Secretly Yours. Gina Wilkins

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      ANNIE wore a briskly professional smile when Trent opened his door to her on Friday morning. The smile momentarily wavered when she saw him. As she’d left her house that morning, oddly nervous about seeing him again, she had tried to convince herself that he couldn’t really be as gorgeous as she’d remembered. But he was—and then some.

      Not that his attractiveness should make any difference to her, of course. She was here to do a job, not to drool over her client. “Good morning, Mr. McBride.”

      He seemed to study her smile for a moment, then nodded and reached out to relieve her of her supplies. Without speaking, he held the door so she could enter with her lightweight vacuum cleaner.

      She had to pass within inches of him to step inside, which made her even more aware of his height and the intriguing width of his shoulders. Chiding herself for being so easily and so uncharacteristically distracted from the job at hand, she asked, “Is there anything in particular you want me to do here today?”

      He shrugged. “Whatever needs doing. I heard your roof is leaking. How bad is it?”

      She frowned. “How did you…Oh, you’ve talked with your brother.”

      “Yes. So, where’s the leak?”

      Unsure how she felt about knowing he and Trevor had been talking about her, even in passing, she replied, “The worst leak is in my bedroom, but there’s also a small drip in the kitchen.”

      “I’ll look into it.”

      “If there are any supplies you need, I’ll pay for them, of course.”

      He nodded. “I get a discount at the local hardware store. If I need anything, I’ll put it on my account there and you can reimburse me.”

      She hoped the supplies wouldn’t be too expensive. The money she’d brought with her to Honoria had been severely depleted by utility deposits and other expenses required to move into the run-down house she’d inherited from her eccentric great-uncle. She still had money in her savings account from the sale last year of her uncle’s possessions, but she wanted to spend it wisely. Until she built a more solid clientele for her cleaning service, her income was somewhat limited.

      She thought wistfully of the bank account she had in Atlanta, money she wouldn’t touch unless it was absolutely necessary. After ending an engagement that had been the worst mistake of her life, she had boldly declared her independence from her family and their money nearly two months ago during a blazing row with her overbearing father. It had been her twenty-sixth birthday, and she had announced that she was quite capable of taking care of herself, paying her own bills, making her own decisions. She only wished she had known just how daunting—and expensive—such a declaration would be.

      The money wouldn’t have made any difference, she assured herself, still convinced she’d made the right decision. But at least a little forewarning would have kept her from being so overwhelmed by the financial reality of owning an old, neglected house.

      Realizing that Trent was studying her intently, and that she must have been standing there frowning for several long moments, she smoothed her expression. “Thank you all the work you’ve done, and especially for fixing my step. I feel much safer on it now.”

      He answered in a growl. “It was an accident waiting to happen. You’re lucky you haven’t broken your neck.”

      “You’re sure there’s nothing special you want me to do here today?”

      She was beginning to think he wasn’t going to answer when he surprised her by saying, “I’m out of clean socks. You can do a load of laundry, if you have time.”

      She smiled, pleased that he’d made a request for a change. “Sure. No problem.”

      “Lock up when you leave,” he said, turning abruptly away.

      “Yes, I will. And Mr. McBride, I—”

      Whatever she might have said faded into silence when he left without another word. He was walking stiffly today, she noted. Had he hurt himself working at her place Tuesday? She couldn’t help worrying about those injuries Martha Godwin had hinted at, but she suspected Trent wouldn’t appreciate personal questions.

      Since she was no more interested in answering personal questions than he probably was, she decided she had better just mind her own business.

      IT HAD BEEN a long time since Trent had been drawn out of his own problems enough to be actively curious about anyone else. But as he sat on Annie Stewart’s roof, pounding nails into loose shingles, he found himself wondering about her. He knew why he had chosen to live a hermit’s life during the past year—mostly because he hadn’t known what else to do—but what was Annie’s story? What had brought her to Honoria? Where was her family?

      She seemed intelligent enough and he would be willing to bet she was well educated. So why had she chosen to clean houses for a living? Had she no other goals, no plans? No dreams?

      Had her dreams, like his, been taken away, leaving her lost and aimless—a condition he knew all too well?

      “I had a feeling I would find you up there.”

      Frowning, Trent pushed his glasses higher on his nose and looked over the СКАЧАТЬ