred tea were generally considered the slightest bit eccentric.
He set everything—including her cell phone—on the table, dispensed with the tray, and turned his attention to the teapot. Resting his fingertips on the handle, he spun the pot three times clockwise, paused, then spun it three times counter-clockwise.
A frisson skimmed her spine. It was the exact same ritual she performed to steep the brew whenever she made tea in a pot.
“Should be perfect now,” he said, and poured tea into the cups. “Hope you like this blend. It’s St John’s Wort with berries. Bit of a stress-reliever and delicious, too, of course. If you don’t like it no drama. I’ll drink this one and you can choose something else. And I’ve ordered hotcakes to share—I’m guessing you skipped a proper breakfast to get here on time.”
Those eyes. Where had she—? “You. You’re the guy who saved me from that runaway car. How did you—?”
“I’m Ryley. Nice to officially meet you, Ms Havers.”
Automatically she shook his outstretched hand. His grip was firm. And warm. So warm his heat seeped into her skin, relaxing tense muscles and banishing her shock.
What had she been about to ask him? She couldn’t remember. She shook her head. Can’t have been important. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr, uh—”
“Just Ryley will do. That’s Ryley with two Ys.”
“Oh. In that case, please call me Rowan.”
“Thanks, Rowan. I’ll do that.”
Was that affection she heard in his voice? Flustered, she sipped her tea. The tart-sweet berry flavors burst on her tongue.
She watched him fiddling with her cell phone, trying to anchor the battery back inside the casing. “I think this is a lost cause,” he said. “Sorry.”
She sighed. “That’s okay. It was old and unreliable, anyway.” Her hand crept to her throbbing nose. She probed it carefully with her fingertips and couldn’t hide a wince.
“Here, let me fix that for you.” He moved his chair closer to hers.
“Fix what?”
“Your sore nose. It’s the least I can do given it was my hard head that caused the injury.”
She was searching for a response that wouldn’t offend him when he leaned in and cupped a palm to the base of her skull. She stiffened, eyes wide, still tongue-tied. Should she make a scene? Yes— No. She needed this job too much.
“Relax. You’re all tense again.” Strong fingers dug into the muscles of her neck and he leaned even closer.
It was only when she blinked Rowan realized she’d been transfixed by the unusual color of his eyes. Gold eyes. And she didn’t think they were contacts. Her breath caught and her heart jolted. She tensed, preparing to rear back and create some much needed distance, but his hand firmed, holding her still. “I won’t hurt you,” he murmured. “Trust me.”
Her protests died unspoken and she exhaled a shaky sigh that released all the tension from her body.
He extended his other hand to stroke a fingertip oh-so-gently down her nose. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “It’ll make this easier for both of us.”
No way was she closing her eyes in the middle of a café. But then he stroked the bridge of her nose again and strangely, her eyelids felt so very heavy. Her lashes fluttered down and her embarrassment faded, leaving her hyper-conscious of his touch, of him. His breath caressing her skin. The smell of him—spicy-sweet and addictive. The soft rustle of his clothing against the chair as he shifted. The hand holding her in place dropped away but she no longer felt the need to distance herself. His touch felt natural, comfortable. Right.
Using the fingertips of both hands he gently traced a path down the bridge of her nose, outward across her cheeks, up her temples, back across her brows, inscribing a simple circular pattern with each hand. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. The throbbing of her nose eased… and then ceased altogether.
“All done,” he breathed, his lips tickling the delicate skin of her earlobe.
Her eyelids flew open and she jerked back against her chair. Her face felt hot and fire-engine red as she glanced about the café but none of the patrons seemed to have taken the slightest notice.
“Ah. Here’s our breakfast.” He leaned back to allow the waitress easier access to the table. And when he smiled and thanked her, the woman’s sullen expression brightened. She fussed, arranging a napkin on his lap and topping up his cup from the teapot. And when she finally left him alone it was with a coy backward glance and an exaggerated sway of her hips.
He seemed unaware of the woman’s regard. He was too busy slathering whipped butter and maple syrup onto the stack of hotcakes. “Gods I love this syrup. It’s truly sublime.”
Rowan probed her nose with her fingers. No matter how firmly she pressed there was no pain. How the heck had he done… whatever it was he’d done?
