“I figured you needed one room in the house where you could relax. Though I eventually intend to tackle this from the bottom up, too.”
Dillon was barely able to stifle a groan. He could only imagine what havoc she’d wreak in here when she got ready.
Briefly her white teeth scraped across her lower lip. “But in the meantime, it’ll stay as is, your haven against the ongoing remodeling in the rest of the house. Is the furniture how you wanted it?”
“Exactly how I wanted it,” Dillon said, marveling once again at her ability to read his mind. But it wouldn’t do to get too cozy with her. He was helping her back on her feet. Doing what he owed Hank, and that was all.
* * *
THREE AFTERNOONS LATER the doorbell rang. Thinking it another delivery man with a slew of boxes for Dillon from Riyadh or some other far-off place, Hayley put down her chisel and hammer and headed for the front door.
“Welcome to the neighborhood!” Two women in tennis outfits held out Tupperware containers.
“We would have dropped by sooner, but we wanted to give you a couple of weeks to get settled. I’m Carol,” a pleasant-looking woman with short brown hair began, warmly shaking Hayley’s hand. “I brought chocolate brownies. And this is Nellie. She brought you her special honey and oatmeal bread.”
“Thank you,” Hayley said, surprised and pleased. She wanted to get to know the other people in the neighborhood. Maybe when she did, there would be other children for Christine to play with. A mother’s club for her to join, a play group for Christine… “This is awfully nice of you.” Although she wanted to invite the women in, she paused uncertainly, not sure how Dillon would feel about her entertaining neighborhood guests.
“Everything is all right over here, isn’t it?” Nellie asked. “I couldn’t help but notice your husband didn’t take the train in this morning with everyone else.”
Hayley wasn’t sure whether she was piqued or amused by Nellie’s nosiness. She just knew her situation was unusual. Would they shun her and Christine if they realized she was really hired help? Or would they continue to treat her in the same warm, welcoming manner?
“Everything’s fine,” Hayley said, forcing herself to put her worries aside and smile politely. “Dillon’s just catching up on his sleep. He had to work most of last night, monitoring a breaking story.”
“Dillon, he would be your husband?” Nellie asked.
“Uh, boss, actually,” Hayley corrected. “I’m his housekeeper.”
“Oh,” Carol said, looking stunned; then she smiled. “That’s wonderful.”
Hayley smiled back, blessing Carol for her open-mindedness.
“And Mrs. Gallagher?” Nellie asked point blank, her smile seeming more nosy than sincere. “Is she here today?”
Hayley took a deep breath. Maybe she was a fool, but until now she hadn’t considered how the other people in the neighborhood would react to her living here with Dillon, without a “Mrs.” on the premises. “There is no Mrs. Gallagher,” she retorted frankly. “Dillon’s not married. And neither am I.”
“I see,” Nellie said heavily.
Hayley doubted that, but she wasn’t in the habit of telling her life story to every stranger she met on the street, and she wasn’t about to start now. Carol, on the other hand, was someone she could see herself becoming quite good friends with. “Well, if you’ll excuse me,” she began politely, “I really do need to get back to work. I’ve got so much to do, getting this place into shape, that I can’t afford to waste my baby’s nap time.”
“We understand,” Carol put in before Nellie could speak. “But before you go, there is one more thing. We’d like to invite you to a barbecue at my home, Saturday evening. It’s a get-together for all the neighbors. It’d be a good chance for you and Dillon to meet everyone. And of course children are welcome so you can bring your baby.”
Hayley wasn’t up on suburban etiquette, but she was fairly certain that most of the residents didn’t bring their hired help to parties. On the other hand she was going to be living here, too, for the next year. And so would Christine. She wanted to make friends with the people in the neighborhood. She hoped Dillon would, too, but even if he didn’t, that wasn’t going to stop her, no more than his distaste for suburbia would stop her from settling here in Connecticut permanently.
“I’ll tell Dillon about the invitation and ask him if he’d like to come,” she promised. “I’ll definitely be there.”
* * *
“I THOUGHT I HEARD the doorbell,” Dillon said several hours later. He strode into the kitchen and paused to probe her eyes.
In a khaki shirt worn open at the throat, faded jeans that fit his lower body like a glove and hiking boots that had definitely seen better days, he looked casual and at ease. His dark brown hair was agreeably tousled, his jaw clean shaven and scented with after-shave. His dark blue eyes were alive with interest.
“You certainly did,” Hayley finally confirmed. She couldn’t believe how good Dillon looked. And on so little sleep…
“What the—” For the first time, Dillon noticed what Hayley had been dealing with for several hours. He stared at the confections, casseroles, salads and breads that lined the kitchen counters and covered the breakfast nook table. “Where did all this come from?” he asked, amazed.
Hayley straightened and shut the refrigerator door. She leaned back against it. “Would you believe almost half of our, uh, neighbors stopped by to say hello?”
Dillon quirked a dark, disbelieving brow. “All at once?”
Hayley tossed him a wry smile. “It seems they noticed you didn’t take the train in to New York this morning. It also seems that they’re drowning in curiosity about us.”
Dillon pulled up a kitchen chair, turned it around backward and slid into it, folding his arms over the back. His eyes glimmered with suppressed amusement. “What’d you tell them?”
“Not nearly as much as they’d like.” Hayley grinned back impudently.
“Bet they’re frustrated as hell,” Dillon predicted.
“And running out of Tupperware containers,” Hayley said, trying hard not to notice how rock hard his thighs looked beneath the soft, much-washed fabric of his jeans as he straddled the chair. She forced her gaze back to the rugged contours of his face. “There’s more. One of the women, Carol, and her husband, Hal, are throwing a barbecue Saturday night. They’ve invited all three of us. I’ve already promised to attend with Christine. You’re welcome to go over with us. But if you’d rather go alone,” she went on hurriedly, “you know, arrive separately, I understand.”
Dillon almost choked. “Are you kidding? I’d sooner have my teeth drilled than attend some suburban get-to-know-you bash.”
Hayley had half suspected he might react that way.
“Never mind about going it alone,” Dillon muttered. “No, if we’re going, and we probably should for the sake of neighborhood harmony, we’re going together.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, thinking maybe it would seem too much like a