Upstairs Downstairs Temptation (The Men 0f Stone River Book 2) Page 3

  Instead, he went to the porch and carried in the two boxes Katie had brought up from Portland. After dropping them one at a time onto the island in the kitchen, he began to extract files and separate them into the appropriate piles. As he worked, he wondered for the hundredth time how someone had accessed his research and designs.

  Was it a cybercrime? Or something as simple as breaking into the building and photographing pieces of paper? Farrell usually did his initial sketches on yellow legal pads. When he was happy with the general idea, he moved everything to an actual design program. He changed his password frequently. Zachary was the only person who knew those passwords, and he memorized them rather than writing them down.

  As far as Farrell could tell, Stone River Outdoors was taking normal, prudent precautions in protecting their proprietary intellectual property. Yet somehow, Farrell’s last two innovative products had surfaced on the market before he was finished perfecting them. The impostors were substandard. And poorly reviewed online.

  But that didn’t help the fact that Farrell had labored for months with nothing to show for it. Later, perhaps, in a year or so, he could push his own version of the designs to market. But they wouldn’t have the excitement and freshness of a completely new launch.

  Carefully, he loaded organized piles back into the boxes. Tomorrow, he would carry them to the lab. In the meantime, he needed to come to terms with Ivy being in his life. Her loss was a painful reminder of his own.

  Could he see her day in and day out and not continually think about Sasha? He’d told himself that he was done grieving.

  But the heart had its own timetable.

  Three

  Dolly went to sleep in her new bed as if she had been napping there her whole life. Ivy was desperately glad the baby was so adaptable. Her daughter’s short existence had been turbulent at best. Would a tiny child internalize and remember those experiences at a deep level?

  Was her psyche permanently damaged?

  Was Ivy’s?

  She shoved aside the dark thoughts. It was a mental exercise she had perfected. Instead of thinking about the past, she took the baby monitor into the second bedroom and set it on the dresser.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t resist the tempting bed. Exhaustion—mental and physical—was a constant cloak she wore now. Everyone knew that caring for an infant was demanding work. But many new mothers had help. Husbands. Other family members. And not all new mothers dealt with guilt and regret.

  Ivy took off her jeans and light cotton sweater and climbed between the covers. She had never slept on anything so soft. The perfect mattress, high-thread-count sheets and heavy, luxurious down-filled comforter were the stuff of dreams.

  The Stone family was accustomed to only the best. This “cabin” Farrell had built in the woods was more like a miniature palace. Luxury was imprinted on every item that he, or someone, had selected.

  Handmade furniture. Expensive woods. One-of-a-kind paintings on the walls. The cabin might be thematically rustic, but in reality, everything about this little home-away-from-home was exquisite and delightful.

  Ivy closed her eyes, thinking about Farrell Stone...

  When she awoke an hour and a half later, her heart raced with sudden panic. Dolly. She stumbled to her feet and then sagged against the bed when she saw the image on the monitor. Dolly had clearly just roused from her nap. She was happily playing with her toes and cooing softly. The sweet baby sounds had awakened her mother.

  Ivy exhaled slowly, her heart rate slowing to a manageable pace. Everything was okay. She and her baby were safe. It was going to take some time to believe that. She dressed rapidly and prepared a bottle before Dolly went into full temper-tantrum mode. Apparently, the empty-stomach phenomenon was one her daughter embraced.

  Sure enough, as Ivy opened the door to the other bedroom, Dolly let out a wail. Ivy scooped her up and smiled. “Don’t be such a diva, my love. Mommy is here to feed you.” She settled into the gorgeous rocking chair and tucked Dolly against her breast. It was far too soon for the baby to hold her own bottle, but little hands reached out anyway.

  Ivy would never get tired of the way Dolly looked up at her with that earnest, wide-eyed expression. “I love you, my sweet girl,” she whispered softly. “I think we’re going to be happy here.” Though financial security and a cozy place to live were the main reasons she could give her daughter that assurance, a little voice inside Ivy’s head said that getting reacquainted with the handsome, all-grown-up Farrell would be a bonus.

