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Certainly not enough to turn into a meal…
Wait. That frozen chunk of Tyrannosaurus Rex, that huge package of mystery meat was still in the freezer. She hauled it out. Not easy, considering the weight and dimensions of the thing, and wrestled it into the big sink to thaw.
Whatever it was, it was supper for tonight or tomorrow. It all depended on how fast the hawing process took.
She dried her hands on an ancient plaid cloth that had surely once been a dishtowel and looked around her. Oh, what she could do with this room! An oversized Viking range right there. A pair of Wolf wall ovens next to it. A big Bosch fridge. A Bosch dishwasher. A Miele freezer. She’d keep the worktable; all it needed was a good sanding. But the floor would have to go.
No. It wouldn’t. That was oak underneath the years of neglect. She’d refinish it, put fresh paint on the walls, tear out these old Formica counters and replace them with granite or stone, finish up by using some bright terra-cotta tiles for a backsplash.
But the kitchen wasn’t hers, it was Nick Gentry’s, and from what she’d seen so far, he didn’t have any interest in bringing this old house back to life.
He wasn’t interested in anything but himself, and wasn’t it a good thing they hadn’t ended up in bed last night? Because if they had, she wouldn’t just be disappointed in herself this morning, she’d be furious.
To think she’d let lust, down and dirty lust, carry her away like that…
“Haven’t you learned anything about men Melissa?” she muttered.
The grim truth seemed to be that she hadn’t.
Lissa poured more coffee into her mug, shut off the lights and headed for the stairs.
* * *
You could spend only so much time straightening a room and a tiny bath.
Make the bed. Wipe down the sink. Then what?
Lissa sighed. Unpack, was what. She was going to be here until at least tomorrow. Might as well hang up a few things.
If only she’d brought some heavier stuff with her. A more substantial jacket. Shoes that were real shoes as opposed to the ones in her suitcase, which ranged from a pair of heels to two pairs of sandals to her kitchen clogs and the sneakers that were on her feet now.
Properly dressed, she could get out of here for a while. A glance out the window confirmed that paths had been shoveled between the house and the outbuildings; somebody was clearing what looked like a million-mile driveway that probably led to the main road.
What if she added another sweater, then put on the little jacket she’d worn yesterday? Her sneakers would soak through in just a few minutes, but at least she’d breathe some fresh air.
She might even get last night and the awful, horrible, humiliating image of herself standing naked in front of Mr. Despicable out of her head, because that was becoming a serious problem, knowing that he’d seen her naked, that he’d said what he’d said about why she was naked while she was naked—
And if she kept going around and around like this, she was going to go nuts.
Lissa yanked on a second sweater, pulled on her jacket—which wouldn’t zip, dammit, not over a T and a sweater and another sweater—
“Fuck it,” she said, yanked open the bedroom door and went down the stairs.
The house was quiet. The men had all gone to their chores. Gentry wasn’t in sight. Good. Fine. With luck, she wouldn’t have to look at his smug face again until lunchti—
“Woof!”
Brutus came galloping down the hall. She barely had time to brace herself before the big dog was on her, tail wagging madly as he covered her face with kisses.
“Hey,” she said, laughing, “I’m happy to see you, too.”
The dog woofed softly; Lissa squatted down, smiled as she ruffled his ears and buried her face in the deep silky fur around his neck.
“Beautiful doggy,” she said. “I missed you.”
“Looks as if he missed you, too.”
She looked past the Newf. Gentry was coming down the hall toward her. He was dressed for the outdoors: well-worn sheepskin jacket, the omnipresent Stetson, jeans, boots, a pair of what looked like heavy gloves sticking out of one jacket pocket.
