“Just make me the most profitable,” she teased, the corners of those gentle eyes crinkling with good humor. “I havea lot of tuition bills to pay.”
Tony smiled back, when what he wanted was to run hisfingers along her cheek. “It’s a deal.”
“I’m glad,” she said. “I’m glad you stayed.”
Tony meant to answer. He meant to reassure her that itwas nothing, that he was doing it all for selfish purposes,that he’d be out of her hair before she knew it, that he’dkeep his distance in the meantime. Somehow, instead, hereached out to her. Somehow he found himself testing thepetal-soft skin of her cheek with his finger, just as he’dwanted. Somehow he found himself out of breath and outof reasons and lifting his gaze to find the same shock in hers.
Blue. Deep, winter blue, so pristine a painter would spendhis life searching for the right color. Wide, gentle eyes thatcarried so many emotions in them that a man would have tobe a stone to not be struck. A man would have to be dead tonot realize that in those eyes where compassion and sadness lived, suddenly there was a spark of something hehadn’t seen before.
Claire stopped, as still as a trapped bird. Tony stopped,his hand up to her, his heart in his throat, thinking that thisshouldn’t be happening.
Dust motes danced in the early-morning light that pouredin the front windows. Somewhere a wind chime skittered,and a car engine growled. The air thickened with the scentof baking bread, and a floor up, old boards creaked backinto position.
But here on the stairs, the air was still. Neither personmoved. Neither breathed. Tony thought of all the things heshould say, and yet he said nothing. Claire’s eyes grew wide,and her posture straightened, as if she were fighting. Nevertaking her gaze from Tony, she ran her tongue over her lips,as if fortifying herself.
Tony found himself wanting to do the same. He foundhimself struck dumb. Stunned to silence by lightning.
Something happened there that had never happened inTony’s life. Something primal and vital. Something magicthat passed between two scarred souls, and Tony didn’tknow how to answer to it.
“You gonna stand there or you gonna get work done?”
Tony all but fell down the last steps. His heart must have stopped, because the abrupt thunder of Peaches’s demandstarted it again with a thud. His limbs moved without hispermission, propelling his hands to his pockets, where theywould be safe from Claire. Where she would be safe fromhim, when he knew this wasn’t what she needed right now.
It didn’t matter. His heart still stuttered like a drunk doing the alphabet, and his palms had begun to sweat.
Peaches obviously wasn’t impressed. He informed Tonyof that with a glare that should have shook the foundationas he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his apron disheveled and his flour-dusted arms crossed.
It took Claire a moment to manage an answer, and whenshe did, it sounded deceptively calm. “What’s the problem, Peaches?” she asked, patting at her hair with trembling hands as she stepped down the remaining stairs withthe poise of a debutante.
The chef wasn’t in the least deceived. “Bea,” he snapped,still scowling. “The doctor’s. You takin’ her place?”
Tony turned away completely rather than watch Clairepull herself back together. Besides, he had to do the same thing. His breathing was suddenly as ragged as his heartrate, and it had been so long since that had happened, he’dforgotten how to hide it.
“Bea’s doctor’s appointment’s today?” Claire asked.
“It is.”
Claire looked around, as if searching for some proof.
“She needs a ride,” Peaches said, his attention still all onTony. “Her car’s down again.”
“Tony...”
Tony didn’t get to hear the rest. Just then the front doorslammed open.
“Well, there you are.”
Tony turned to find a thick-waisted, cream-colored African-American woman with sharp eyes, a buzz cut and anursing uniform standing in the front door of the inn as ifshe’d just discovered a delinquent hiding inside.
“Nadine?” Claire asked behind him with some astonishment.
“I’m just real glad to see you, too,” the nurse retorted,walking on in and closing the door behind her.
One look at the new company had Peaches whirlingaround for the kitchen door.
“And don’t you move an inch, Mr. Georgia,” Nadinedemanded in her best gospel-raised voice, her finger pointing with unerring accuracy at the chef.
Peaches slammed to a halt inches away from escape. IfTony didn’t know better, he would have sworn the man wasblushing. He didn’t mind in the least. It was better thanhaving people realize that Tony was blushing, too, and on awhite man it was a heck of a lot more obvious.
