What a Woman Wants (A Manley Maids Novel) (9 page)

W
ELCOME
back, Ms. Barnum. The rest of your circus has arrived.” Sean’s sarcasm made Livvy smile.

She couldn’t help it; he just looked so darn hot all disgruntled.

’Course he looked hot no matter what. If he could pull off the Manley Maids’ mint green shirt and matching pants and still manage to be sexy, he could pull off anything.

Livvy arched her eyebrows (simultaneously, dammit) while juggling the bags of groceries and her satchel as she tried to shut the front door behind her. “Where are they?”

Sean grabbed the four shopping bags from her, the strength in his arms making her efforts almost laughable—though there was absolutely nothing laughable about his arms. Any part of him, actually. The man was actually better looking this morning than his rain-drenched self had been last night. Though she hadn’t complained about his clothes being plastered to that physique.

“I put them in the Rose Room’s master bath. I figured they couldn’t damage the tile.”

That snapped Livvy out of her pheromone-induced fog. “You put my dogs in a
bathroom
?” She slid the strap off her shoulder and tossed her satchel onto the foyer table.

“The formal living room was taken, if you recall. By a herd of sheep. And a pair of amorous alpacas. What are you feeding those two, anyway? You might want to bottle it. You’d probably make a fortune putting little blue pill makers out of business.”

“That’s the plan.” Her libido didn’t need any thoughts of aphrodisiacs in it, thankyouverymuch. Not with him standing right there, looking like
that
. Man, those pants were tight enough to send her imagination in several directions, and as for the way his shirt hugged his chest . . .

Who needed little blue pills with Sean
around?

“It feels like you spent a fortune,” he said. “What’s in here anyway?”

“Dinner.” And that’s all she’d say, still hung up on aphrodisiacs.

“Oh, about that. I won’t be here. I, ah, have plans tonight.”

“Plans?” He had
plans
.

“Yes.”

Plans he wasn’t sharing with her.

“Oh.”

“So you’re on your own.”

Nothing new there.

Refusing to dwell on
that
lovely thought, Livvy ran upstairs to the Rose Room. She could only imagine what the poor things were feeling being away from her for so long, traveling here in the back of a delivery truck, and
now being cooped up in a bathroom.

Thirty-two paws frantically shuffled on the tile floor as the dogs caught her scent. Then Ringo started barking. Paula joined in with her characteristic wolf-wannabe wail, then Georgia and John started crying. When Davy, Micki, Petra, and Mike joined in, it became a Beatles/Monkees medley in howl-minor.

Claws assaulted the bathroom door when she ran into the bedroom. Then they assaulted
her
when she opened the door and the assorted breeds bowled her over.

It took her about twenty minutes to give them all the loving they craved before they calmed down, but Livvy didn’t begrudge them any of it. Each one was a rescue and still had abandonment issues no matter how much she tried to alleviate them, but she could relate, so she gave them all the attention she wished someone had given her.

Sean could call them her circus, Merriweather could spin in her grave, but Livvy didn’t mind whatever chaos the dogs caused. They were her family, such as it was, and she loved each one.

Leading the now-behaved pack down the stairs, she bit her lip at the look of horror on Sean’s face.

“Please tell me they’re going to sleep in the barn, too.”

She shook her head.

“The kitchen?”

“On that hard floor? Are you serious?”

He turned the color of his shirt. “Where?”

“Which room haven’t you cleaned down here?”

“They’ve all been cleaned.”

Darn. She didn’t want to purposely ruin all his hard work, but the dogs needed a place to sleep.

“My room.” Sure, why not? It’s where they’d slept at the co-op. The only difference now being that they’d share a king-sized bed instead of a double. Winners all around.

Sean just shook his head. “You know what they say about lying down with dogs, right?”

“My dogs don’t have fleas.”

“Let’s keep it that way. It’s going to be a big enough job fumigating that living room as it is.”

She grabbed her satchel off the foyer table and slung the strap over her shoulder, wincing as the extra weight banged against her ribs. “How’s the barn coming? Anything interesting in the boxes?”

“It’s coming. Slowly. Lots of dishes, knick-knacks, linens . . . So far there’s enough to redo half the bedrooms in this place and there might be enough furniture to replace the goats’ chew toys. I’ve cleared just enough room for the alpacas so far. With the way Rhett’s been after Scarlett, I don’t think he’ll complain about them getting a room to themselves. I sure won’t.”

