From watching him on TV, I'd seen him wearing clothes that weren't terribly different – meaning jeans and a thin T-shirt.
On the show, he'd looked spectacular, whether he was swinging a hammer or glowering at whatever poor slob happened to cross his path.
And now, he was glowering at me.
The only problem was, he was the kind of guy who made glowering look sexy. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were dark and brooding, the kind of eyes a girl couldn't get lost in, if she wasn't careful.
His gaze locked on mine as he said, "Do I?"
I blinked. "Do you what?"
"Look worried."
Oh, crud.Once again, I'd lost track of the conversation. With renewed focus, I replied, "No. But youdolook irritated."
"Good call." As he said it, he crossed his arms, making his biceps bulge in a way that didn't help my concentration.
Still, I tried again. "At least tell me this. Did sheaskfor me as a birthday present?"
"She did."
I almost sighed in relief. At last, we were getting somewhere. "So,that'swhy you hired me?"
"No. Just like I said."
Oh. I guess he did.And yet, I remained oddly unsatisfied. Or maybe my dissatisfaction stemmed from something else entirely, like his T-shirt. It was definitely a problem.
The thin cotton clung too perfectly to his pecs, showing off muscles so fine, I was trying hard not to stare. On top of that, his biceps were pumped, and his six-pack was so perfect, the thin fabric of his shirt did little to disguise all of those interesting lines and ridges.
And now I was pretty sure I was staring.
With a start, I yanked my gaze upward. "Yeah, I know you said that, but I feel like I'm missing something." I gave him a pleading look. "I know you probably think I'm just being nosy, but I'm trying to understand the family dynamics here."
When his only reply was a cold look, I summoned up an encouraging smile. "IlikeWillow. I like her a lot. But I need to know who hired me. Was it her? Or you?"
"And here'smyquestion," he said. "Who signs your check?"
My chin lifted. "No one. Your bookkeeper set up direct deposit." I tried for a smirk. "Remember?"
"And the bonus check?"
My smirk faded as I recalled the check he'd given me during the drive from Petoskey. "Well, yeah. I guess you signedthatone."
"Right."
"Okay, fine," I sighed. "If you don't want to tell me, that's your decision, but I reallydocare about Willow. And Iknowyou do, too, so I figured we could have a reasonable discussion about it. That's all."
He gave me a look. "Reasonable? Or intrusive?"
"Oh, please. What's so intrusive about it? Nothing. That's what."
"Not the wayIsee it." And with that, he turned away, heading out of the kitchen.
He'd barely reached the doorway when a horrible thought occurred to me. As the blood drained from my face, I called out, "Wait!"
Slowly, he turned back. With an obvious lack of enthusiasm, he said, "What now?"
"I need to know something."
