“I don’t want your gratitude.”

Patrick’s voice was low and husky.

“But you have it,” Darcy told him. “I can’t stop that.”

He was close now. So very close.

He stared into her eyes for so long that she was afraid she would lean toward him, show him how drawn to him she was.

Instead, he looked down to where she clasped his wrist. He covered her hand with his, turning her hand so that her palm was up. Then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed that most sensitive center of her palm.

Desire shot through her so fast she couldn’t contain it.

“I want to kiss you,” he said. “But if you tell me no, I won’t.”

She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair. “No,” she said, as she pulled him down to her and touched her lips to his.

Myrna Mackenzie is a self-proclaimed ‘student of all things that concern women and their relationships’. An award-winning author of over 30 novels, Myrna was born in a small town in Dunklin County, Missouri, grew up just outside Chicago, and now divides her time between two lake areas—both very different and both very beautiful. She loves coffee, hiking, cruising the internet for interesting websites and ‘attempting’ gardening, cooking and knitting. Readers (and other potential gardeners, cooks, knitters, writers, etc…) can visit Myrna online at www.myrnamackenzie.com, or write to her at PO Box 225, La Grange, IL 60525, USA.

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next Mills & Boon Romance

The Frenchman’s Plain-Jane Project October 2009

Dear Reader

When Darcy Parrish first came into my imagination in her wheelchair, I did a double-take. Darcy could do the tango in her chair, and bake a soufflé with one hand tied behind her back. Those things are outside the bounds of my experience. I wasn’t sure I could write her and do her justice. Then she opened her mouth and told me that it was okay, because she was totally unwilling to be a romance heroine, anyway.

In the meantime, Patrick Judson was hanging around at the edge of my thoughts. He thought he knew women. He’d raised three sisters. He had been running the family business for years. He was rich and powerful and there wasn’t much he couldn’t handle.

Somehow (don’t ask how), these two managed to collide in my mind one day. I swear I never meant for them to cross paths. There was really no hope for them. But meet they did, and Darcy realised that—okay—maybe Patrick was handsome and intriguing, but she was still not going to go along with this heroine business.

As for Patrick, he realised that there were things he didn’t know about women, and some things he just couldn’t control. Darcy was, apparently, one of them. She perplexed him, intrigued him, and drove him nuts. But nothing was going to keep him from getting to know her better, even if a happy ending wasn’t written in the stars.

Sigh. Sometimes characters just won’t behave. And sometimes that’s an unexpectedly good thing. In this case, Darcy and Patrick turned out to be a writer’s blessing. I loved getting to know them, and I hope you enjoy their story.

Best wishes

Myrna Mackenzie

HIRED: CINDERELLA CHEF

BY

MYRNA MACKENZIE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

“MR. JUDSON said that his guests want to meet the cook.”

“Excuse me?” Darcy Parrish’s throat nearly closed up with dread as she addressed the young serving girl who had delivered the message.

“I said that Mr. Judson’s dinner guests want to meet the cook.”

Such simple words. Such a simple request. Why then were Darcy’s hands shaking? No question.

“That’s impossible,” Darcy said. “Tell him no.”

She looked at the young woman’s astonished and horrified face. To tell the truth she was a little horrified at her audacity, too. She had only been at Judson House a week. She’d been hired by the housekeeper while Mr. Judson was out of town and had never actually met her boss. But she knew about him. She knew a lot about him.

More than that, she knew that he didn’t know about her. At least not some important details.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” the young woman, Olivia, said. “It would be my job. Unlike some people, I need this work. I don’t have charity to fall back on.”

Anger burned within Darcy even as she conceded that Olivia was right. It wasn’t fair to hurt another person to keep from hurting herself.

“I’m sorry, Liv,” she told the girl. “Really, but…I can’t go out there. You don’t know how it feels to be on display, to be like a bug under a microscope …I just can’t.”

Olivia sighed. “I’m sorry, too, but he asked, Darcy. What can I say?”

“Say that I’m covered in flour.”

“But you’re not.”

Darcy wanted to groan. Olivia was so young and so honest. She hadn’t learned the convenient little lies that helped protect a person from life’s blows. And being paraded out in front of a millionaire’s guests like a pet performer would be a blow, especially once they realized her situation. Pity always followed. She wasn’t going through that.

“Well then, say that I’m in the midst of making dessert.” That wasn’t completely true, either. The dessert only needed whipped cream on the top.

“Dar-cy,” Olivia drawled.

“O-liv-i-a, please. I can’t. I won’t,” Darcy said.

“Is there a problem of some sort?” The deep, male voice echoed through the huge kitchen, and Darcy spun in her wheelchair to face Patrick Judson, her new boss, the man who had financed the group home where she was staying.

To be honest, having been assigned this job by his housekeeper, Darcy had never actually seen her boss, but who else could it be? Entering through the door nearest the dining area, he was dressed formally for dinner in stark black and white and he looked a lot like the pictures she’d seen in the newspaper. With those broad shoulders, dark, longish hair, green eyes and a granite jaw, he might have stepped right out of a magazine or a romance novel. He was definitely the kind of man that women made fools of themselves over, even beautiful, women with working appendages, serious pedigrees, money and no flaws. He was Heathcliff in twenty-first century clothing, and he was also…very tall.

Darcy had always been slightly shorter than average. Tall, imposing men had always made her feel squat even when she’d been able to get around well on two legs. Now, in a wheelchair, she felt even shorter, more at a disadvantage. But she’d been a fighter all her life and she’d never been one to let her fears show.

“Mr. Judson, I appreciate the offer to meet your guests, but I’m afraid that’s not possible. I have to finish the dessert.” Okay, that was her story and she was sticking to it.

Patrick’s gaze passed around the room, and Darcy wished she could rush over and cover the obviously finished crystal glasses of chocolate mousse. But he said nothing about that. Instead he turned to Olivia. “If the coffee is ready, why don’t you serve that, Olivia?”

The young woman nodded, gathered the coffee cart and rushed out, clearly glad to be spared the storm to follow.

Now Patrick turned those dark green eyes on Darcy. “How long have you been here?” he asked. “I don’t remember you.”

But he was studying her so intently that Darcy knew he wouldn’t ever forget her. She could no longer be totally invisible the way she liked things. She fought the urge to brush away the trace of chocolate that had dripped onto her left breast. She wished she could get up and make herself tall so that she was the one towering over someone.

As if he had read her mind, Patrick pulled up the nearest stool and sat down.

Darcy’s eyes widened. The man had guests, yet he looked as if he intended to settle in for a long visit!

Now, she did give in to the urge to fidget, clutching the armrests of her chair. “I’ve been here a week,” she said. “My name is Darcy Parrish.”

“You’re from Able House.”