She opened her mouth to voice this extremely pertinent question and he promptly popped a syrup-laden forkful of hotcake into it. “Try this,” he said. “I assure you they’re delicious.”
“Ummmph.” She chewed and swallowed. “Thanks. But—”
“Uh uh. No business talk while we’re eating.”
“But—”
He sighed and set down the fork with a discordant clatter of stainless steel on china. “Relax, Rowan. Your previous boss Marilyn informs me you’re great with people and you were an exemplary employee. And your employment agent was quite… forthcoming with details. The job’s yours. It’s well paid—not quite as well paid per hour as your previous full-time position, but at least I pay overtime. Oh and I’ll throw in a new cell phone, too. Anything else worrying you?”
Of all the arrogant—
She slit her eyes and glared at him, cursing the blush heating her face… and Mona for blabbing personal details. “That’s all very nice, Ryley, but despite everything you’ve been told about me, I hardly know anything about this position you’re offering. And to be quite frank, I’m not sure we’d work well together.”
He didn’t seem the least offended by her bluntness. “I appreciate your caution, Rowan. One can’t be too careful these days. How about you assist me for the day, and if you like the job—and me—it’s yours. Regardless of what you decide, I’ll pay time-and-a-half for the day. Consider it a bonus for wasting your time if it doesn’t work out.”
He wrapped his hands around his cup and took a sip. And damned if her gaze didn’t latch onto his hands, and sweep upward to his mouth, and start wondering inappropriate things. Like how those capable hands would feel on her body. And how those lips would taste.
“Unless you’ve got something better planned today?” he said, snapping her from her fantasies. “Another stint as Santa’s little helper, perhaps?” He shook his head in dismay and huffed a sharp breath through his nose. “Such a waste of talent. Although—” his voice hinted at some emotion she couldn’t define “—I’m sure you looked quite stunning in your costume.”
Rowan took another sip of her tea and hoped he’d attribute her flushed cheeks to the hot beverage. He quirked an eyebrow, awaiting her response, and finally she nodded. What did she have to lose? “Okay, you’re on. A day’s trial and then I’ll make my decision.”
“Excellent. Now have another bite of these hotcakes. Please?” He held out the fork.
She had to smile. He was far too attractive for his own good and completely insufferable but she liked him anyway. She took the fork from him and began to eat.
Ryley nudged the plate toward her and leaned back, eying her lazily as she polished off the breakfast he’d bought her. While she’d been entranced he’d transfused her with energy. She should be feeling pretty good after his treatment and the effect should get her through the day. But she still resembled a half-starved waif who hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. Make that years.
His healing probe hadn’t detected anything physically wrong with her—a huge relief. She’d be a challenge, though. It’d take more than just a brief laying on of hands to help her get her life back on track.
When she’d drained her cup he said, “Ready, Rowan?”
“Yes.” She stood, smoothing her skirt down her thighs and drawing his attention to her legs.
Nice, Aryn murmured in his mind. We sure can pick ’em. A bit more meat on her bones and she’d be a real looker.
Hush, brother. He helped Rowan into her coat. Taking her arm, he walked her outside, and when she would have pulled away he resisted.
He felt her tense beneath his hand. The suspicion was back. “Where’re we going?” she asked.
“Back to your place to pick up your dog. And so you can get changed.”
She halted. “Excuse me?”
“I have some patients to see up at Seaview Children’s Home. Most kids love animals, so I thought we’d take your dog along—if you don’t mind, that is. And I figured you’d be more comfortable in casual clothes. See? All quite innocent.”
She flushed pink and he had a sudden vision of her spread naked on his bed, her skin flushed from his attentions, looking not the least bit innocent. Stop it, Aryn, he ordered. His brother was becoming a borderline sex maniac.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Rowan was saying. “About my dog, I mean. She adores children. She may look a bit like a wolf, but she’s a big soppy puppy-dog underneath.” She blinked at him, and he guessed she’d finally registered the casual sweater and jeans beneath his jacket. “And you’ve got a point about the clothes too, I guess,” she added.
He knew he’d unsettled her but she wasn’t getting away from him now. “Shall we continue on, then?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
Way to go, bro, his brother said. Too cool for school.
