She still wasn’t sure it was the smartest thing to do, but at some point during her lunch with his sister, she’d made up her mind. Or perhaps had simply given up on trying to fight the innate stubbornness and determination that apparently ran in the Jarrod family.
“Erica wants a small, intimate Christmas Eve wedding right here at Jarrod Ridge, which only gives us a few weeks to pull everything together.”
“So you’ll stay?”
Please, God, don’t make me regret this, she thought, even as a tiny voice in the back of her head ran through a laundry list of doubts.
“I’ll stay.”
A few hours later, Trevor carried two plates of pasta from the kitchen to the dining room. Rather than putting them at opposite ends of the long table, he’d created two place settings much closer together, at one corner. He told himself it was because Haylie hadn’t yet filled him in on the details of her lunch meeting with Erica, and he didn’t want to miss a word. But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?
No, the truth was that Haylie smelled really good. Like citrus with a hint of wildflower. He’d noticed it when she’d first come downstairs that morning and he’d leaned in close to take her purse and the baby’s diaper bag on their way out to the garage. It had stuck with him during the whole ride to the Ridge and seemed to fill his office long after she and Erica had left for their luncheon. It was as though the scent, her own unique fragrance, had crawled under his skin and taken root.
So, yes, he wanted to hear what she and his sister had talked about, reassure himself that she really would be sticking around until those test results came in. But he also found himself simply wanting to be closer to her. To that citrus-floral scent…to the silky blond hair that ran down her back and brushed the swells of her br**sts…to the sparkle in her blue eyes and the lift of her rosy pink lips when she smiled.
Returning to the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses, letting his gaze trail to the stairs. She was up there now, giving Bradley a bath.
As soon as they’d gotten home, he’d changed from his suit into more comfortable jeans and a lightweight sweater, with the intention of impressing her with his culinary skills. Granted, they were limited, but he’d found that even the simple acts of boiling pasta and opening a jar of marinara sauce could be impressive to women as long as he did them with flair.
Unfortunately, instead of perching on a stool at the island to watch him work, the way his female guests had in the past, Haylie had decided to spend the last couple of hours upstairs with Bradley, feeding him, changing him and now getting him ready for bed.
Trevor suspected she was trying to avoid being alone with him, but that wouldn’t last much longer. If she didn’t come down on her own in the next thirty seconds, he fully intended to go up after her—and drag her to dinner, if he had to.
He was pouring the wine, hoping she would arrive before the pasta got cold, when he heard her padded footsteps on the stairwell. Tipping his head in that direction, he watched her take the last few steps and felt something strange tickle behind his rib cage.
She’d changed out of her blouse and slacks and was now wearing a pair of skintight black leggings with an equally snug short-sleeved top. The soft pink shirt had a faded floral design on the front, interspersed with tiny glittering rhinestones. She was wearing matching pink ballet flats on her feet and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
“Good timing,” he said as she moved closer, rubbing the palms of her hands against her thighs nervously. He pulled out a chair and held it for her before taking his own.
“Did Bradley go down okay?”
She nodded, reaching for her glass of Barbaresco and taking a small sip. “I think being around all those other children at the day-care center wore him out.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Anytime a four-month-old child is happy or sleeping, it’s a good thing, pretty much regardless of what made him that way.”
Trevor chuckled, offering her some salad and fresh-grated Parmesan. “I’ll remember that.”
Shifting in her seat, she picked up her fork and started toying with the long strands of pasta on her plate, pointedly not meeting his gaze. “You didn’t need to buy the crib and changing table and everything, though. We aren’t going to be here that long and could have made do with just a bassinet or maybe a small playpen.”
While they’d been gone that afternoon, he’d had the entire house fitted for Bradley and baby proofed. He hadn’t known exactly what was needed, but thankfully there were professionals he could hire who did.
“Don’t be silly,” he told her, digging into his own meal. “You’re a guest, and should have what you need to be comfortable. Besides, a baby shouldn’t be sleeping on a pile of blankets on the floor, and if Bradley really is my son, then I’ll be needing everything here, anyway.”
The plastic locks on the cupboards and the playpen in the center of the living room were going to take some getting used to, and considering that Bradley wasn’t even crawling yet, a lot of the precautionary measures leaned toward overkill. But just like the furniture, if Bradley was his, it would all be necessary eventually.
“Well, thank you,” Haylie said quietly. “This is delicious, by the way.”