She raised her right eyebrow. “How could you tell?” Her tone was slightly mocking and…okay, that was stepping over the line…in more ways than one. Of course, he knew where she was from. Everyone in this neighborhood had fought to keep the assisted-living facility for those with spinal cord injuries out of this posh neighborhood. All except Patrick Judson, who had sponsored Able House, fought for it and made sure that it was luxuriously furnished and stocked and had every technological and administrative advantage available. Darcy was grateful—more than grateful for the chance to live in a place that catered to her needs and made her feel less dependent, but she also knew that being from Able House, being an example of Patrick Judson’s largess made her a marked woman and an object of pity.

For a second Patrick looked nonplussed. Then a small amused look lifted his lips. “How did I know? It’s stamped on your wheelchair,” he said.

Darcy looked down. “I don’t see it.” Of course. He had made it up.

“It’s on one of the spokes.”

She bent over and read the half-upside down letters on the fat, black spoke. He was right. When she looked up, her gaze met his. Those sleepy green eyes looked right into her ordinary brown ones and she felt as if she had been sucked up into a tornado of sensation. She felt helpless.

Darcy hated feeling helpless. She had been in situations where she had no control or was at the mercy of the more powerful or advantaged too many times in her life. She had been the object of Good Samaritanism gone bad before, too, and she’d certainly been forced to deal with admiration turned to pity. The times that had happened…she didn’t want to remember. Not any of them. She would have none of that in her life again. Pride mattered, and she knew enough to shield herself. But now…dammit, she liked this job. Moreover, she needed this job.

Ever since her accident had killed her dreams of being a police officer, she had been spiraling out of control. For the second time in her life, the first being a dark period of her childhood she didn’t like to think about, she had had to rely completely on the mercy and goodwill of others, and the very thought scared her to death. But here in the kitchen, with her newfound skill? She ruled. She had discovered her talent and she totally ruled. What if she lost that just because she couldn’t keep her big mouth shut?

“I’m sorry about disappointing your guests,” she said, trying for a humble and deferential tone.

Now, Patrick raised his brow. “Is that so?”

Okay, she had lied enough. Besides, she never lied about things that really mattered. A person’s attitude mattered. “No, not really. That is, I don’t want to go out there and meet them, But, I also don’t want them to be disappointed in the meal.”

“They’re not. That’s why they wanted to meet you. To tell you how much they enjoyed it.”

“I…I’m sorry, but I really don’t like to be on display. I just can’t do that.”

He nodded curtly. “That wasn’t my intent.”

“You didn’t know I was in a wheelchair, did you?”

“I don’t know you at all.”

“No reason you should. I’m just another employee.” Even though she knew that was a lie. When she applied for this job, Mrs. D., the housekeeper, had noted that she was from Able House, and Darcy was almost certain that the woman had favored her because of that. Not that she didn’t have the talent to do the task, because she did, but this was Chicago. Talent in the kitchen abounded, and a man with Patrick Judson’s money and social standing could hire the best. He wouldn’t have had to give preferential treatment to a woman just because she lived at the institution where he was the chief benefactor.

But he had. Or at least his housekeeper had.

Darcy sighed. “I’m grateful for the work.”

He didn’t smile. Indeed, his look was grim. “If you couldn’t do the work Mrs. D. wouldn’t have hired you. But I have to warn you, it’s a very temporary position.”

Yes, she knew that. She’d been trying not to think of that. She’d been hoping that temporary meant…not temporary.

“But for now?” she asked.

Patrick leveled a look at her and she knew this was a man who was used to getting his way. “For today,” he stressed, “I’ll make your excuses. But that’s a one-time reprieve. I’m leaving Judson House soon and I’ll be gone long-term. When I go, every employee here will have a new place to work. That’s my promise to myself, and I can’t place employees elsewhere if they are insubordinate or insist on hiding their talents. If Able House is going to succeed beyond this generation, its inhabitants have to be willing to be beacons and let their lights shine, at least in some small way. They have to be examples of success stories themselves. You and I are going to work on this, Darcy.”

She stifled a groan. “On what?”

“On your fear of coming out of the kitchen and meeting people.”

It wasn’t exactly fear of being around people that was her problem. True, she didn’t like being stared at, but she wasn’t a complete hermit. She just steered clear of anything that brought her undue attention, and even then…her fear was much more than that. “I don’t want to be anyone’s project,” she said.

“Too bad. It’s just become a condition of your continued employment. You’re mine now.”

Darcy tried to ignore the sudden quickened beating of her heart as he stood up and started to walk away.

Darcy rolled forward. “Mr. Judson. I—”

Patrick Judson turned. “Trust me on this, Darcy. I’ll make sure you have security, a good job and the means to survive without being beholden to anyone before I go.”

Oh, yeah, like she hadn’t heard those kinds of promises before. But in the end she was the only person she had ever truly been able to count on.

“I don’t need security.” A total lie.

He paused. “What do you need?”

Darcy didn’t hesitate. “I need to finish making dessert.”

“Chocolate mousse? Is it good?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Practically orgasmic,” she said. Okay, that was over the top. The tendency to speak her mind was a good trait for a policewoman, but it could only get her in trouble here. She opened her mouth to take back her comment, but her boss had raised one dark eyebrow.

“Well, that will be entertaining, at least,” he said. “I guess I owe you, Darcy, and so do my guests. That was a most spectacular meal. My taste buds are still humming. Thank you.” He smiled.

She couldn’t help it. She smiled back. How did he do that? Most likely he did that with every woman he encountered.

“My pleasure,” she said. But inside, she was trembling. Patrick Judson was everything she could never have had even before her accident. The things she knew about him and the things she knew about herself…oh, yes, he was off-limits to a woman like her. So, she really couldn’t do anything that implied that she was even mildly attracted. Talk about an impossible situation!

No, it was just too irritating that her new boss was so attractive and compelling. That kind of thing was just going to end right here and now.

Except the darn man was going to turn her into some sort of hobby, a cause.

Her blood ran cold. She could barely think.

“I have to concentrate on the dessert and only on the dessert,” she muttered. And this time she meant every word.

She could not even allow herself to think about letting Patrick Judson turn her into a project. But how was she going to stop him?

Patrick woke up the next morning thinking about Darcy Parrish’s dark, hot rebellious eyes. There had been something magnificent and defiant about her even though he could tell that she was scared and bluffing beneath the bravado. Having raised three sisters he knew the signs.

Still, he had no business dwelling on the woman despite the fact that there was something compellingly beautiful about her. He’d found himself wondering how long her wheat-colored hair would be when freed from its ponytail and…what she was wearing beneath that red apron. He could see that she was slender, but…

“Stop it,” he muttered. This was completely inappropriate. She was his employee. For now, anyway, and he had sworn to help her.

Patrick nearly let out a groan. Why had he done that? His life was too busy right now and he was halfway out the door to a trip around the world. Now that his youngest sister was going off to college he was free to pursue his own interests for the first time since his parents had died and left him a guardian at age nineteen.

