What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) (26 page)

“They’re not talking about dismantling it, dear.” His grandmother patted his arm. “They merely want a remembrance of her. Olivia did offer.”

Livvy would love to take a picture of the moment. This big, tall, hunky guy who looked like he could walk into any room and own it—including one that his movie star brother was in—was backing down from a little old, gray-haired lady’s glare. It was almost comical.

Almost
because Livvy read between the lines of his little speech. He was worried she’d give away a clue, and while it was sweet of him to look out for her, it didn’t change her mind.

“I did offer, and I meant it. Was there something particular you have in mind?” she asked them.

They looked at each other, then smiled. “There were some lovely Lladró figurines from our birthday trip to Spain,” said Dafna.

“I think that’s a lovely idea. I don’t see how a statue you bought recently could be a clue to the past.”

Sean was trying to speak to her with his eyes as she led them out of the kitchen. Or rather, he was trying to yell at her with his eyes, but Livvy just smiled as if she didn’t have a clue what he was trying to say. Telling her guests
no
 . . . As if
he had the right to do that.

Ah, but what if he did? What if it was just the two of you here and you made it permanent? You, him, the house, the whole she-bang. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Livs?

She led the ladies toward the salon, hating that her conscience sounded like Sher because she
had
told Sher that was what she wanted. The ultimate dream: a normal relationship, a life together, maybe even children.

Her tummy tingled at the thought of having babies with Sean.
Had
she found that guy? The one who could make her believe in happily-ever-after?

She glanced back over her shoulder. He certainly looked like Prince Charming. Tall, dark, and gorgeous, funny, sweet, thoughtful, loved little old ladies and animals, with a great personality. Not to mention being an incredible lover.

“It must be a big job keeping this place clean,” said Hetta. “Quite the enterprising young man you are, Sean, to hear your grandmother talk about you. In our day, no man would be caught dead with a feather duster.”

“I don’t use a feather duster.”

And he cleaned, too.

Yup, having Sean Manley in her life just might make it perfect.

But then Sean opened the French doors.

S
ONOFA—!”
Sean stared into the room. Not again.

“
Sonofabitch!
” Orwell was perched atop the
open
door to the patio.

“Oh, no,” said Gran.

“Oh, my,” said Dafna.

“Oh,
dear
,” said Hetta.

“Actually, that’s a goat.” Sean wanted to groan. Why was Dodger in the salon? And how did he even know that
was
Dodger? And how had Orwell opened the damn door? That bird was looking a little too pleased with himself.

“What have they done now?” Livvy slid past him, and for once, he was more aware of something other than her soft breasts brushing against his back and the scent of the lavender that would forever remind him of her—

Okay, maybe he wasn’t
more
aware of the nightmare in the salon, but he definitely couldn’t ignore it.

Dodger leapt onto the sideboard with a clatter of hooves. Thank God the top was marble so he wouldn’t damage it, but the crystal pieces on display . . .

“Livvy, get your goat!”

Livvy snorted as she ran past him. “You do know what that saying means, right?”

“I don’t care what it means. You have to get the damn goat before he breaks something.” He looked at his grandmother. “Sorry for the language, Gran.”

Gran waved his comment away. “I appreciate the apology, Sean, but save the crystal.”

Sean smiled at her before he frowned at Dodger. And now Digger. Randy, too, and the other one. What was its name? How the hell had Orwell gotten them out of the barn and in here? And why?

Livvy was trying to catch them, but the animals were using the furniture as their own personal mountain range and—hell. One of them jumped onto the fireplace mantle—the mantle that held Merriweather’s collection of crystal balls. Very fitting for a woman who wanted to control the future to collect instruments to see it, but he didn’t need one to know about the chunk they’d take out of the marble hearth below if one of them rolled off.

Sean vaulted over an ottoman and righted the chair he almost knocked over, and would have done a sliding save onto the hearth if the ball the goat had knocked from its pedestal hadn’t snagged on something and stopped rolling toward the edge.

Then Digger nudged it with his hoof.

“Nooooooo!” Sean dove, bracing himself for the impact of hard, unforgiving marble.

Instead, he landed on something soft. Bouncy.

Feminine.

“
Oof
!”

Who, thank God, was still able to talk.

“Would you
please
get off me?”

“Are you okay?” He rolled off her and brushed the curls off her face. “Livvy? Did I hurt you?”

“No, but—oh my God—
move
!”

Sean looked up as he rolled away to see the crystal ball careening toward him. He shoved out a hand and caught it at the last second, the force stinging his palm.

“Good catch.” Gran waved at him.

He smiled at her, a sick feeling in his stomach. If he hadn’t rolled out of the way, if he hadn’t landed on Livvy,
she’d
have gotten a bad crack on the head.

Damn goat.

