Breakfast In Bed. Ruth Dale Jean

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СКАЧАТЬ turned again toward the kitchen, her smile lasting until she saw Garrett. “Uh...you can wait in here with Molly, if you like.” She made the suggestion hopefully.

      “I’d rather go with you.” He gave her a lazy, provocative grin. “There are a couple of things we need to talk about.”

      Oh, dear, she thought, leading the way. I don’t think I’m going to like this.

      

      Garrett perched on a kitchen stool, watching Brooke prepare grilled cheese sandwiches and a big pitcher of lemonade. For some reason, his steady gaze made her feel uncharacteristically clumsy and uncoordinated.

      He spoke suddenly, startling her. “How well did you know my great-aunt?”

      “Very well—maybe better than anyone. I worked for her for almost four years.” She rummaged around in a cabinet, finally extracting a cast-iron griddle, which she placed on the stove.

      “What did you do for her, exactly?”

      She shrugged. “Whatever needed doing. I took care of her cats, dealt with the staff—she had a cook, a housekeeper, a gardener and occasionally others in to do special things. Like...she had the rose garden dug up a couple of years ago and installed a glass-enclosed swimming pool.”

      His eyes narrowed slightly. “For whom? At her age, she surely didn’t—”

      Brooke’s laughter stopped him. “You didn’t know her or you wouldn’t ask such a question.”

      “Meaning?”

      “Miss Cora got tired of swimming at the health club,” she said airily.

      That drew an apparently reluctant smile from him. “She’s beginning to sound like quite a character.”

      “You could say that.” Talking about Miss Cora was soothing and Brooke began to feel less stressed. “I’m only sorry you didn’t get a chance to know her.”

      “Did she tell you about...”

      “About what?”

      “The family scandal.”

      “No—but you make it sound really interesting.” She cast him an oblique glance. “I didn’t even know she had a family.”

      “She didn‘t—not much of one, anyway. I wasn’t actually named in her will, I was just the only one left except for a few distant cousins.”

      “I’m glad there was someone,” Brooke said sincerely. “I had no idea who the beneficiaries of her will were until after she was gone.”

      “But you did know she was leaving the gatehouse to you.” He glanced around the sunny kitchen somewhat pointedly.

      Brooke stiffened. “I certainly did not.”

      He looked less than convinced. “And I suppose you didn’t encourage her to put those crazy restrictions in her will?”

      She flipped a sandwich on the stovetop grill, exposing a golden-brown surface. “What crazy restrictions?”

      “Crazy restrictions about selling.”

      She whirled, a tide of heat rising in her cheeks. “Selling! You can’t sell it!”

      “Want to bet?”

      Biting her lip, she turned back to the stove, mashing the sandwiches so hard she squeezed out a big glob of melting cheese. “A member of Cora’s family must live here or the house and grounds are to be given to the County of Boulder for a cat sanctuary,” she said at last. “Those are the only two choices.”

      She heard him rise from his stool, heard his footsteps approach, then heard his heavy sigh from just behind her quivering shoulder blades. And then she heard his husky voice and felt tension tighten her shoulders.

      “Don’t be naive,” he said. “I’m an attorney from a family of attorneys. I’m only going to be here long enough to find a buyer.”

      “Garrett—Mr. Jackson!” She turned to face him, her spatula held between them like a sword. “Surely you don’t mean that. How could you live with yourself if you ignored your aunt’s stated wishes in such a cavalier manner? You don’t have a moral problem with that?”

      He smiled. Up close like this, the force of his personal magnetism hit her like a sledgehammer blow, knocking the breath right out of her.

      “I have a problem, all right,” he murmured.

      “Thank heaven.” Her shoulders slumped with relief.

      “My problem,” he said with slow deliberation, “is a bit more complicated than you seem to realize. You see, I’ve got to buy your house and land before I can sell mine. And that, Brooke Hamilton, is exactly what I intend to do.”

      She squared her shoulders and glared at him. “Never!”

      “Never say never.”

      He caught her arms just above the elbows, his grip light but very sure. Leaning closer, he stared into her eyes as if he wanted to make absolutely certain she realized he meant business.

      “But my cats—my home—” She stared back at him in horror but saw no softening of his attitude. “I’ll never sell,” she said finally. “I never asked for this place, certainly never expected it or anything else in her will. But Miss Cora wanted me to have it, to live here and do exactly what I’m doing. It would have made her very happy, I know it would.”

      “Cora’s dead. I’m alive, and I’ll pay you enough money to move the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle someplace else and turn a nice profit besides.”

      “I don’t want to go someplace else,” she objected desperately.

      “Be reasonable, Brooke.” His voice became lower, more intimate. “I don’t know what the old lady was thinking of. The configuration of your land all but destroys the value of mine. Surely you don’t want to deprive me of the highest and best use of my inheritance.”

      She stared at him mutely, feeling helpless before this reasoned, coaxing approach. His hold on her bare arms seemed to be sapping her strength and she was still having difficulty breathing. “I...but I don’t...”

      She had no idea how to deflect his arguments and might have stood there indefinitely stammering and shaking if Molly hadn’t walked through the doorway with Lombard nestled in her arms.

      The little girl sniffed the air. “What’s burning?” she asked innocently.

      “Omigosh!” Whirling, Brooke snatched the skillet from the stove—too late, unfortunately. One side of each sandwich was golden brown while the other was, in Molly’s words, “Golden black.”

      But the spell had been broken, which was worth a bit of burned bread. While Brooke prepared a second batch of sandwiches, she seethed over Garrett’s bombshell.

      The obvious truth of the matter was that he didn’t care about СКАЧАТЬ