This trip was all he had wanted for years. He intended to grab opportunity with both hands, and nothing was going to sidetrack him, including a pair of lovely brown eyes. At twenty-nine he was still single and he had yet to sow any wild oats. He was going to do just that. Soon enough he would marry someone like himself, from his world with his goals. He would raise his own children. Angelise would be a perfect choice for a wife, and she seemed to feel the same about him. Not that they’d actually discussed marriage, yet. That would happen in time.

But for now, the family sporting goods business offered the perfect opportunity to do all the things he’d been wanting to do. The prospect of a multi-continent trip to promote the business while engaging in adventure sports for charity loomed large. No more avoiding the reckless pursuits he craved. No more being responsible for another person’s well-being. He wanted that new life, badly, and it was almost in his grasp.

Except there were just a few loose ends. Able House was one, and apparently Darcy Parrish was another.

“You’re an idiot, Judson,” he told himself. “She doesn’t even want your help.”

But she would have it. He’d taken on the responsibility of Able House not only as an example to his sisters of the value of diversity in one’s life, but also as an example of the duties of the wealthy to those less fortunate. The first round of residents had all been chosen as those most likely to be able to make their own ways eventually. Potential strong role models who might offer hope to others. It was clear why Darcy had been included. She was talented, bright and bold. But he’d heard her try to get Olivia to lie for her. He’d seen her anger. Something was wrong.

Having been the one to shepherd Able House into being, he had to make sure that wrong was made right. Whether he’d known it before or not, he now knew that Darcy was in his employ and that made him responsible for her.

When he left town, he had to be sure that Able House and its residents were safe from attack. He didn’t want any of his neighbors to be able to say “I told you this wouldn’t work” or “I told you this would be a problem” or “We don’t need any trouble bringing our property values down.” These were people’s lives, hopes and dreams that were at stake.

He’d been lax. He’d been concentrating on getting Lane off to college and then on his own issues. Having chosen Able House’s directors with care, he’d assumed that the brand-new facility had launched cleanly.

Apparently that wasn’t completely true. Darcy Parrish had more than just a smart, sexy mouth. She was willing to be insubordinate to an employer rather than meet a group of people who had only wanted to praise and admire her. That could be problematic for future employers. Because while Darcy clearly had talent and could be a success, that wouldn’t happen if she was unwilling to promote herself in the competitive Chicago culinary field. Patrick knew that Mrs. D. had hired Darcy because of her Able House connections. Her talent might never be fully recognized if she insisted on ignoring those who wanted to meet her. And that would be bad news for both her and Able House.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. He was going to help her. And he was going to get some much needed coffee, he thought with a near groan. Damn, but he needed coffee if he was going to face the woman with a clear head.

Patrick just bet that Darcy Parrish made coffee that would make a man beg. Probably not a good idea to let her know that she had the power to make him beg, not with that saucy attitude of hers, he thought with a smile.

Oh, no. That wasn’t how things were going to be.

“Let the games begin, Darcy,” he whispered as he went in search of his pretty chef.

CHAPTER TWO

DARCY’S nerves were totally on edge. When she’d finally returned to Able House last night she’d been unable to sleep for hours knowing that today was likely to bring another meeting with Patrick Judson. The memory of the man’s arresting presence had her mind spinning as she tried to think of some plausible reason she could give for not showing up. Unfortunately there was none. She was going to have to face the man.

“So what?” she whispered to herself. “He’s just a man.” And she had been working for him for a week. This should be no big deal.

Except it was. Patrick Judson was not only gorgeous and sexy, with a voice that made a woman think of…oh, things she had stopped thinking of a long time ago, he was also larger than life. And she was—eek!—going to be spending a little time with him.

No big deal, she repeated to herself again as she finally made it to work, bleary-eyed and tired. He’d probably give her a half-hour lecture and a few pointers and that would be it. Had she seriously worried that some rich guy was going to hang around with her and put her through her paces?

“Hey, Darce. So, I hear you’re going to spend the whole day with Mr. Judson,” Olivia said as Darcy came through the door.

So much for no big deal. “Who told you that?” she asked the young woman, but secretly Darcy was thinking, I am? The whole day?

“Mrs. D. told me that I would have to handle lunch alone.”

Darcy hadn’t run into Mrs. D. yet. She’d better go find out what was going on.

“But she said that it wouldn’t be too difficult,” Olivia continued. “Because Ms. Judson—Lane—is out shopping, and because Mr. Judson wouldn’t be here, anyway. He has a meeting with you. I guess his guests were really impressed. Maybe he’s even going to ask you to cater his wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot that you haven’t met Angelise Marsdon yet. She’s pretty hot.”

“I didn’t know Mr. Judson was engaged,” Darcy said. She thanked heaven that she hadn’t let her crazy attraction to her boss show. Not that it ever would have even occurred to Olivia that Darcy might be attracted to anyone. Many people, maybe even most, assumed that the wheelchair stripped a person of desire.

“Oh, he isn’t yet, but it’s pretty clear that he and Angelise—don’t you love that name?—are an item and that they’re made for each other. Now that Lane is going to college in a few weeks, and all of his sisters will be out of the house, he’ll be alone. That engagement’s gonna happen. I just know it. You’ll see. So, this meeting with Mr. J. is just about all that stuff last night, then?”

“Not a clue, Liv, but I’ll find out soon enough. Until then, I’m really not going to worry about it.” No, and she wasn’t going to bother thinking about Patrick Judson’s upcoming engagement, either. Still, Liv’s mention of her boss’s relationship with the apparently beautiful and hot Angelise Marsdon was a solid wake-up call, a smack upside the head, Darcy thought. What had she even been thinking about noticing the man’s eyes and getting all gooey just because he had a deep voice and a nice smile?

“Breakfast first,” Darcy said, forcing herself to stop dwelling on her boss’s ability to make a woman feel hot even when she was holding the refrigerator door open. “I am not going to let you get stuck with extra chores just because I have to leave the kitchen for a few hours. Let’s get started.”

But she had barely managed to get the coffee made when she felt a presence at the door and turned. Patrick Judson was just entering the kitchen, and the way he was studying her…

Over the past few years Darcy had grown to expect and dread the pitying looks people sometimes sent her way, or worse, the way they glanced away self-consciously, but this was different. There was genuine interest in his gaze. And something else that made her feel like blushing when she was just not the kind of woman who blushed.

Anger sluiced through her. She liked this job. She needed it, too. Romantic or lustful thoughts were off-limits, and not just because the man was practically engaged. It went deeper than that. She’d already had a man destroy her heart when she was at her lowest. Her career had been snatched away. She’d lost her baby and more. Everything she’d dared to reach for was gone, so she no longer risked dreaming. She grasped only for the attainable. And Patrick Judson? He didn’t even come close to being attainable. The man might as well have had a big, flashing Not For Darcy light on his forehead. Only a self-destructive fool would risk being attracted to him, and she was a survivor, not a fool.

Life had boiled down to the practical, the doable, and even if she had still been the type to indulge in romantic dreams, this man was way out of her league and would have been even before the accident.