He sat up and rubbed a hand through his hair. “You okay?”

Livvy sat up, adjusting her blouse—yep, there was the camisole. “I’m going to have a nice bruise on my knee tomorrow, but other than that, I’m good.”

Sean hopped to his feet and held out a hand, refusing to think about how
good
she was. Gran was here. That ought to be enough to put the freeze on his hormones.

Then Livvy looked up from beneath her eyelashes, and Sean had to fight hard to remember that
anyone
but the two of them were here in this room.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He held her hand a little longer than was necessary because, yeah, it was his pleasure.

And then the goat bleated, killing that moment.

“How’d they get in here?”

She pointed to the damn bird. “I told you that Orwell knows how to unlatch the doors. He must have gotten out of his cage. He likes to be around everyone. I shouldn’t have left him alone in my room so long.”

Digger walked up beside Livvy on the mantle and leaned over to nibble her hair.

Damn goat.

Sean picked it up, ignoring its bleat of protest. And its butting head. “One down. Let’s round the rest of them up and get them back to the barn.”

“Or, better yet.” Livvy poked her head out the door and whistled. “Davy? Come on, boy!”

“What are you doing?” They didn’t need any more chaos in the room.

“Trust me. Wait ’til you see what Davy can do. Put Digger down.”

Sean was skeptical, but that changed when the poodle roared into the room and began rounding everyone up as if he were a border collie and they his sheep, er, goats.

Digger and Randy and Bo came willingly enough, but Dodger was another story. He wasn’t having any of it, jumping from piece to piece to avoid the snippy little poodle.

So Davy went after him, leaping onto the sofa, and then onto the back of it.

Which he slipped off of.

Sean once more found himself diving to catch something, but this time, he didn’t make it in time.

Poor Davy paid the price.

That leg didn’t look good.

W
HAT
if he dies?” Livvy asked for the fourth time since they’d left the vet’s office hours later.

Sean pulled his truck into the small lot at the back of the estate by the kitchen. “He’s not going to die. Dr. Carston knows what she’s doing. She said it was a simple fracture. Davy will be good as new in no time.”

“But what if he doesn’t wake up from the anesthesia?”

He turned off the ignition and faced her. “Livvy, don’t go borrowing trouble. This is a routine procedure.”

“No, it’s not.” She shoved her hair behind her ears. “It’s not routine for a dog to break his leg chasing after a goat in the drawing room of a mansion. Don’t you see how
not
natural all of this is? How could I have even thought for a minute that I could stay here? They’re not used to this place and with all the upheaval in their lives . . . I promised them—and myself—some stability. Yet here I am, jumping to Merriweather’s demands and risking the safety and security I promised them when I adopted them.”

Sean grasped her hands that were clenched in her lap. “Livvy, they’re animals. They’ll adapt. Don’t keep beating yourself up over it. Davy will be fine.”

She yanked her hands away and raked them through her curls. “They’re
not
just animals, Sean. They’re
my
animals. I’m responsible for them and I don’t take my responsibilities lightly.”

She didn’t say it, but he heard the
unlike my parents
and suddenly, he understood. This went far beyond a broken leg. This spoke to who she was, what shaped her, what her hopes and dreams were. Livvy needed stability. She needed someone there for her who would give her the security she needed. She needed someone looking out for her, caring about her, who’d be there for the long haul. He had no business starting an affair he couldn’t finish. And as for stealing her inheritance . . .

It was his turn to rake his hands through his hair. A no-win situation.

He pulled out his cell phone and called the vet’s office. “Hi. I was just in with Livvy Carolla and the poodle with the broken leg. Please have Dr. Carston give Livvy a call when Davy’s awake.” He thanked the receptionist, then ended the call. “Okay? Nothing more we can do tonight. Let’s go in and I’ll make you something to eat. You look pretty wiped out.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to head out to the barn. I need to make sure they’re all right.”

He didn’t argue with her. She wasn’t going out to see if the animals were all right; she was going to out to make sure
she
was all right.

“Want me to come with you?”

For a second there was a flash of something in her eyes, but then she shook her head. “No. I need some time alone with them.”

He brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Okay. But if you need me, just call.”

She promised she would and headed to the barn, stumbling over the brick in the path that he hadn’t yet fixed. Sean reached out to catch her for a brief moment before she was on her way—a metaphor, he was afraid, for their entire relationship.

That was it. Things had to change. Which meant that he had some calls to make.

L
IVVY
didn’t come to bed last night.

It was Sean’s first thought on waking up alone and it felt wrong.

He bypassed a shower and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt before heading downstairs and out to the barn.

He never made it that far.

She was asleep in the salon, her menagerie around her. Well, the dogs and Reggie were, and they didn’t look all that comfortable smashed up against her.

