Jake didn’t pause in the bathroom that connected the walk-in closet to the bedroom as she expected, but continued out through the dining/living room and then into the kitchen. He set her on the island there, said a firm “Stay,” and walked out of the room.
Nicole stared after him wide-eyed. He was very commanding for a cook. He also smelled really good, and he was superstrong. She was not some skinny, model type chick. Nicole was full figured and always had been. Actually, she was more full figured now than she’d ever been. Apparently she didn’t take constant criticism well. She’d gained weight during her marriage, which had just led to more criticism. Nicole hadn’t yet taken the trouble to lose that weight. She had too many other things to worry about first, or so she’d been thinking. Now she was thinking she really should start a diet . . . and the gorgeous, yummy-smelling man who had just left her kitchen had nothing to do with that decision, Nicole assured herself firmly.
She almost believed that . . . right up until Gorgeous Jake walked back into the kitchen and she found herself sitting up straight and sucking in her stomach.
“Alcohol, tweezers, a needle, antiseptic, and a bandage,” Jake rattled off as he set down the items he’d collected, obviously from her bathroom. “I think that’s everything we’ll need.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” Nicole’s words ended on a gasp as he suddenly squatted in front of her and grabbed her foot to take a look. Any further protest was prevented by her need to bite her lip to keep from squawking as he began to poke at her foot.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, pressing gently.
“No,” Nicole said, but even she didn’t think it sounded believable. Her voice was about three octaves higher than normal.
Jake gave her a reproving look. “You have to tell me if it hurts, it’s how I’ll know where the glass is. You have several pieces in your foot that I can see, and a couple I don’t think I’m seeing. So, stoic, no, and honesty, yes, okay?”
Nicole nodded silently, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He went back to work then, starting with the glass he could see, she supposed, since he didn’t ask her if it hurt anymore. However, it did hurt when he dug out the bits of glass and Nicole was clenching her hands and trying not to cry out when he began to ask questions, distracting her.
“Marguerite says you’re an artist?”
“Yes. I paint portraits,” she answered, looking away in the hopes that not watching would make it less painful.
“You’re good,” he complimented, and the words made her smile crookedly.
“How would you know? You haven’t seen my work,” she said with amusement.
“I did,” he countered. “When we found the front door unlocked and got no answer when we called out, Marguerite and I searched the house starting on the ground floor . . . including your studio.”
“Oh,” Nicole murmured, but she was frowning. “The front door was locked. I locked it myself behind Marguerite when she left.”
Jake raised his head and peered at her, then glanced to the door. Nicole followed his gaze to see Marguerite in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, the phone in her hand at her side. Apparently she’d finished talking to Pierina. Now she was exchanging a solemn look with Jake.
“It was unlocked when we got here,” Marguerite said quietly, as if verifying that he hadn’t remembered wrong.
“Well, that’s just—” Nicole shook her head. “I know I locked it.”
“Marguerite, if you’ll finish here, I’ll check the house again,” Jake said quietly, straightening.
Nicole frowned. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
“You locked it, and it was unlocked when we got here,” he pointed out simply. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Yes, but no one has keys but me. Well, and Marguerite,” she said, and then frowned and added reluctantly, “Maybe I just thought I locked it. Or maybe I accidentally unlocked it when I went to take the key out.”
“Rodolfo doesn’t still have a key, does he?” Marguerite asked with concern.
“No. He gave it back when I bought him out of the house,” Nicole assured her.
“Did you have the locks changed after you bought your husband out of the house?” Jake asked.
Her eyes widened. Nicole was surprised he even knew there was a husband, soon to be ex-husband. Apparently, Marguerite had told him about her life . . . which was more than she’d done for Nicole. She didn’t know a thing about her new cook/housekeeper. “No, I didn’t have the locks changed. There was no need. Rodolfo gave me his key.”
Marguerite and Jake exchanged another glance and then Marguerite moved forward and took the tweezers from Jake as he straightened.
“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and slipped from the room.
“There’s really no need to search the house,” Nicole said wearily as Marguerite moved one of the kitchen chairs over to sit in front of her and began to work on removing the glass from her foot. “I probably messed up about locking the door. Besides, Jake just said you guys searched when you got here.”