“Excuse me for invading your kitchen before you’re done, but what can I say? That is one of the most incredible scents in the world,” he said, glancing at the coffeepot. “A man would do a lot for a cup of that. Is it ready?” he asked with a smile that would have coaxed a snowman into a sauna.

Darcy couldn’t help smiling back just a little. “It’s ready. Coffee is a major food group, you know.”

He grinned and that darn snowman melted a little more. “I see we share an addiction.”

Darcy’s body turned to fire. That deep voice and the way he breathed in the aroma of the coffee she handed him before he took a sip… Darcy could so easily imagine him nuzzling a woman’s neck, breathing in her scent and telling her she smelled wonderful.

Darn it, no, where had that thought come from? Instantly she tried to blank out her thoughts. Some men could home in on a woman’s attraction. She prayed that Patrick wasn’t one of them. “Breakfast will be ready in mere minutes,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. Thankfully the act of promising results “in mere minutes” was enough to get her back on track. The meal would have to be something uncomplicated. Omelets, she decided, with fresh vegetables and herbs and cheese.

“Sounds great,” he conceded. “And after breakfast, you and I have things to do. Would you dine with me?”

Mind reading men became the least of Darcy’s worries as she thought of sitting across a table from him. There was something about a meal that suddenly seemed very intimate.

“No,” she said, too hastily. “I mean, thank you, but no thank you. Work to do, you know. Olivia is on her own today. I need to…” To what? Olivia was more than capable of managing on her own when Patrick wasn’t around to be fed. When Darcy had arrived, the young woman had been relying on a cache of frozen casseroles the former cook had made up. There were still plenty of those.

But this is my kitchen now, Darcy reminded herself. And she didn’t like falling back on the former cook’s meals. So, there. She did have a good excuse for not eating with her boss. She wasn’t a coward.

“Work,” she repeated.

“Coward,” he said with a smile. “As your employer you know I’d give you a pass on the work, but…maybe work isn’t the problem? You told me that you don’t like being the center of attention. You must have thought I would grill you.”

Darcy blinked. “Would you have?”

He smiled again. “Not until after breakfast.” Then, he picked up his coffee, turned and left the kitchen. “A few minute’s reprieve, Darcy,” he called back. “Then you and I begin.”

Silence filled the kitchen after he had gone, but Darcy’s mind wasn’t quiet at all. Begin what? she thought.

Less than an hour later, Patrick stood outside the house looking down at Darcy and reminded himself to tread carefully here. Darcy was his employee as well as a resident of Able House, and both of those facts made him responsible for her. It wasn’t right for him to notice those warm brown eyes or the way her hair caressed her jaw when she moved. His unexpected interest in her wasn’t acceptable. Especially since he would soon be leaving the country.

“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Those brandy eyes widened and she looked at his hand as if it was some sort of harmful weapon.

“I’m sorry. Have I…offended you?” he asked.

Quickly she shook her head. “No, not at all. And yes, I’m ready.” Then she tilted her head slightly. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. People generally don’t hold out their hands to me.”

He nodded. “Because you need them to operate your wheels, I assume.”

Darcy hesitated. “Yes, that’s probably why.”

But it wasn’t, he could tell. What kind of people had she been dealing with? “If anyone at Able House has been unkind…”

Instantly she went on full alert. “No! They’re wonderful people, all of them. I love that place! No, the handholding…I think it’s just that the metal gets in the way in people’s minds. It’s like having one of those force fields around you from a sci-fi movie. For the record, I don’t think it’s an intentional snub, just an oversight.”

“Good, because you would tell me if there was a problem at Able House, wouldn’t you?”

She laughed. “And rat on my friends? Not a chance.”

He shook his head but smiled. “You’re an interesting woman, Darcy. I have the feeling there’s a lot more to you than great food.”

“Well, there’s great coffee, too.”

Patrick chuckled. “Absolutely. Now, are you really ready?”

“Not really. Last night you told me that you needed me to let my light shine. I assume that means you want me to be an ambassador for Able House. But, as I tried to explain, I’m a pretty private person. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the spotlight.”

That complicated things. Could he let this drop? Not when there was so much at stake.

“I respect your desire for privacy,” he said. “But Able House hasn’t had nearly enough time to prove itself to the world, and now I’m leaving. The timing isn’t great, but it can’t be helped. My overseas project has been in the works for five years, long before the opportunity to create Able House came about. Before I go, I have to make sure Able House’s standing in the community is solid.

“That’s a necessity. The people in the neighborhood have to grow comfortable with the residents of Able House, to think of them as contributors and assets. And yes, it’s unfair that Able House should have a higher bar than the other locals do, but fair or not, you and your fellow residents have to show the community that the project wasn’t a mistake.”

The hurt, angry look in her eyes got to him. How many times had she been forced to prove herself to others?

Patrick could see the strain this conversation was having on her. Her face was pale, her body rigid.

“I’m not the only resident,” she told him.

“No, but you’re going to be my connection to everyone else.”

“The directors?” she asked.

“Are directors. They don’t have an in like you do. Caring as they are, they’re outsiders. They don’t live your life. They don’t really know what it’s like to be you. And neither do I. Besides, didn’t you tell me that you were a police officer, a public servant? Darcy, you can still do something like that, but instead of chasing bad guys, you’ll be serving Able House and this community.”

While the kitchen clock ticked away, she sat there, looking angry and rebellious and sad all at once.

“You don’t exactly fight fair,” she said.

“My sisters would agree with you.”

She tilted her head. “Were you a tough guardian?”

“A total bully.”

“And not very truthful,” she said with a small smile.

“Ah, the lady wants truth? All right, I let them twist me around their fingers all too often, but not when their well-being was at risk. You’ll help?”

Slowly she nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. Able House is special. In the short time it’s been here, most of us have bonded. It’s our home.”

He held his hand out in a gesture of acceptance. “I promise I’ll fight for you while I’m here.”

This time when he held out his hand, she took it. Patrick had meant it to be a symbolic gesture, a joining, the beginning of a pact, but as she lay her slender hand in his and the pads of her fingers slid against his palm, every nerve ending in his body switched on. He was aware of her in a way he hadn’t been only seconds earlier. She was no longer just a compelling, interesting woman and a great cook, no longer just his bridge to the residents of Able House. She was a flesh and blood woman who drew him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He let her go as they began to move down the path toward the gardens.

“So, what do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Fill me in on your background and what life is like for you now. Give me a tour of Able House. I’ve been there, of course, during the building stages and at the opening ceremonies. But I’ve stayed away since the residents arrived. It’s your home, not an institution. I haven’t wanted to intrude.

“I am aware that some of the neighbors haven’t been welcoming, and…now, after meeting you and given my upcoming departure, I’d say I dropped the ball.”

“We’re fine,” she said.