Livvy, however, looked sexy as hell. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders as if he’d spent the night running his fingers through it. There was one curl across her lips that puffed every time she exhaled. Her lips were pursed, and her long lashes rested against her cheeks as if pointing to each and every adorable freckle. One leg was curled up over Ringo—lucky dog—and she’d draped an arm over Petra, her fingers brushing Reggie’s back as the pig slept on the floor, his bells tinkling
softly with each breath.

“
Sonofabitch.
”

And Orwell was on the back of the sofa, his head stuffed under his wing, muttering in his sleep.

Livvy stirred and opened her beautiful eyes. It took a few seconds for her to wake up, but when she did . . . whoa. That smile. He could wake up to that smile for the rest of his life.

“Good morning.” Her voice was husky with sleep and it took Sean a few moments to be able to respond because he was still stuck on the
rest of his life
comment.

“Hi.”

“I, uh, fell asleep here.”

“I can see that.”

“I got in late.”

“I know.” Because he’d listened for her.

“It was . . . peaceful in the barn.”

He walked over to the sofa and nudged Ringo so he could sit down. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Livvy. It’s your house.”

She disentangled herself from the dogs, her bare leg brushing his, and every cell in his body went on high alert. More so when she swept her mane of hair back over her head in a sexy cascade of curls.

“What would you think if I stayed here?”

That got his attention off her. “Stayed here? In this house? As in, don’t sell?”

She nodded. “I know it’s really big and needs a lot of upkeep, but I’ve been thinking about what the ladies said yesterday. How Merriweather went to all that trouble with the kitchen and what she’s trying to do with this treasure hunt, and, well, I’m wondering if I’m being too quick to want to cash out. It might be kind of nice living here. I don’t have to worry about the roof leaking and the barn . . . It’s perfect for everyone. And the lake . . . the geese would love it. I could build a shelter for them on the island and they’d have the whole place to themselves. It’s at least three times as big as the pond back home that they share with all the other birds. I could build Rhett and Scarlett a big outdoor pen, and the dogs already love the yard.”

“And this room. Don’t forget how much they all love this room.”

“True.” She laughed and her smile socked him in the gut.

So did the idea of her actually staying in the house. He hadn’t expected that. She’d been so adamant about leaving that he’d never considered for a minute that she’d want to stay.

So much for all the calls he’d made last night to sell his last B&B. A couple of people expressed interest and hadn’t balked at his asking price. If he got it, he could actually pull this deal off if Livvy inherited and wanted to sell. He’d been hopeful. Now, however . . . If he sold his place and she decided not to sell hers, he’d be back to square one, with nothing. “So you’re really thinking of staying?”

“It’s still in the weighing-the pros-and-cons stage. I’m not counting anything out yet. I’ll miss everyone on the co-op, but, really, there’s no reason for me to live there anymore when there’s a waiting list of people who want to move in. It’s only fair since I’ll have so much. Hey, maybe I could make
this
place a co-op. We’ve certainly got the acreage for it.”

Now Sean’s stomach took another hit, but it wasn’t because of her smile. This place was worth a fortune and she was going to turn it into a co-op? The property value would take a nosedive and as for the surrounding properties he’d bought and would need to sell to pay back his brothers . . . A co-op would cut their value in half.

“You might want to check with the zoning board before you go that route, Livvy.” That would be his next call. “So, I’m assuming Dr. Carston called?”

“Yep. Davy’s doing fine. We’ll be able to bring him home today. Thank you for taking us yesterday. I know you probably wanted to spend more time with your grandmother.”

“No problem. And Gran understood.” Gran had understood too much; he hadn’t minded leaving.

“I should call her and the other ladies to apologize for running out. They never got what they came for.”

Gran certainly had. She’d had her say
and
saw him holding Livvy’s hand. When he’d called her last night after they’d gotten back from the vet, she’d said only one thing. “I approve of her, Sean, but I don’t approve of what you’re planning. I know you’ll do the right thing.”

As if he needed any more guilt over this situation.

“If you’re staying, you’ll have all the time you need for them to visit again. But to do that, we have to find the next clue. Any idea where to start?”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “My grandmother said it had to do with my grandfather Henry. Something about his pet project. Any ideas what that means?”

He did, but as a housekeeper, he shouldn’t know about the amusement park her grandfather had built. As an interested party in Merriweather’s will, however, he did.

“I’m sure it’s not that hard to find out with a couple internet searches.”

“Which means it’s back to the library for me again. Want to come?”

“Actually . . .” He pulled out his phone. “Smartphone. I picked it up when you went to the Market. Search away.”

It took her less than five minutes to discover what he already knew.

“You’re never going to guess what it is.” She handed him the phone.

“Okay.” He didn’t let go of her hand.

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “Aren’t you even going to try?”

