Page 31 of Singing For His Kiss

CHAPTER TWELVE

She knew it was wrong. She shouldn’t have gone into what clearly had been his dead wife’s room, playing her prized piano and singing her heart out. She certainly shouldn’t have let a four-year-old persuade her. But Madeline was just so excited and she had been curious and it had been a joy to play and sing and just – forget.

She watched as James struggled, and tensed, waiting for the retribution she was likely to receive. He wouldn’t hit her though. Not James. He wasn’t like David. Or any other man she knew, for that matter.

James had the capacity to affect her deeply, that was how different he was. And he was also way out of her league. Way, way out of her league. If what she’d seen of his wife was anything to go by, she was out of Elizabeth’s league as well. There was absolutely no way James would be interested in someone like her. Not compared to what he once had.

Daydreams. Just stick to the daydreams.

“I did warn you,” she said.

His forehead creased in bafflement as he regarded her. “Warn me?”

“That I really wasn’t nanny material. I shouldn’t have gone into that room. I should have known better.” Always better to acknowledge when she’d done something wrong before anyone else did. The tactic always managed to ease anger.

James shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to say… I just wanted to say… thank you.”

Elizabeth stared for a long moment. She hadn’t expected him to say that. Enraged agreement, self-justification, admonishment not to do it again, but certainly not a gratitude. “You want to thank me?”

James ran both hands through his hair, leaving it in that roughed up way she’d come to like him wearing. “I heard you today. In the piano room.”

“The room…it looks special. I shouldn’t have intruded. She must have been quite a woman. Talented.”

James sighed, resting his hands on his hips. She could see his mind working a thousand miles an hour. “Are you hungry? I haven’t had dinner yet. How about we go to the kitchen, grab something to eat, and I’ll tell you about the room.”

Her whole being hesitated – being close to him was a sort of sweet torture, one she seemed to have no will power to deny. The back of her mind warned her to decline, but the active, not-listening-to-reason part let her nod her head.

“Okay.”

The relaxed smile on his face was reward enough. Before she knew it, she was sitting at the kitchen table with no idea how she came to get there. Her head had been clouded with how well his behind filled his jeans. How broad and straight his shoulders were. How good he smelled. Mrs. D’llessio had cleaned up, and the kitchen was silent and empty apart from the two of them.

“Green tea?”

“Huh?” Elizabeth saw James indicate a tray of different sorts of tea bags on the bench. “Oh, yes. Thank you.” She went to stand to help.

“Sit down. I’ll bring it over.”

She sat back down, a little uncomfortable at being waited on. By James. To take her mind off it, she watched James bustle about the kitchen. He moved economically, gracefully, as though each move was carefully thought out before he made it.

He also looked tired. There were shadows beneath his eyes and tension in his shoulders.

He placed the mug on the table, slid it towards her and smiled. She couldn’t look away. She took the handle of the mug, their fingers brushing. She glanced up, finding him gazing at her. Awareness slid through her, highlighting his proximity. She let her eyes roam over his face – as if she could stop herself - studying his straight nose, sharp jaw line and full, masculine lips. A shadow of stubble dusted his cheeks, adding to the ruggedness of his choppy hair and overall disheveled look.

He dug something out of his pocket. “I have a gift.”

A frown pulled her forehead. “I don’t accept gifts.”

“I’ve noticed.” A pause, then, “Call it a safety device, then. For Madeline.”

She had to remind herself that James wasn’t like David Logan. He pushed a sleek iPhone across the table. “Just in case you need to call.”

“It’s too much.” She put her hands beneath the table. An automatic reaction.

“Elizabeth, it’s a spare phone that was sitting in my desk drawer. If you can’t accept it for safety, then think of it as a tool of your new trade. If you’re out with Madeline, I’ll know I have a way to contact you. I don’t think you have one of your own?”

She shook her head. She’d ditched it in a rubbish bin before she’d left because David could trace her with it. She really missed not having a phone, but she’d never had one of the latest phones out on the market before, and this one looked pretty sleek, despite it being a ‘spare phone in his office drawer’.

She tentatively held the phone. She knew she was being stupid. It was just a phone, and she did need one if she was going to take care of Madeline. If she had a child, she’d want to be able to contact the person responsible for her care. Elizabeth could intellectualise her knee-jerk reactions, but she couldn’t seem to stop them from happening in the first place.

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