14 Valentine Place (9 page)

She could see that they were getting dangerously close to flirting. It was a side of Dylan she would be foolish to encourage. “There’s a difference between being friendly and being friends,” she said carefully.

“Then come sit down and I’ll do my best to be friendly,” he urged her.

Again he smiled and Maddie found herself wanting to give in to the temptation to be with him. Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she would be wise to go back to her room, she set her tray on the table.

“That looks good,” he said, eyeing her salad.

She was tempted to tell him there was plenty more in the fridge. But if they were going to be friendly, she needed to make an effort to avoid that kind of comment.

“Would you like me to fix you a salad?” she offered.

“I can get it myself.” He started to rise, but she stretched out a hand and stopped him.

“It’ll take me a fraction of the time it would take you,” she told him. “I’ll get it.”

He sat back down. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

As she chopped cucumber and carrots, he spoke to her. “You’re pretty good with that knife.”

“I’ve taken a few cooking classes,” she admitted.

“From the way Mom talks about your cooking, it sounds as if you could do it for a living.”

She shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but decided it’s not what I want to do to pay my bills.”

“You’d rather work at the co-op?”

“There’s nothing wrong with working at the co-op. Lots of good people work there.” Normally she didn’t allow anyone to put her on the defensive when it came to her personal life, but with Dylan it was different. She felt as if she constantly needed to justify herself to him.

“I’m sure they do. I just expected you to be doing something different.”

“Such as?”

“Maybe coaching the U.S. chess team.”

She couldn’t hide the smile his compliment produced. “Garret told you I can still beat him at chess, didn’t he?”

“Yes, but even if he hadn’t, that’s one of the things I remember from the summer you stayed with us. Not many fourteen-year-old girls play chess the way you did.” Admiration tinged his words and pride had her smiling inwardly.

“My uncle coached the chess team at our elementary school. We won the state championship the year I was in sixth grade.” She set his salad on the table in front of him, then went over to the stove and ladled the soup into a bowl. “As long as I’m up,” she said, when she placed it on the table.

“Thank you.” He gave her another smile and she knew that one thing hadn’t changed since that summer—he could be very charming when he wanted to be.

And he was definitely making that choice now.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I spill on myself. I haven’t quite got the hang of using my left hand yet,” he said as he raised his spoon, a hint of a smile creasing his cheeks.

Maddie would have thought she was the one who had spilled something, the way his eyes were on her while they ate. She tried making small talk but felt extremely self-conscious. Finally she asked him, “Do I have something caught in my teeth?”

“No, why?”

“Because you’ve been looking at me as if I do.”

He apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so different from that fourteen-year-old girl who used to twirl her way through the house.”

She chuckled. “I should hope so. I was all arms and legs back then.”

“And you wore glasses and had braces on your teeth.”

“I don’t know what was worse…being called four eyes or tinsel teeth.” She shuddered at the memory.

He looked surprised. “That’s what kids said to you?”

“A few. The price you pay for having bad eyes and bad teeth.”

“They both appear to be fine, now, or are you wearing contacts?”

She shook her head. “I had laser surgery.”

“I should have known there was a reason Mom had it done.”

That had her pausing with her fork in midair. “You think I told her to do it?”

“Didn’t you?”

“No. It was the other way around. When she told me how painless the procedure was and how happy she was with the results, I decided to try it, too.” She could see it wasn’t the answer he expected to hear. “Your mom does have a mind of her own, Dylan.”

She expected him to give her another skeptical look, but instead he said, “It’s good you took her advice. You have beautiful eyes.”

The compliment was unexpected. She didn’t want to be flattered, but she was. Heat spread through her and she took a drink of her iced tea, then managed to say, “Thank you.”

Again a silence stretched between them and it was all because of the change in his attitude. He wasn’t simply trying to be friendly. He was flirting with her. She should have known how to handle it. After all, she hadn’t reached the age of twenty-eight without having men come on to her, yet this wasn’t just any man. It was Dylan, her landlady’s son, the guy she’d fantasized about when she was fourteen.

She needed to bring the conversation back to safer ground. It was important that she remember why she was having lunch with him—Leonie. “I hope your mother’s trip goes well.”

“Time will tell,” he said in an almost ominous tone.

“Is there a reason why you think it wouldn’t?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Rob Lerner can be brutal with his guests if he doesn’t agree with what they’re saying. That’s why I didn’t think she should go.”

“And that’s the only reason?” she asked with a lift of one brow.

“Yes. What did you think? That I was against her going because I wanted her here to make me lunch?” There was a note of incredulity in his voice. “Have you ever seen the show? The guy can get pretty nasty.”

“I know, but he asked her to come specifically to talk about romance. Why would he give her a bad time?”

“Because she’s a romance coach. It’s a job a sarcastic male comedian could make fun of without any reservations, don’t you think?” There was no mistaking the skepticism in his voice.

“And would you be one of those laughing?”

“Not at my mother’s expense,” he stated unequivocally.

“But at someone else’s expense?” She set down her fork and leaned her forearms on the table, sensing a battle of words was about to ensue. “Tell me. Why don’t you think being a romance coach is an occupation to be taken seriously?”

“I didn’t say I don’t take my mother’s occupation seriously. I just wish that she wasn’t talking about it on national TV,” he corrected her.

“Why? Does it embarrass you that she’s a romance coach?”

“No.” Again the denial was firm.

“But you don’t want her talking about it on TV.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Would you have felt better if you had come home and found her helping people with their taxes instead of giving romance advice?”

“She worked for over twenty-five years helping my dad with taxes,” he answered. “She knows the accounting business. I’m not sure she has the kind of credentials needed to withstand a verbal attack by someone like Rob Lerner.”

