What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) (25 page)

He groaned and dropped his head back onto the blanket. “Damn, Livvy, you’re not supposed to say that. Not when we’re out of condoms.”

“Well then we’ll just have to get
in
condoms now, won’t we?”

He chuckled. “I’d like to see you get in a condom. Where would you put it?”

She reached down. “Right here of course, silly.” She ran her fingers up the length of him.

“Holy hell.” His breath whooshed out. “Damn, woman, I can’t—”

“Oh yes you can.”

And she showed just how much he could.

I
T
was late when they got back to the house. Later still after they fed the dogs, ate dinner, and took care of the barn chores, both of them grinning when it came time to muck out the alpacas’ stall.

“Who would have thought this would become our little joke?” Sean said as he shoveled the last bit into the wheelbarrow. “Don’t most women want romance? You can’t tell me this is romantic.”

She took the pitchfork from him. “I’m not most women, and having had to do this for years by myself, you can’t believe how romantic it is to have someone help me.”

“Someone? Or me?”

She kissed him. “You of course, silly. I don’t see anyone else here.”

She turned to leave, but he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into him. “Good thing.”

Then he proceeded to show her how a proper kiss was done. Or rather, how an
improper
kiss was done.

“You don’t, by any chance, happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” she asked.

Sean shook his head, then rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. “Sadly, no. I wasn’t expecting this to happen when I’d be living here by myself.”

“What about dates? I would’ve thought that living alone in a big ol’ mansion would lend itself to some extracurricular bachelor activities.”

“If one were so inclined to extracurricular bachelor activities, then you might be right. I, however, have other things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

Shit. Yeah. Like what? Like how he was going to bilk her out of millions?

He’d let his guard down. Now he had to scramble to shore it back up. “I, uh, am only working for Mac until a couple of business ventures I’m working on pan out.”

“What sort of business ventures?”

Yeah, genius, what sort? The take-over kind you don’t want to talk about?

“Flipping houses.” Because, really, he did flip them. Into B&Bs.

And now vacation resorts.

“Oh, I had a friend who did that,” she said, settling herself against him in a way that made it hard to concentrate. Then again, just thinking
about Livvy made it hard to concentrate. “He made a killing until the housing market went bust.”

Which was why Sean turned them into B&Bs. People were always looking to get away, especially when the economy went south. He’d never had an issue with vacancies. It was one of the reasons this project had been so attractive to investors and why he’d decided to go with Bryan and Liam, hoping to share the winnings with them. An idea that was now coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Yoo-hoo, Sean.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “You still with me?”

He worked a chuckle out of the back of his throat. “I am. I’m just thinking that, for the first time in my professional life, I wish I’d been more focused on something other than business. If I had been, I’d be better prepared and we could end this night in my bed.”

She kissed his neck. “We still can. If you remember, there are lots of things we can do without condoms.”

“I remember.”

And they discovered a few more.

A
GONG
was going off inside his skull.

Sean dragged a hand to his head to get it to stop.

His hand, however, wouldn’t move.

That’s because there was a person in the way.

Livvy.

Last night.

The lake.

Ahhhh.

Sean smiled and closed his eyes again, wanting to revisit the memories. But the damn gong wouldn’t let him. What the hell?

“Livvy.”

“Hmmm?” she murmured, shifting so that her breast brushed his stomach.

Holy hell.

There went the damn gong again. Talk about the opposite ends of the spectrum for ways he wanted to wake up.

“Livvy. The doorbell.” If that’s what one called it. Only Merriweather would want her house to have the bells of Notre Dame peeling through it, trying to impress visitors. Or intimidate them. Or both.

“Livvy, come on. I think we overslept and your grandmother’s friends are here now.” Which meant Gran was, too. Great. He needed to be somewhat on the ball after spending the night doing condom-optional things with Livvy ’til the early hours.

“Mmmm,” Livvy murmured again, this time her lips pursing so sweetly he wanted to kiss them. Then have them do that around a certain part of his anatomy.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He nudged her instead. If he kissed her, Gran and her friends would be waiting for hours. “We’ve got company.”

“Don’t wanna. Need sleep.”

“You can sleep later. Right now, we’ve got three old ladies to entertain.”

“Seniors.”

“Huh?”

She opened one eye. “Call them seniors.
Old ladies
will get you a handbag to the head.”

“Oh. Right. Well, come on. Being late will, too, no matter what I call them.”

He slid his arm out from under her, every cell in his body protesting. And not because of lack of sleep. Funny how his body could run on no sleep when it was engaged in such pleasurable activities. Which, sadly, was not going to be the case today.

He yawned. “Come on, Livvy. You invited them.”

“A gentleman wouldn’t remind me of that.” She dragged herself to a semi-upright position and flipped her hair back over her head with her forearm like a lion’s mane. She’d had
him
growling all night long, that was for sure.