Livvy couldn’t help it; she laughed at Sean’s disgruntled look. But she had to hand it to the guy; he was being a good sport for a non-animal person.

Sean raised his eyebrow in that maddeningly sexy way of his, but it only made her laugh harder. Which was the perfect thing to dismantle the utter awareness she had of him.

Livvy hunched down and picked up Georgia, the pug mix, a clear cover-up for where her thoughts should not go. She was way too aware of the man. “I, um, had an interesting day.”

“Oh?” Sean held out his hand. “Here, let me carry that for you.”

She paused for a moment, but then handed over Georgia. If the guy was asking—

“Not the dog, Livvy. Your sack. I’ll let you keep the dog.”

“Oh. Right.” She jostled Georgia—who wheezed her displeasure as she was wont to do when it came to movement of any kind—and worked the bag off her shoulder.

Sean swung it onto his and headed toward the study. “Have any luck?”

“Yes, actually. The Latin was an official document from what I could gather. A copy, of course. I’m sure Merriweather has the original locked up in an airtight vault.”

“What’d it say?”

To his credit, he didn’t say a word when he stepped back to let her pass and the dogs ran through first, dog hair soon marring the polished leather Chesterfield sofa. He did, however, groan when Davy popped one of the brass nail heads free from the wingback chair on his second attempt to jump onto it. The miniature poodle looked mighty pleased with himself as he curled around, even growling at Petra, his favorite, when she came over and licked his ear.

Livvy tapped the blotter on the desk as she walked around it to set Georgia in the executive chair behind it. “You can put the satchel down here. I’ll show you what I came up with.”

The dogs behaved themselves while Livvy explained her rough translation and the copies of similar documents she’d found. She pulled out Merriweather’s note. “I think this last line is the clue.
A reward left standing
. Aside from this house, I can think of only one thing she could mean that has to do with nobility and service.”

Sean’s face was so close to hers as they examined the papers together that, when she looked up, all she’d have to do was lean in a few inches and their lips would meet.

The temptation was almost too strong.

So was the tug in her gut when he
did
lift his head and those blue eyes of his held hers.

And when those eyes glanced at her lips, well, Livvy couldn’t really say what happened next.

Because, somehow, her lips were on his and her hands were in his hair and, oh, God, did all of it feel divine.

“Livvy.” Sean’s breathy way of saying her name only made her want to kiss him more.

But then she realized
she
was kissing
him
.
He
wasn’t kissing
her
back.

Oh, God.

Livvy pulled back and spun around, grabbed Georgia, then the papers, looking for something,
anything
, any excuse to get herself out of this room and this situation without embarrassing herself any more than she already had. Oh, God, what had she been thinking?

“Livvy.”

He was still there. Behind her. Next to the desk.

Within kissing distance
.

She’d never been so mortified in her life. He had
plans
. Probably with some other woman who had more right to kiss him than she did. Not that she had any right but—

“Livvy.”

Oh, God. Her shoulders drooped and Georgia grunted.

Livvy set the dog back in the chair and took a fortifying breath. She did not want to turn around.

“Look at me, Livvy.”

“Do I have to?” she muttered.

Sean laughed. “Yes. You do.”

That laughter was more compelling than any yank-and-turn would have been; the look in his eyes was even more so.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Livvy.”

“You don’t?” Oh, God, no begging. He had
plans
.

Sean shook his head. “No. You’re my boss. We’re living under the same roof. It could get complicated.”

A voice of reason. Thank God
he
had one.

She took a shaky breath and worked very hard for the smile she stuck on her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position—”

His finger stilled her lips. “Hold on. I think you have the wrong idea.”

“I do?”

Damn, he took his finger away. But that was probably for the best.

And then the backs of his fingertips brushed her cheek. No,
that
was for the best.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t say I didn’t want to kiss you; just that it’s probably not a good idea. Another time, another place, in any other situation but this one, oh, yeah. I’d be all over it.” His eyes narrowed and Livvy shivered—and it wasn’t from embarrassment. “I’d be all over
you
.”

Well
there
was a way to get her to be able to walk out of this room—not. What was she supposed to say to that? And what about his
plans
?

Sean didn’t seem to require her to say anything. “I’m going to leave you to whatever it is you need to do with your clues, and I’ll move Rhett and Scarlett to their new suite. I’d offer to cook dinner, but I don’t know what half that stuff you bought is, so I’ll leave that up to you, okay?”

