The Family Plan (The McClouds of Mississippi 1)

“And how, exactly, do you figure that?”

“You hired Irene in the first place.”

“Of all the—” She slapped both hands on her desk and stood. “All I’ve done is try to help you while still keeping this firm afloat. You’re the one who has brought the personal complications into the office.”

He grimaced, knowing she was right. If there was one person who was blameless in all of this, it was Caitlin, who had gone out of her way to help him. He moved closer to her, his tone apologetic when he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Only slightly appeased, she sniffed. “You should apologize. I hired Irene because you weren’t there to help me interview the applicants. I still think she’s a great office manager. Okay, she’s a little overenthusiastic about it, but she means well. She’s simply trying to help.”

“You’re right. I’m being a jerk. But still…”

“I understand you’re uncomfortable with the present situation. But you have to admit Irene’s sister is probably a superior housekeeper.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I’ll probably be afraid to move in my own house. I’ll leave footprints on the carpet or something.”

“I doubt it will be that bad.”

He wished she sounded a bit more confident. “Will you meet her with me?”

“You’re a big boy, Nathan. There’s really no need for—”

“I need you,” he cut in. He’d intended to say the words lightly, but they came out a bit more seriously than he’d planned. He cleared his throat. “I would really appreciate it if you would be there when I meet her for the first time—just for moral support.”

After a moment she sighed. “All right. When?”

“Irene said her sister would be at my house at six this evening.”

“Fine. I have a meeting with a client tonight, but it’s not until eight. That should leave plenty of time for me to hold your hand while you meet your new housekeeper.”

Though he knew she was being sarcastic, Nathan liked the idea of her holding his hand. He contented himself with leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. He was delighted when the gesture made her blush to the roots of her hair. “Thank you.”

She stepped away from him so quickly she bumped hard into the corner of her desk. “You’re welcome. Shouldn’t you go check on Isabelle?”

“Last time I looked she was sound asleep in the break room.”

“Then you’d better go see if she’s still sleeping. I have a couple dozen calls to make in the next few minutes.”

“Right. I’ll let you get to it, then.” Relishing the lingering taste of her soft skin on his lips, he let himself out of her office.

Caitlin felt as though her cheek still tingled when she parked in front of Nathan’s house that evening. And then she told herself she was being ridiculous. Of course her cheek wasn’t still tingling just because Nathan had given her a friendly peck of gratitude. If she didn’t get these silly fancies out of her mind, she was going to make herself crazy.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately, but she was more than ready to get back to the way things had been a couple of weeks ago, when she and Nathan had been nothing more than business partners who kept their hands—and their lips—to themselves. Along with their personal problems.

So what was she doing coming to his house this evening to help him interview his new housekeeper?

Apparently she had arrived before Fayrene Tuckerman. But it was only a quarter to six. If Fayrene really was like her sister, she would arrive promptly on the hour.

Nathan opened the door when she rang the bell. He had changed out of the suit he’d worn for work and into a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a soft-looking, butter-yellow pullover. She noted immediately that the color was perfect for his lightly tanned skin and sandy hair and that the fabric looked invitingly touchable.

Strictly an observation, of course.

It wasn’t that she actually wanted to run her hands up the front of that lovely soft shirt or to slide her fingers into his thick, gold-streaked hair, she assured herself, knowing even then that she lied. Still, she could think about how nice it would be without actually doing anything about it.

“Thanks again for coming tonight,” he said, ushering her inside and closing the door behind her. “Isabelle’s in the den, watching cartoons. She just finished her dinner. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Iced tea? Soda?”

“No, thank you.” It annoyed her that her words came out a bit too primly. She was trying too hard to keep this encounter polite and impersonal. She cleared her throat and attempted to speak more casually. “Have you made a list of questions for Mrs. Tuckerman?”

“Sort of a mental list.” He cocked his head as he studied her, still standing in the entryway. “I’ve never seen that dress on you. Is it new?”