“You said I wouldn’t, so why bother?”

“Seriously, Sean, you’re no fun.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, you are, but you could at least humor me.”

“All right. Let me see. Did he build a road?”

“No.”

“An office building?”

“Nope.”

“Shopping mall?”

“Not even close.”

“Gee, this game is so much fun.”

Livvy rolled her eyes again. “All right, Mr. Sore Loser. It’s an amusement park.”

“I am
not
a sore loser, and you’re right. Never would have guessed an amusement park. You’re planning to go there, aren’t you?”

“Unless you have other plans for the day.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“Oh?”

He tugged her closer. “Yeah. You see, I have this thing called a job. For which I get paid. And my boss is kind of a stickler for keeping the clients happy.”

She flattened her palms against his chest and suddenly Sean wasn’t finding anything amusing in their situation. Hot and heavy, a turn-on, sexy, yes. Funny . . . Not at all. He wanted her with an intensity that was almost frightening.

“Well
this
client would be much happier if you accompanied her to an amusement park instead of vacuuming the stairs, so unless you have some weird aversion to amusement parks, I guess that means you’re going with me.” She pushed back on his chest and he reluctantly—very reluctantly—let her go. “Give me fifteen minutes to get ready, and then we can go.”

“Sounds good, but why don’t we get something to eat first?”

“Good idea. Let’s check out that diner on our way to the interstate. My treat.”

“Sounds like a plan, but it’s
my
treat. I’ve never let a woman pay for a meal in my life and I’m not about to start now.”

She shrugged and the way her breasts moved was payment enough if she wanted to be a stickler about it.

“Okay, fine by me. But just so you know, I’m in the mood for a really big breakfast.”

S
HE
hadn’t been kidding.

Livvy was the first woman he’d ever taken to a restaurant who actually
ate
her food. All the others had taken little nibbles and pushed it around on their plate, but not Livvy. She was right; she wasn’t like any other woman.

Not that he’d needed her to point that out.

She polished off her third fried egg and washed it and the fourth piece of toast down with her second glass of grapefruit juice.

“Where do you put it?” Sean asked, trying to look at her objectively. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

“Too much? Sorry, but I was hungry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I’m glad to see you have a healthy appetite. Even if you were a little nutso with the multi-grain bread.”

“Hey, I had to know if it was organic or not. I don’t expect a teenage waitress to know that. Easiest way to find out is by looking at the packaging.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask if the butter was hand churned.”

She balled up her napkin and tossed it at him. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“No, I’m enjoying you. All your little quirks and issues.”

“You don’t mind?”

He reached for her hand. “How could I? They’re what make you you.”

She swallowed, then licked her lips. It wasn’t a nibble, but it was just as potent. “Thank you for saying that. It was really sweet.”

“So are you, Livvy.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “And I wouldn’t mind tasting you right now.”

He got the blush he’d been aiming for. He also got a raging hard-on, but then, he’d been at half-mast ever since she’d walked down the stairs in a pair of shorts and sandals that made him want to run his hands up her legs, and her requisite cami with the open blouse over it that was more of a peek-a-boo turn-on than anything that hid her curves.

“You can’t say things like that,” she whispered.

“Sure I can. It’s the truth.”

If it was possible, her blush got deeper. And it spread down her neck and beneath that blouse and that cami and, hell, he’d love to trace its path with his tongue.

“I think we should go,” she said, pulling her hand from his and sitting back.

“So do I, but unfortunately, if I get out of this booth, I’m going to embarrass you, myself, and everyone here.”

It took her a few seconds to get it, but when she did, she blushed all over again.

Sean groaned. “Livvy, please stop blushing.”

“Then stop saying things like that.”

“Can I still think them?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“No, I’m in pain. Take pity on me and let’s talk about something . . . oh, I don’t know.
Cold
.”

“Like a glacier?”

“That’s a good one.”

“Or how about a frozen lake.”

“Even better.”

“Polar bear?”

“That works.”

“Me naked in front of a roaring fire with snow falling outside the window behind me?”

“No fair.”

She flicked a lock of hair that’d fallen onto his forehead.

“All’s fair in lunch and war, remember?”

“I remember very well, thank you, but this is breakfast.” He remembered seeing her stretched out, naked in the sun with the gurgle of flowing water surrounding them, the blue sky overhead and not a soul around for miles, and they’d made love as if they were the only two people on earth, in their own private Eden. “You’re blushing again.”

“That’s
not
a blush.”

The look she gave him told him everything he needed to know. “Keep looking at me like that, woman, and I’m not going to be liable for the consequences.”

“I’d love to explore those consequences with you, but there are rides waiting for us.”

He’d give her a ride . . .

He didn’t have to say it—she started blushing all over again.

Today promised to be a lot of fun.