car. Then I can show you my purse. It matches—well, used to match—my shoes.”
“Maybe later.”
She didn’t feel as discouraged by his answer as she should have. The brandy had knocked out the few props that had been maintaining her alarmed alertness, and she was feeling quite comfortable and secure in her fluffy chair. Even the auditory ripples and clangs that were remnants of the lightning strike were fading into a gentle surflike shushing.
Besides, this handsome man was her boss. If he didn’t want to get her car now, she wasn’t going to worry about it. She had the doors shut tight this time, so no more rain would get inside. Everything was fine.
“Is this a dream? You sound like a caricature of an Englishman. Or an actor. I like it,” she heard somebody say, and then watched with deep interest as her employer began to frown. It was a minimal expression, just a slight tightening of those perfect lips. Well-bred people could do that. She’d read about it in a book once.
“I am a caricature. It meets expectations and it’s good for business to sound English. Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t hurt.” She wasn’t alarmed when Tristam leaned forward and ranhis long fingers over her scalp. Karo shivered, but it was not with cold. His hands were very warm and…nice. She leaned into them like a dog asking to be petted.
“No bumps,” he murmured.
“That feels wonderful.” She wasn’t certain that she had spoken aloud, but her employer’s mouth was at eye level and his amused lips said that she had.
Karo felt happy again, because she had made him smile. It was important that he be happy. She wanted them to have a long, productive relationship so she wouldn’t have to get another job right away.
“There’s no sign of injury. What am I to do with you, Karo Follett?” The question was rhetorical. He took another sip of brandy, apparently as bemused as she.
“We have to move my car,” she reminded him, clinging to her one practical thought. “It’s in the road. Someone might need to get by.”
He tilted his head a little to one side and continued to study her. “I don’t suppose that you’ve been drinking…”
“Certainly not!” She was indignant. “I don’t drink…often. I like ice cream better. Butter pecan. With peanut butter sauce. That’s what I have when I’m troubled.”
“Well, I certainly can’t leave you alone to wander this house of horrors while I fetch some help. And I can’t take you out to the guest cottage because it’s likely flooding as we speak,” he went on, obviously not heeding her gastronomic observation.
Karo opened her mouth to tell him that shewasn’t going to wander anywhere by herself while it was raining and there were ghosts about, even if she wanted her purse, but he beat her to the punch.
“Yes, your car and your purse. But I don’t think that we can do anything about that this evening. Anyway, it’s doubtful that anyone will be out in this storm.”
“No? I just don’t want you to think that I’m a sluggard. It’s bad enough that my clothes are messy. And look at my shoes! They were my best pair,” she said sadly.
“I don’t think that you’re a sluggard. Only a very determined person would have kept on in that rain. You must be boiling with impatience to start this job—though I can’t imagine why.”
“Well, yes, I was. I am. I really wanted to come here. You have no idea. But can I—uh—can I have another drink first? Or should we make tea, hot tea? I make very good tea, you’ll be glad to know.”
“Actually, I think it would be best if I put you to bed.” His tone was meditative. He seemed to have given up on conversation.
Karo wasn’t offended. She vaguely comprehended that she wasn’t quite herself just now. The brandy had made her very sleepy and she was having trouble focusing her eyes. “Okay. Here?” She looked around the library with the highest degree of alarm
“Maybe later.”
She didn’t feel as discouraged by his answer as she should have. The brandy had knocked out the few props that had been maintaining her alarmed alertness, and she was feeling quite comfortable and secure in her fluffy chair. Even the auditory ripples and clangs that were remnants of the lightning strike were fading into a gentle surflike shushing.
Besides, this handsome man was her boss. If he didn’t want to get her car now, she wasn’t going to worry about it. She had the doors shut tight this time, so no more rain would get inside. Everything was fine.
“Is this a dream? You sound like a caricature of an Englishman. Or an actor. I like it,” she heard somebody say, and then watched with deep interest as her employer began to frown. It was a minimal expression, just a slight tightening of those perfect lips. Well-bred people could do that. She’d read about it in a book once.
“I am a caricature. It meets expectations and it’s good for business to sound English. Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t hurt.” She wasn’t alarmed when Tristam leaned forward and ranhis long fingers over her scalp. Karo shivered, but it was not with cold. His hands were very warm and…nice. She leaned into them like a dog asking to be petted.
“No bumps,” he murmured.
“That feels wonderful.” She wasn’t certain that she had spoken aloud, but her employer’s mouth was at eye level and his amused lips said that she had.
Karo felt happy again, because she had made him smile. It was important that he be happy. She wanted them to have a long, productive relationship so she wouldn’t have to get another job right away.
“There’s no sign of injury. What am I to do with you, Karo Follett?” The question was rhetorical. He took another sip of brandy, apparently as bemused as she.
“We have to move my car,” she reminded him, clinging to her one practical thought. “It’s in the road. Someone might need to get by.”
He tilted his head a little to one side and continued to study her. “I don’t suppose that you’ve been drinking…”
“Certainly not!” She was indignant. “I don’t drink…often. I like ice cream better. Butter pecan. With peanut butter sauce. That’s what I have when I’m troubled.”
“Well, I certainly can’t leave you alone to wander this house of horrors while I fetch some help. And I can’t take you out to the guest cottage because it’s likely flooding as we speak,” he went on, obviously not heeding her gastronomic observation.
Karo opened her mouth to tell him that shewasn’t going to wander anywhere by herself while it was raining and there were ghosts about, even if she wanted her purse, but he beat her to the punch.
“Yes, your car and your purse. But I don’t think that we can do anything about that this evening. Anyway, it’s doubtful that anyone will be out in this storm.”
“No? I just don’t want you to think that I’m a sluggard. It’s bad enough that my clothes are messy. And look at my shoes! They were my best pair,” she said sadly.
“I don’t think that you’re a sluggard. Only a very determined person would have kept on in that rain. You must be boiling with impatience to start this job—though I can’t imagine why.”
“Well, yes, I was. I am. I really wanted to come here. You have no idea. But can I—uh—can I have another drink first? Or should we make tea, hot tea? I make very good tea, you’ll be glad to know.”
“Actually, I think it would be best if I put you to bed.” His tone was meditative. He seemed to have given up on conversation.
Karo wasn’t offended. She vaguely comprehended that she wasn’t quite herself just now. The brandy had made her very sleepy and she was having trouble focusing her eyes. “Okay. Here?” She looked around the library with the highest degree of alarm
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