She nodded, still not trusting herself to speak—well, not trusting herself not to embarrass herself further when she spoke.

“Good. I’ll catch you later.”

He was certainly welcome to try—well, he would be if it weren’t for his
plans
.

Still . . . she did watch every step he took as he walked away.

S
EAN
cursed himself, this situation, Merriweather, Livvy, the damn sheep, and most of all Randy Rhett as he led the pain-in-the-ass out to the barn. This whole thing couldn’t be more screwed up.

He liked her. He
liked
Livvy. Even with her combat boots and gypsy clothing, her strange eating habits, and her animals, he liked her.

The woman had grit. She had tenacity. Goals. She was driven, she was resourceful, and she was sexy as hell.

And she was the enemy.

Damn Merriweather for pitting them against each other.

Damn his budget, too, for not being enough to do right by her and his brothers, and damn his ego for deciding that this
was the property to make his mark. He had too much invested in this project to lose it.

But the sharks were already circling, wondering if Livvy was going to sell. He’d had to fend off six phone offers today; he wondered how many Scanlon was getting at the office.

God help him if Livvy heard the amounts people were offering. There was no way he could compete unless he brought in more investors, cut back on his vision for the place, or lowered the projections he’d given his brothers when proposing this deal. So either they’d make less or Livvy would. What a freaking choice.

The alpaca snorted and pulled back on the makeshift bridle Sean had fashioned.

“Not now, Rhett. I don’t need you giving me trouble, too.” His conscience was doing enough of that already, because the only way he could save his company and his brothers’ money was to do the one thing that hadn’t been a problem before he’d met her but now went against his very soul: swipe Livvy’s birthright out from under her.

Y
OU
look awful pretty in green, Bryan. Matches your eyes.” Sean couldn’t resist ribbing his brother, the only one of them who hadn’t changed for the dinner with Gran as they waited in the common area of the assisted living facility where she now lived.

“Don’t push it, Scene.”

Bryan had teased Sean about the spelling of his name their entire lives. As if it was
his
choice to have an odd spelling. That and the dyslexia that had made learning to spell it a bigger challenge than it should have been.

“Seriously. How does Mac expect us to call ourselves
Manley Maids
when we’re wearing the most
un
manly
pants in the history of work uniforms?” Bryan picked up the latest copy of
People
off an end table and thumbed through it. “See?” He held out the magazine. “Now
that’s
a work uniform.”

It was a picture from his last movie where he’d had bombs bursting behind him, a gun in each hand, and a woman clinging to each arm. Bikini-clad women.

“Hey, I’m up for giving Mac the money for new uniforms.” Liam slapped Sean on the shoulder when he arrived. “I feel like a frickin’ girl in those clothes.”

“We could sing like one, too,” said Sean, adjusting himself. “Who the hell designed them?”

“I did.”

The three brothers shut their mouths when their grandmother walked into the waiting area. “I take it there’s a problem?”

Sean felt about three inches tall. Another part of him did too after spending eight hours in the uniform
that his grandmother had designed
. “I’m sorry, Gran. We didn’t know—”

“I realize that, Sean. I know you boys would never deliberately hurt me.” She touched Bryan’s arm and he bent down to kiss her cheek.

Sean was startled at how much Bry
had
to bend down. Gran had seemed to shrink as they’d grown, but he’d put it down to them growing so quickly. But now that they were all over six two—and presumably finished growing—she was still shrinking.

It didn’t help that this new home dwarfed her. He’d never thought she’d leave the Cape Cod–style house that’d been too small for three rambunctious boys and the little sister who tried desperately to keep up. Gran had presided over her small old house where Mac still lived with such strict rules and fierce love that she’d seemed larger than she actually was. But now . . .

Gran was getting older. Sean sucked in a breath. She’d been the one constant in their life after their parents had been killed in the car accident. He didn’t know what would’ve happened to the four of them if it hadn’t been for her. Both of their parents had been only children, so Gran was their only relative. He didn’t want to think about when she wasn’t with them any longer, but seeing her here, so tiny and frail, he couldn’t help it.

“So you boys tell me what needs to be done and I’ll work on another design.”

Sean didn’t dare look at his brothers. He was not going to discuss
packaging
with his grandmother.

