Cassie folded the fabric. “Are you sure we did enough? I don’t mind working on this some more.”
“It’s fine,” Chloe told her. “If I have any trouble, I’ll call you to come rescue me.” She waved goodbye to Ryan and left.
Ryan waited in the kitchen while Cassie walked her sister to the door. When she returned, he pointed to the scraps of material on the table and floor. “I didn’t know you could sew.”
“I used to do it more. When I was in high school, I made a lot of my clothes. Not because we couldn’t afford to buy them but because I couldn’t always find things I liked.” She shrugged. “I can handle most of the domestic arts. Cooking, child rearing, sewing. I’m a decent baker and pretty handy in the garden, but I don’t like cleaning. Given the choice, I would rather pay to have someone else do it.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Most women are well versed at several of these same activities. You don’t have to act surprised that I’ve conquered them.”
“It is surprising,” he told her as he leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “At least for me. The women I date are more interested in their careers than what they plan to serve for dinner. I’m not saying either is right,” he added quickly, not wanting her to think he was judging.
“Agreed,” she said. She finished picking up the scraps and carried them to the trash. “Times have changed, but what about when you were growing up? Did your mom bake or sew?”
He shook his head. “She put on patches when we tore out the knees of our jeans, but that was about it. As for baking—” He tried to remember coming home to the smell of brownies or a cake. On birthdays she’d usually bought something day-old from the bakery. “She worked two jobs. There wasn’t a lot of extra time.”
Cassie’s expression softened with compassion. “It must have been really tough for her, having to work so much and still try to raise you and your brother. I’m sure she was really conflicted about the situation.”
Ryan couldn’t answer that. If his mother had had doubts, she’d kept them to herself. “She taught my brother and me to be hard workers, like she was. She always told us that rich was better than poor. That we were to get good educations and work hard. I’ve respected that.”
“You’ve done both,” Cassie told him.
“Agreed. On the down side, she never spent much time with us. Some of it was because of her long hours at work. For the rest of it, I’m not so sure.” He wasn’t about to tell Cassie that he’d always felt his mother had seen her children as getting in the way of her goals. That if she’d been alone, she would have done much better. Still, he couldn’t fault her on her day-to-day care, or for inspiring John and him to get ahead. That had to count for something.
“There wasn’t much fun in our house,” he said at last. “No money and not enough time.”
“You can have fun with Sasha,” Cassie told him. “Little kids need lots of attention and lots of fun.”
Her smile was easy, her posture relaxed. She was completely comfortable with him, and very pretty, he thought, wondering for the thousandth time how he’d managed to not notice her for nearly a week. Now he was having trouble being in the same room without finding something new about her that appealed to him. Sometimes it was her laugh, sometimes a comment she made. Once he’d been caught up in the play of light on her thick, shiny hair.
Telling himself she was completely wrong for him didn’t help. Reminding himself that she was not only his employee—and therefore deserving of his respect—but also involved and committed to another man, only intrigued him. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had haunted his thoughts and he found he liked having something other than work on his mind.
Cassie glanced at the clock. “Sasha should be waking up soon,” she said. “I have just enough time to get the cookies in the oven.”
With that she walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. Ryan was about to excuse himself when she bent over and retrieved a bowl sitting on the bottom shelf. He told himself he was worse than a kid in high school, but he couldn’t help looking. Her jeans tightened around her rear end, making him want to go over and pull her close against him. He could imagine how she would feel next to him, under him, naked and….
“Ryan?” Cassie asked as she straightened and caught him staring. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he said, sounding only a little strangled. “I, um, I think I’ll go back to my office.” He turned away quickly, hoping she hadn’t noticed the rather obvious manifestation of his wayward thoughts.