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His gaze swept over her. She’d caught a glimpse of herself as she’d passed her dresser mirror. It wasn’t pretty. She waited for his expression to reflect disappointment. But as he perused her ancient but comfortable cotton pajama bottoms and lingered over the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her equally worn T-shirt, only appreciation altered the curve of his lips.
Her nipples tightened, driving a spike of longing straight to her core. She crossed her arms over her chest a fraction too late. His smug grin confirmed that her body’s involuntary response hadn’t gone unnoticed. Why couldn’t he disapprove of her appearance just this once? It would give her a firm base to build resentment on. Instead, she felt all mushy and weak-kneed.
“I see you’re up.” He stirred something in a pot on the stove, something that smelled heavenly. “Feeling better?”
“You left.”
“I went out and bought some supplies. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.”
“I locked the door.”
“I anticipated that and took your keys with me.”
Damn the man for having all the answers. She retreated to her room to put on a robe and comb her hair. Using the water he’d left beside her bed, she brushed her teeth. A quick rinse with mouthwash, and she returned to sit on a stool at her breakfast bar and scowl at him.
“You certainly have made yourself at home,” she groused. “I don’t recall issuing you an invitation to dinner.”
“You were in no shape to issue any sort of invitation.” His slow smile increased the room’s temperature. “But I’ve always had a knack for anticipating a woman’s needs.” He nudged a teacup toward her. “It’s peppermint. Good for nausea.”
Wondering how he’d know something like that, Emma sipped the tea. “Are you sure it was my needs you were anticipating and not yours?”
“I assure you, I thought only of you.”
Skepticism rumbled in her throat. Emma nodded toward the stove. “What are you cooking?”
“Chicken soup. My mother’s recipe.”
Now this was too much. “From scratch?”
“That’s the only way. Would you like to try some?”
“How could I resist?”
Nathan dished up two bowls and pushed a plate of crackers toward her. Emma inhaled the soup’s aroma and her stomach growled impatiently. The first spoonful of smooth chicken broth slid across her tongue, stimulating her taste buds with cilantro, lime and a hint of onion.
“This is delicious.”
“It’s not bothering your stomach?”
“Not at all. What a relief.”
Nathan finished his soup and set his bowl in her sink.
“Are you feeling strong enough to tell me what happened to your bathroom?”
“I had a leak in the shower.”
“Looks like overkill for a leak.”
“The plumber I hired found mold. I had him rip everything out so we could see how bad it was.”
Her explanation made him hiss in exasperation. “How long has it been like this?”
“A couple weeks.”
“You need to get this taken care of.”
She resented his assumption that she needed him to point that out to her. “It’s the holidays and everyone I called is busy until the end of January.”
“Mold is dangerous. You can’t stay here.”
“I’ve been living here for a year. I can survive another month.” Besides, she had no place to go.
“It’s dangerous,” he repeated. “Why didn’t you check into a hotel?”
“I can’t afford to.”
“Why not?”
It was time to explain what was really going on. “Last February, Daddy cut me off from my trust fund and gave me a hundred thousand to live on for the year.”
“Why a hundred thousand?”
Emma grimaced. “It’s what I spent on shoes the year before.” Seeing the grin tugging at Nathan’s lips, she rushed on. “New Year’s Eve, Daddy and I made a deal. If I replace the hundred thousand in my account by Valentine’s Day, he’s promised to sign over my money and I don’t have to marry you.” She loaded the last bit with enough satisfaction to wipe the amusement off his face, but her smug words had no effect.
“Let me guess how much you have to replace.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Fifty thousand?”
“Thirty-five.”
His smirk made her blood boil. Why had she told him about the deal with her father? Over the years, Cody had probably regaled Nathan with assorted tales of her spending sprees. But she wasn’t the same frivolous girl she’d been ten months ago. She’d learned to budget. She’d spent long hours designing and making her jewelry. And she’d figured out the best way to market it.