Shut up, Aryn.
~~~
Rowan’s house was a twenty minute walk from the town center. When she’d first laid eyes on it the place had been run down and painted a hideous shade of green. But the bones had been good, and she’d fallen in love with it at first sight. She’d used her nest-egg as a deposit, negotiated a loan from the bank and it was all hers—lock, stock and hefty bank loan. Now repainted, repaired and redecorated, it was no longer the worst house on the street. There was still a heap of work that needed doing, but each time she approached it from the street she couldn’t help the satisfied smile that curved her lips.
Ryley opened the gate for her and followed her up the path. “Nice place.” He wandered over to the small garden she’d planted with snow-hardy plants and shrubs.
“Do you want to come inside while I get changed? I won’t be long but it’s pretty cold out.” Awkward. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about him prowling around her private domain.
“I’ll wait here. Mind if I pull a few weeds?”
He wouldn’t find many. “Knock yourself out.”
He shucked his coat and hunkered down among the snowdrops, their small white bell-shaped flowers flourishing despite a fine crust of snow. She watched for a moment as he yanked what was definitely a weed, shook the excess soil from the roots, and set it aside. He seemed to know what he was doing, so she headed inside.
She re-emerged ten minutes later, dressed but panic-stricken. “I’m sorry, I can’t go with you because my— Oh!” She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her fierce-looking dog—the same canine who bared her teeth at strangers and growled like she wanted to rip them to shreds—now lay on her back with her paws in the air while Rowan’s potential new boss rubbed her tummy.
“Naughty girl! How’d you get out of the yard?”
The Malamute performed some wriggly canine acrobatics until she sat at Ryley’s feet in a perfect show-dog-style pose. She whined piteously.
“She’s trying to tell you she didn’t do anything wrong, aren’t you, girl?” He speared his fingers through the dog’s thick ruff and was rewarded with a lick. “I let her out. Heard her whining and thought I’d better introduce myself before she dug under the gate.”
Rowan pursed her lips. “You have a way with animals.”
“I had a dog but I had to leave him behind.”
“Why?”
“I travel too much. Are you ready to go?”
She allowed him the change of subject. His private life was none of her business. And she’d make damn sure he didn’t find out any more about hers. “I’ll grab a leash.”
She heard Laptop give a series of high-pitched yips and Ryley consoling her. “Sorry, girl. I know you don’t like being on a leash, but when we get to the Kids’ Home we’ll take it off. Deal?”
Another yip. Followed by, “Good girl.”
One last yip, and then, “You’re welcome.”
Good grief. Who does this guy think he is? Dr Dolittle? She headed for the door, wondering what on earth she’d gotten herself into.
“You look great, by the way,” he said when she reappeared.
She mentally re-catalogued her chunky hand-knitted sweater and corduroys, teamed with flat-heeled boots and her winter coat. Given the approval gleaming in his eyes her choice of outfit had been a good call. “Thanks.”
“I prefer a casual dress code, so feel free to dress down tomorrow.”
Presumptuous of him. “If I take the job,” she reminded him. It was more a token reminder because despite his quirks he seemed harmless enough, and she’d ninety-nine-point-nine percent made up her mind she would take the job. But he couldn’t know that.
He merely smiled.
~~~
Hours later, Rowan flexed her writing hand to ease cramped fingers—thankful for the break while her boss worked with one of the Home’s newly admitted patients. Her role during consultations seemed to be to introduce her dog, and then retire to the viewing room and watch the session through a one-way glass window. After each session she’d head back to the consultation room to jot down Ryley’s verbal summation and thoughts about the patient before the next one arrived. She was, in effect, a human Dictaphone. And she was sure a Dictaphone would be more efficient and far cheaper than paying her a salary. She shrugged. Each to his own.
She’d been interested to note he never once consulted any files prior to a session. Seemed he had an excellent memory. His method of putting the kids at ease and building rapport with them was interesting, too. He made full use of her dog—who seemed more than willing to suffer being asked to roll over, play dead or shake paws, in return for being made a huge fuss of, and petted and stroked and praised. The only unsettling thing about the consultations had been watching Ryley hold his right hand about an inch away from the child, and skim it up and down.
