The men sat down in their chairs. Ace shot them a fierce look and they shot to their feet.
“After you, ma’am,” he said.
Lissa sat. The others did the same. Every eye was on her and she took a paper napkin from a holder and spread it on her lap. So did the men. She lifted her spoon. They lifted theirs. She dug in. So did they.
“Dee-licious,” Ace said, beaming.
Lissa smiled. “I’m glad.”
Everyone ate. There were a few slurps, a few burps. Lissa finished and patted her mouth with her napkin. The men did, too.
“Well,” she said, and cleared her throat, “I’ll leave you to your coffee.”
The men scrambled to their feet as she rose from her chair. Ace shook his head when she reached for her dish.
“We’ll clean up, Ms. Wilde.”
“Lissa.”
“Ms. Lissa. We’ll take care of this. Don’t you worry about a thing.” He grinned. It was an endearing grin that featured a big gap between his center-top front teeth. “We want you to know how much we’re lookin’ forward to tomorrow, ma’am.”
“To tomorrow?” Lissa’s smile dimmed. “Oh. You mean…” She hesitated. How could she tell these guys that there would be no tomorrow? “Well, thank you, but—but I’m a great believer in not planning too far ahead.”
Everyone laughed politely, which was what she’d intended—except that not believing in planning too far ahead was a truism, when you came down to it.
If she’d planned ahead, she wouldn’t be here.
Why hadn’t she asked Marcia more questions about this job? she thought as she climbed the steps to her room. The answer was simple. She’d been desperate for something that would change her life.
Well, she’d done that, all right. Changed her life—but not for the best.
She had no work at all now. The chicken place would have replaced her without thinking twice. Nick would complain to Marcia and she would make everything out to be Lissa’s fault. She’d go back to Los Angeles and—
And what?
She’d been without a good job for too long. The awful truth was that the longer you were out of work, the harder it was to get work. By this time next week, frying blobs of chicken would look good.
Lissa sighed as she reached the top of the stairs. The lighting was dim, but that was OK. It suited her mood.
If only she’d stayed in L.A. If only she hadn’t been so desperate.
If only she hadn’t let Nick kiss her.
Where was he, anyway?
She’d half imagined he’d be waiting for her outside the kitchen just as he had been earlier, but why would he do that? He was probably in his office. Or in bed. Wherever he was, it was none of her business. He was none of her business.
He was—he was a bit of a puzzle; it was why she kept thinking about him. That a man so accustomed to the spotlight should be out here in the middle of nowhere, that he was obviously hurt and just as obviously hurting…
That she couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his arms around her.
She sighed. Stopped walking, kicked off her shoes, picked them up in one hand and continued toward her room. She was tired, that was all, or why would she waste her time thinking about a man she hoped never to see again?
The man she hoped never to see again stepped out of the shadows.
“Lissa.”
His voice was low. Rough. She could almost feel the sound resonate against her skin.