‘I didn’t think you’d like it so I threw it away.’ Did he have to cross his massive arms across his chest and settle back against the wall? He made her nervous. ‘Um, how about jam sponge and custard?’
He nodded, but she turned away as his lips started to curve. Cade stern and obnoxious she could just about handle; Cade humorous and warm was a Cade to avoid. ‘Stir the custard while I make the sponge,’ she said absently, before remembering how badly she needed the job.
She looked so vulnerable trying to make a go of it, he wanted to hug her—a feeling so alien to him he wasn’t sure what to do about it. ‘All right,’ he agreed, surprising himself.
‘But let’s get one thing straight,’ she said, shooting him a stern look. ‘While we’re at the cooker you’re under my command.’
‘What?’ This was going downhill fast, because he wanted to do a whole lot more than hug her now.
‘I realise I’ve made a bad start,’ she said, making room for him at the range.
‘But?’ He eased his neck. The heat was getting to him.
Picking up a white tea towel from the rail, she waved it at him. ‘Truce?’
As she looked at him he couldn’t believe it felt this good to be doing something together. He couldn’t believe she was still here. He’d kissed her, tasted her, wanted her, led her on, and backed off. His face was scarred to hell, and his mood was enough to deter all but the bravest of the brave. But not Liv Tate. For some reason she didn’t even seem to notice his flaws.
Cade kept glancing at her, but she pretended not to notice. This wasn’t over yet. She was going to fight to keep the job, and if Cade had tried it on and changed his mind, that was better, wasn’t it? It allowed her to focus on the job.
At Cade’s insistence they ate pudding together in the kitchen. The jam sponge and custard was delicious and they finished the lot. ‘Not a bad team effort,’ Cade said, pushing his bowl away.
And what now—after they’d cleared up? Liv wondered, starting to feel anxious. Her fantasies had not prepared her for the reality of this situation.
Cade’s amused gaze rested on her face as if he knew what she was thinking. The more he loosened up, the more she tensed. Was it usual for a potential housekeeper and her potential employer to sit so close together in the kitchen?
‘That was a great meal, Liv,’ Cade said, touching her hand. She snatched it away as he added, ‘Am I forgiven?’
She was careful to think before speaking this time. ‘Let’s just say you’re on trial for now, shall we?’ As Cade laughed she didn’t wait around. Picking up their dishes she began clearing the table.
He helped her clear away. They’d cooked together, eaten together, and it was hard to remember the last time he’d done that with anyone. He couldn’t remember flirting or laughing out loud either. Liv brought out the best in him, and she was perfect for the job he had in mind. But he couldn’t risk frightening her away. He needed that medical training of hers, and those organisational skills. Liv could end up as one of the driving forces behind his scheme for the rehabilitation centres—if he didn’t screw this up.
‘So are you going to tell me about what you want me to do? My duties?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Just how far had he strayed from his professional intentions towards Liv?
‘So if you’re ready, I’d like to know your list of requirements…And then I’ll tell you mine.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘My list of requirements for staying on.’ Her pencil hovered. Her jaw firmed.
‘Your…?’ For once he was speechless. ‘You’ll get my list if and when I take you on—’
‘But I thought—’
The quirk of his brow suggested, Don’t think—follow orders. To which she responded with a look that made him want to forget about his good intentions and bring her to heel in a far more enjoyable way.
‘I must know something about you,’ she said stubbornly. ‘If I’m to do my job to your satisfaction.’
He couldn’t argue with that. ‘Such as?’
‘Your likes and dislikes…and no-go areas like bacon.’
He wanted to smile. He liked her style. He liked the way she kept her nerve under fire. He did as she asked, keeping it brief. He’d almost forgotten the second part of her request when she said, ‘Thank you for that, and now it’s my turn.’
‘Your turn?’
‘To list my conditions for staying on. You’ve had difficulty keeping staff in the past, and I’m determined to change that for you.’
As she went on to list the working hours she considered reasonable, along with the improvements she would require in the attic rooms, he let her soft voice roll over him while he gave his erotic fantasies full rein. The two replacement uniforms she asked for would be short to the point of no return, and tight, very tight…revealing every inch of that luscious body.
‘And they must drip-dry for the sake of economy…Cade? Are you listening to me?’
‘Yes, of course I am,’ he said, jerking alert.
‘I don’t do second-hand.’
Would he dare to disagree?
‘And I think anyone who came to work here would be energised by having a fresh, new uniform that doesn’t make them look like a drudge.’
In his wildest imagination he couldn’t picture Liv looking like a drudge.
‘And you agree to the bedding?’
‘Absolutely.’ Now there was something he could get enthusiastic about. Outside his army quarters he liked his bedding to be of the very highest quality.
‘So we go shopping for bedding and uniform,’ she said, wrapping up.
‘Okay…’ His eyes were still unfocused at the thought of Liv wearing anything other than the most unattractive clothes. ‘Perhaps we’d better hold the uniform,’ he murmured, thinking aloud.
‘What?’ she demanded sharply.
‘We can discuss it if I decide to keep you on,’ he said, and he thought quite reasonably.
‘If I decide to stay,’ she countered, ‘is by no means certain yet. And so I agree to a delay regarding your decision about my uniform. But the bedding and towels are non-negotiable.’
She went on to mention a sum of money that left him speechless, and then requested a lift into town the following morning to make the purchases. ‘Who’s employing who here?’ he challenged lightly.
‘I’d say we’re both on trial, wouldn’t you?’ she said quite seriously, pulling him up short. But there was a twinkle in her eye. She was enjoying this, he realised…And so was he.
She surprised him again by rising at dawn the following morning. She was in the kitchen when he came back from his jog. Within minutes she had a pot of tea keeping warm on the Aga, and the scent of frying bacon made his mouth water even though it could only have come from his prize-winning fletch. He exchanged a dry look with her and she shrugged. ‘Sorry, but I thought we might as well use it. You won’t be entering the bacon competition now, I presume?’
He shot her a warning look, trying as he did so not to respond to the effect of Liv Tate freshly showered and smelling like roses. She was wearing a track suit she must have bought in town, which, unlike the standard army issue he’d found for her in his stores, outlined her figure with pleasing accuracy. The outfit was just the right side of close-fitting, and her long honey-coloured hair shimmered down her back like a fragrant golden curtain. She’d left it loose, the way he liked to see it best…
She fried his eggs to perfection and then handed him a mug of tea. Their hands—his cold, hers warm—touched briefly. Fireworks went off in his brain; everywhere, in fact. But from her smile, which was enigmatic and cool, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Was it only him who felt the electricity snapping between them?
It wasn’t like him to be off balance like this, but that flush on Liv’s cheeks could be due to anything—the heat of the stove, bustling about, him…
His lips curved as he thought about it. At least they did until reality crashed in. He