  * * *

  At a quarter before six, Ivy checked the contents of the diaper bag and then surveyed her own appearance one last time. She hadn’t changed clothes. Same faded jeans. Same pink cotton sweater. Farrell had been dressed casually when she met him. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who dressed for dinner when he was in residence at his secluded retreat.

  As she gazed in the mirror, she cataloged the evidence of her ordeal. She was too thin. That was something she could work on now that she was settled. Her once shoulder-length waves now barely reached her chin. But that was a good change. Without all the heavy hair, she felt freer. And it was certainly an easier style to care for with an infant demanding her attention.

  After finger combing her straight, wispy bangs, and smoothing her lips with cherry-tinted gloss, she gathered up her daughter and the diaper bag and headed toward the big house. It occurred to her that on rainy or snowy days, this trek might be problematic with a baby in tow. She would cross that bridge later.

  The stroll was an easy one.

  Farrell hadn’t given her keys, but the door was unlocked. Presumably, he lived too far in the boonies to worry about anyone stealing his ideas here.

  She entered via a tidy mudroom filled with boots, coats and fishing gear and proceeded down the hall past a laundry room, a small guest room and then on to the kitchen. It wasn’t hard to find. She had only to follow her nose. The smells wafting down the hall were amazing. She realized suddenly that she was starving. She and Katie had stopped for a fast-food lunch en route, but that was hours ago.

  Farrell looked up when she entered. “Hey, there you are. I was about to come check on you two ladies.”

  “We’re here. We’re good. The naps helped.” Farrell’s broad, uncomplicated smile made Ivy’s heart kick in her chest. It had been so long since she had felt anything as pleasurable as sexual arousal, the momentary jolt of attraction shocked her.

  It was normal, she told herself, trying not to overreact. Farrell Stone was a gorgeous, appealing man. When he returned his gaze to the thick slices of bread he was smearing with butter, she studied him.

  She’d been right not to change clothes. He was still wearing jeans, too. His moss green pullover stretched to accommodate broad shoulders. His sleeves were rolled up. Tanned, long-fingered hands were large and capable, working smoothly.

  “It’s almost ready,” he said, popping the tray of bread in the oven. He paused and grimaced. “I ordered a high chair this afternoon. It will be here tomorrow. I apologize for not thinking of it sooner. In my defense, I’m seldom around babies.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You didn’t have to do that. High chairs are expensive. But I’ll pay you back out of my first check.”

  His cool stare chastised her silently. “No,” he said. “You won’t. Whatever items you and Dolly need while you’re here are simply the cost of doing business. Like a printer or a computer. It’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable. I’ve taken you away from civilization. The least I can do is make your stay here as pleasant as possible.”

  After that, there wasn’t much to say. Ivy entertained Dolly. She would have offered to help, but the table in the breakfast nook was already set.

  Soon, they were sitting down to steaming plates of angel-hair pasta smothered in meat sauce. The freshly grated Parmesan cheese was a nice touch. And the perfectly browned garlic bread.<
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  Ivy juggled Dolly on one knee and took a bite. “I’m impressed,” she said. “This is delicious.”

  “Don’t be.” He chuckled. “Mrs. Peterson made the sauce and left it in the fridge. All I did was heat it and throw some pasta in boiling water. Any doofus can do that.”

  “Mrs. Peterson?”

  “Quin’s housekeeper. She offered to stock my kitchen and the cabin when she heard I would be working here. In fact, if you ever have any questions, and I’m buried in work, she said for you to feel free to call her.”

  For a few minutes, they ate without speaking, but the silence made Ivy nervous. “Tell me about your brothers,” she said. “I think they’re younger than you... Am I remembering that right?”

  Farrell stood and topped off their wineglasses with a zinfandel that was smooth and deceptively mild. “Yes. We were stair-steps. Two years apart. You and I are the same age, of course. Then Zachary, then Quin.”