In between sessions she plucked up the courage to ask what he believed he was achieving with the skimming hand thing. He’d smiled and said, “I’ll tell you what I tell my patients if they ask: I’m sensing anything that needs healing.” And she’d made a mental note to Google non-traditional healing methods when she got home.
Now, as she sipped her tea, her attention was again fixed fully on Ryley. She couldn’t imagine not accepting the position as his assistant. She’d have to be a real hardass not to have warmed to him after watching him interact with the kids. No matter how withdrawn or sullen the child, he soon had them whispering secrets into his ear. A couple of kids had even crawled into his lap, quite content to stay there while he did… whatever it was he did. Even Laptop seemed to adore him, and Rowan’s dog was an excellent judge of character. Watching him work was fascinating. He was fascinating.
A man poked his head inside the room and eyed her cup with something resembling longing. He sniffed, inhaling deeply. The hopeful expression segued to dismay. “Please don’t tell me that’s tea?”
When she nodded, he pushed a shock of untidy blond hair back from his face and grimaced. “Damn. Can’t stand the stuff. I was hoping for a caffeine fix.”
Rowan noted his rumpled clothes, the strain lines etched into his face. She’d just opened her mouth to offer to make him a coffee when his mobile rang.
He fished it from a pocket. “Hello? Ah, okay.” He approached her, holding out his phone. “It’s for you.”
Rowan’s eyebrows climbed to her hairline. “Who is it?”
He jerked his chin at Ryley… who waved at them through the viewing window. “Your boss.”
Huh? Frowning, she took the proffered mobile. “Rowan speaking.”
“Tell him from me to get off his arse and make his own coffee,” Ryley said.
“Uh, all right.”
He rang off and before she could say anything the newcomer sighed and held out his hand for the mobile. “He told you I had to make my own coffee, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Clever bastard. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something.” The newcomer pocketed the phone and held out his hand. “Dean Milton. Resident pediatrician—among other things. The kids call me Doctor Dean, but you can call me Dean.”
“Rowan.” She clasped his hand. “And if you’re really dying for a coffee—”
He shook his head. “Probably shouldn’t. I’m seriously over my daily caffeine limit already. I’ll never get any sleep tonight if I have another cup.”
“Rough day?”
“Rough night. Vin—Ryley’s little patient there—came in yesterday. Poor kid’s had a rough time. I thought we had him settled in but he went ballistic shortly after we got him tucked up in bed for the night. Screaming blue murder, throwing stuff around. Woke up a bunch of the other kids of course, and it took ages to settle everyone down again.”
“I suppose you had to sedate him?”
He shook his head. “We prefer not to. Took some doing but I finally got him calm enough to drift off. Poor kid had killer nightmares on and off all night, though, so I didn’t get much shut-eye.”
“How come?” she asked. “Surely a nurse could have dealt with him?”
He slanted her a hang-dog look. “Guess I’m a sucker for little kids. Hence why I sat up with him most of the night.” His gaze strayed to the consult room and seemed to linger on the boy’s bruised, haunted eyes.
“You’re a big softie, right?”
“Yeah. But it spoils my image, so don’t tell anyone.” Dean rubbed his eyes and stifled another yawn. “How long have you known Ryley?”
“Just met him this morning, though—” She scrunched up her nose.
“Though, what?”
“I think I might have met him before but I can’t put my finger on when and where.”
“Know what you mean.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “He reminds me of someone I recall from my childhood.” He gave a bark of surprised laughter. “Wow, that’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“The details have always been sort of hazy—like a dream. But now I remember him clearly. Christ, you must think I’m a right nut-job.”
“Not at all,” she said. “But I am intrigued.”
He flopped into a chair, slouching down until his butt was nearly off the seat, and stretched out his legs. “God. It’s like it happened yesterday. I was in hospital, bored witless, when this hulking big guy and two of his friends turned up to entertain us kids. The big guy could do magic—not cheap tricks, either. Really amazing stuff. He conjured a mirror and showed us things that’d happened to us in it. Still can’t figure out how he did that. Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘smoke and mirrors’.”
Rowan made a “go on” motion with her hand.