Not true. There had already been problems with a couple of neighbors who didn’t seem to understand or to want to understand how great a barrier their parked cars posed when they placed too many vehicles on the driveway so that they stuck out over the sidewalk. Or that sprinklers that overshot the grass and hit the walkway would soak anyone rolling past. They’d been parking their cars like that for years. They’d never had to think about the impact of how they positioned their sprinklers and they resented having to change their habits for people they hadn’t wanted in the neighborhood in the first place. Patrick had heard their complaints many times, and he was beginning to think that what might originally have been unconscious rudeness and laziness had become, to some extent, a form of harassment. There was still a sense that Able House would drag down property values and decrease the elite atmosphere of the neighborhood. That kind of resentment wasn’t easily overcome.

“Darcy, the plan was to integrate you so deeply into the neighborhood that you become a necessary part of the whole. That would help Able House become a springboard for similar residences. But, to achieve that you have to be visible, not flying under the radar. I’m sorry if we didn’t make that clear when you moved in.”

“People in wheelchairs often fly under the radar.”

He held up his hand. “I would never say that I understand your life, your experiences or how you feel. I don’t and I can’t, because I haven’t lived your life, but I know this much. Your legs may not work the way they used to, but other people with functional limbs lack your talent. Hiding that talent would be a mistake.”

She frowned.

So did he. “A mistake,” he repeated. “Living at Able House comes with strings attached. It isn’t a retreat. Retreats are fine. They have their place, and we all need to hide away now and then, but Able House is your job as well as your home, and your job requires you to go forth and be visible. All right?”

Darcy nodded, but he could see that she wasn’t happy. No wonder. She had just told him that she was a private person and here he was digging into her life.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn man?”

Patrick chuckled. “Yes, as well as bossy and arrogant. So, are you still in?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she asked. “And please don’t make some lame joke about how I couldn’t get away. I could totally leave you in the dust if I wanted to.”

“I’m sure you could,” he said, and he wasn’t lying. He had watched her deftly and seamlessly maneuver her chair over a place where a tree root had forced the sidewalk up a good four inches. And given her current pace, he was already taking long strides to keep up with her.

When they reached the fountain surrounded by yellow roses in the middle of the gardens, he motioned for her to stop and sat down on a bench facing her. “All right, here comes the part where I’m not only stubborn but pushy and nosy as well. So, how did you end up at Able House?” he asked.

“Don’t you already have all that information?”

“I don’t intrude on the residents’ lives.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. Given all that he’d told her and the demands he was making on her, he could understand her incredulity.

“Okay, I didn’t intend to intrude. I carelessly assumed everything was going as well as could be expected, given the neighbors’ initial reluctance. I didn’t realize that there might be any other complications until you told me that you didn’t want to be visible. And, okay, that stuff about not butting in? I’m making an exception in your case,” he agreed. “But I’m not digging through your files or asking one of the directors to break trust with you—which they wouldn’t do, by the way. I’m just…asking you. I won’t know if you leave something out.”

Darcy frowned. “So, I could lie to you…”

“And I’d be clueless.”

“That wouldn’t be very helpful, though, would it?”

He laughed. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“So, you’re trusting me?”

“Looks that way.” He waited.

She gave him an incredulous look. “That is so lame. How did you ever grow up to be such a success? In the part of town where I grew up, you would have been taken advantage of on a daily basis.”

He gave a casual shrug and continued to wait.

“I hate that you’re trusting me. It means I have to be honest. I do have a code of honor.”

Now, he couldn’t contain his grin.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” she asked.

Patrick tipped his head. “The directors spent a lot of time choosing the residents. Honor would have been important and they would have gone over every detail of your situation, your personality and your accomplishments. They probably know things about you that you don’t even recognize yourself.”

Her frown grew. “I doubt that very much, but…all right. I’ll give you the abbreviated version of how I came to be where I am. I wasn’t always in the chair, only for the past couple of years. Actually I was born in a very poor part of the city and ended up in an experimental suburban school program where a group of us with meager means but a decent stash of brains were thrown in with the cream of the elite. We were not welcomed or popular, as you might imagine, but the leaders of the program patted themselves on the back for helping the disadvantaged, the elite parents patted themselves on the back for allowing us to mingle with their children, the teachers patted themselves on the back for having to put up with our presence—the administrators hated the extra paperwork. Knowing that we were unwelcome charity cases, we had chips on our shoulders and bad attitudes, and the other students barely tolerated us. In addition, the district had budget cuts and the following year we were sent back to our own neighborhood schools where we were considered to be uppity for having mixed with the rich kids. The whole experience left me with a bad attitude about certain types of philanthropy.”

“And you think Able House is like that?”

“No, but I don’t like to be held up as an example or a poster child.”

“Understood.”

She gave him a small, resigned smile. “But we’re still going forward with this.”

This time he couldn’t smile back. “Darcy, I was nineteen when my parents died and I was left to raise my three sisters. If I’ve committed myself to a cause or to individuals, I don’t want to be like those people who dropped your project after a year. I intend to follow through and make sure that Able House will survive whether I’m here or not.”

“Well, then, you’ve got your woman. Survival is something I know all about.” Her smile and her attitude practically blew him away. He had a feeling it would be dangerous to underestimate Darcy Parrish. Or his reaction to her.

CHAPTER THREE

WELL…this was certainly stressful, Darcy thought as she and Patrick continued on, proceeding down the path toward Able House. She was constantly aware of the man by her side. In a physical way. In an emotional way. She hated losing control of her emotions, but her unexpected and completely feminine and foolish reaction to Patrick Judson was leading her to do just that, and now he wanted her to—

“All right, here’s the rest of my story,” she said, rushing ahead in the hopes that reliving those bad old days would smack some common sense into her. “After that wonderfully humiliating experience I told you about, I turned into a rebel, got in trouble, but quickly realized that was a road to disaster. Eventually I somehow got my act together enough to get into and graduate from the police academy, but just as I was about to achieve that dream, I ended up in a one-car accident that left me with some sensation but minus the ability to walk and chase down the bad guys. And then…a few things happened and I ended up here. So there, now you know everything about me.”

His smile was warm, even as he shook his head. “I said that I was going to trust you. I didn’t say I was a fool. Some things happened, and you ended up here? All right, I won’t ask for the details, but it’s obvious even from that brief introduction that you’re a much more complex woman than you care to admit. So no, I don’t know you.”

“And I don’t know you.”

“Touché. I’m asking you to share, but not reciprocating?”

“I’m not complaining. You’re not really my business, are you?” she challenged.

“Maybe not, but I’m asking a lot of you. So, what do you want to know about me?”

“Why did you fight to get Able House into the neighborhood? Why does it even matter to you?”

Patrick stopped walking. “Partly selfish reasons. My life has been taken up with my sporting goods business and my sisters, and when Lane—who is eighteen and heading off to college—was in a serious accident and we didn’t know what condition she would be in six months down the road, I had to wonder what her life would be like if I weren’t a rich man or if I weren’t around. How would the world treat her? What opportunities would she have? Who would she become? Would the world even realize what a gift she was? And, when I mentioned my concerns to a physician friend and heard that there had been interest in starting something like Able House for several years, it was an easy choice to donate the land and the money. But, I would never have thought of getting involved at all if my sister hadn’t had the misfortune to have a skiing accident.” He shrugged.

