Claiming the Doctor's Heart. Renee Ryan

over the possibilities, she dragged her fingertip along the granite countertop, scooting around a slumbering Samson as she went. The puppy slept as hard as he played.

      Smiling at him, she reached down to rub his upturned belly. The sound of a key turning in a lock had him leaping to his feet and bolting out of the kitchen.

      “Daddy’s home,” Molly declared, chasing after the dog.

      Megan joined the welcome-home party a half step later.

      Olivia remained in the kitchen. She smoothed a hand over her hair, straightened the hem of her shirt, then checked her white jeans for stains and unwanted wrinkles.

      Jeans don’t wrinkle, she reminded herself. Feeling oddly out of sorts, she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

      What was wrong with her? She was usually so in control. Stubborn CEOs determined to drive their companies into financial ruin often required firm handling.

      From the foyer, Connor’s rumbling laugh mixed with his daughters’ higher-pitched giggles. Olivia couldn’t help smiling and her nerves instantly disappeared. It was just Connor out there in the hallway, laughing with his daughters.

      By the time he joined her in the kitchen, her heartbeat had almost leveled out. Then he aimed those startling amber eyes in her direction and she nearly forgot to breathe.

      “You didn’t have to cut Avery loose.”

      “Actually—” she shot a meaningful look at Samson trotting in the room behind him “—I did.”

      Following the direction of her gaze, Connor winced. “Do I want to know?”

      “Probably not.”

      Frowning, he picked up the puppy and tucked him under his arm. Olivia couldn’t fault the move, definitely a safer place for the animal than on the floor.

      “Smells good in here.”

      “It’s chicken divan casserole. My own secret recipe.”

      The frown lines cut deeper across his forehead. “Cooking wasn’t part of our deal.”

      Something in his tone put her on guard. “We don’t actually have a deal yet, remember? And I like cooking, so no problem.”

      “I’d planned to order takeout tonight.” His tone never varied, his eyes never left her face, but the stiff way he held his shoulders told its own story. He didn’t like that she’d cooked for him and his family.

      She had no idea why, but didn’t think it was her place to ask. “I can put the casserole in the freezer. That way you and the girls can enjoy it another time.”

      An odd tension collected in the air between them, broken only when the twins entered the kitchen.

      “Daddy, Daddy.” Molly tugged on her father’s arm. “Did Olivia tell you we helped make dinner?”

      The smile Connor dropped on his daughter was full of affection, and much less forced than the one he’d given Olivia. “Sounds like fun.”

      “It was superfun.” Megan pushed past her sister and came to stand next to Olivia. “We learned how to grate cheese and mix up biscuit dough from scratch and set the table properly.”

      “That’s...” Connor shifted the puppy in his arms. “Nice.”

      The poor man looked shell-shocked. Again, she wondered why. “Connor?” Olivia angled her head at him. “Are you okay?”

      “Sure, great.” He seemed to visibly get hold of himself. Finally, he flashed a genuine smile at her. “And, no, you don’t have to freeze the casserole. We’ll eat it tonight.”

      He sounded sincere.

      Yet something had upset him. A dozen possibilities came to mind, none of them good, all of them caused by her, which made little sense. He’d hired her to take care of his daughters; surely that included making meals. Why the concern?

      Perhaps if she explained that she’d only been trying to make the evening easier for him by cooking dinner, he’d feel less agitated. Of course, that wasn’t a conversation to be conducted in front of the girls.

      “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” She smiled down at Molly. “Why don’t you and Megan take Samson out in the yard before we eat?”

      “I guess we can do that.” She took the puppy from her father, glanced over at her sister. “Come on, Megan, let’s get this over with.”

      The other girl stayed firmly rooted to Olivia’s side.

      “Go on, sweetie.” Olivia gave her a gentle push toward the back door. “You can put ice in the glasses when you get back.”

      “Okay.” She dragged her feet all the way across the floor.

      Olivia waited until the door shut behind the twins before addressing Connor again. “Did I cross a line?”

      “No.”

      That was succinct. Straight to the point. And told her absolutely nothing. She pressed for more. “Would you rather I not teach the girls how to cook?”

      “On the contrary.” He let out a breath that sounded as weary as he looked. “I think it’s a good idea. It’s just...”

      His words trailed off and he rubbed a hand over his face, but not before Olivia saw the inner conflict he couldn’t quite hide. “What’s wrong, Connor?”

      He stared straight ahead, his expression closed. He appeared deep in thought, visibly debating something within himself. “You and I haven’t discussed your specific job duties.”

      No, they hadn’t. But that wasn’t what had him looking as if she’d punched him in the chest. “I assumed my filling in for Carlotta would include meals, light housekeeping and—”

      “You don’t have to clean my house.”

      She jumped at his abrupt tone.

      “I’ll hire a service for that,” he added more softly, almost apologetically.

      “Connor, what is this really about?”

      He flicked a glance toward the back door. The gesture gave him a hunted look, as if he didn’t want to be alone with her.

      “I have a few more things to do before dinner’s ready.” She kept her voice light. Easygoing. Nothing to worry about here. Still, she couldn’t escape a vague sense of rejection. “Why don’t you go hang out with your daughters while I get everything ready in here?”

      His chin jerked, very faintly, but she caught the gesture. And the hesitation. He had something more to say.

      Whatever it was, Olivia didn’t want to hear it right now.

      “It’s a beautiful evening.” She subtly motioned toward the door, making sure to do so calmly, with very little fanfare. “It’d be a shame not to take advantage of the fresh air.”

      He nodded. Slowly. Then deliberately stepped around her, careful not to touch her as he passed by. Mildly hurt, she barely restrained herself from informing him she was up to date on all her cootie shots.

      At the door, he stopped abruptly, turned around and moved back to her side. “Olivia?”

      “Yes?”

      He clasped both her hands in his. “I appreciate you making dinner tonight. You went above the call of duty. I...” He smiled into her eyes. “Thank you.”

      For a moment, Olivia thought her knees might give out. Desperate for some perspective, she lowered her head. And immediately connected her gaze with their joined hands.

      Why did hers look so right wrapped inside his?

      And why—why—did she have to notice something so small and inconsequential?

      “Oh,