All They Ever Wanted (7 page)

Confused, she studied his stoic face for clues, but none were forthcoming. She hid her frustration behind a sunny smile. “Come by before your shift tomorrow?”

He gave her a look that implied he might say more, but instead he nodded silently. When she heard the sound of the door closing, she counted to ten before hurling a pillow at the wall.

L
ori tried to crank the motor by hand, but it was no use. The garbage disposal was well and truly stuck. With a resigned sigh, she looked at the clock on the microwave: ten fifty. Too late to call Gavin to come fix it. Luckily the casseroles were already made and she'd rinsed the fruit earlier. She'd just have to manage without a sink during tomorrow's breakfast.

“It's not the first time I've had a kitchen appliance go on strike during my illustrious career,” she muttered as she wiped down the countertops surrounding the deep farm sink in the B and B's kitchen.

She tossed the towel into the washer then nearly leaped out of her skin when she collided with a hard body on her way out of the laundry room. A hard body that smelled like Aramis and the ocean. Her mind drifted back to that moment earlier in the day when she'd almost done the unthinkable and kissed Miles McAlister right here in this very spot. This time, her palms were flat against his chest and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her hand—the sound of which seemed to be echoing throughout the small room. Or perhaps that was her own wild heartbeat she heard.

He'd changed out of his casual clothes and was now wearing his buttoned-up politician's uniform consisting of a tailored shirt—soft beneath her fingertips—and gabardine slacks, both of which were doing very little to conceal the finely hewed muscle beneath. Unlike the men Lori had been associated with the past several years, Miles didn't need to cloak himself in designer suits to exude a sense of confidence. His swagger was one hundred percent real and his clothing neither enhanced nor detracted from it.

The dim lighting behind him cast his face in shadows, making it difficult for her to decipher his expression. His hands hovered near her waist, seemingly unsure of where they should be. Parts of her were doing a happy dance at the unexpected opportunity for a second chance, before logic won out and she took a huge step back in order to prevent the idiot portion of her brain from running amok.

They stood in the charged silence a moment before Miles blew out a harsh breath.

“Do you always skulk around the inn talking to yourself late at night?”

“Do you always accost women in the laundry?”

He lowered his chin to his chest, muttering something to himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he propped a shoulder against the doorframe.

“Touché.” He wore a chagrined expression when he finally looked up at her. “I apologize for earlier. It was never my intention to manhandle you. I wasn't . . . thinking.”

His apology pretty much killed whatever happy dancing was still going on inside her. Of course, he would only admit to touching her when he wasn't in his right mind. The connection between them was undeniably hot and she
knew
he felt its potency as much as she did. But Miles would never act on it. She doubted that Dudley Do-Right ever let himself do anything that wasn't carefully planned out in advance. Especially with a woman like her—a woman he suspected the worst of.

Lori crossed her arms over her midsection. “Exactly what was your intention?”

He shook his head slightly. “Apparently, to be an ass.”

“Well, you succeeded.”

One corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you going to rat me out to my mom again?”

She felt her own smile coming on. “No. I'm pretty sure she already knows you're an ass. Luckily for you, she loves you anyway.”

“And I love her. Which means the two of us need to work this out.”

Heat surged to her belly just thinking about how she'd like to work it out. But that could never happen. Not while they both were who they were. “I already told you, I'm not filling out any forms.”

Miles held a hand up. “That's between you and my mom. As far as I'm concerned, she can handle any legal fallout that might come from that.”

“Just as long as it doesn't impact your political career, right?”

He jerked away from the doorframe and Lori instantly regretted baiting him. Miles made no secret of who he was. The fact that he was principled and honest was like a breath of fresh air after the people Lori had known. His integrity was as much of a turn-on to her as was the rest of him.

Lori sensed that perfection wasn't easy for Miles, though. Although she didn't think others noticed—not even his family. Deep down, Miles wanted to stray from his path; he just didn't know how. And as much as Lori would like to be the one to lead him astray, too much danger lay down that road. For both of them.

“Just as long as it doesn't impact my
family
.”

She heaved a sigh. “How many times am I going to have to say it? Nothing about who I am will hurt your mother, her inn, or your family. I won't let it.”

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and his forefinger. “We need some ground rules.”

“Let's start with you keeping your hands to yourself.”

His chin shot up. “Wait just a minute there, Sweet Cheeks. You weren't putting up much of a protest this morning. If Cassidy hadn't crashed the party, you would have been fully participating in whatever came next and you know it.”

She was suddenly damp at the thought of “whatever came
next.”
All the more reason for ground rules
, she told herself. Especially if they included the provision that neither one of them could be in the same room at the same time.

“How about you run off onto the campaign trail and I mind my own business cooking and cleaning,” Lori suggested. “That offer has got to be every man's total fantasy.”

His hands were back in his pockets again as if he needed to forcibly restrain them. “You clearly don't know what men fantasize about.” The rough edge in his voice sent a shiver of arousal through her.

“Excuse me. Miles, is that you?”

The sound of a male voice startled her. Miles spun around, facing the kitchen, his body blocking hers from view. Whether it was conscious or not, Lori appreciated the gesture.

“Evening, Mr. Swanston. Can I help you with something?”

She heard Mr. Swanston step farther into the kitchen. “Sorry to bother you, but my wife has misplaced a bracelet. It was one of those ones with all the charms. The kids have been adding to it every holiday. I was wondering if anyone found it, or turned it in.”

Miles glanced over his shoulder at her. Lori shook her head as a trickle of unease crawled down her spine. She'd searched every nook and cranny in her room looking for her grandmother's ring, but still hadn't found it. While she knew she hadn't misplaced the ring, she hated the idea that it might have been stolen.

