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“Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’ Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I just thought—”
“I know what you thought,” Jake said, and yanked the door shut after him.
Except he really didn’t. Certainly not. Because the idea that his innocent ward, his convent-bred child-woman, had been baiting him, was impossible.
She couldn’t have been teasing him. Winding him up in hopes he’d kiss her again.
No way. The very idea was crazy. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
Or would she?
Jake swore, ripped off his tie, headed for the master suite at the other end of the duplex and the benefits of a long, icy shower.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT TURNED out that Anna had left a casserole alongside a bowl of rice in the fridge: strips of chicken, mushrooms and peapods in some kind of rich brown sauce.
Five minutes in the microwave for the casserole, her accompanying note said, three minutes for the rice.
When the meal was ready, Jake went to the foot of the wide staircase that led to the upper level of the penthouse.
“Dinner’s ready,” he called.
No answer.
“Catarina? Supper’s on.”
He heard her door open. “I’m not hungry.”
“Fine. Excellent. That means there’s more for me.”
He stomped back to the kitchen, burned his fingers taking the dishes from the nuker and put them on the breakfast bar. He was angry, angrier than he should have been at Cat’s assumption that he was married or at least involved with a woman.
She had one lousy attitude about men, he thought grimly, yanking open the silverware drawer. Maybe the men she knew would fool around with one woman while they were involved with another, but—
But what?
His ward didn’t know any men. She didn’t know the first thing about them or how they behaved. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was responsible for finding a husband for a woman who might as well have spent her life on one of the outer moons of the planet Zongo.
“Hell,” he muttered, and plucked a fork from the drawer. He glanced at the cupboard, gave a second’s consideration to taking down a plate, even adding a serving spoon and napkin to the counter—but why bother? He was a bachelor, having a meal alone, thanks to the unreasonably touchy temperament of his house guest.
He was also hungry as a bear. A bear in an extremely foul mood. Add it up, and he couldn’t see any reason not to pull up a stool, poke his fork into the casserole and—
“Don’t you know how to set a table?”
Jake smothered a groan and let his fork clatter to the granite countertop.
“I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“I changed my mind.” Cat gave a delicate sniff. “That smells…not too bad.”
“Anna would be thrilled at that wild vote of approval.”
Footsteps padded across the tile behind him. “What is it?”
