into a conversation about her personal life. She decided to take immediate control of the situation. âWhy donât you just lie down and rest and Iâll have a good breakfast for you in a little while.â
He nodded, eased himself into a prone position, then pointed to the doorway behind her. âThe kitchen is that way.â
Marissa stifled a groan of dismay as she entered the kitchen. Although it was a large, homey room, at the moment it was a little too homey. The sink was filled with dirty dishes and the counters were cluttered with the leftovers of several meals.
The man was a pig, Marissa thought. This mess wasnât the result of a man with a broken leg and fingers trying to feed himself. This mess hadnât made itself in the past twenty-four hours. It had taken at least three to four days to achieve this maximum sloppy condition.
She placed Nathaniel on the floor and gave himseveral of his favorite toys that sheâd brought along. With him happily entertained, she got to work.
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Jack had just spent the most miserable night of his life. Heâd never been good at illness. Edmund had once told him he was the most miserable patient on the face of the earth.
Jack couldnât help it. He hated feeling weak, helpless. He closed his eyes, the sound of activity coming from the kitchen oddly comforting.
His first inclination when Marissa had arrived had been to send her packing. He knew it was guilt that drove her to come here. She should feel guilty.
Hell, that kid of hers had intentionally tripped him up. Jack didnât particularly want to assuage her guilt, nor did he want anything whatsoever to do with her and her child.
But that first impulse to send her packing had changed the moment sheâd mentioned breakfast. He hadnât eaten at all when heâd returned home yesterday and this morning he was starving.
No husband, sheâd said. So where was the kidâs father? Not that he cared. Not that he really wanted to know. He eyed the kitchen doorway. Maybe he should go in there and sort of supervise.
Decision made, he pulled himself up from the sofa and with his crutches hobbled into the kitchen where Marissa was cleaning off a stack of dirty dishes and the kid was sitting on the floor, probably thinking about his next victim.
Marissa turned at the sound of his approach. She flashed him a quick smile. âAfraid Iâm after the Coffey silver?â
âHardly,â he replied as he sank into one of the chairs at the table. âIf youâre looking for silver or china, youâve come to the wrong place. I figured Iâd better sit in here and watch to make sure Dennis the Menace doesnât set the room on fire while you arenât looking.â
He frowned as the kid banged the bottom of an empty pot with a wooden spoon. He hit it several times, then smiled up at Jack, as if awaiting a compliment on his rhythmic skills.
Jack averted his gaze, and within seconds the kid lost interest in the pot and instead played with a set of plastic measuring spoons. Jack focused on the woman busily cleaning up the mess heâd assumed Maria would be cleaning today.
âYou donât have to clean up the whole place just to make breakfast,â he said.
She turned and smiled once again. âI donât mind. I donât work well in chaos. Besides, I feel partially responsible for you firing your housekeeper this morning.â
âWhy do you feel responsible?â
Leaning against the counter, she shrugged. âYou probably wouldnât have fired her if you hadnât been particularly cranky this morning from your injuries.â
He stared at her, surprised at her audacity inclaiming he was cranky. âThatâs ridiculous,â he scoffed. âIâm not more cranky this morning than I ever am. Besides, this is the sixth time Iâve fired Maria in the last three years. She irritates me on a regular basis. Most people irritate