The Road To Love: Love by Degree / The Rain Sparrow. Debbie Macomber
murmured with a thoughtful frown. “At least, I hope he won’t.”
Later that night as Ellen slipped between the crisply laundered sheets, she wondered about the man whose bed she occupied. Tucking the thick quilt around her shoulders, she fought back a wave of anxiety. Everything had worked out so perfectly that she should’ve expected something to go wrong. If anyone voiced objections to her being in Reed’s house, it would probably be his almost-fiancée. Ellen sighed apprehensively. She had to admit that if the positions were reversed, she wouldn’t want the man she loved sharing his house with another woman. Tomorrow she’d check around to see if she could find a new place to live.
* * *
ELLEN WAS SCRAMBLING EGGS the next morning when Reed appeared, coming down the narrow stairs that led from the third floor to the kitchen. He’d shaved, which emphasized the chiseled look of his jaw. His handsome face was weathered and everything about him spoke of health and vitality. Ellen paused, her fork suspended with raw egg dripping from the tines. She wouldn’t call Reed Morgan handsome so much as striking. He had an unmistakable masculine appeal. Apparently the duties of an aeronautical engineer were more physically demanding than she’d suspected. Strength showed in the wide muscular shoulders and lean, hard build. He looked even more formidable this morning.
“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerfully, as she continued to beat the eggs. “I hope you slept well.”
Reed poured coffee into the same mug he’d used the day before. A creature of habit, Ellen mused. “Morning,” he responded somewhat gruffly.
“Can I fix you some eggs?”
“Derek and I have already talked. You can all stay.”
“Is that a yes or a no to the eggs?”
“I’m trying to tell you that you don’t need to worry about impressing me with your cooking.”
With a grunt of impatience, Ellen set the bowl aside and leaned forward, slapping her open palms on the countertop. “I’m scrambling eggs here. Whether you want some or not is entirely up to you. Believe me, if I was concerned about impressing you, I wouldn’t do it with eggs.”
For the first time, Ellen saw a hint of amusement touch those brilliant green eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“Now that we’ve got that settled, would you like breakfast or not?”
“All right.”
His eyes boldly searched hers and for an instant Ellen found herself regretting that there was a Danielle. With an effort, she turned away and brought her concentration back to preparing breakfast.
“Do you do all the cooking?” Just the way he asked made it sound as though he was already criticizing their household arrangements. Ellen bit back a sarcastic reply and busied herself melting butter and putting bread in the toaster. She’d bide her time. If Derek was right, his brother would soon be away on another assignment.
“Most of it,” Ellen answered, pouring the eggs into the hot skillet.
“Who pays for the groceries?”
Ellen shrugged, hoping to give the appearance of nonchalance. “We all chip in.” She did the shopping and most of the cooking. In return, the boys did their share of the housework—now that she’d taught them how.
The bread popped up from the toaster and Ellen reached for the butter knife, doing her best to ignore the overpowering presence of Reed Morgan.
“What about the shopping?”
“I enjoy it,” she said simply, putting two more slices of bread in the toaster.
“I thought women all over America were fighting to get out of the kitchen.”
“When a replacement is found, I’ll be happy to step aside.” She wasn’t comfortable with the direction this conversation seemed to be taking. Reed was looking at her as though she was some kind of 1950s throwback.
Ellen liked to cook and as it turned out, the boys needed someone who knew her way around a kitchen, and she needed an inexpensive place to live. Everything had worked out perfectly....
She spooned the cooked eggs onto one plate and piled the toast on another, then carried it to the table, which gave her enough time to control her indignation. She was temporarily playing the role of surrogate mother to a bunch of college-age boys. All right, maybe that made her a little unusual these days, but she enjoyed living with Derek and the others. It helped her feel at home, and for now she needed that.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Reed stopped her on her way out of the kitchen.
“I’ll have something later. The only time I can count on the bathroom being free in the mornings is when the boys are having breakfast. That is, unless you were planning to use it?”
Reed’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “No.”
“What’s the matter? You’ve got that look on your face again.”
“What look?”
“The one where you pinch your lips together as if you aren’t pleased about something and you’re wondering just how much you should say.”
His tight expression relaxed into a slow, sensual grin. “Do you always read people this well?”
Ellen shook her head. “Not always. I just want to know what I’ve done this time.”
“Aren’t you concerned about living with three men?”
“No. Should I be?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, almost enjoying their conversation. The earlier antagonism had disappeared. She’d agree that her living arrangements were a bit unconventional, but they suited her. The situation was advantageous for her and the boys.
“Any one of them could fall in love with you.”
With difficulty, Ellen restrained her laughter. “That’s unlikely. They see me as their mother.”
The corners of his mouth formed deep grooves as he tried—and failed—to suppress a grin. Raising one brow, he did a thorough inspection of her curves.
Hot color flooded her pale cheeks. “All right—a sister. I’m too old for them.”
Monte sauntered into the kitchen, followed closely by Pat who muttered, “I thought I smelled breakfast.”
“I was just about to call you,” she told them and hurried from the room, wanting to avoid a head-on collision with Reed. And that was where this conversation was going.
Fifteen minutes later, Ellen returned to the kitchen. She was dressed in cords and an Irish cable-knit sweater; soft dark curls framed her small oval face. Ellen had no illusions about her looks. Men on the street weren’t going to stop and stare, but she knew she was reasonably attractive. With her short, dark hair and deep brown eyes, she considered herself average. Ordinary. Far too ordinary for a man like Reed Morgan. One look at Ellen, and Danielle would feel completely reassured. Angry at the self-pitying thought, she grabbed a pen and tore out a sheet of notebook paper.
Intent on making the shopping list, Ellen was halfway into the kitchen before she noticed Reed standing at the sink, wiping the frying pan dry. The table had been cleared and the dishes were stacked on the counter, ready for the dishwasher.
“Oh,” she said, a little startled. “I would’ve done that.”
“While I’m here, I’ll do my share.” He said it without looking at her, his eyes avoiding hers.
“But this is your home. I certainly don’t mind—”
“I wouldn’t be comfortable otherwise. Haven’t you got a class this morning?” He sounded anxious to be rid of her.
“Not until eleven.”
“What’s your major?” He’d turned around, leaning against