And if she didn’t cover her gorgeous breasts, he would again.

He tossed a pillow at her. Then pulled another one off the floor where it’d fallen and stuck it in front of his groin. “You jump in the shower. I’ll stall them.”

“Like that?” She looked him up and down.

He felt that look the entire way. “Well no, obviously. I’ll put on some clothes.”

“Pity.” She sighed and climbed out of bed. Without the pillow. “I’ll just be a few.”

Sleepy and disgruntled, and she could still have him standing at attention. That’d be a problem when he saw his grandmother.

Luckily, the thought of his grandmother was enough to put the guy to bed, and five minutes later, after Sean had pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a golf shirt, brushed his teeth, scrubbed his face, raked his fingers through his hair, and answered the door, he was in much better shape.

“Hey, Gran.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“You kept us waiting, Sean. I didn’t raise you like that.”

“Sorry. I was in another part of the house and, well, it’s big.”

She pursed her lips. He’d never been able to put one past Gran. “These are Merriweather’s friends. Dafna Fine and Hetta Rothenberger. Olivia invited them.”

“Yes, I know. She’ll be here in just a bit. She, uh, had a late night last night.”

He could feel the blush blaze over his skin. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and if he wanted to make love to a gorgeous woman all night long, he had nothing to feel guilty about.

Well, okay, perhaps with this particular gorgeous woman he had a
lot
to feel guilty about, but making love to her wasn’t why and it was none of Gran’s business anyway.

“Hi!”

Speak of the devil, Livvy traipsed down the staircase with her hair up in a messy ponytail, her skin still damp from her shower, and for the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t wearing a camisole. Well, one he could see. But her shirt was one of those blousy, lightweight Indian-print things, so she probably had one on under it.

Yeah, he didn’t need to be thinking about what was under Livvy’s clothes with his grandmother standing across from him.

There. Mention Gran and his dick went back into hibernation. Should make for an interesting day with Livvy beside him and Gran across from him.

“I’m Livvy. Dafna, it’s so good to see you again.” Livvy shook Dafna’s hand, then reached for Hetta’s. “And you must be Hetta, because this lovely woman is obviously Sean’s grandmother.” She shook Gran’s hand with both of hers. “He looks just like you.”

She thought he looked like his grandmother? Well, shit. His shrinkage might just be permanent.

“Our Merri talked about you,” said Hetta, shuffling into the foyer, her slow, pained gait making him feel guilty for even those five minutes he’d kept them waiting.

“Why don’t we go into the, uh . . .” He was going to suggest the salon, but he didn’t want Merrriweather’s friends to see the animals’ destruction. “The study? You can all have a seat and I’ll bring some snacks in.”

“Snacks? Sean, it’s almost eleven o’clock. We don’t want to ruin our lunch.”

Eleven? Where had the morning gone?

Livvy’s face blazed when he looked at her. Oh, yeah. Sleeping off a night of great sex, that’s where.

“Then I’ll see what I can do about lunch.”

“Hang on.” Livvy held up her hand. “I’ll do it. And let’s all go into the kitchen. I’m sure you want a tour, and that’s the best place to start.”

“That’s true,” said Gran, helping Hetta along. “The kitchen
is
the heart of a home.”

Sean followed along behind them, worried that Hetta wasn’t going to make it. She surprised him when she not only did, but also climbed onto one of the barstools. Amazing what a determined woman could do.

“How do you like the kitchen?” asked Hetta, adjusting her skirt around her. “Merriweather had the designer research the best appliances for baking when she was redoing it. That’s why there are different brands. She wanted to make sure that you had something you’d like when you moved in.”

“Oh, but—”

Sean squeezed her hand. No need to destroy the women’s delusions. Well, two of them. Gran didn’t have any. Though holding Livvy’s hand might give her other ones. She’d been after all four of them to settle down and give her great-grandchildren.

The thought started a slow burn in the middle of his chest. He’d love to do that for Gran, but he hadn’t found the right person yet. And with Livvy’s moratorium on children, he still hadn’t, no matter how much he was attracted to her.

L
IVVY
felt a little guilty when she saw Sean’s grandmother narrow in on their joined hands, but she’d been glad of it after Hetta’s little bomb. Her grandmother had made over the kitchen with her in mind?

Livvy glanced out the window expecting to see a raging snowstorm as Hell froze over, but, nope. A sunny, cloudless sky, the vibrant blue looking just like a postcard.

“That’s right.” Dafna slid onto the barstool next to Hetta. “She was adamant about getting you a convection oven
and
a traditional one.
And
she called the nurse from your school to get your height so she could have the baking counter at just the right level.”

Livvy was
not
going to look at Sean. She was certain Merriweather hadn’t had
that
in mind when she’d been doing her measuring.

But what had
she been doing with the measuring? And the stove situation? Did Merriweather think she was capable of inheriting this house or not?