“I’m sure your lunch at Sky Lounge was much better, but it’s passable. And I’ll tell you a secret.” He paused, sipping his light red wine until she looked in his direction. “The sauce came from Emilio’s.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. If you like Italian, it is the place to eat at the Ridge—or in all of Aspen, frankly. The food there is much better than anything I could pull off, believe me,” he offered with a self-deprecating wink. “If you like French cuisine, though, you really should try the main restaurant, Chagall’s. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about our visit until you’re sure about Bradley,” she reminded him, taking a bite and chewing slowly. “Especially your family.”
“Well, you’ve already met Guy. And I have a feeling Erica will make sure the rest of the family all knows that you’re here and why. She’ll swear them to secrecy, and they’ll respect our privacy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if several of them make up excuses to drop by over the next few days to check out you and Bradley.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Speaking of Erica,” he said between bites, “you haven’t told me yet what the two of you discussed at lunch.”
Tilting her head, her ponytail swung behind her. Her long lashes fluttered as she lowered her gaze. “It was just boring girl talk. Why do you want to know?”
“Call me curious. I feel a bit like a matchmaker waiting to hear how a blind date turned out. I’m the one who set the two of you up, now I want to make sure everything went okay.”
Raising those cornflower-blue eyes back to his, her tone tightened. “I already told you I’d stay, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried.” His teeth made a tiny clinking noise against his fork as he bit down harder than he’d intended.
He wasn’t used to having to work this hard to get information. With women, he usually just smiled at them, maybe brushed his fingertips down the side of their arm, and they became either flustered enough or enamored enough to open their mouths and tell him anything he wanted to know. With men, a stern glance and subtle reminder of exactly who he was and of his family name had them delivering whatever he needed.
Haylie was different, though. She was a woman, so he suspected she was naturally attracted to him on some feminine level; they all were. But she was also stubborn and determined, which meant she wasn’t going to let her hormones override her common sense.
And even though she’d agreed to his bargain of sticking around for the DNA results, he knew she wasn’t entirely pleased about the decision. Something he couldn’t blame her for, he supposed. After all, he got to stay right where he was, in his own home, working in his own office. She, however, had to adapt to a new environment, moving in with a man she’d just met, taking time away from her business and her friends and everything she was used to.
The complete upheaval of her life couldn’t be easy for her. Which was why he was determined to see that her stay remained as painless as possible.
Picking up his wineglass, he brought it to his lips. “I do want to be sure you and Erica are both content with whatever decisions you made, though. She’s my sister, and I love her. I don’t want her to feel pressured into working with you if the two of you didn’t hit it off. And although I realize there are probably a hundred other things you’d rather do than stay here with me—”
“A thousand,” she cut in shamelessly.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “A thousand others, then. I want to make sure you’ll be at least relatively happy during your visit.”
A few seconds ticked by while she seemed to consider that. He sipped his wine, watching as she twirled her fork over and over again through the long strands of pasta still on her plate.
“I like your sister very much,” she finally replied. “And I think she must have liked me, as well as my ideas for her wedding, because she…”
She trailed off, her voice going soft, her head bowed.
“She hired you, I assume,” he put in. “Otherwise, I doubt you would have agreed to stick around.”
Dragging her gaze up to his, she nodded. And then she whispered, “She offered to pay me twice my usual rate.”
She seemed embarrassed by the admission, though he couldn’t fathom why.
“Excellent,” he said. “You’re worth it, I’m sure.”
Haylie’s brows drew together. “You can’t know that. Neither can Erica. I could be the worst event planner in the world, ready to put her in orange taffeta and the groom in a powder-blue tuxedo.”
He gave a low chuckle. “That would be quite the sight.”
Shaking her head, she dropped her fork and leaned back in her chair, arms going across her chest in a clear sign of annoyance. “It’s not funny. You’re both putting an awful lot of faith in someone you don’t even know. This is her wedding, for heaven’s sake. One of the most important days of her life. She should be hiring someone she knows. Someone who’s been recommended to her by all of her friends. Someone she has utter faith in.”
Setting aside his own utensils, Trevor leaned back, mirroring her rigid posture. “First, I only asked Erica to meet with you, I didn’t tie her up and order her to hire you—not that she would have, even if I had. And I trust my sister’s judgment. If you hadn’t impressed her with your knowledge and ideas while the two of you were together, she wouldn’t have hired you.”
Uncrossing his arms, he leaned forward, draping them on the edge of the table instead. “Second, she—and I, and the rest of the family—can afford to be generous with you. Erica could hire an army of stylists, if she wanted to, but I think the notion of a smaller wedding appeals to her, as does fewer people to help her organize the event.”