  “And Quin is the Olympian?”

  Farrell nodded. “He was a world-class skier until the accident that claimed our father’s life.”

  “I did know about the wreck. I subscribe to the Portland newspaper online—you know, just to keep up with my old friends. I saw the article and your father’s obituary.”

  “Quin was in the car also. His leg was crushed. He’s had multiple surgeries and rehab. He can walk normally now, but competitive skiing is not an option anymore.”

  “That’s awful. He must have been devastated.”

  “You could say that. We all have moments that change our lives. Fortunately for Quin, Katie came along and helped him pick up the pieces. My baby brother is a new man. A better man, really. Skiing consumed him. He’s more balanced now. More at peace with the world.”

  “And Zachary?”

  “Zachary plays the field. I doubt any woman will ever tame him.”

  Ivy wanted to ask about Farrell’s dead wife. She knew he was a widower...nothing more. But if she skated into personal territory with him, she would open herself up to questions about her own past. That was not an option, so she ate her spaghetti and kept her curiosity to herself.

  Even so, her new boss probed gently. “I know you moved away from Portland a long time ago. What took your family to South Carolina?”

  She breathed an inward sigh of relief. This, she could handle. “My dad was a lobster fisherman. But he had aunts and uncles down south. Through one of those connections, he got offered a job as a charter boat captain—taking tourists out for half-day and full-day fishing expeditions. Mom was ready to leave the cold winters, so we packed up and moved. I was twelve, and I wasn’t a fan of leaving my friends behind. But it turned out okay.”

  Ivy could tell he was poised for more questions, so she changed the subject awkwardly. “Will you be coming to the house for your meals, or shall I bring them out to you at the lab? I don’t mind. I know you said you can be single-minded when you’re working.”

  He shook his head. “That’s far too much trouble. Why don’t we compromise? I have a mini fridge in my new office. If you’ll make me a sandwich for lunch every morning, I’ll take it with me. Then I’ll make a point of being back here for dinner at six thirty. Does that work for you?”

  Ivy debated rapidly. She normally put Dolly to bed at seven. But she could always nap her a little later and keep her awake until eight. That should be enough time to get the kitchen cleaned up. Especially if she tidied things as she went along. Farrell Stone was being very generous and amenable. She would do her best to fit his schedule and not the other way around.

  “Of course,” she said. “And please let me know if I prepare foods that are not your favorites. I want you to be satisfied.”

  He blinked and stood up suddenly.

  When she realized how her words had sounded, she was mortified. Though her face must have been bright red, she pretended nothing was wrong for the fifteen minutes it took Farrell to get a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and dish up dessert.

  By the time he sat down again, the moment had passed. She hoped.

  She ate her ice cream quickly. “Thank you for dinner. If you don’t mind, Dolly and I will have an early night. I’ll have your breakfast ready at eight tomorrow morning unless you text me otherwise.”

  Farrell stared at her, his expression impassive. “Relax, Ivy. This isn’t a factory job where you’ll be punching a clock.”

  “I know that. But you’re paying for a service.” Again, unwittingly, she had cast her comment with an ambiguous word choice. She pushed her chair back from the table, feeling jittery and unsure of herself. “Do you mind if we go on back to the cabin?”

  “Of course not. Rest well. I never lock the doors here at the house unless I’m gone. We’re perfectly safe. But I’ll give you a set of keys for the cabin just in case. It’s always hard to sleep in a strange place at first. Having everything secured before you go to bed will make you feel better, I’m sure.”

  He set the two empty ice-cream bowls in the sink and reached in a drawer. “Here,” he said. “These are yours.”

  Ivy took the keys, gripped them in her palm, felt the sharp press of metal and recognized that she had crossed an enormous hurdle. The past was the past. She wouldn’t let herself be defined by what had happened to her.

  Holding her small daughter, who was all she had left in the world, she smiled up at Farrell Stone, trying not to get emotional. At least not until she could fall apart in private.

