Conway!” She shot to her feet, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. The last thing she’d expected was for him to come barging into her kitchen. “Uh…do you need something?”
“Yeah. Some company.”
Only then did she notice that he carried a plate loaded with scrambled eggs, sausage and biscuits in one hand and in the other a cup of coffee and utensils. Before she could react, he placed everything on the kitchen table and pulled out a chair.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Joining you for breakfast. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked with an ingenious smile.
“Uh, actually guests eat in the dining room.”
“Ah, but I like this better,” he said, casting an admiring glance around. “Not that your dining room isn’t nice, mind you. It is. This is just more cozy. But we can eat in the dining room, if that’s what you prefer.”
“We? Oh, no. You don’t understand. I meant just you. The dining room is for guests.”
“Ah, c’mon, Kate, it’s just plain silly for me to have my meals alone at that banquet table like some aristocrat, while you eat alone in here.”
His chiding tone brought her chin up. “I’m sorry that you don’t agree with my policy, but—”
“Oh, I’ll admit it’s probably a good policy when it comes to overnighters. I can see where you might not want to get too chummy with people who are just passing through, but in this case it’s just not practical. Kate, we’re going to be sharing this house for the next six months. It’ll be a lot more comfortable for both of us if we don’t stand on ceremony.”
Maybe for him, but she wasn’t at all sure she could ever feel comfortable around him. Just having him in her kitchen had her nerves jumping.
J.T. flashed a grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you really are priceless. Surely you didn’t think that for six months we would just exchange polite hellos when we passed on the stairs now and then?”
That was exactly what she’d thought, and she could see by his amused expression that he had read as much in her eyes.
“Kate. Kate. And I suppose in the evenings you expect me to use the formal parlor while you sit across the hall in the family parlor.” He shook his head. “No way, sweetheart. Trust me. It just ain’t gonna happen.”
His eyes twinkled as he leaned closer and touched her cheek. Kate started, but he merely smiled. His forefinger trailed over her skin, leaving a prickly line of fire in its wake, but all she could do was stare at him.
His voice dropped to a coaxing murmur. “So why don’t you just forget about your rules and relax, hmm? Don’t think of me as a guest. Think of me as a roommate. A pal. We’ll keep each other company over the winter and get to know each other. I promise you won’t be sorry. I’m a really likable guy. Cross my heart,” he vowed with comical sincerity, drawing an X on his chest with his other hand.
Kate had no doubt that he was. That was a big part of the problem. She considered herself a sensible woman, but she also knew that she was lonely, and therefore vulnerable. J.T. was the kind of man who could blithely traipse through her life and steal her heart without even trying. Probably without being aware of doing so.
It was a demoralizing thought, and she nearly groaned. Nevertheless it was true.
Other than his flirtatious manner, which Kate suspected was merely part of his personality, he had not given any indication that he was interested in more than friendship. Yet just beneath the surface, a strong current of awareness sizzled between them. Kate felt it whenever they were together, and she knew that J.T. did, as well.
On the surface his offer of companionship seemed innocent enough, even a positive thing, but she wondered how much exposure to J.T.’s charm and blatant sexiness she could survive and still remain heart-whole.
One thing was certain, she wasn’t interested in finding out the hard way.
As much as she yearned to love and be loved, to have someone who would always be there for her, no matter what, she had been burned too badly once before. She wasn’t ready yet to risk another serious romance, or even a casual love affair. Even if she were, she’d be a fool to consider J.T. as a candidate. Come spring, he would go on his merry way, and she’d be left with a broken heart. Again.
As solitary and lonely as her life was, it was preferable to that sort of pain.
However, keeping J.T. at a distance did not seem to be an option. It appeared that her only other defense was to become a casual friend and hope she could keep things light between them.
J.T.’s gaze dropped to his caressing finger as it touched the corner of her mouth and lingered there.
Kate’s breath caught. The tiny reaction did not escape him. His smile deepened, and for an instant she thought she saw something flare in his eyes. However, when his gaze lifted to hers once again they twinkled with good humor. “So what do you say? Deal?”
Tipping her head back, Kate broke contact with that tormenting finger and gave him an arch look. “Do I have a choice?”
“Not really,” he replied with such cheerful cockiness that she had to fight back a smile of her own. “And now that we have that settled, whadda ya say we eat? I’m starving.”
Grinning, he held her chair for her. Left with little choice, Kate reluctantly resumed her seat.
She kept her gaze on her plate and tried not to fidget. She wasn’t used to having someone in her kitchen, or to sharing mealtime with anyone.
For several minutes neither spoke as they applied themselves to the meal. Or at least, J.T. did. Kate was too tense to eat another bite. She merely moved the remains of her breakfast around on the plate and wondered how she had lost control of the situation so quickly.
J.T. was one of those men who thoroughly enjoyed dining and savored every bite. For all his slender build, he consumed an amazing amount of food. Like most women who enjoyed cooking, Kate liked to see a man with a hearty appetite, and despite her skittering nerves, when he complimented her on the meal, she experienced a rush of pleasure.
“Thank you,” she replied stiffly. “My mother taught me. She was an excellent cook.”
Pausing to take a sip of coffee, J.T. looked around. “This really is a magnificent home.” He leaned back, sipping his coffee and took another, longer look, taking in the brick floors and massive beams that spanned the ceiling, the tall walnut cabinets and copper pots hanging above granite-topped counters and, finally, the cheery fire dancing in the kitchen fireplace. “How long have you owned it?”
“Actually, my brother and I own the house jointly. We inherited it four years ago when our mother passed away.”
“Really? Excuse me for saying so, but I didn’t realize mining engineers made that kind of money. A place like this had to have cost a fortune.”
“When my family came here twenty-three years ago, the house had been sitting vacant for over thirty years. They bought it for a song.”
“You’re kidding. A gorgeous place like this?”
“Yes, well, the real estate market in Gold Fever has never been great. None of the Smithson heirs wanted it, no local could afford the place, and until my parents came along, no outsiders were interested in putting money into a hundred-plus-year-old mansion in a tiny mountain town miles from nowhere.”
“After being vacant so long, it must have needed a lot of work.”
“Yes, but mostly cosmetic. Structurally the house was sound. It was built out of granite during a time when craftsmanship and quality were the norm.
“My parents did most of the work themselves. It took them almost thirteen years to complete the job.” She smiled fondly, remembering. “I’ve lived here since I was six years old, and the whole time I was