not recur. He was here to get healthy and strong in both body and mind. And that meant Mrs. Cole needed to remain the unobtrusive and efficient employee she had always been. Someone he knew he could rely on to always get the job done.
By the time he made his way to the kitchen, Mrs. Cole—who always seemed to have an eerie precognitive awareness of his movements—already had his brunch waiting in the solarium. She was nowhere to be seen but his boiled egg, toast, and coffee were all warm. Which meant she must have laid it out moments before. He allowed himself a final—he hoped—moment of speculation about her unexpected youth and attractiveness, before pushing the errant thought aside. Mrs. Cole and her peculiarities were not his business. As long as she maintained her efficiency and tact, he would set last night’s revelations aside.
He picked up the ironed newspaper and went straight to the business section, before thinking the better of it and putting the entire paper aside. He considered the egg for a few moments and, for the first time in more years than he cared to recall, he wanted something else for breakfast.
A creature of habit, Miles had a soft-boiled egg with whole wheat toast, coffee, and orange juice for breakfast every day since he was twenty. It was a perfectly adequate meal, and he did not see the point of having anything different. But today it held no appeal. He frowned down at his plate and looked up, wondering if Mrs. Cole’s ESP would kick in, and she’d pop out of the woodwork with something more appetizing in hand.
He waited.
Nothing.
He shook his head, amused by his nonsensical flash of whimsy, and picked up his spoon. He held it poised above the shell, before swearing and pushing himself away from the table. He rarely entered the kitchen but—for the second time in less than twelve hours—he found himself back in Mrs. Cole’s domain. The large, expensively equipped, homey room was scrupulously tidy and disappointingly empty.
“Mrs. Cole?” His voice was low and could barely be heard above the raging wind and lashing rain yet, despite that, she drifted into the kitchen by way of the pantry. Her hair was parted and pulled back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. As usual she wore no makeup, but today Miles could appreciate the flawless, smooth skin of her face, which gave her such an ageless quality.
She wore her usual uniform of a knee-length black circle skirt, combined with a black cardigan buttoned over a white blouse, with the sharp points of the prim lace collar folded over the top of the cardigan’s round neck. Thick, opaque black tights and sensible lace-up black brogues completed the horrendous ensemble.
Clothes fit for a nun.
But where before he had found it easy to ignore the disturbing, dark depths of those haunting eyes, the long, thick lashes, the lush fullness of her heart-shaped mouth, he was finding it difficult to dismiss that intriguing loveliness that morning. Despite the matronly outfit, her beauty was distinct and unmistakable. And he remained astounded that it had not truly registered with him before now. However, her obvious reserve was enough to keep anyone at bay.
And he was grateful for that.
His eyes drifted down to the wedding band on her left hand—he vaguely recalled Jim, his attorney, mentioning that she was divorced. Or was that widowed? He couldn’t recall, but for the first time Miles wondered what had happened to the ex/late Mr. Cole.
“Did you need something, Mr. Hollingsworth?” Her tone was as frigid as the winter storm pummeling the house, and he fought back the unusual urge to grin. She clearly didn’t like having her territory invaded.
“Yes. Pancakes.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I want pancakes. Not what you’ve given me.” Even to his own ears he sounded petulant but, goddamnit, if he never saw another boiled egg in his life it’d be too soon. He didn’t understand this sudden desire for change—maybe it had something to do with nearly dying. This was the kind of thing people usually experienced after a brush with death, wasn’t it?
She gaped for a few seconds before she could disguise her reaction.
“Of course, I’ll have that ready for you in a few minutes.” She started to turn away from him, but when he sat down on one of the bar stools beside the marble-topped central island, his action was enough to stop her in her tracks. She turned her head to pin