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No, she hadn’t. But that changed a few hours later when the doorbell rang, and she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Lots of footsteps. She’d been told to prepare food for a few extra mouths, but it sounded as if an entire army had arrived.
She and Olivia exchanged a look. “It’s them,” Olivia offered.
As if she knew who “them” was. “Who?” Darcy asked. “You’ve been here longer than me. I don’t know the code yet.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “The sisters,” she whispered as the voices grew closer.
Darcy barely had time to panic before the kitchen was filled with tall, dark-haired, gorgeous women and…a dog? A big dog?
“Fuzz, get down,” one young woman ordered as the dog pounced, setting his paws on Darcy’s lap. Startled, Darcy dropped the stainless steel bowl she was holding. It rolled around on the floor, clanging.
Immediately a cacophony of high-pitched feminine voices began. One of the beauties screeched.
“Oh, no,” another one said.
“Patrick is going to have a cow,” the third one said.
“Fuzz. Down now.” Patrick’s voice broke through the noise. The sad-looking, big-eyed mutt backed off of Darcy.
“Later,” she told the dog, winking. “Steak.”
“No steak,” Patrick said.
“Tyrant. He’s just a big puppy.”
“Who doesn’t belong in the kitchen,” he insisted.
We’ll see, Darcy thought with some amusement. She’d spent a lifetime being told she didn’t belong here or there. She and this dog had something in common. But Patrick had turned his attention away from the dog who had wandered out of the room.
“Cara, Amy, Lane, what were you thinking?” he asked, crossing his arms.
“We thought you were in here,” one of them said. “We didn’t think about Fuzz. Come here, big brother. We have a secret to tell you.” She looked down at her abdomen and smiled.
“Cara? Another baby?” Patrick’s voice was soft. He folded his sister into his arms.
“And she’s such a baby when she’s having a baby,” another sister said. “Mark my words, she’ll be calling you whenever there’s a crisis.”
“I will not!” the other sister said.
“You did when you were pregnant with Charlie.”
“That’s because I was looking for an excuse to come over and give Patrick a hand with you, Lane, sweetie,” Cara said. “You are a handful.”
“At least I won’t come running to Patrick when I have a husband the way you two do,” the youngest beauty said.
Immediately the two older sisters began to protest and the ensuing sounds was nearly earsplitting, but Patrick calmly broke in. “Enough. You haven’t said hello to either Darcy or Olivia yet. Or apologized for letting Darcy be attacked by Fuzz.”
Darcy started to open her mouth to tell him that Fuzz hadn’t hurt her, but Patrick shook his head.
The trio of beauties greeted Olivia and turned to Darcy. “We were out of line,” Cara said.
“We weren’t thinking,” Amy agreed.
“And we really are sorry,” Lane agreed. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
“As new as they get,” Darcy agreed with a smile when Lane held out her hand.
“What happened to Elaine, the last cook?” Amy asked.
Patrick gave her a look that clearly indicated that was an off-limits topic.
“Ah, the usual,” Cara said.
Darcy raised one brow, but she said nothing other than what she felt needed saying. “I hope you’ll enjoy what I’ve prepared for dinner.”
“I’m sure it will be great,” Amy said.
“Yes. Absolutely,” the other women said.
“All right, we’ve disrupted Darcy’s kitchen long enough,” Patrick said. “If she’s going to work her magic, she needs us out of here.”
“Magic?” Lane asked.
“Darcy is a veritable genius in the kitchen,” he clarified, winking at Darcy.
The sisters exchanged a look. Not a happy look, either. “Is Angelise coming?” Cara asked. It was clear that she wanted the answer to be yes.
“I didn’t invite her,” he said.
“Why not?”
Patrick frowned. He didn’t answer. Now Darcy was as curious as his sisters were, but it wasn’t any of her business, was it? Besides, if he wasn’t going to share with his sisters, he certainly wasn’t going to tell his cook his secrets.
But as the sisters and Patrick left the kitchen, Darcy was certain she heard one of the young women say, “Be careful about how you praise Darcy, Patrick. You know how many members of your staff have fallen in love with you? One word of praise and they’re writing Mrs. Patrick Judson in their diaries. It’s not fair to hurt them or lead them on.”
“I have no intention of leading Darcy on.” Had Patrick really said that or was that simply what Darcy thought she heard? His voice had been muffled and low.
“Olivia?” Darcy asked. “Is that how I got this job? The last cook went off the deep end over… um…Mr. Judson?” No matter what Patrick had told everyone at Able House, this was not a good moment to start calling him by his first name.
“Afraid so. They all fall in love with him. I would, too, but he’s too old for me.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not falling in love with anyone, least of all my boss. I don’t go looking for trouble anymore.”
“Yes, but my mother says that sometimes trouble just finds us.”
“Not me.”
Olivia shrugged. “Whatever you say, but I’ve seen it happen over and over. That last cook—Elaine? I liked her, but she was practically stalking Mr. Judson. He had to let her go.”
A sick feeling ran through Darcy. She knew all too well what rejection felt like. “We’d better get the meal on the table. We have four mouths to feed.”
“Six.”
“Who else is coming?” Darcy asked.
“The baby-sitter is on her way over to drop off Mr. Judson’s nephews, Charlie and Davey. They’re just four and five and so cute you just want to pick them up and hug them. They’re the light of Mr. Judson’s eyes. He loves children.”
“Children?” Panic attacked Darcy’s senses. She fought against it.