“No one's turned anything in,” Miles said.

Mr. Swanston sighed heavily. “The darn thing probably came unlatched and fell off. It could be anywhere.”

Lori stepped around Miles. Mr. and Mrs. Swanston were a kind older couple who were staying at the B and B for a few days on their way home to Florence, South Carolina, following the high school graduation of one of their grandchildren. The odds of either of them recognizing her were slim to none. Mr. Swanston was probably right about the bracelet. Lori wanted to believe that the two missing items were just a coincidence.

“I'll look around for it, Mr. Swanston,” she offered. “I can check all the common areas. And Miles will ask around in
town tomorrow. He can even check with the sheriff's office. Maybe someone turned it in there.”

Mr. Swanston's face relaxed. “That's very kind of you, thank you. Linda has a bee in her bonnet about finding it, but it will put her at ease to know you'll keep looking for it even after we leave tomorrow.”

“If it's here, we'll find it.” Miles' resolute tone prompted a nod from the older man.

“See you at breakfast.” Mr. Swanston waved his way out of the kitchen.

Lori edged out of the laundry room, hoping to make her escape up to her room.

“Nice of you to volunteer my services there, Sweet Cheeks.” Miles opened the Sub-Zero refrigerator and pulled out some cold cuts.

“I know how you like to be in charge.” She checked the automatic times for the ovens. “Just leave whatever dishes you use on the drain board. I'll get them in the morning.”

He stopped in the middle of piling meat on top of a hoagie roll. “You don't have to clean up after me.”

“I only meant that the drain is clogged. You can't run the water right now.”

Miles shot her a confused look before walking over to the sink and peering down at it. “What's wrong with it?” he asked as he turned on the light above.

“The garbage disposal is stuck. Nothing major. I'll call Gavin first thing in the morning.”

He made a sound of disgust before he began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“What are you doing?” Not that she minded him doing a striptease in the dimly lit kitchen, but she wasn't sure she had as much control of that idiot part of her brain as she needed right now.

“My father believed in raising children who are self-sufficient.” He pulled off the shirt in one fluid move and tossed it over a kitchen chair. The muscles beneath his T-shirt flexed as he strode into the laundry room and retrieved a large yellow toolbox. “It doesn't have to be Gavin who fixes everything. I'm perfectly capable.”

Lori got the impression that he was aggravated by more than just a clogged kitchen drain. Before she knew it, he was on his back and under the sink with the ease and familiarity of someone who'd been there a time or two before. He pulled a flashlight out of the toolbox and propped it beside him.

“So are you saying Kate could do this if she had to?”

His voice echoed from within the cabinet. “I'm saying even my little brother with the Golden Glove could do this. Although his contract might prohibit it.” He blindly reached into the toolbox and grabbed a wrench. “My sisters both know their way around a toolbox, too. If you ever need a piece of furniture from IKEA assembled, they're your go-to girls.”

Lori didn't hold back the grin that escaped at the pride in Miles' voice. Not for the first time she thought how delightful it would have been to grow up in a family with siblings and parents who looked after you, instead of ones who sold you out.

There was a clink of metal on metal and Miles swore. “Can you get me a plastic bowl or something?”

She fished into a cabinet and pulled out a bowl. When she crouched down to hand it to him, her thigh brushed against Miles' firm one and she sucked in a breath at the heat that seared through her. Miles stilled for a moment before reaching for the bowl. Lori quickly found her feet and took a few steps back toward the opposite counter and kept her eyes glued to his Cole Haan loafers rather than his muscular legs.

“Here's your problem,” he said. “Eggshells in the trap.”

“I put eggs down there every day. It's never been a problem before.”

“Maybe not since you've been here, but they build up over time. Morgan usually comes to clean out the trap a couple times a year. Looks like the clog didn't want to wait for him.” He slid the soggy bowl out onto the floor. “You won't have to worry about this again for a while.”

Lori didn't bother pointing out that she wouldn't be there in “a while.” It wouldn't do to dwell on her uncertain future.

“You mean to tell me you've never run into this problem at the other restaurants or inns you've worked in?”

His question caught her off guard. He was quiet underneath
the sink awaiting her answer. She knew Miles hoped to trap her into giving up information about herself, but she was wise to his tactics.

“What makes you think I've done this kind of work before?”

Miles snorted. “A person doesn't have to be a Rhodes Scholar to deduce you've had some sort of culinary training. Maybe in the military?” He slid out from under the sink.

Lori laughed. “Why the military?”

“This place has never been cleaner.” Miles glanced down at the stains dotting his T-shirt. “Present company excluded, that is.”

He got to his feet before reaching behind his neck, tugging the T-shirt over his head, and balling it up to wipe his hands. The sight of his bare chest made Lori light-headed.
Get out, you fool
, her brain screamed, but her feet were glued to the floor. He must have heard her sharp intake of breath—
how could he have not?
—because he stilled in the act of tossing his shirt toward the laundry room. She licked her lips and his eyes locked on to them like a laser missile honing in on its target.

Her hips bumped up against the counter when she took a step back. Miles followed, pinning her there by placing his hands on the countertop, one on each side of her. Keeping her eyes off his face wasn't helping the situation; her lips ached to cover the pulse beating wildly at the base of his neck.

His own lips hovered near her ear. “Tell me your secret, Lori. Tell me something about you that will make me not want you so damn much.” His raspy words both shocked and aroused her. The knowledge that she had power over him was thrilling and frightening at the same time. She was wet and wanting and she very nearly did as he asked.