“And one of the other guys—the one Ryley reminds me of—I got the impression he was some sort of a medical practitioner.” Dean chewed his lip as his gaze drifted in Ryley’s direction. “I’m good with faces and there’s a very strong family resemblance.”
“How come you were in hospital?” she asked.
His attention snapped back to her, his open expression suddenly wary.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” she said.
“It’s okay. I’m mostly over it.” He smiled crookedly. “I lied about my broken arm and ribs and stuff—told everyone I fell down the stairs. But that big guy, somehow he knew my dad was beating on me and he showed one of the doctors the truth in his magic mirror. Sounds like a fairy story, huh?” His expression turned wry and he hunched, as though expecting her to laugh and poke fun.
Rowan looked him straight in the eye. “Sounds like a miracle if you ask me. Not many people get second chances like that.”
A lopsided grin made an appearance. “Yeah. It was a miracle. Changed my life. Mom finally got the support she needed, and found the courage to kick my dad out on his sorry ass. And I decided I wanted to help kids like me. So here I am.”
They watched Ryley coaxing Vin to interact with Laptop. The dog, impatient for attention, lunged and licked the boy’s face. Rowan held her breath as Vin reared back. Oh no…. But after a tense moment the boy giggled and threw his arms about the dog’s neck. Rowan exhaled in a series of shaky puffs.
She wasn’t the only one who’d been holding her breath. “Good job,” Dean murmured.
Ryley bent to whisper in the boy’s ear and beckoned him to the desk. He pulled something from a drawer and handed it over. Vin’s expression turned ultra-serious, eyes huge. But whatever Ryley said next did the trick and the boy nodded and made a beeline for Laptop again. Rowan’s dog, never one to miss a chance, slurped his face and elicited another smile.
“First smiles I’ve seen from that kid,” Dean said.
“You can thank my dog later,” she told him, smiling.
One of the regular staff entered the consult room to escort Vin to the rec areas, and Ryley sauntered to the viewing window to bang on the glass and beckon them in.
“Anything in particular I should know?” Dean asked as he entered.
“The usual.” Some strong emotion tightened the muscles beneath Ryley’s eyes before he schooled his face to blankness. “Poor kid was locked in a small cupboard under the stairs if he misbehaved, so he’s terrified of the dark. I’ve reframed his fears as best I can, and given him a torch to take to bed with him at night, okay? Other than that, keep doing what you do, Dean. It works—you know that.”
The other man acknowledged the compliment with a sharp nod. “So does whatever you do, even if we both use vastly different methods.”
“Thank you.”
“When are you going to come clean and tell me exactly what those methods are?” Dean’s tone contained more than a hint of frustration. “Some form of energy healing, right? Qi Gong? Huna? Reiki, with a hefty dose of child psychology thrown in for good measure?”
Good question. Rowan wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to that one, either.
Ryley barked a laugh. “Sort of.”
Dean waited expectantly for an explanation but when none was forthcoming he shrugged. “Whatever works, hey?”
“Whatever works,” Ryley agreed.
Rowan nudged the pediatrician. “You were going to ask him a question. About the man he reminds you of?” she prompted when he frowned and shot her a quizzical glance. They’d only been discussing it five minutes ago. How could he have forgotten so quickly?
He stared at her and after a few seconds his expression suddenly cleared. “Oh, yeah.” He repeated his tale for Ryley’s benefit. “So?”
“So, what?”
“So, you look very much like that guy I just described.”
Ryley shrugged. “Wasn’t me. I’d have been about five years old at the time.”
“I’m well aware of that. A relative, perhaps?”
“It was a long time ago, Dean. Could be your memory is playing tricks on you.”
“I suppose.” This time his yawn was huge and long. “Sorry. Back to work. Nice chatting with you, Rowan. Might see you later.”
“Bye, Dean. Nice to meet you, too.” She grabbed her pen and notepad, and gazed at Ryley expectantly until he started dictating case notes.
When he’d finished up, he lounged back in his chair and slanted her a long, assessing once-over that made her skin tingle and her toes curl in her boots. “What do you think, Rowan? There’s lots of boring case notes to sort through and computerize back at the office. Plus, every couple of weeks I have to go out of State on business so when I’m not around you’ll be making appointments and such. And sometimes I’d like you to come with me on the occasional ‘field trip’ as I like to call them. Do you want the job or not?”
