Playboy Bachelors: Remodelling the Bachelor

That had been the simplest part. “I borrowed a friend’s truck. He’s got a hydraulic lift.”

It made sense, he supposed. It still bothered him a little that she was so much more adept at this kind of thing than he was. “Answer for everything, eh?”

The wide smile on her lips took him aback for a minute, as did the churning sensation in his stomach that came in response. “Including your lunch.”

“Come again?”

“I made you something.” Thinking he’d remain in his office the way he had the other three days, she’d planned on surprising him and having the meal ready on the dining room table by noon. The best laid plans of mice and men…

He stared at her incredulously. “You cook for your clients?”

This was a first, but then, Kelli had taken such a shine to him and she did feel as if she were invading his space just a little.

But in response to his question, Janice shrugged. “I made lasagna last night. I always make too much so I thought I’d bring some over.” She tossed him a smile over her shoulder as she walked out to her truck.

“But I don’t have a stove,” he reminded her.

“There’s a microwave buried on the sofa somewhere. Besides, it’s good cold,” she promised, leaving the room.

He was still staring at the jumbled mess on his sofa, trying to make out the shape of the microwave, when J.D. returned a few minutes later, carrying what appeared to be a large, rectangular blue and white chest made of hard plastic. It look unwieldy and he moved to take it from her.

When he did, he discovered that it was more than unwieldy, it was heavy. “You’re a lot stronger than you look,” he told her, bringing the chest over to the dining room table.

“I have to be,” she quipped.

Setting the box down on the table, he saw her raise one eyebrow in a silent question. “I’ve decided to have it cold.”

“Translation.” She laughed. “You can’t locate the microwave.”

“Beside the point,” he declared nonchalantly. He had, however, located two plates and he had one at each place setting now. “Join me?”

She was surprised he asked. “I thought I was being dismissed.”

He supposed he had sounded rather abrupt. But he hated being stumped and the program was driving him crazy. “Is that how it sounded?”

Taking her seat at his right, she noticed that Philippe hadn’t actually apologized. “You have a very authoritative voice.”

He laughed, taking a seat himself. “Comes from telling my brothers what to do.”

“You were a fledgling bully?” she asked. Because the lasagna was hers, she did the honors, cutting portions.

“I was the father figure. Or, I should say,” he amended, “the stable father figure since there were an abundance of other father figures milling around most of the time.” He stopped abruptly as his words echoed back to him. This wasn’t like him. “Why am I always spilling my guts to you?”

Her smile was encouraging, understanding. “I have the kind of face people talk to. I’m more or less invisible,” she explained. “They don’t feel that they’ll see me again once the job is over, but for the duration, they have invited me into their home and since I’m there, they come to regard me as someone they can talk to.” She grinned, sinking her fork into the piece she’d taken. “I’m like the family pet without the emotional investment.”

That definitely was not the way he saw her. “We never had a pet.”

“Not even goldfish?”

He shook his head. “For a while, Mother traveled around too much for us to have pets. And then when she finally bought the house and we stayed behind while she went on her tours, she made it clear she didn’t want anything with fur, feathers or fins finding its way to our mailing address.” Because he felt that he’d said too much again, he changed the subject. He nodded at his plate. “This is good.”

“Thank you.” His compliment pleased her more than she thought it might. Careful, J.D., you’ve slid down this path before and all you got for your trouble is skinned knees. “I wouldn’t have brought it if it was bad.”

The reply tickled him. “So, what other talents do you have?”

She didn’t have to stop to think. “That pretty much covers it.”

In his estimation, that was more than enough. She cooked like a house afire and could build a replacement if the need arose. “You ever think about starting your own restaurant?”

Not even for a moment. “Ninety-five percent of all restaurants fail in their first year. I need a sure thing and working with these—” she held up her hands “—is a sure thing.”

He could understand her reasoning, not that the world of contractors was all that stable. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“It was necessity.” She paused to take a bite herself. “After my mother left, it was either learn to cook or eat ready-made things out of a box.”

He curbed the desire to ask her about her mother. If she wanted him to know more, she’d tell him. As for preparing things out of a box, she’d just described the way he lived. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Have you read what they put inside that stuff?”

He shrugged, then swallowed what was in his mouth before answering, “Food.”

“Food whose ingredients are guaranteed to give you high blood pressure and shut down your kidneys by the time you reach middle age.” Turning, she reached into the blue and white box and took out a small round bowl. “I brought you fruit for dessert.” She took off the cover. “Blueberries. They’re rich in antioxidants.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he looked at the offering. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re pushy?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she allowed.

He was willing to bet it was more than that.

Philippe glanced down at his plate. Somehow, he’d managed to eat the entire portion without realizing it. The blueberries, however, held no interest for him. He moved back from the table.

“Thanks, that was really good. But you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” She gathered up the dirty dishes, putting them back into the chest.

Philippe started to offer to do them for her and then realized that he couldn’t. She’d ripped out his sink that morning. With the chest between her hands, she began to make her way to the front door. He noticed that she was leaving her tools behind.

“Don’t you need to take anything else with you?”

She glanced back at the toolbox. “Why? You’re my only client.”

He took the chest from her, indicating that he was going to follow her out with it. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Why?”

“Well, it means that business is bad, right?”

She shook her head. “No, it means that I only do one client at a time.” She unlocked the door and took the chest from him, placing it behind the front seat of her truck. “I was serious about that. This way, it’ll get done faster.”