But Darcy wasn’t about to let that pass. “Lots of good things wouldn’t happen without a catalyst or a defining, life-changing moment. I haven’t run into her, but I assume she recovered.”

“Completely.”

“I’m glad.” Without thinking she reached out and touched his hand. Instantly awareness of him as a man kicked back in full force. Warmth, pulsing energy, a frisson of excitement ran through her. Was she insane? She’d barely been able to sit still when he’d been holding her hand earlier. Now, she had initiated contact? The instinct to jerk away was strong, but she couldn’t let him know that one totally innocent brush of her fingertips against his skin had affected her this much.

“Almost to Able House,” she managed to say. As if he didn’t know that.

“Lead on. You’re the expert here.” His low voice resonated through her body. Darcy kept moving, hoping none of her friends would notice how flustered she was.

“Hey, Darce, why are you back so soon?” someone called out as she rolled within view of the center. “Aren’t you working?”

“Detour of duties today. We have a visitor,” she said, happy that her voice sounded reasonably normal. As they neared the building, which was surrounded by deep green lawns, winding walkways, fountains, flowers and sculpture, more people appeared. All were in wheelchairs.

“Is that Mr. Judson?” one older man whispered to the man next to him, loud enough to be heard.

The other man smiled. “Sure is,” he said. “You’ve seen his pictures in the paper and he’s been here before.”

“But he’s with Darcy,” the man said.

“Edward, you know I work for Mr. Judson,” Darcy said, raising her voice a bit because Edward’s hearing was less than perfect.

Still, everyone looked a bit perplexed and concerned. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mouth off and get fired. He isn’t here to return me for a better product.”

Patrick chuckled and everyone turned to look at him.

“She’s an excellent product,” he said to Edward. “Not the type to be returned as unacceptable. A great cook. Have you eaten her chocolate mousse?”

“Oh, chocolate,” Maria said, her voice worshipful. “I love that stuff. But ask her to make you a lemon meringue pie next. It’s better than sex.”

Instantly Darcy felt uncomfortable—and hot. She was afraid to look at Patrick but she did it, anyway.

“Better than sex? Well, I wouldn’t want to miss that.” he said with that lazy tone that made Darcy feel shivery. For some reason the fact that she even felt that way when he talked made her angry.

“People think that a person stops thinking about sex when they have a spinal cord injury, but we don’t,” she said defiantly.

“Why should you?” Patrick asked. “Sex is complicated. It involves the mind, not just one or two body parts.”

Darcy noticed that Maria was looking at Patrick with lust in her eyes. In fact, she was looking very much like a woman on the verge of propositioning the man, and Maria was a beautiful redhead, an intelligent and capable woman.

“Now that we’re all settled in, Mr. Judson is here to learn the ins and outs of Able House. He wants to make sure we’re well established when he goes overseas soon, and he might be expecting us to go out in public and do some promotion,” Darcy said, a bit too primly.

“Hey, okay by me. Whatever Mr. Judson wants,” Maria agreed.

Patrick looked a bit uncomfortable. “For starters, I hope you’ll all call me Patrick,” he said as Darcy made the introductions and Patrick shook hands all around. Later, when they were alone and back at the house, Darcy repeated the details he wanted.

“Edward is an electrical engineer. Maria is a computer programmer. Cerise was an Olympic swimmer who now teaches and coaches at a local fitness center. Laura is a fashion designer. Aaron is a dentist. If this weren’t the weekend, most of them wouldn’t be here. They have jobs.” Her tone was a bit defensive, she realized.

“I’m not the enemy, Darcy,” Patrick said, sliding to the floor beside her wheelchair.

“I know you’re not the enemy,” she said. “But I—I feel as if you want something from me that I’m not sure I can give and I don’t even know what you want from me yet. Do you?”

“Not exactly. I want to know that you’re fine.”

“I am. It’s been rough those first two years, but I’ve learned so much.”

“Like what?”

She got a sly look on her face. “Well…I can pop a wheelie.” She did so with ease. “And I can move from my chair to a standard chair in record time.” She pointed to a chair normally used by one of the staff and transferred herself back and forth quickly from one chair to the other and back again. “If I have to, I can get this puppy up a step if it’s not too high,” she said, patting the bicycle tires she favored on her chair. “In short, I can be a real person, Mr. Judson, and get along without help. I’m fine.”

But his green eyes were stubborn. “I want better than fine. Don’t get me wrong. I’m awed by the fact that you can manage in ways most people couldn’t, but those reluctant, inconsiderate neighbors of ours…”

“They want celebrity,” she said. “Ceremony. Pretty wrapping paper with all the trimmings. If I were a rock star who just happened to be in a wheelchair, they’d welcome me.”

He didn’t look away from her direct gaze. “You’re right and I’m not about to apologize for them. They’re wrong.”

“But you still want me to…to what?”

“I want you to make them envy you, to show them that the community would be diminished by the loss of all of you.”

“We shouldn’t have to do that.”

“You’re damn right about that,” he said, angrily. “But if I get overseas where I’m not in easy reach and someone hires some legal eagle team and tries to do some workaround scheme to close down Able House…I’m trying to prevent them from even wanting to attempt that. That’s all. All right?” he asked.

Darcy pursed her lips and gave a reluctant nod. “If you put it that way…if we’re gearing up for a fight of sorts…” Her words ended on a harsh laugh and she looked up and blinked, trying not to show her frustration. Sometimes it felt as if she’d been fighting all her life. For money. For respect. For the right just to exist.

“I’m not trying to punish you, Darcy,” Patrick said, and he cupped her jaw with his palm, kneeling next to her chair. “Really. It’s not like that at all.”

His hand against her skin produced an instant reaction, an awareness of him as a man. Darcy struggled to think to continue breathing. “I know you’re not trying to punish me,” she managed to say. “I’m so…grateful for Able House. All of us are. Couldn’t you hear it in their voices when they spoke to you today?”

“I don’t want you to be grateful, although I appreciate the thought. I want you to…not have to justify having your home here.”

“But we will, won’t we? Just by having to take the extra steps other people don’t have to take, we’ll work for the right to stay.”

“Yes, and it’s not right,” he said with a groan, sliding to the ground beside her.

“What are you doing?” She looked down at him.

He looked up at her and smiled. Her heart thumped. “Making myself short,” he said. “Do you mind?”

She laughed. “Well, I’ve gotten used to looking up people’s noses, but no, I welcome the chance to look someone other than my friends at Able House in the eye.”

“I’ll remember that.”

No, don’t, she wanted to say. Don’t be too nice to me. Don’t make me want things I can’t possibly have. Because she had once had things she wanted and had them taken away. Love had been one of those things.

She tried not to think of the other thing, the unborn baby she had lost and that terrible day afterward when she had lost that last sliver of faith that she could ever try to become a mother again. Darcy fought not to remember all of that…and failed.