“What better credentials than experience? She put in the same twenty-five years with your father working on love and marriage,” she countered.

“You talk as if anyone who’s been married is qualified to give advice on romance.”

“Not everyone, but your mom has good instincts for the subject. And she’s constantly gathering more information—going to workshops, attending seminars, reading journals. She knows what’s she’s talking about, Dylan.”

She could see he wasn’t convinced and wondered if it wasn’t the subject matter that disturbed him more than his mother’s qualifications. Garret has said he doubted his brother would ever give up his bachelor lifestyle. If Dylan didn’t believe in marriage, why would he want his mother helping others find the road to happily ever after?

“Tell me, Dylan. What bothers you more? That she might not be the authority you think she should be or that she deals in a subject you haven’t much interest in?” She challenged him with a direct stare.

“I’m not against romance,” he responded with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Just the opposite. I like women, Maddie.” The look he gave her left her in no doubt that he liked them very much.

“But you don’t need to ask anyone’s advice on romance, do you?”

“Most men I know don’t.”

“Oh—so you think it’s only
women
who need help in that department?”

“Uh-uh.” He leaned back and held up his left hand palm outward. “You’re not going to trap me in that corner. I’m not going to make some sexist observation that you can jump all over.”

“Your mother has both men and women clients,” she informed him.

“Maybe she does, but most men I know wouldn’t be caught dead hiring a romance coach and I can imagine what kind of questions Rob Lerner’s going to ask Mom on the subject.”

Maddie could see his concern was real and felt a bit guilty that she herself hadn’t thought about such a possibility. Probably because she hadn’t wanted to think that Leonie had been invited to be on the show for any reason other than to be her charming self.

“I hope he doesn’t ask difficult questions or make her uncomfortable, but if he does, I think your mom will know how to handle it,” she stated evenly.

“I hope you’re right.”

He didn’t look convinced and Maddie wasn’t sure there was anything she could say to change his mind, so she didn’t try.

Having finished her lunch, there was no reason for
her not to return to her room. As she cleared away her dishes, she said, “I’m going to leave for work shortly. Is there anything else you need?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” As he flexed his fingers on his left hand, she remembered Leonie had said he was supposed to exercise his arm at regular intervals.

“What about the exercises? Do you want me to help you with them?”

“No, it’s all right. I can do them myself,” he stated stoically.

Maddie knew that wasn’t true. If there was one thing Leonie had stressed before she left it was that Dylan needed an assistant when it came to his passive motion exercises. Still, if he wanted to do them alone, what was it to Maddie?

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he’d eaten everything she’d made for him. He pushed back his chair and carried first the salad plate over to the sink, then the soup bowl.

“I’ll take care of the cleanup,” she offered.

To her surprise, he didn’t protest. “Thanks for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

She watched him leave, then finished with the dishes. She was about to go back upstairs when Dylan returned.

“I guess I need your help after all,” he said as he entered the kitchen.

Maddie could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t happy he had to ask her for anything.

“I tried doing the exercises by myself and it didn’t work,” he confessed.

And now she was going to have to help him.
Trying to sound as detached as possible, she asked, “What do you need me to do?”

He slipped his hand out of the sling and let it drop to his side. “You have to lift my arm forward until it’s at a ninety-degree angle to my side.” Just before she was about to touch him, he added, “Gently.”

She wasn’t sure where to put her hands and ended up slipping one beneath his elbow and the other on his wrist. Carefully she lifted the arm forward. She was close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave. It lent an intimacy to an act that should have been strictly therapeutic.

“Hold it there for a few seconds, then let it down again,” he told her.

She did as he instructed, repeating the exercise three more times, asking in between sets, “Am I hurting you?”

“Yes, but it’s necessary. Otherwise my shoulder will stiffen up.”

She could tell by the look on his face that it was painful for him. There were several more exercises, each one causing him to grimace.

When they’d finished, he breathed a sigh of relief. She helped him put his arm back in the sling, again sensing an intimacy that she found disturbing. She wondered if he’d noticed it, too. When his eyes met hers, she could see that he had.

He didn’t say another word, however, but simply thanked her and headed back to his room. As Maddie
watched him walk away, she found herself remembering the smile that had been on his face when he’d asked her to stay and have lunch with him.

“I promise to be good,” he’d said.

That’s what made her nervous. She had no doubt that Dylan could be very good—at winning a woman’s heart.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dear Leonie: I made a bet with this guy that I could beat him at a board game, certain I would win. And I would have—had he played fairly—but he didn’t and I lost. Now he expects me to honor my wager and have dinner with him. Do you think I should have to pay up?

Signed: Wishing I’d turned down the challenge

Leonie says: What part of the game wasn’t fair? If he was dishonest, then no, you don’t have to honor your wager. But if all he had was an unfair advantage, and you knew about it from the start, then I’m afraid you’re stuck.

D
YLAN WAS RESTLESS
. He craved physical activity. A few miles away from his mother’s house was a health club, but he was a prisoner of 14 Valentine Place. Not that he would have made use of the recreational facility even if he could get there. He couldn’t use the pool, not with the stitches in his shoulder. He couldn’t even take a shower without putting a plastic bag over the bandage.

He’d discovered there wasn’t much a guy could do two days after having rotator cuff surgery. Until his
shoulder healed, he didn’t have a lot of options as to how to pass the time and that was the part he was having trouble accepting. It didn’t help that he had an abundance of energy.

It had always been that way, even when he was a little kid. He’d been the first one up in the morning and the last one to bed at night. It had been a source of irritation for his dad—but then nearly everything he did had created friction between him and his father.

He picked up the remote and turned on the television, hoping to find something of interest. After several minutes of channel surfing, he tossed the remote aside. He didn’t want to sit and watch TV. He wanted to be up and moving around. To be outdoors.