“They’re a bit, uh, tight, Gran,” said Bryan. The guy had always been fearless, which had given him the balls to go out to Hollywood and give the movies a shot. It was a good thing he hadn’t worn the uniform then or his balls might not have been that big.

“Tight, how?” Gran asked as she led them down the hall to the private dining room.

“You know, Gran,
tight.
” Bryan nodded to the residents they passed. This was probably the one place a movie star could go where he wouldn’t be attacked by screaming hordes of fans.

Gran stood aside so Liam could open the door to the dining room for her, the manners she’d instilled in them now second nature. Not that that was the only reason they’d hold the door for her; they’d do anything for Gran. She’d held their family together, and nothing was more important than family.

Poor Livvy had had no one.

Sean wanted to groan. He didn’t need to be thinking about her now. Or ever. He didn’t
want
to think about her. He didn’t
want
to want her. And he
certainly
didn’t want to feel any sympathy for her. He couldn’t. He had to get the estate from her; there was no other choice. He’d invested too much to give up at this point. Livvy had lived without the Martinsons for this long; she wasn’t losing anything but the money.

He’d set up some sort of compensation for her. Maybe even give her a percentage of the resort’s proceeds. Out of his take, of course.

Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He’d make sure she never had to worry about a roof over her head or food for her zoo again.

“Sean, you bring the chicken over to the table. Liam, the potatoes. And Bryan, you can pour the wine. But not those Hollywood-sized drinks you’re used to. I don’t want any of you boys getting drunk.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bryan rolled his eyes at them. Gran’s bottle of wine wouldn’t make a dent in any of their sobriety.

“And don’t you roll your eyes at me, young man. You might think you know everything because you’re a big movie star, but I can still take my switch to your behind if you get too big for your britches.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Gran.” Bryan set the glass down in front of her. Half-filled as she deemed fitting. “I
am
too big for those britches.”

“Bryan Matthew Manley, there’s no reason to be crude.”

Sean almost spit out his wine. Gran had understood Bry’s sexual sarcasm? Since when?

Liam, too, looked like he was about to choke.

Bryan just looked flat-out shocked. “I . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

Sean so wished he could inhale because he’d love to laugh at Bryan’s expression. Instead, he whipped out his phone and snapped a photo.

“What the hell was that for?” Bry recovered quickly enough. But then, he always had around a camera.

“Insurance. Against poverty,” Sean answered as he sat at the table. “I’m sure some magazine would pay big bucks for it.”

“Sean Patrick Manley, you stop teasing your brother,” said Gran in a voice he remembered too well from his teenage years. “Hand me that phone.”

“Aw, Gran—”

“The phone.” She wiggled her fingers.

Sighing, Sean handed the phone to Liam, who put it in Gran’s palm.

“Bryan’s your brother; you stick together. I will not have you sabotaging his career.” She turned the phone around, peering at it. “Now, how do I delete that photo?”

Liam held out his hand. “Here, Gran, let me—”

“Oh, here it is.” Gran pushed a button before Liam could take the phone back. “There. All gone.”

“
All
?” Sean looked at Liam. “Please tell me she didn’t delete
all
of them.”

Liam held out his hand. “Gran.”

Gran huffed. “I might be eighty-four, but I’m not senile, boys. I
have
worked a phone before.”

“When?” Sean felt marginally better. Lots of senior centers had electronics; thank God Gran wasn’t completely new to them.

“When Mildred’s grandson came for a visit. He showed me how to take a picture of the two of them. It came out quite nice, too.” She looked rather pleased with herself.

It should have reassured Sean, but Liam was frowning.

“Uh, Sean?” Lee held up the phone. “Sorry, bro, but they’re gone. Something important?”

The clue. She’d deleted the clue. He’d wanted to get his brothers’ thoughts on what it meant, but now it was gone and he’d left his tablet at the estate.

“No. Not really.” No sense making Gran feel bad. It wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose. “Just some shots of the estate. I wanted you guys to see what you’ve invested in.”

“Ah, yes. Mary-Alice Catherine mentioned something about a house you wanted to buy. I hadn’t realized it was the Martinson estate. How’s that coming?” Gran held her hand out for him to pass his plate to her.

“It’s coming.” Bad word choice.

“Coming, how?” Liam looked at him over the rim of his wine glass. “I thought you said there might be complications.”

“I’m working on them.”

