A Word With The Bachelor. Teresa Southwick
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head. “My cousin is an editorial assistant at the publishing house and recommended me.”
“Why?”
“I have a master’s degree in English and literature. And I’ve taught high-school honors English, AP classes and community-college writing courses.”
“Why aren’t you in school now? It’s after Labor Day.”
“I’m a substitute. That means I can tell them when I’m available.” The arrangement had worked when her fiancé, Garrett, was terminally ill. The money was good and after his death a year and a half ago she hadn’t changed her status to full-time. “Do you know Corinne Carlisle?”
“No.”
“She’s one of Cheryl’s authors, a cozy mystery writer. This summer she was having trouble finishing her manuscript. Through my cousin I was hired to—”
“Babysit.”
“Focus her.” Erin had really enjoyed the job and wanted to do more. She and Garrett had talked about traveling the world, but he got sick and they never had the chance. Assignments like this let her go places she might not otherwise see and, if asked, she wanted to do more of this. “She was a delightful lady to work with.”
Harley stood still at his feet and Jack picked him up. It was automatic, instinctive, as if that was their rhythm. “I’m not delightful.”
“Harley might beg to differ.”
Under Jack’s big, gently stroking hand the unattractive animal looked to be in doggy heaven. Erin had the most erotic sensation, as if his hand was brushing over her bare skin. Shivers hopped, skipped and jumped down her spine.
“He’d be wrong.”
“Look, I was able to help Corinne finish her book. I can do the same for you. I’m good at research. I can critique and edit and brainstorm story ideas. And Cheryl strongly suggested that I make sure you eat three times a day. Your home is ideal for this arrangement with the separate upstairs and downstairs apartments.”
A good thing, too, because Blackwater Lake was small. There was a lodge close by, but it had been completely booked and there wouldn’t be more in the way of accommodations until the resort under construction was completed.
The look on Jack’s face showed a lot of regret and it was probably about the fact that he’d shared details of his duplex home with his editor. “My office is up. I live down.”
Erin was very aware that he was trying to scare her off but the technique was useless on her. Jack didn’t know that when you faced cancer with someone you cared about there wasn’t a lot left to be afraid of. “I won’t take up much room.”
With Harley in his arms he started walking back the way they’d come. “I got a message from Cheryl.”
“Oh?”
“If I want a deadline extension you’re the price I have to pay for it.”
“Great.”
“Not.” He stopped walking and stared at her.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want me here.”
“If I could fire you I would,” he confirmed.
“You could give back the advance.”
The glare he shot her almost made his eyes glow. “Abandoning the mission isn’t an option.”
She studied the brooding man. The sight of the dozing, completely trusting ugly little dog in his arms was so at odds with the hostile, confrontational image he was projecting to her. Somewhere inside him was a guy who’d chosen and was good to a small, homely animal. That was a man she wanted to know. And then there was the powerful, startling, confusing and off-putting attraction she’d felt from the moment he’d answered his door.
“I’m here to be of service.”
He stared at her and his mouth tightened. “We’re not sleeping together if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m sorry— What?”
Holy smokes! Her cheeks burned and it had nothing to do with the sun shining down from that big, blue sky. How did he know? She hadn’t exactly been thinking about sex, but close enough to be humiliated by what he’d said.
“I didn’t— I never—”
“I need to know if you can do this job and not look at me like that.”
“I’m not looking at you any way,” she protested.
He shook his head. “Your face is so easy to read.”
“No, it’s not.”
“And you’re a bad liar.” He looked closer. “Have you even been with a man?”
That question was getting awfully close to the one nerve she had left and she figured it was a deliberate attempt to get on it.
“Yes, I’ve been with a man.” She looked up and met his gaze. If she was really that easy to read he would see her defiance and determination. “I was engaged.”
“That’s need-to-know and I don’t need to.”
“Okay then. I guess we understand each other.”
* * *
Jack didn’t understand Little Miss Perky at all. In the less than twenty-four hours since her arrival he’d been nothing more than barely civil and yet she was still here. Like an eager puppy.
“So let’s talk about the book,” she said, putting a mug on his desk in front of him.
Jack looked at it and didn’t miss the fact that there was now a coaster for his cup that covered the circular coffee stain he’d grown fond of. That was kind of like shutting the barn door after the horse got out.
He leaned back in his cushy leather chair, a splurge from the unexpectedly astounding royalties on his first book, and met her gaze. “Let’s talk about my office instead.”
“What about it?”
He could actually see the oak top of his desk, whereas before only that circular spot had been visible. Pens, pencils, Post-its, a highlighter, et cetera, were...annoyingly organized. His mug with the army insignia on it that was for display purposes only was conspicuously full of writing implements. Yesterday, before she’d shown up, there were yellow legal pads scattered on the ratty chair and thrift-shop tables in this room and now they were nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know where anything was.
“Things aren’t where I put them.”
“I tidied up. I was awake early and didn’t want to start breakfast too early in case you liked to sleep in.” She shrugged. “So I made myself useful.”
“In what universe? A man’s office is sacred ground.” The up and down apartments on the property were identical floor plans with two bedrooms and bathrooms. In addition to the isolation out here by the lake he’d liked the idea of separate spaces for work and living. Now Erin Riley had invaded both. Last night she’d slept upstairs in the spare room with unfettered access to his office. That was going to change. “I like my stuff out so I can find it.”
She sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, clearly not discouraged by his inhospitable reception and intending to dig in. “Understood.”
Jack squirmed a little, unable to shake the sensation that he’d drop-kicked a kitten. She was trying to do her job and he wasn’t making it easy. Because he didn’t want her here poking into things. All he needed was time to work through his creative speed bumps.
“If you want to be useful,” he said, “I need supplies. Like you said last night, there’s not much food here to work with.”
But she’d proved to be resourceful and managed to make dinner. With some eggs, a few vegetables