And why was the answer so important?

“And the cooktop. Remember, Dafna?” Hetta tapped Dafna’s arm. “She talked about having a ten-burner stove custom designed for you, with a griddle and a grill and a couple other gadgets, but the decorator convinced her that a six burner with a warming tray was more manageable. What do you think, Olivia? Was the decorator right? Would that have been overboard?”

This whole revelation was overboard. She’d had no idea that Merriweather had gone to so much trouble. And she had no idea why. But it didn’t change things. She couldn’t stay here. She was one woman and this was a mansion. A tribute to ideals she didn’t agree with. She couldn’t be bought for a set of high-end appliances.

She did, however, use those high-end appliances for making lunch—and enjoyed them way too much. Hetta and Dafna kept up a running commentary of the different renovation stories “Merri” had shared with them, as well as snippets of her grandmother’s life. Things she’d never have known if she hadn’t invited them over.

There was the fire engine Merriweather donated to the local fire station with the extended ladder. Probably to ensure they could save the highest turret on the Martinson estate, but, still, she
had
donated it. Then there was the circus she’d arranged for the local church’s fund-raising event. Livvy would have thought her grandmother would have just written a check, but instead she’d done something everyone could enjoy. Livvy was surprised to hear her grandmother had turned down the honor of opening the event, saying that it was all about the community, not the family.

“And then there was that elderly couple who lost their house,” said Hetta. “Remember, Dafna? It was so out of character for Merri to do something so personal. What was that couple’s name again? I can’t remember it.”

Dafna got a weird look on her face. “It’s not important now, Hetta.”

“Sure it is. I’m sure Olivia would love to know who her grandmother helped.” Hetta put a hand on her throat. “My memory’s not as good as it once was, I’m afraid.” She poked Dafna in the arm. “Come now, Dafna. If you remember, tell the girl.”

Dafna fiddled with a button on her blouse. “It was the Carollas.” She looked at Livvy. “Merriweather rebuilt your grandparents’ home. She was saving it for you.”

Livvy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to
think
. Merriweather had done
that
? For
her
? Why? Her maternal grandparents had disowned both her and her mother. If anything, Livvy would’ve expected Merriweather to be the one to burn the house in the first place in retaliation for sending her mother out on the streets with an illegitimate Martinson. Bad enough she was illegitimate, but homeless, too? It was a wonder Merriweather had waited until Livvy was five to push for the adoption.

But to rebuild the house for her . . . It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, there. See? It
is
important.” Hetta smiled and squeezed her arm. “Your grandmother did care a great deal for you, even if she didn’t show it.”

“
Show
it? She never even contacted me.”

“She had her reasons, I’m sure.”

“There is no reason to not contact your granddaughter.” Mrs. Manley crossed her arms. “Why, I couldn’t imagine one day without speaking to my grandchildren, let alone weeks.”

“Years.” Livvy winced. She hadn’t meant to let her bitterness seep out.

“Years?” Hetta and Dafna asked, their eyes wide.

Livvy squinted. “Um . . . yeah. It was years. But that’s not important anymore. As you said, she was doing what she was capable of doing.” The fact that Livvy had wanted so much more wasn’t necessary to discuss.

Matter of fact, she was darn near done discussing any of this. She’d had quite enough of this trip down Memory Lane so she jumped up to clear the table.

Sean’s grandmother helped. “Lunch was delicious, but then, I didn’t expect any different. I love that pepper loaf you make. I made the boys try it when they came for dinner Thursday night. Sean really enjoyed it, didn’t you, dear?”

Livvy looked up at him. Thursday night? That would have been the night he’d had
plans
. Plans that included his grandmother. Was there anything
not
to love about this guy?

“You should taste her scones.” Sean replied, but the look he sent to her said he wasn’t talking about scones.

She felt the blush wash over her again.

Saw him notice it, too.

Remembered what he’d said about it, and she got warm in a totally different way.

“If your offer is still open, Olivia, Hetta and I would love a keepsake to remember Merri by,” said Dafna when she handed Livvy her lunch plate.

“Of course.”

“No,” said Sean at the same time.

They all looked at him.

“No?” His grandmother arched an eyebrow. No surprise that it was only the one. “I believe Livvy is the one who has the right to say how the contents of this house are disposed of.”

Equally as puzzling as Sean’s reaction was his grandmother’s. Livvy appreciated the support, but she didn’t need it. She
was
going to give them something and there was nothing Sean could do to stop her.

“Uh, you’re right, Gran.” He smiled at the ladies, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry. It’s just that, well, the estate should be preserved as is.” He looked at her and there was something in his eyes all right, but it wasn’t a smile. “Every piece of it has a story to tell. A clue to the past. You know how particular Mrs. Martinson was about this place. I doubt she’d want it dismantled.”