“Yes. Like I said, two of them. You’ll see.”
Darcy shook her head. “No, I’ll be in the kitchen. You’ll be serving.”
Olivia gave her the look. “You know Mr. Judson might want you to put in an appearance.”
Darcy wanted to say no, but she couldn’t do that. She had had her one reprieve. He wouldn’t allow her another. Like it or not, panicked or not, she was going to have to enter a room filled with women who were wondering whether she had a crush on Patrick, she was going to have to face those babies she couldn’t bear to face and she was going to have to do it all while trying to pretend that Patrick had absolutely no effect on her at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO HOURS LATER, Darcy blew out a long breath. She had made it through the evening. Barely. Every time she’d entered the room, she had had to decide where to look. Those two gorgeous little boys were at one end of the table. Just one glance had nearly made her heart break and made her wonder…would her child have had those chubby little elbows, those huge, innocent eyes? The pain she thought she’d conquered had hit her like a sledgehammer, dredging up emotions she’d learned to suppress.
Darcy only hoped her hastily pasted-on smile had hidden her distress. Her inability to face children was not something she wanted to discuss.
After that, she had avoided looking toward the boys and had concentrated instead on doing her job and on the adults. Whenever she’d entered the room, Patrick’s sisters had seemed to be talking about women. Specifically, Patrick and women. More specifically, Patrick and Angelise Marsdon. Apparently the lovely Angelise was quite a catch. And no question about it, Patrick was…he was…
An image of smoldering green eyes and dark hair assailed her. Sudden, unexpected heat suffused Darcy’s body, and as if her physical reaction was like some sort of magic beacon, she heard Patrick’s telltale masculine steps nearing the kitchen. Caught off guard, she felt the plate she’d been holding slide from her hands, and she had to practically throw herself from her chair to catch it before it hit the floor.
“Darn it!” she said, hugging the expensive piece of china to her chest.
“Are you all right?” Patrick’s deep voice was laced with concern as he came through the doorway. Darcy braced herself for the physical reaction she felt whenever he was near. Not a surprise. Probably every woman on earth had that same reaction. It was meaningless, she reminded herself as she nodded at him.
“I’m fine. I just nearly broke a plate that probably cost more than a Mercedes.”
He frowned.
“It’s all right, though,” she said, holding out the plate to show him.
“I don’t care about the plate,” he told her. “That’s not what’s worrying me.” But obviously something was.
Patrick was angry. At his sisters but also at himself. It had been obvious all through dinner that Cara and Amy and Lane had an agenda where Darcy was concerned. Angelise’s name had been mentioned several time in Darcy’s presence, and while the food had been melt-in-your-mouth perfect, his sisters had offered only the most rudimentary of compliments and they had maintained a distant air.
“I’m sorry,” he told Darcy when everyone had gone home. “They’re grown up and yet despite two of them being married and mothers, they’re still young in too many ways. I’m sure I made some mistakes and indulged them too much to make up for their lack of real parents, but their manners are usually much better than this. I’ll talk to them.”
Darcy shrugged. “What did you expect them to do? Faint over my apple tart?”
“A few oohs and ahs wouldn’t have been misplaced. It was the stuff men have killed for, and that cinnamon scent wafting off of it…” He groaned.
Darcy’s eyes opened wide as if she was startled, as if he had done something sexual. Well, maybe he had. There was something very sensual about a woman who smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and could create masterpieces with those talented hands of hers.
Abruptly Patrick shut down those thoughts. What in hell was he doing? Darcy was his employee. As such, there were barriers he wouldn’t cross.
“Your sisters were perfectly polite. They said the food was very good.”
They had, but these were the three sisters who had been born speaking in superlatives. Something was amiss. He had the feeling he knew what it was. Darcy was prettier and more talented than any of his other cooks had been.
“My sisters have decided they’re going to choose a wife for me, and you’re an attractive woman. I think they see you as a potential wrench in their plans.”
And that blush did amazing things to her skin. Dammit, he had to stop thinking like that. Where were his principles and his self-control?
“They were disappointed that Ms. Marsdon wasn’t invited,” she said.
“I know. Angelise tops their list. They’ve been trying to match me up with her for years.”
“Are you going to allow yourself to be matched?”
He raised a brow.
“Sorry,” she said, looking sheepish. “Cop training. Be direct, get to the point. Wade in and ask the tough questions.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked, then shook his head. “No, don’t answer that. None of my business.”
She laughed. “I just asked you if you were going to get engaged to a woman I’ve never met. You’re my boss and I’m asking you personal questions. And you’re apologizing to me for being nosy?”
“All right. I’ll be nosy. Do you?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I wanted it very badly. I was good at it. It meant getting respect. I was going to do something important. I was going to save the world. But that’s all done now.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that what you do now isn’t important.”
“I cook.”
“You feed people, you nourish them.”
“Oh, you’re good. No wonder your sisters are worried that every woman you hire is going to fall in love with you.”
He gave her a look, tried to think of what to say, tried not to want her to be a little bit interested in him so that he could get closer to her so he could taste that sassy mouth.
No.
Had he thought that or had she said it?
“No, don’t worry. I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she said. “When I had my accident I was engaged to be married.”
She hesitated.
“I see,” Patrick said. Or at least he was beginning to. Who was that guy, he wondered? What kind of an obtuse idiot had he been?
“This isn’t something I talk about,” she said, her voice dropping to a mere whisper.
