Nanny Makes Three(32)

Without asking, he pulled out a cutting board and began chopping onion and tomatoes. Engrossed in the task, he didn’t notice her stare. Or that’s what she thought until he spoke.

“Candace doesn’t work 24/7,” he commented, setting a second pan on the six-burner stove and adding olive oil. “I have been known to cook for myself from time to time.”

“Sorry for misjudging you.”

“You do that a lot.”

“Apologize?”

“Jump to negative conclusions about me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He dumped the diced onions into the pan and stirred them. “From the moment you walked into my house you pegged me as a womanizing jerk who slept with some random woman, got her pregnant and never contacted her again.”

She couldn’t deny his statement. “I don’t think you’re a jerk.”

“But you think I treat women like playthings.”

“It’s none of my business what you do.”

Liam’s breath gusted out. “For the rest of this trip I give you a pass to speak your mind with me. I’m not going to dance around topics while you keep the truth bottled up.”

“Fine.” Hadley couldn’t understand why she was so annoyed all of a sudden. “Back when I used to show, you had a reputation for going through girls like chewing gum.”

“Sure, I dated a lot, and I know that not every girl was happy when I broke things off, but I never treated any of them like they were disposable.”

“What do you call sleeping with them once and then never calling again?”

“I never did that. Who said I did?”

“A friend of mine knew someone...” Hadley trailed off. Why hadn’t she ever questioned whether what Anna had said about him was true?

Anger faded from Liam’s green eyes. “And because she was your friend, you believed her.”

Liam shook his head and went back to stirring the onions. While Hadley searched for answers in his expression, he added raw spinach to the pan and set a lid on it.

“We have cheddar and Cojack cheese,” Liam said. “Which would you prefer?”

“Cojack.” Hadley had finished with the bacon while they’d been talking and began cracking eggs for their omelets. She moved mechanically, burdened by the notion that she’d done Liam a great injustice. “I’ll pour some orange juice. Do you want toast? There’s some honey wheat that looks good.”

“That’s fine. I’ll finish up the omelets.” His neutral tone gave away none of his thoughts, but Hadley moved around the large kitchen with the sense that she was in the wrong.

Instead of eating in the formal dining room, Hadley set the small kitchen table. She paused to stare out the window at the new blanket of snow covering the mountains and gave a small thank-you to the weather gods for giving her and Liam this weekend alone. He was a far more complicated man than she’d given him credit for, and she welcomed the opportunity to get inside his head between now and when they returned to Royal.

A few minutes later, Hadley carried Maggie’s carrier to the table and Liam followed her with plates of omelets and the bacon. Awkward silence had replaced their companionable chatter from the previous evening. It was her fault. She’d wounded him with Anna’s tale. But whom was she supposed to believe? Her best friend at the time or a man who admitted to dating a lot of women?

The delicious omelet was like a mouthful of sand. Hadley washed the bite down with orange juice and wondered what she was supposed to believe. For ten years she’d lived with guilt over the pain her actions had caused Anna. What if none of it had been as her friend said?

“I know you haven’t had any reason to believe I’ve left my playboy ways behind me,” Liam began, his own food untouched. “And perhaps I deserve your skepticism, but I’d like to point out that nothing has happened between you and me, despite my strong attraction to you.”

“Strong...attraction?” Hadley fumbled out the words, her heart hammering hard against her ribs.

His gaze was direct and intense as he regarded her. “Very. Strong.”

What could she say to that? She looked to Maggie for help, but the baby had her attention locked on the string of stuffed bugs strapped to the handle of her carrier and was too content to provide a convenient distraction.

“I wish you weren’t,” she said at last, the statement allowing her to retreat from a very dangerous precipice.

“That makes two of us. And I have no intention of worsening your opinion of me by doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t bring it up at all except that I wanted to illustrate that I’m done with casual relationships.” He picked up his fork and began breaking up his omelet.