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“Don’t be silly.” Caden held out his hand for her to take. “I have enough bail money for the both of us.” Caden opened the door for Maggie. She ultimately stepped over the threshold first but not without giving him a dirty look accompanied with pouty pink lips.
Inside, he found the light switch. The hanging chandelier in the foyer brightened the walls. Thank God the remnants of the bachelor party were gone. He needed to give his housekeeper a raise.
Tiptoeing in her heels, Maggie clasped her hands behind her back while she walked down the hall. She stopped in front of a painting. Caden hung back and smiled.
“This is your place.” Maggie pointed to the portrait of the front of the building of the A&O Agency.
The acknowledgment told him Maggie followed his career. Their first building had been erected in California when they graduated from Stanford University.
“Okay, so you don’t live at home with your parents,” said Maggie. “What are you doing with all this space?”
“Filling it with our children.” The answer came out so quick it shocked him. Her too. She stood still and blinked. “Too soon?”
“I guess not, considering you ‘proposed’ this afternoon. I was already asked by six different women when we planned on starting a family.” Maggie turned to face him, her back up against the wall. Caden placed his hand above her head.
“We can start now.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt it.” She pressed her hand against his chest. “We may have joined forces, but we’re still at war.”
Chapter 8
A savory scent filled the air. Coffee...bacon...biscuits, even. Maggie’s mouth watered before she opened her eyes. Flipping the down blanket off her body, she swung her legs over the side of her four-poster king-size bed. The dark floors cooled her heels, metaphorically and literally. She was waking up in Caden’s house. His home...the grand home it was. With the sunlight pouring in from the balcony window, Maggie had a chance to survey the room better than she had last night when she was too tired to keep her eyes open.
The gray walls were bare. The fireplace cold and barren. The only spot of color came from a French Louis XV-style chaise lounge with an antique silver finish and black cushions. She imagined herself resting there and watching the world below. Not only did Caden have his own place, the home was beautiful. The fact he’d let her believe he still kept a room at his parents’ burned her britches. But before she waged war on her host, she needed coffee and a freshening up.
Fully expecting to have headed back to Southwood this morning, Maggie had only brought a change of clothes, which she discovered Caden had had delivered to his place. She washed in the spacious, second-floor, en-suite bathroom with the walk-in shower and gold fixtures, then dressed in an off-white jersey dress that would have been perfect for car travel today. She slid on a pair of white canvas shoes and piled her bedhead hair on top of her head in a bun, not caring if a few loose strands hung down.
Downstairs in the kitchen from where delicious smells emanated, she found a woman dressed in a pair of black-and-white-checkered chef’s pants and black tank top. Maggie couldn’t judge the length of the woman’s hair, because it was swept up into a huge bun at the top of her head.
“It’s about time you got up,” the woman said.
“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Maggie said after clearing her throat. “I didn’t want you to think I was Caden or anything.”
The woman’s shoulders straightened as she spun in slow motion to greet Maggie with wide eyes. “I did not just say that to you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Maggie said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve had a lot worse said to me in the mornings from my siblings.”
“I thought you might have been Caden coming in. I’m Ebony.” At a half turn back to the popping frying pan, the chef offered Maggie a smile. “Caden already called to tell me about you, Maggie.”
“Uh-oh.” Maggie entered the spacious kitchen that belonged on a Food Network show.
“You and Caden are supposed to get married.”
So much for telling her everything, Maggie thought. She stepped farther into the kitchen. “With as good as that bacon smells, there’s no way I can look you in the face and tell a lie,” said Maggie. “We’re not really engaged or getting married.”
Ebony reached over on the counter and lifted the paper towel–lined plate toward her. “If you say so.”
Before giving the pretty chef the whatever eye roll, Maggie took an offered slice of brown-sugared bacon. Her taste buds exploded. Maggie made a mental note to ask Ebony how she did this and figure out how to redo it on a budget for Haute Tips. She might not be able to splurge on the thickness of the bacon, but she might be able to replicate the flavor. As Maggie continued to think about her blog while she chowed down on a bacon slice, Ebony continued.
“Well, let me say this,” Ebony corrected herself, “for starters, I already like you. Caden offered me triple for breakfast today over what he’s asked of me to cook up for him for a week.”
“So Caden can work with women?”
“Work?” Ebony waved the notion off with her own eye roll. “When I am here, this is my kitchen. Caden works for me by supplying the food and taste testing whatever I feel like making. No matter what I cook, though, it’s going to be great.” They both chuckled. “I know about Caden’s troubles at his agency,” Ebony continued, “about not taking on female clients. I don’t know what to say about that other than he’s missing out on great opportunities.”
“He’s afraid something will happen, something sexual,” Maggie offered. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous. I am even considering taking you out for a date just by your cooking.”
“I can’t promise anything won’t happen on that date,” Ebony teased with a wink, “but Caden wouldn’t dare dream of any funny business. EJ might break his neck.”
