Love Overboard - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,30
is shot. The bowl is cracked beyond repair, and someone’s broken the float.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You know about toilets?”
Ivan tried not to smile. “I know enough. I also know that you’re going to have a hard time making ends meet until next summer’s tourists flood back to Camden. I’d be willing to pay a nominal amount for a room, and I’d be willing to serve as handyman for the winter.”
She needed the money, and she needed a handyman. Did she need Ivan Rasmussen, that was the real question. She needed him like a hole in the head, she decided. Ivan Rasmussen, running hot and cold, underfoot day and night. She might be able to keep her virginity, but she could kiss her sanity good-bye.
“I tell you what. I can sweeten the offer,” Ivan said. “You don’t have any furniture in this house, and my furniture is sitting unused in storage. If you let me live here, I’ll let you use my furniture, free of charge, for an entire year.”
Stephanie silently groaned. Ivan had wonderful furniture. Priceless antiques, many of which predated Haben. Mantel clocks, a grandfather clock, pineapple mahogany four-posters, Oriental rugs she would die for, original paintings of all the sea captains and sea captains’ wives. The list was endless. “Why do you want to rent a room here? I’d think you’d be anxious to get a place of your own.”
“I feel comfortable here, and I’m not sure what I want to do about a more permanent home for myself.”
It was true. His house had been put up for sale so quickly he hadn’t had time to consider other arrangements for himself. He’d simply put everything into storage and moved onto the Savage. Now that the hectic sailing season was over, he had time to reflect on his actions. It was no wonder Tess was in an uproar, he thought, looking around. Haben had been built to be a Rasmussen house, and she must feel just as displaced as he. He smiled inwardly at the human qualities he’d just given his ancestral ghost. As a kid he’d talked to her all the time. She’d never shown herself to him, but that was to be expected since only women ever saw Tess, and it had never stopped him from carrying on his one-sided conversations.
Stephanie saw his gaze shift to the hall and the window that looked out over the sea and knew she was a goner. For the sake of her wounded pride she told herself it was the grandfather clock that clinched it, but deep down inside she knew the clock was just an excuse. She felt a strong attraction and genuine affection for Ivan. He was hatefully irresistible. He was a teasing scoundrel, and this could prove to be the longest winter of her life. She caught herself gritting her teeth and made a conscious effort to relax.
“Okay,” she said, swallowing down a sigh of defeat. “The deal is that I get the use of your furniture for one full year, and you move out June 1. Lucy’s doing the cooking, Melody’s doing the cleaning, and you’re Mr. Fix-it. Now that I have furniture I’ll be able to advertise for guests. I don’t expect there’ll be many, but every little bit helps.”
Ivan grinned and checked out his new landlady: tousled brown hair; no makeup, although her cheeks were glowing; sweatshirt with sleeves pushed up to the elbows; and jeans with holes in the knees. She was beautiful, and he was crazy about her. He curled his hand around her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard on the lips.
“I’m used to sleeping in the master bedroom,” he said, “and you’re going to have to buy a new toilet.”
He twirled one of her brown curls around his finger, kissed her on the nose, then seriously on the mouth. Then he sauntered off, down the stairs.
“Oh, gross,” Melody said. “A pork chop. Have you ever seen one of these pigs? They’re big. I mean big. And they feed them chemicals that cause cancer, then they feed them hormones and steroids and antibiotics so that if you eat enough of these chops you get sick and nothing can cure you because you have an immunity. And they make them live in filthy little pens with a thousand other pigs, and they pack them into a truck and drive them across the country, so that by the time they get to the packinghouse all their legs are broken. Then