“What kind of complications?” Bryan leaned forward.

Sean winced as he sucked up the courage to tell his brothers just where they stood. “Merriweather threw a slight wrench into the plans.” He told them about Livvy’s claim to the property.

“Son of a bitch.” Bry tossed his napkin onto the table.

“Language, Bryan.” Gran didn’t even pause in spooning the chicken onto Sean’s plate. She didn’t raise her voice, either. She’d never had to. One sideways look or
tsk-tsk
from Gran reined them in faster than any switch she’d threatened to take to their backsides.

“Sorry.” Bry grabbed his napkin and put it back on his lap. “What are you going to do, Sean?”

That was the question.

“As I see it, I’ve got three options. One, make sure Livvy fails and the sale can proceed as planned. Two, I was going to ask you guys if you wanted to cover the difference. For commensurate ROI, of course. “

“So you’d be the minor partner, then?” Liam asked.

Sean nodded and took his plate from Gran. “Obviously not what I wanted when I planned this, but we can work out the terms and I’ll gradually buy you out. If you can float the money, that’s my second option. The third would be to bring in outside investors, but that’ll dilute everyone’s take.”

“That option’s out.” Liam rubbed his chin. “This is supposed to be a Manley Brothers project. We bring someone else in, we lose that edge, both in calling the shots and the publicity.”

“But you have Bryan,” said Gran, holding out her hand for Bryan’s plate. “He’s the best publicity you could ask for.”

“No go, Gran.” Bryan handed it to her. “I’m the silent partner. I don’t have the background these two do for this business. We start plastering my face all over this and it’ll become a circus. The media’s great until it isn’t. And even if that weren’t an issue, Sean’s got what I can afford.”

“And you have my discretionary funds, too, Sean,” said Liam. “I still need working capital for my business. There’s nothing more.”

So that was it then. He had to make sure she failed or he would.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something so everyone gets what they want,” said Gran with the faith in him she’d always had. “Including Olivia. After all, it
is
her birthright. You’ll have to treat her fairly; no taking advantage. Too many people in that family have done that to her.” Gran’s smile didn’t hide the warning behind her words:
Don’t steal from Olivia
.

“You’ll do what’s right, Sean. I know you will. That’s how I raised you and that’s the type of man you are. Remember what I’ve always said about cheaters never winning. You could always give your brothers their money back and forget about it.”

Forget about it? His entire life plan? His future? His company? This was the
pièce de résistance
to what he was trying to build. This was the property that would put him on the map and put him in league with the big boys, proving that he had what it took to make it. And she wanted him to
forget about it
?

Hell. It wasn’t bad enough he put pressure on himself, or that Livvy put a truckload on him unknowingly by virtue of just being, or
his brothers’ expectations brought their own load of stress, but now his grandmother
had her own expectations to toss into the mix.

All he wanted to do was buy the property, get the construction team working, and open for business in ten months. Was that too much to ask for?

“So.” Gran smiled a different smile at him. This was one he recognized. It said she’d gotten her way and everything was right in her world again.

If only that translated to his.

“Has Olivia baked you her pepper loaf yet?” She handed Liam his plate. “It’s delicious. Mildred brought some on her last visit. I think it’s still in the bread box. If you’d get it, Liam.”

It wasn’t a request.

Liam brought the sliced bread back to the table. Sean looked at it. On a good day he wouldn’t be able to eat it—peppers didn’t belong in bread, they belonged on a burger—today, he definitely couldn’t. “Thanks, Gran, but I—”

“Try it. Your Olivia works hard at her business. The least you can do is try it.”

Especially if he was going to steal her inheritance out from under her.
The words weren’t said, but they didn’t have to be. His conscience was shouting them from the rooftops.

He took a bite. So did his brothers.

Damn. The woman could cook.

“It’s good.” Bryan helped himself to another slice.

Gran slapped his fingers. “Don’t reach, Bryan. Is that how you behave at that Mr. Spielberg’s dinner parties?”

Bryan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Gran. When I go to one, I’ll let you know.”

She slapped his fingers again. “Wrong answer, young man. Don’t be flip with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sean bit his lip. Here they were, all over thirty, and Gran was treating them as if they were three.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. Thank God for family.

Which Livvy didn’t have.

Jesus. He had to stop thinking about her and her life and what she did and didn’t have. This project put enough pressure on him; Livvy and that dilemma only upped it.