Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
He pushed away from the doorframe and walked to the range. "Something smells good. You really can cook?"
"Some. Not everything." She came to stand beside him and lifted the lid from the pot. Inside was a pot roast and green beans that looked and smelled remarkably appetizing.
What was it about her apparent domestic abilities that was sending pleasure coursing through him? He'd damn sure never cared if Tanya had been able to cook or not. In fact, it had irritated him beyond belief whenever she would prepare a meal and expect him to sit at her table and compliment her on it. It had always reeked of a masquerade, a deception she was hoping would induce a reaction much as he was having now, with Natalie in his kitchen.
As he looked at the meal she had prepared, the question of where she'd gotten the food in the first place puzzled him. "Did you go shopping?"
"No. The roast was in the freezer and I found the can of beans in the pantry. But that's about all there was."
"Damn. Smells good. Let me grab a quick shower and we'll eat." He turned away and walked from the room, suddenly anxious to have a home cooked meal and knowing the exact reason why.
****
After Marco turned to go, Natalie began setting the table. He was gone less than ten minutes, and he came back barefoot, in jeans and a t-shirt. She swallowed hard and served the meal as she surreptitiously observed him for the first time in casual clothes. The impact he made was no less intense than the suits she'd seen him in.
They ate in silence, broken only by him complimenting the food a couple of times. She was nervous, and he kept watching her between bites. It wasn't something she was used to, and she was worried about the talk that his note had said they were going to have.
And the talk came too soon.
Natalie had already straightened the kitchen as she cooked, so the clean-up was minimal. When she was finished, she followed him to his study at his request.
He didn't sit at his desk, but sank down in one of two armchairs that faced each other over a small table and indicated she take the other. "Sit down."
She did, and put her hands in her lap and waited as calmly as she could.
"I got the estimate on my car." Marco gave her a moment to absorb that information. She began fidgeting again, her fingers plucking at a small tear in the knee of her jeans, only making it worse. Her clothes looked clean and wrinkle-free, and he wondered if she'd washed them--and what the hell she'd worn while they'd been in the wash. He pushed the thought from his mind with effort.
He unfolded a piece of paper and laid it on the low table between them. Her eyes shot down but she didn't reach for it right away. She looked back at him slowly, as if the paper were poisoned or contaminated. "Look at it, Natalie."
Slowly, she reached out and picked up the estimate. Her eyes scanned it quickly and landed at the figure in bold print at the bottom of the page. Her face lost all color and she licked her lips. "I don't understand. This is over twenty thousand dollars. That's as much as a new car would cost."
"Not an Audi, sweetheart. And my car in particular cost five times as much." Marco attempted to keep his voice gentle, something he'd never bothered doing with anyone else he could remember, and for now, didn't try to analyze why.
She lifted a hand to her brow and pushed against it as she expelled a pained breath. "That's more--more than I can contemplate." Her eyes were liquid-filled as they lifted to his. "Truthfully, I was expecting fifteen-hundred or so."
"I can have another estimate done--but the numbers will be close and I don't think it's necessary."
"I don't know what to say. It'll take me a lifetime to pay back that kind of money." Her agitation was palpable as her fingers pushed and pulled at the hole in her jeans, worrying the material and widening the opening. His eyes dropped to the skin of her leg, where her fingers continued to rip at the material, and at his silence, she asked, "Are you going to sue me?"
Marco pulled his eyes away from the pale skin of her thigh and lifted them to her face with effort. "I don't want to sue you." Bringing a lawsuit against her didn't play into his plans for her at all. He didn't quite know exactly what he wanted from her yet, except for the obvious, and that was an admission that was inducing a river of guilt to run through his veins and combine with the arousal beating uncomfortably in his blood. Arousal and guilt--the two emotions didn't mix well.