“Yes. Yes I do.”
“Good.” His lips curved and his golden eyes darkened with some unnamed emotion that made her clench her fists to prevent from fanning the heat suffusing her face.
“How about I take you out for dinner to celebrate?”
The question may as well have been a splash of cold water yanking her back to reality. She chewed her bottom lip. Attraction was one thing, but a date? She’d not allowed any man to get close since Harrison died. And she wasn’t about to start now. Especially not when the man in question was her gorgeous, compelling, fascinating new boss. No way. “That’s very generous but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What’s not a good idea? Going out for dinner, or going out with me? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of providing fodder for the local gossipmongers. Or,” he turned his penetrating gaze up a few notches, “is it that you haven’t been out on a date or had a relationship with a man in far too long, and you’re scared?”
Taken aback by his bluntness her gaze dipped to her booted feet. “It’s not that,” she whispered. But it was. And he was right. She was scared. Scared of how attracted she was to a man she barely knew. Scared if she got too close, too involved, he’d dump her once he found out what a head-case she was. Scared that if she allowed herself to hope, to truly feel again, if—when—it all came crashing down she’d be too broken to pick herself up again. She couldn’t take that kind of pain right now. It was all she could do to crawl out of bed each morning and put on a brave face and keep pretending she was coping with life.
She couldn’t tell Ryley the truth—that she had some sort of a psychic connection with people just before they died, and it was ruining her life. What if she allowed herself to get close to him and he ended up dying? Being intimate with him and then living through his death would destroy her. She was better off alone. And she wanted this job—needed it. The last thing she wanted was to stuff it up by lusting after her boss. And perhaps she was imagining it all and he’d only asked her out to be polite. Who on earth would be interested in her?
He changed tactics. “I’ve a better idea. Come to my place and I’ll cook. I have some paperwork for you to fill out, and I need to give you the new cell phone I promised. We’ll kill two birds with one spear. Deal?”
She opened her mouth to make some lame excuse.
“Please?” he said. “I’m heartily sick of my own company in the evenings.”
She didn’t dare look at him but his sigh tugged at her heartstrings. It was just dinner. Between colleagues. Where was the harm? Her resolve wavered.
“I’d truly appreciate your company, Rowan.”
She blinked at the length of muscular, jeans-encased thigh filling her vision. How had he gotten here, perched on the edge of the desk? She hadn’t seen him move.
She risked lifting her chin to gaze into those incredible golden eyes and was caught. Lost. His to do with as he pleased.
“All right. Dinner. Just this once. Because you’re my boss and I’m sure it’s inappropriate or… or… something.” She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t stop. “But I guess it’s sort of a business dinner, isn’t it? So that’s okay. Sort of. I still need know hours of work, pay, your expectations of me—stuff like that. Maybe it’d be better if we went out, though—just to keep it all official. I wouldn’t want—”
“Rowan. Hush. ” He leaned down and tapped his finger gently on her parted lips. “Who are you trying to convince? Yourself or me? Would you feel better if we called it a staff Christmas party?”
She swallowed. “O-okay. A staff Christmas party.”
He caressed her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “For two. At my place.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “A-at your place.”
“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Her brain informed her she’d just been railroaded and insisted she protest. Her mouth had other ideas and she only managed to whisper, “No.”
He released her chin and stood. Her gaze followed him as he prowled around the consultation room, waving his right hand and making bizarre flicking gestures with his fingers.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked, jumping from her chair and backing away as he came toward her.
“Ridding the room of negative energy.”
“Ah.” Right.
He bent to rough up Laptop’s fur. “You did good work today, girl. Thanks.” The Malamute licked his face and barked two short yips. “You’re welcome,” he said.
Rowan couldn’t help giggling.
“Pick you up at six-thirty?”
It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her, not the dog. “All right.”
“I have to check on a couple of the kids I saw earlier this week. See you soon.”
“Bye.” Rowan watched him stride from the room. And only when the door closed behind him was the spell he’d woven broken. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. What an earth had possessed her to agree to have dinner with him? At his home? That was a sure recipe for disaster… and a broken heart.
~~~