her lip to keep from sniggering; but the worst of her uncontrollable laughter seemed to have passed, thank God.
“So, tell me,” he said coolly, recalling that it was best to keep this woman at arm’s length. “Can I assume by your reaction that y’ think my Halloween effort is moderately amusing?”
“It’s never smart to assume anything,” she replied crisply, stung at his sudden change of attitude. Now she felt foolish and she experienced a flash of resentment that he’d apparently gone out of his way to dampen the first good laugh she’d had in much, much too long. “I was merely being polite.”
He laughed incredulously. “Polite? Honey, this is polite.” He demonstrated a sickly simper. “Crawling down the hallway laughin’ your head off is amused.”
“Have it your way, James. I’ll concede I was a little bit amused.” Why was he being so nasty? She had actually felt comfortable with him for about five minutes there.
“Well, well, well. You finally said my name.”
“Ah beg your pardon?”
“You said James. You’ve never called me anything but Mistah Rydah before now. … We must be makin’ strides. Why, before you know it, we’ll probably be all the way up to casual acquaintances.”
She gave him a slow once-over. “Well, I don’t know. I do have my standards, you know.” She didn’t mean it to come out quite as snooty-sounding as it did, but she excused herself with the knowledge that she was merely responding to his inexplicable attitude. “Would you mind getting your feet off my coffee table?”
He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. Jesus, but she could make him feel like a clod. “Show me the lamp that needs fixing.”
“It’s in the bedroom.” He followed her down the hall but stopped dead just inside the doorway.
“Great bed,” he remarked, and this time his tone wasn’t sarcastic. The bed was large and covered by a beautiful burgundy satin-and-ecru lace coverlet, but the head- and footboards were its crowning glory. The headboard was tall, made of solid rattan, and the footboard was only slightly shorter. Both curved gently and had rounded edges of intricate weave and subtle shadings.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Aunie ran an affectionate hand over the headboard. “It was my divorce present to myself. This is the problem lamp,” she said, indicating the small Tiffany creation on her nightstand. “It worked fine last night, but this morning it was dead.”
He sat on the side of the bed, picked up the delicatelycrafted lamp, and inspected it. “Hit the overhead, will you? I can’t see.” She did as he requested. “Problem continued when you changed the bulb, I take it?”
“What?”
He raised his head and stared at her. “Aunie, you did change the light bulb, didn’t you?”
If the floor could have opened at that moment and swallowed her up, she would have welcomed it. Tears of mortification filled her eyes. Would she never have the brains to do the most basic tasks?
James’s knowing grin disappeared at the sight of the tears swimming in her lower lids, making her brown eyes—large before—appear enormous. Christ, she didn’t know the simplest things, but still … “Don’t cry!” he commanded roughly. “Everyone fu … er, messes up occasionally. We all make mistakes; you’re old enough to know that.” He hotly resented the strange rush of protectiveness he experienced.
“Not brainless ones like this,” she retorted unhappily. “Anybody with the least bit of intelligence would have thought to check the bulb first. But not me, boy; it never even occurred to me. I’m totally useless.”
“Bull. You sand a mean wall, and nobody who can hum while she’s sanding plaster is totally useless.”
Aunie brightened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You bet.”
She smiled at him. “I take back every rotten thing I ever thought about you, James Ryder. You’re a nice man.”
“Yeah, I’m a prince. I’m only amazed you could’ve thought
“So, tell me,” he said coolly, recalling that it was best to keep this woman at arm’s length. “Can I assume by your reaction that y’ think my Halloween effort is moderately amusing?”
“It’s never smart to assume anything,” she replied crisply, stung at his sudden change of attitude. Now she felt foolish and she experienced a flash of resentment that he’d apparently gone out of his way to dampen the first good laugh she’d had in much, much too long. “I was merely being polite.”
He laughed incredulously. “Polite? Honey, this is polite.” He demonstrated a sickly simper. “Crawling down the hallway laughin’ your head off is amused.”
“Have it your way, James. I’ll concede I was a little bit amused.” Why was he being so nasty? She had actually felt comfortable with him for about five minutes there.
“Well, well, well. You finally said my name.”
“Ah beg your pardon?”
“You said James. You’ve never called me anything but Mistah Rydah before now. … We must be makin’ strides. Why, before you know it, we’ll probably be all the way up to casual acquaintances.”
She gave him a slow once-over. “Well, I don’t know. I do have my standards, you know.” She didn’t mean it to come out quite as snooty-sounding as it did, but she excused herself with the knowledge that she was merely responding to his inexplicable attitude. “Would you mind getting your feet off my coffee table?”
He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. Jesus, but she could make him feel like a clod. “Show me the lamp that needs fixing.”
“It’s in the bedroom.” He followed her down the hall but stopped dead just inside the doorway.
“Great bed,” he remarked, and this time his tone wasn’t sarcastic. The bed was large and covered by a beautiful burgundy satin-and-ecru lace coverlet, but the head- and footboards were its crowning glory. The headboard was tall, made of solid rattan, and the footboard was only slightly shorter. Both curved gently and had rounded edges of intricate weave and subtle shadings.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Aunie ran an affectionate hand over the headboard. “It was my divorce present to myself. This is the problem lamp,” she said, indicating the small Tiffany creation on her nightstand. “It worked fine last night, but this morning it was dead.”
He sat on the side of the bed, picked up the delicatelycrafted lamp, and inspected it. “Hit the overhead, will you? I can’t see.” She did as he requested. “Problem continued when you changed the bulb, I take it?”
“What?”
He raised his head and stared at her. “Aunie, you did change the light bulb, didn’t you?”
If the floor could have opened at that moment and swallowed her up, she would have welcomed it. Tears of mortification filled her eyes. Would she never have the brains to do the most basic tasks?
James’s knowing grin disappeared at the sight of the tears swimming in her lower lids, making her brown eyes—large before—appear enormous. Christ, she didn’t know the simplest things, but still … “Don’t cry!” he commanded roughly. “Everyone fu … er, messes up occasionally. We all make mistakes; you’re old enough to know that.” He hotly resented the strange rush of protectiveness he experienced.
“Not brainless ones like this,” she retorted unhappily. “Anybody with the least bit of intelligence would have thought to check the bulb first. But not me, boy; it never even occurred to me. I’m totally useless.”
“Bull. You sand a mean wall, and nobody who can hum while she’s sanding plaster is totally useless.”
Aunie brightened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You bet.”
She smiled at him. “I take back every rotten thing I ever thought about you, James Ryder. You’re a nice man.”
“Yeah, I’m a prince. I’m only amazed you could’ve thought
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