“So, why are you going overseas?” she asked, wanting to change from the subject of loss to something more positive.

Patrick shrugged those big, broad shoulders. “It’s time. I’ve been running the company for years, raising the girls. Now, they’re grown and I have things I’ve put off that I want to do. I’m twenty-nine, still single, I run a major international company that sells sporting goods, but while I love adventure sports and risk-taking, I haven’t taken any risks.”

Darcy gave him an “are you kidding me” look. “I thought you said you raised three sisters. Sounds like risk-taking to me.”

To her consternation, he moved closer, resting his arms on the side of her chair so that he was very close. “Are you teasing me, Darcy?”

No, she was torturing herself. But she wasn’t going to back down. “I’m just saying it couldn’t have been easy.”

He moved away and went back to leaning against the wall. “I loved it, totally, but…you have no idea.”

“No. I’ve never had any children.” And never would now. Not after losing her baby in the accident, not when she wasn’t going to get married, ever, and not if she couldn’t be the kind of mother she wanted to be. So much for avoiding that heart-constricting pain.

She looked up and saw that Patrick was studying her closely. So, she dove into survival mode and forced a smile. “So, tell me more about your upcoming trip.”

He continued to study her for a few more seconds.

“Please,” she said.

He nodded. “It’s one of those trips that’s the result of too many years of daydreams. Probably too long and too expensive and too monumental in scope, but I can’t wait. Several months spread out over a number of continents. Part of it will be spent on business and part will be a series of charitable fund-raisers built around adventure sports. We’re hoping to draw big crowds and really make a difference.”

He held out his hands. “It’s a very meaty venture, a long time in the making, and yeah, I’m pumped, even though I feel just a little guilty. It sounds as if I couldn’t wait for the girls to grow up so I could have a life.”

Darcy leaned forward, closer to him. “Why should you feel guilty? You’ve worked hard, everyone knows your company is a success. You raised your sisters and…how old are they?”

“Twenty-five, twenty-three and eighteen. Cara and Amy are married and have children of their own.”

“Well, then, there’s no problem, is there? They’re grown, and they’re not going to care what you do.”

Patrick gave her a look of disbelief. “You haven’t met my sisters.”

No, she hadn’t. But that changed a few hours later when the doorbell rang, and she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Lots of footsteps. She’d been told to prepare food for a few extra mouths, but it sounded as if an entire army had arrived.

She and Olivia exchanged a look. “It’s them,” Olivia offered.

As if she knew who “them” was. “Who?” Darcy asked. “You’ve been here longer than me. I don’t know the code yet.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “The sisters,” she whispered as the voices grew closer.

Darcy barely had time to panic before the kitchen was filled with tall, dark-haired, gorgeous women and…a dog? A big dog?

“Fuzz, get down,” one young woman ordered as the dog pounced, setting his paws on Darcy’s lap. Startled, Darcy dropped the stainless steel bowl she was holding. It rolled around on the floor, clanging.

Immediately a cacophony of high-pitched feminine voices began. One of the beauties screeched.

“Oh, no,” another one said.

“Patrick is going to have a cow,” the third one said.

“Fuzz. Down now.” Patrick’s voice broke through the noise. The sad-looking, big-eyed mutt backed off of Darcy.

“Later,” she told the dog, winking. “Steak.”

“No steak,” Patrick said.

“Tyrant. He’s just a big puppy.”

“Who doesn’t belong in the kitchen,” he insisted.

We’ll see, Darcy thought with some amusement. She’d spent a lifetime being told she didn’t belong here or there. She and this dog had something in common. But Patrick had turned his attention away from the dog who had wandered out of the room.

“Cara, Amy, Lane, what were you thinking?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“We thought you were in here,” one of them said. “We didn’t think about Fuzz. Come here, big brother. We have a secret to tell you.” She looked down at her abdomen and smiled.

“Cara? Another baby?” Patrick’s voice was soft. He folded his sister into his arms.

“And she’s such a baby when she’s having a baby,” another sister said. “Mark my words, she’ll be calling you whenever there’s a crisis.”

“I will not!” the other sister said.

“You did when you were pregnant with Charlie.”

“That’s because I was looking for an excuse to come over and give Patrick a hand with you, Lane, sweetie,” Cara said. “You are a handful.”

“At least I won’t come running to Patrick when I have a husband the way you two do,” the youngest beauty said.

Immediately the two older sisters began to protest and the ensuing sounds was nearly earsplitting, but Patrick calmly broke in. “Enough. You haven’t said hello to either Darcy or Olivia yet. Or apologized for letting Darcy be attacked by Fuzz.”

Darcy started to open her mouth to tell him that Fuzz hadn’t hurt her, but Patrick shook his head.

The trio of beauties greeted Olivia and turned to Darcy. “We were out of line,” Cara said.

“We weren’t thinking,” Amy agreed.

“And we really are sorry,” Lane agreed. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

“As new as they get,” Darcy agreed with a smile when Lane held out her hand.

“What happened to Elaine, the last cook?” Amy asked.

Patrick gave her a look that clearly indicated that was an off-limits topic.

“Ah, the usual,” Cara said.

Darcy raised one brow, but she said nothing other than what she felt needed saying. “I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve prepared for dinner.”

“I’m sure it will be great,” Amy said.

“Yes. Absolutely,” the other women said.

“All right, we’ve disrupted Darcy’s kitchen long enough,” Patrick said. “If she’s going to work her magic, she needs us out of here.”

“Magic?” Lane asked.

“Darcy is a veritable genius in the kitchen,” he clarified, winking at Darcy.

The sisters exchanged a look. Not a happy look, either. “Is Angelise coming?” Cara asked. It was clear that she wanted the answer to be yes.

“I didn’t invite her,” he said.

“Why not?”

Patrick frowned. He didn’t answer. Now Darcy was as curious as his sisters were, but it wasn’t any of her business, was it? Besides, if he wasn’t going to share with his sisters, he certainly wasn’t going to tell his cook his secrets.

But as the sisters and Patrick left the kitchen, Darcy was certain she heard one of the young women say, “Be careful about how you praise Darcy, Patrick. You know how many members of your staff have fallen in love with you? One word of praise and they’re writing Mrs. Patrick Judson in their diaries. It’s not fair to hurt them or lead them on.”

“I have no intention of leading Darcy on.” Had Patrick really said that or was that simply what Darcy thought she heard? His voice had been muffled and low.

“Olivia?” Darcy asked. “Is that how I got this job? The last cook went off the deep end over… um…Mr. Judson?” No matter what Patrick had told everyone at Able House, this was not a good moment to start calling him by his first name.

“Afraid so. They all fall in love with him. I would, too, but he’s too old for me.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not falling in love with anyone, least of all my boss. I don’t go looking for trouble anymore.”

“Yes, but my mother says that sometimes trouble just finds us.”

“Not me.”

Olivia shrugged. “Whatever you say, but I’ve seen it happen over and over. That last cook—Elaine? I liked her, but she was practically stalking Mr. Judson. He had to let her go.”

