Hired: Cinderella Chef. Myrna Mackenzie

call, a smack upside the head, Darcy thought. What had she even been thinking about noticing the man’s eyes and getting all gooey just because he had a deep voice and a nice smile?

      “Breakfast first,” Darcy said, forcing herself to stop dwelling on her boss’s ability to make a woman feel hot even when she was holding the refrigerator door open. “I am not going to let you get stuck with extra chores just because I have to leave the kitchen for a few hours. Let’s get started.”

      But she had barely managed to get the coffee made when she felt a presence at the door and turned. Patrick Judson was just entering the kitchen, and the way he was studying her…

      Over the past few years Darcy had grown to expect and dread the pitying looks people sometimes sent her way, or worse, the way they glanced away self-consciously, but this was different. There was genuine interest in his gaze. And something else that made her feel like blushing when she was just not the kind of woman who blushed.

      Anger sluiced through her. She liked this job. She needed it, too. Romantic or lustful thoughts were off-limits, and not just because the man was practically engaged. It went deeper than that. She’d already had a man destroy her heart when she was at her lowest. Her career had been snatched away. She’d lost her baby and more. Everything she’d dared to reach for was gone, so she no longer risked dreaming. She grasped only for the attainable. And Patrick Judson? He didn’t even come close to being attainable. The man might as well have had a big, flashing Not For Darcy light on his forehead. Only a self-destructive fool would risk being attracted to him, and she was a survivor, not a fool.

      Life had boiled down to the practical, the doable, and even if she had still been the type to indulge in romantic dreams, this man was way out of her league and would have been even before the accident.

      “Excuse me for invading your kitchen before you’re done, but what can I say? That is one of the most incredible scents in the world,” he said, glancing at the coffeepot. “A man would do a lot for a cup of that. Is it ready?” he asked with a smile that would have coaxed a snowman into a sauna.

      Darcy couldn’t help smiling back just a little. “It’s ready. Coffee is a major food group, you know.”

      He grinned and that darn snowman melted a little more. “I see we share an addiction.”

      Darcy’s body turned to fire. That deep voice and the way he breathed in the aroma of the coffee she handed him before he took a sip… Darcy could so easily imagine him nuzzling a woman’s neck, breathing in her scent and telling her she smelled wonderful.

      Darn it, no, where had that thought come from? Instantly she tried to blank out her thoughts. Some men could home in on a woman’s attraction. She prayed that Patrick wasn’t one of them. “Breakfast will be ready in mere minutes,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. Thankfully the act of promising results “in mere minutes” was enough to get her back on track. The meal would have to be something uncomplicated. Omelets, she decided, with fresh vegetables and herbs and cheese.

      “Sounds great,” he conceded. “And after breakfast, you and I have things to do. Would you dine with me?”

      Mind reading men became the least of Darcy’s worries as she thought of sitting across a table from him. There was something about a meal that suddenly seemed very intimate.

      “No,” she said, too hastily. “I mean, thank you, but no thank you. Work to do, you know. Olivia is on her own today. I need to…” To what? Olivia was more than capable of managing on her own when Patrick wasn’t around to be fed. When Darcy had arrived, the young woman had been relying on a cache of frozen casseroles the former cook had made up. There were still plenty of those.

      But this is my kitchen now, Darcy reminded herself. And she didn’t like falling back on the former cook’s meals. So, there. She did have a good excuse for not eating with her boss. She wasn’t a coward.

      “Work,” she repeated.

      “Coward,” he said with a smile. “As your employer you know I’d give you a pass on the work, but…maybe work isn’t the problem? You told me that you don’t like being the center of attention. You must have thought I would grill you.”

      Darcy blinked. “Would you have?”

      He smiled again. “Not until after breakfast.” Then, he picked up his coffee, turned and left the kitchen. “A few minute’s reprieve, Darcy,” he called back. “Then you and I begin.”

      Silence filled the kitchen after he had gone, but Darcy’s mind wasn’t quiet at all. Begin what? she thought.

      Less than an hour later, Patrick stood outside the house looking down at Darcy and reminded himself to tread carefully here. Darcy was his employee as well as a resident of Able House, and both of those facts made him responsible for her. It wasn’t right for him to notice those warm brown eyes or the way her hair caressed her jaw when she moved. His unexpected interest in her wasn’t acceptable. Especially since he would soon be leaving the country.

      “Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

      Those brandy eyes widened and she looked at his hand as if it was some sort of harmful weapon.

      “I’m sorry. Have I…offended you?” he asked.

      Quickly she shook her head. “No, not at all. And yes, I’m ready.” Then she tilted her head slightly. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. People generally don’t hold out their hands to me.”

      He nodded. “Because you need them to operate your wheels, I assume.”

      Darcy hesitated. “Yes, that’s probably why.”

      But it wasn’t, he could tell. What kind of people had she been dealing with? “If anyone at Able House has been unkind…”

      Instantly she went on full alert. “No! They’re wonderful people, all of them. I love that place! No, the handholding…I think it’s just that the metal gets in the way in people’s minds. It’s like having one of those force fields around you from a sci-fi movie. For the record, I don’t think it’s an intentional snub, just an oversight.”

      “Good, because you would tell me if there was a problem at Able House, wouldn’t you?”

      She laughed. “And rat on my friends? Not a chance.”

      He shook his head but smiled. “You’re an interesting woman, Darcy. I have the feeling there’s a lot more to you than great food.”

      “Well, there’s great coffee, too.”

      Patrick chuckled. “Absolutely. Now, are you really ready?”

      “Not really. Last night you told me that you needed me to let my light shine. I assume that means you want me to be an ambassador for Able House. But, as I tried to explain, I’m a pretty private person. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for the spotlight.”

      That complicated things. Could he let this drop? Not when there was so much at stake.

      “I respect your desire for privacy,” he said. “But Able House hasn’t had nearly enough time to prove itself to the world, and now I’m leaving. The timing isn’t great, but it can’t be helped. My overseas project has been in the works for five years, long before the opportunity to create Able House came about. Before I go, I have to make sure Able House’s standing in the community is solid.

      “That’s a necessity. The people in the neighborhood have to grow comfortable with the residents of Able House, to think of them as contributors and assets. And yes, it’s unfair that Able House should have a higher bar than the other locals do, but fair or not, you and your fellow residents have to show the community that the project wasn’t a mistake.”

      The hurt, angry look in her eyes got to him. How many times had she been forced to prove herself to others?

      Patrick could see the strain this conversation was having on her. Her face was pale, her body rigid.