right there.” Rowan’s voice drifted to him from the kitchen, but he couldn’t see her over the countertops.
Then she stood from where she’d been bent over to remove her casserole from the oven. Unbidden, an image of those jeans stretched tautly over her nicely rounded ass entered his mind. With effort, he pushed it away.
Hands in oven mitts to protect her skin from the piping hot casserole dish, Rowan skirted the large island and entered the room where he waited. She placed the dish on a trivet and removed her mitts, setting them on the corner of the table. Never once looking in his direction, she took a seat. “Shall we?”
His best poker face firmly in place, Greyson also took a seat directly across from her at the long end of the table. Curiosity about her next actions had him firmly in thrall. He glanced behind her in the direction of the attic.
“Would you pass me your plate, please?”
He shifted his gaze to find her holding her hand out patiently. Without a word he meekly passed his plate over. She dished up a healthy portion of whatever she had decided to serve in place of her badly burned lasagna and passed it back.
“Where are the girls?” he asked.
“Hiding.” She spoke bluntly and to the point, but no censure or irritation laced her tone.
He cocked his head. “Oh?”
She gave a perfunctory smile, one that didn’t appear to reach her eyes, although it was hard to tell, as she had yet to look at him directly, a fact which, perversely, he didn’t like. “They’ll appear when they get hungry.”
“I see.” He placed his napkin in his lap and served himself salad before passing her the bowl. “I must say, I’m impressed.”
“Why?” Finally, she met his gaze. “Tuna surprise is hardly a gourmet meal.”
A chuckle threatened. He hadn’t even tasted the casserole yet. “I mean about the girls. Several of my nannies haven’t lasted the first night.” He shook his head, making his disdain for those other nannies clear. “How hard is it to cook a meal and keep track of three young witches?”
In response Rowan set down her fork and leaned back, observing him through now narrowed eyes. “I think I see.”
Damn. She’d figured him out.
But she didn’t say any more. He gave her top marks. None of the others had caught on. As if by mutual agreement, they both tucked into their meals. Strangely, the silence descended not with the heavy weight to produce small talk, but with an inexplicable ease. When was the last time he’d sat with a woman, without talking, and neither felt the need to fill the void with inane chatter?
Almost thirty minutes later, the girls finally put in an appearance. “We’re hungry.”
Rowan greeted them with a welcoming smile. “Have a seat. There’s not much left, and it’s probably cold, but you’re welcome to eat.”
Not much left? They’d had only one helping each. Greyson glanced at the serving dishes. Sure enough, only about a quarter of the food remained.
Had Rowan just spelled the food to reduce the amount remaining and teach the girls a lesson? If she had, she’d done so in front of him without his seeing or hearing. Not even a fizzle of energy in the room or a flicker of a lightbulb. Apparently, his nanny had untapped depths.
He eyed her speculatively. Tricky.
The girls exchanged a glance, then looked toward him. While he’d allowed their hiding act in the past, he’d never actively condoned it. He gave them no help, keeping his expression neutral.
“This smells good,” Atleigh, the peacemaker, tried.
Before Rowan could respond, Lachlyn spoke up. “Didn’t you notice we were gone?”
No change in Rowan’s pleasant expression. “Yes, I did.”
“And you didn’t look for us? Aren’t you supposed to be all caring and stuff?” Lachlyn scowled, but her bluster didn’t hide how truly upset she was.
Rowan paused in spooning a miniscule amount of casserole onto a plate for Atleigh. “If you mean fluttering around like a panicked bird caught in a windstorm searching for you, you’ll find that’s not my style.”
“But you knew where they were?” Greyson asked. He needed to be sure he left his daughters with someone capable. Even if her eyes were an extraordinary shade of gray, like moonlight in a forest, and her berry-ripe lips tempted a taste.
Get your mind off her lips, you ass.
She directed a polite gaze his way, but he caught the anger snapping in their depths all the same. “I assured myself they were safe and in