“You know where the door is.”
“I mean the job. It’s not finished.”
He smiled coldly, cruelly. “Think of this as getting your walking papers.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, forget it. I intend to do what I was hired to do.” With strength born of fury, she flung the bills back at him. “I signed a contract to clean this house and clean it I will, whether you like it or not! If I bother you, Mr. Monroe, you can make yourself and your ridiculous accusations scarce!”
“If you bother me? You quit bothering me a long time ago.”
“Good! Then we don’t have a problem, do we?”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “I think we’ll always have a problem.” The air seemed to simmer between them. Nadine’s pulse quickened and she gritted her teeth so as not to strike him. “I’ve got a job to do,” she said, turning on her heel and heading back to the stairs. “And I’ll get it done. All you have to do is stay out of my way!”
Easier said than done, Hayden thought as he strode to the den. Why did he let her get to him? He’d known a lot of women since he’d last dealt with Nadine. He’d worked with women, befriended few, slept with fewer still, but he’d never really trusted them. The women in his life, his mother, Trish, Wynona and Nadine had taught him from an early age about their priorities: money, money and more money.
There had been a few females that he’d met that hadn’t seemed all that interested in his wealth. The women he’d dealt with in Oregon had had no idea that he was heir to a fortune, but he had been the boss—the owner of the logging company—and, for a small mill town, even the money he’d managed to make there had seemed a fortune to many of them. He’d never trusted their motives. Whenever a woman, a friend or lover, had gotten too close to him, he’d managed to cut ties with her.
Not that he cared. He whistled harshly to Leo and walked outside. A pale November sun was trying to warm the ground, but fog, in long, disappearing fingers, climbed up the trees and settled in a thick blanket over the lake.
Hayden kicked at a stone and sent it rolling toward the water. What was it about Nadine that made him see red? She wasn’t always disagreeable, though he’d never met a more stubborn woman in all his life, but she had a way of rankling him to the point that he wanted to shake some sense into her or throw her on the ground and take her in a very primal way. He fantasized about her submission and realized it was his fantasy because she wasn’t the kind of woman who would submit—those kinds of women turned him off. No, Nadine was a woman who knew her own mind, with a short fuse and a powder keg of emotions that was just waiting to be set off. It was the challenge in her eyes, the defiant lift of her chin and her sharp words that tied him in knots.
But she was dishonest. She’d already proved that much by lying about her marital status and trying to deceive him about the bloody money his father had paid her. Damn, what a mess!
Despite her deception, she fascinated him, intrigued him in a way that was as dangerous as it was impossible to ignore.
What was wrong with him? Just one look at her pouty lips, and he was ready to kiss her so hard, she’d have trouble breathing for days. Fool! Idiot!
Bradworth had contracted with her to work two weeks. Thirteen days were left. Surely he could rein in his emotions, manage to keep his hands off her and find a way to be civil to her for thirteen lousy days.
Shaking his head, he reached down and scratched Leo behind the ears. “I’ve never been a saint,” he admitted. An understatement. “Dealing with that woman is probably going to kill me, but I can’t let her win. If she can stand it, so can I.”
Leo whined and thumped his tail.
His temper cooled, Hayden walked back to the house and locked himself in the den, trying to concentrate on the corporate records, but he heard her footsteps as she made her way to the kitchen. He called Bradworth, and asked a few questions, but was distracted by the sound of her humming an old Roy Orbison tune as she worked.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, tried to block her out of his mind and was half-crazy by noon. Angrily he slammed the books shut and convinced himself it was time for a break. Striding into the kitchen, he caught her, on her hands and knees, facing away from him, cleaning out a cupboard under the stove. His gut tightened as he noticed the way her jeans stretched across her rump and his mouth went dry when she looked at him over her shoulder, her red hair falling around her face and neck in untamed curls. “Is there something you want?” she asked him, and his vocal cords seemed to freeze.
He tried and failed to shift his gaze away from her. “I’m going out. Lock up when you leave.”
“Yes, boss,” she drawled, her eyes defiant. “Anything else?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and ignored the sensual curve of her lips. “Can’t think of a thing.”
She arched a fine mahogany brow, then turned back to her work.
“If you need me, you can get hold of me at the mill.”
“I’ll manage,” she replied, never even glancing back at him and scouring the bottom of the cupboard as if her life depended upon it. She heard his keys jangle and his footsteps fade away. Once the back door slammed shut, she rocked back on her heels and blew her bangs from her eyes. She’d been able to sound cool and indifferent to him, but knowing he was in the house set her nerves on edge. She had listened for him, had expected to run into him at every corner, had found herself wondering what he was thinking. He’s thinking that he’s the boss and you’re the maid. That’s all. And you’re not even a maid he wanted. So get over it already. He’s not worth it!
If only she could.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, she’d locked the house and driven to Gold Creek Elementary. She hadn’t seen Hayden again and had shoved any thoughts of him aside as she sat in a small chair at a round table in Wanda Zalinski’s classroom. Nearing forty, Wanda was slightly plump and her long black hair, pulled back with two colorful barrettes, was streaked with gray.
Wanda’s smile was genuine. “John’s not a bad kid,” she said, moving her hands as she talked. “He’s just got a lot of energy and sometimes that energy isn’t expressed in a positive manner. On the playground he’s a ringleader and always in the middle of trouble if there is any. He doesn’t always cause the trouble, mind you, but if there’s a fight brewing, John’s there.
“He’s also back talked the music teacher and been disruptive in the library.”