Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall
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sick feeling that even if she did lose half a stone and took more care with her appearance, she would never be able to achieve that anyway.
His eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘I don’t want you getting obsessive about your weight while you’re out here, dieting and exercising to within an inch of your life.’
She understood where Cade’s concern came from. She wasn’t a primary school teacher for nothing. ‘I have no intention of being obsessive about anything. And I promise I will not send Ella or Holly any negative body image messages.’
He stared at her. It made her self-conscious. She made a show of looking at her watch. ‘It’s nearly time to get Ella and Holly up for breakfast.’
She stood and made her escape.
When Nicola and the children entered the kitchen a short time later, it was to find Cade seated at the kitchen table too. Nicola’s appetite promptly fled.
He glanced up. ‘You must be hungry after your morning’s exertions.’
His words emerged with a lazy unconcern, but his eyes were keen and sharp. She lifted her chin. ‘Absolutely.’
She might have no appetite to speak of, but there was no way she could refuse to eat breakfast. Not after their earlier conversation. The thing was, she had no intention of obsessively dieting. She just meant to avoid cakes and biscuits and chocolate sultanas and all those other yummy things while she was here.
She ate cereal and yogurt. She tried not to focus too keenly on Cade’s bacon and eggs and beans on toast. Cereal and yogurt—yum, yum.
Liar.
She might not be able to summon up much enthusiasm for a high fibre, low fat breakfast, but she was well aware that Cade took note of everything that passed her lips. So she ate. It should’ve irked her that he watched so closely. For some reason, though, she found it strangely comforting instead.
When they finished, he rose. ‘There’s something I want to show you, something I think you’ll be interested in.’
Wordlessly she followed him through the house. He wore jeans that fitted him to perfection. The material stretched across lean hips and a tight butt and she couldn’t drag her gaze away. Her throat hitched. Awareness—sexual awareness—inched through her. Her blood heated up and a pulse started up deep in the centre of her. She moistened her lips, curled her fingers and wondered—
No way!
She slammed to a halt. No way!
He turned back, frowned. ‘What’s up?’
Her racing pulse slowed as his expression filtered into her panicked brain. The denial in her throat died. She shook herself. This man didn’t see her as anything other than an employee. He certainly didn’t see her as an attractive, available woman. She might doubt her own strength, but she didn’t doubt his.
She’d come here to toughen up, to face reality and get stronger. Lusting after her boss was not the answer.
‘Nicola?’
She shook herself. ‘I just had one of those thoughts, you know? A bolt from the blue, but … Did I leave the oven on?’
He leaned towards her. ‘What? In Melbourne?’
She nodded.
‘And?’
‘No, I’m certain I turned it off.’
He frowned. ‘You sure about that? You want to ring someone to check?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m positive I turned it off.’
With a shake of his head, he continued down the corridor. He flung open a door near its far end and strode into the darkened room to lift the blinds at the window. She followed him in, glanced around and her jaw dropped. ‘You have a home gym?’
There was a treadmill, an exercise bike, a rowing machine and a weight machine. Oh, this would be perfect! She walked about the room, her fingers trailing across the equipment. ‘This is amazing,’ she breathed. ‘Is it okay if I use it?’
‘Sure.’ Then his face tightened up. ‘Someone may as well. I don’t think anyone has been in here, except to clean, since Fran left.’
Fran?
‘My ex-wife and the girls’ mother,’ he said, answering her unspoken question.
He didn’t smile. His face remained tight and it warned her not to ask questions. He obviously had his demons too. It took an effort of will not to reach out, though, and place her hand on his arm in silent sympathy. When he turned and left, she counted slowly to ten before she closed the door and followed him.
‘How was your day?’
Nicola blinked and then lowered her knife and fork when she realised Cade had directed that question at her. It was nearing the end of her second full day at Waminda Downs and they were all seated around the kitchen table eating dinner. She and Cade had barely spoken since he’d shown her the home gym yesterday. ‘I … um … good. Thank you,’ she added belatedly. ‘And … uh … you?’
He ignored that. ‘Have the girls given you any trouble?’
‘No!’
‘So … you’re settling in okay?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She glanced at Ella and Holly and a smile built inside her. The three of them had enjoyed a fabulous day. ‘Your daughters are delightful. I can’t tell you how much I enjoy their company.’
One side of his mouth hooked up. ‘You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face.’
Was it? She sat back. Maybe that was something she should add to her list of personal-attributes-to-work-on-and-improve. She didn’t want to be so easy to read. She didn’t want to wear her heart on her sleeve.
She wanted to be coolly poised and self-possessed.
‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ he said quietly.
Definitely something she needed to work on!
She tried to smooth her face out into a polite smile. ‘I wanted to thank you for letting me use the home gym.’
He shrugged her gratitude aside, but his eyes started to dance. ‘How’s the treadmill turning out? Managing to stay on your feet?’
She nearly spluttered her mouthful of iced water across the table, but the grin he sent her made her laugh. ‘That was below the belt!’
‘I couldn’t resist.’ He took a long pull on his beer. ‘Have you been having any problems with any of the equipment? There must be instruction manuals somewhere around the place.’
‘It all seems to be in perfect working order. I might loathe it, but the treadmill is a cinch to operate and I don’t hate it as much as that darn rowing machine.’
He stared and then he threw his head back and laughed. Harry chuckled. Ella laughed too, although Nicola suspected she had no idea what she was laughing at. She just wanted to join in. Not to be outdone, Holly let forth with a squeal
Nicola Ann, must you sound so gauche?
Inside, she cringed. She was supposed to be developing polish and self-possession, not blurting out the first thing that came into her head and sounding like an idiot, becoming the butt of the joke.
Frustration built inside her. She clenched her hands so tight her fingernails bit into her palms. Why couldn’t she manage one simple thing—to think before she spoke? Was it really that hard?
Failure. Loser. Doormat.
The insults flew at her, thick and fast. Not just in her mother’s voice either. Her own was the loudest.
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. ‘I’m sorry, that came out all wrong. I just meant …’