A sick feeling ran through Darcy. She knew all too well what rejection felt like. “We’d better get the meal on the table. We have four mouths to feed.”

“Six.”

“Who else is coming?” Darcy asked.

“The baby-sitter is on her way over to drop off Mr. Judson’s nephews, Charlie and Davey. They’re just four and five and so cute you just want to pick them up and hug them. They’re the light of Mr. Judson’s eyes. He loves children.”

“Children?” Panic attacked Darcy’s senses. She fought against it.

“Yes. Like I said, two of them. You’ll see.”

Darcy shook her head. “No, I’ll be in the kitchen. You’ll be serving.”

Olivia gave her the look. “You know Mr. Judson might want you to put in an appearance.”

Darcy wanted to say no, but she couldn’t do that. She had had her one reprieve. He wouldn’t allow her another. Like it or not, panicked or not, she was going to have to enter a room filled with women who were wondering whether she had a crush on Patrick, she was going to have to face those babies she couldn’t bear to face and she was going to have to do it all while trying to pretend that Patrick had absolutely no effect on her at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

TWO HOURS LATER, Darcy blew out a long breath. She had made it through the evening. Barely. Every time she’d entered the room, she had had to decide where to look. Those two gorgeous little boys were at one end of the table. Just one glance had nearly made her heart break and made her wonder…would her child have had those chubby little elbows, those huge, innocent eyes? The pain she thought she’d conquered had hit her like a sledgehammer, dredging up emotions she’d learned to suppress.

Darcy only hoped her hastily pasted-on smile had hidden her distress. Her inability to face children was not something she wanted to discuss.

After that, she had avoided looking toward the boys and had concentrated instead on doing her job and on the adults. Whenever she’d entered the room, Patrick’s sisters had seemed to be talking about women. Specifically, Patrick and women. More specifically, Patrick and Angelise Marsdon. Apparently the lovely Angelise was quite a catch. And no question about it, Patrick was…he was…

An image of smoldering green eyes and dark hair assailed her. Sudden, unexpected heat suffused Darcy’s body, and as if her physical reaction was like some sort of magic beacon, she heard Patrick’s telltale masculine steps nearing the kitchen. Caught off guard, she felt the plate she’d been holding slide from her hands, and she had to practically throw herself from her chair to catch it before it hit the floor.

“Darn it!” she said, hugging the expensive piece of china to her chest.

“Are you all right?” Patrick’s deep voice was laced with concern as he came through the doorway. Darcy braced herself for the physical reaction she felt whenever he was near. Not a surprise. Probably every woman on earth had that same reaction. It was meaningless, she reminded herself as she nodded at him.

“I’m fine. I just nearly broke a plate that probably cost more than a Mercedes.”

He frowned.

“It’s all right, though,” she said, holding out the plate to show him.

“I don’t care about the plate,” he told her. “That’s not what’s worrying me.” But obviously something was.

Patrick was angry. At his sisters but also at himself. It had been obvious all through dinner that Cara and Amy and Lane had an agenda where Darcy was concerned. Angelise’s name had been mentioned several time in Darcy’s presence, and while the food had been melt-in-your-mouth perfect, his sisters had offered only the most rudimentary of compliments and they had maintained a distant air.

“I’m sorry,” he told Darcy when everyone had gone home. “They’re grown up and yet despite two of them being married and mothers, they’re still young in too many ways. I’m sure I made some mistakes and indulged them too much to make up for their lack of real parents, but their manners are usually much better than this. I’ll talk to them.”

Darcy shrugged. “What did you expect them to do? Faint over my apple tart?”

“A few oohs and ahs wouldn’t have been misplaced. It was the stuff men have killed for, and that cinnamon scent wafting off of it…” He groaned.

Darcy’s eyes opened wide as if she was startled, as if he had done something sexual. Well, maybe he had. There was something very sensual about a woman who smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and could create masterpieces with those talented hands of hers.

Abruptly Patrick shut down those thoughts. What in hell was he doing? Darcy was his employee. As such, there were barriers he wouldn’t cross.

“Your sisters were perfectly polite. They said the food was very good.”

They had, but these were the three sisters who had been born speaking in superlatives. Something was amiss. He had the feeling he knew what it was. Darcy was prettier and more talented than any of his other cooks had been.

“My sisters have decided they’re going to choose a wife for me, and you’re an attractive woman. I think they see you as a potential wrench in their plans.”

And that blush did amazing things to her skin. Dammit, he had to stop thinking like that. Where were his principles and his self-control?

“They were disappointed that Ms. Marsdon wasn’t invited,” she said.

“I know. Angelise tops their list. They’ve been trying to match me up with her for years.”

“Are you going to allow yourself to be matched?”

He raised a brow.

“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish. “Cop training. Be direct, get to the point. Wade in and ask the tough questions.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked, then shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. None of my business.”

She laughed. “I just asked you if you were going to get engaged to a woman I’ve never met. You’re my boss and I’m asking you personal questions. And you’re apologizing to me for being nosy?”

“All right. I’ll be nosy. Do you?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted it very badly. I was good at it. It meant getting respect. I was going to do something important. I was going to save the world. But that’s all done now.”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that what you do now isn’t important.”

“I cook.”

“You feed people, you nourish them.”

“Oh, you’re good. No wonder your sisters are worried that every woman you hire is going to fall in love with you.”

He gave her a look, tried to think of what to say, tried not to want her to be a little bit interested in him so that he could get closer to her so he could taste that sassy mouth.

No.

Had he thought that or had she said it?

“No, don’t worry. I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she said. “When I had my accident I was engaged to be married.”

She hesitated.

“I see,” Patrick said. Or at least he was beginning to. Who was that guy, he wondered? What kind of an obtuse idiot had he been?

“This isn’t something I talk about,” she said, her voice dropping to a mere whisper.

“You shouldn’t have to. Your privacy is sacrosanct, Darcy. I promise you that. I won’t ask.”

She looked up and stared directly into his eyes. “If this is going to cause your sisters even one moment of concern, that can’t be good for anyone. I don’t want there to be strife between you and your sisters or concern about my role here, so they—you—need to know that I’m not some starry-eyed romantic looking for love. After my accident, my fiancé…well, suffice it to say that I’m not stupid enough to start down that road again.” Her body was rigid. Her pretty brown eyes were troubled, and it was obvious how uncomfortable she was discussing this, but she had done it to reassure him.

Patrick had to work hard to control his anger. “It sounds as if your fiancé was the stupid one. Some men don’t deserve what they’re given.”

She sat stone-still for several seconds. Then she sucked in a long, visible breath. “So, are you going to marry Angelise Marsdon?” she asked, catching Patrick off guard. Clearly she wanted to change the subject. Only a total jerk wouldn’t take the hint.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually. Now that the girls are grown I’ll eventually marry someone and Angelise and I have been friends for a long time. We grew up in the same world. We have similar interests.”

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