  “Thank you,” she said huskily, her throat tight.

  He cocked his head, his emerald-and-amber gaze assessing her. Making assumptions. Trying to dissect her reticence. “You’re very welcome, Ivy.”

  She stood her ground a moment longer, to prove to herself that she could, and then she fled with a muttered goodbye.

  Down the hall. Out the door. Into the crisp chill of a New England autumn night. Dolly was sleepy by now. She burrowed into her mother’s shoulder, not even protesting the cool air after the warmth of Farrell’s kitchen.

  Ivy paused in the clearing and looked up at the sky. No moon. In fact, she’d had to pick her way carefully from the house to make sure she stayed on the path. The stars dotted the sky by the billions. Impossibly beautiful. Remote, though. Making Ivy feel small.

  She yearned for peace. For happiness. Her dreams were nothing out of the ordinary. Over her life, she had learned valuable lessons. About herself. About the world.

  At last, when her skin was chilled, she moved on into the trees and opened the cabin door, then locked it behind her. Though it was childish, perhaps, she checked every room and closet, making sure she and Dolly were alone.

  Some people thought the bogeyman was a fictional character. Ivy knew differently.

  It had been too long a day to worry about bathing Dolly. Instead, Ivy undressed her and put her in one-piece pajamas and an overnight diaper. Then she fixed a bottle and walked through to the bedroom that would serve as a nursery.

  The baby-bed sheet was covered in a tiny circus-animal print. In the drawers she found more bedding and all sorts of infant paraphernalia, including a medium-sized, glossy purple shopping bag on its side. The raffia handles were tied with silver ribbon.

  Ivy bent and slid out the gift one-handed. Dolly was getting grumpy, but Ivy wanted to see what was in the fancy sack. Tied to the handle was a note—I don’t have any kids of my own yet, so please let me spoil precious Dolly. Your friend, Katie.

  “Oh, dear,” Ivy said aloud, even though Dolly wouldn’t understand the words. “What has she done?”

  When the contents of the lovely shopping bag were spread out on the bed, Ivy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. No one had hosted a baby shower for her. There had been no work friends to drop by with gifts and food when Dolly was born. The contrast between then and now was stark. Katie’s thoughtful generosity was overwhelming.

  Katie ha
d bought Dolly a dozen outfits, half in the size Dolly wore now and half that were the next larger size. The baby clothes were high-end and adorable. Though there were a few pink things, Katie had chosen teal and bright yellow and other vivid colors. Even a miniature designer cardigan that was completely impractical but too cute not to wear.

  Ivy took a deep breath. This largesse felt like charity. She hated it when people felt sorry for her. Yet Katie knew none of the specifics of Ivy’s life. She merely knew that Dolly was a baby who would grow out of clothes quickly and would need new outfits to wear.

  Not only that, but Katie was married to one of the wildly wealthy Stone brothers. This purchase would have been no more than a blip on Katie’s platinum credit card.

  Before Ivy could overthink it, she picked up her cell phone and pecked out a note, still with one hand. I found the clothes! You are too kind. Dolly and I thank you so much...

  By this time, Dolly was no longer willing to wait for her meal any longer. Ivy settled into the rocker. One of Ivy’s favorite moments at the end of the day was watching Dolly’s beautiful eyelashes settle on her plump, downy cheeks.

  The pediatrician recommended putting the baby to bed awake and letting her soothe herself to sleep. But Ivy couldn’t give up these precious minutes.

  When she climbed into bed later and turned out the lights, the room filled with unfamiliar shadows. The house settled for the night with creaks and muted pops.

  Nothing sinister. Only new surroundings.

  As she drifted between waking and sleeping, one image filled her imagination. Farrell Stone. A man she had known literally since childhood. But those words were deceptive. Who knew what kind of human he had become in the intervening years? She remembered a quiet boy. A good student.

  Already, those hazy memories were being replaced with new data. Her boss was a full-grown man. Large. Strong. Impressive.