Eclipse of the Heart - By Carly Carson Page 0,50

bed. Ouch. He'd reached places she didn't know she had. Allowing herself one wince, she made her way into the bathroom. A new tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush still in the packaging sat on the marble counter. He was polite, if not loving.

A note was taped to the bathroom mirror.

Had an early breakfast meeting. See you at the office.

Terse, to the point. Just what she might have expected, although not what she might have hoped for.

Suppressing a sigh, Amanda returned to the bedroom. She didn’t feel comfortable making use of his shower so she got dressed. It wasn’t until she was leaving that she heard sounds from the kitchen—a clink of dishes, water running. She hesitated, but finally decided she’d better make herself known to whoever was in there.

Following the faint sounds she made her way down the hallway until she saw the bright lights of the kitchen. Drawing a deep breath for courage, she stepped through the doorway. A white-haired woman was standing at the sink, humming softly to herself. Amanda cleared her throat awkwardly.

The woman jumped a mile and dropped the coffee mug she had been rinsing. Her half-stifled shriek was audible even over the sound of breaking crockery as she turned and gaped at Amanda.

"Mercy!" she exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart. "What a start you gave me."

"I’m sorry." Amanda felt a flush creeping over her cheekbones. It couldn’t be more obvious that she was a stranger here, nor that there was no polite explanation for why she would be here in the morning wearing last night’s clothes.

"I was just on my way out," she said, "but I heard you in here and didn’t want you to wonder who had gone out the front door." She gestured awkwardly with her hand. "I didn’t expect you to be so surprised to—to find a woman here in the morning."

"Well, that’s where you’re wrong." The woman wiped her hands on the dishtowel tucked into her apron. "I’ve never known him to keep a woman here overnight."

Before Amanda could digest that statement, the woman continued. "How tactless of me. I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Mrs. MacDonald, the housekeeper."

"Amanda Thompson." They shook hands. "I umm…work for him…" Her voice trailed off as she realized the hopelessness of any explanation. Mrs. MacDonald wouldn't be stupid because Logan didn't hire dummies. She knew exactly what Amanda was doing here, and nothing more needed to be said.

"Don’t you worry about anything, child," Mrs. MacDonald said comfortably. "Let me get you a cup of coffee." She bustled around and soon had a steaming mug set on the table. Amanda sipped gratefully while Mrs. MacDonald cleaned up the mess in the sink.

"The man could have dropped a hint in my ear," the housekeeper said cheerfully as she emptied the dustpan of broken china into the trash. "Sat there reading his Wall Street Journal, and never breathed a word."

"Probably forgot I was here." Amanda sipped at the fragrant coffee.

"Not him." Mrs. MacDonald laughed. "He doesn't miss a trick, that one."

"Have you known him a long time?" Amanda almost clapped a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't be prying.

But Mrs. MacDonald didn't seem to notice anything amiss. "All his life," she said with a big smile.

"You worked for his family?" Amanda said tentatively. She couldn't resist the opportunity to learn something more about him, but it seemed like family was a delicate subject for him.

Mrs. MacDonald's cheery face seemed to sag. "He’s a very private man," she said. "Sometimes he takes it too far, but it’s not a bad vice as far as vices go."

"Right." Amanda stood up. "I'd better get to work."

"Oh, no. You must eat some breakfast first." Mrs. MacDonald lifted her hands. "It would be my pleasure."

Amanda hesitated. She needed to leave, but the woman seemed—maybe anxious for company? Logan probably wasn't home much, and there didn't appear to be any other staff.

"I suppose I could eat a bagel, or something simple. I don't have much time." She didn't have any, if the truth were told. She still had to go home and change her clothes before she headed into the office.

"Excellent." Mrs. MacDonald beamed. "I'm glad you didn't ask for a pastry, because we don't stock that sort of thing."

She bustled over to a bread bin, took out a bagel and popped it into the toaster oven. "Butter, cream cheese?"

"Butter is fine."

Amanda cast about for a neutral subject of conversation. "How did you start the rooster collection?" She pointed toward the