Last Tailored Suit Page 4

  * * *

  Jenna had been watching the couple on and off while she was working at the kitchen table. She felt a twinge of guilt for blasting the uncomplimentary email to Mr. Miller. But he had to be made aware. Not only was the employee talking to his perky blonde girlfriend, but he was on his phone too. When was he ever going to get the grounds ready? And planting hedges in the middle of the yard . . . absurd!

  “I guess I could have been a little less critical,” Jenna muttered with a sigh, and she watched the couple again. They did make a cute couple, she grudgingly admitted.

  He wrapped his arm around the woman and led her to the house. Jenna noticed Mya looked pale and leaned heavily on his arm. Something must be wrong.

  Jenna scooted back from the table and met the couple at the back door.

  “Is she okay?” Jenna asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” Greyson replied, moving past her to lead Mya into the kitchen.

  Jenna followed behind, feeling like a tag along, but her laptop was in the kitchen, and she wanted to make sure Mya was okay. She had seemed fine when they met earlier.

  Greyson deposited Mya at the breakfast bar. She moaned and slumped over. He chuckled softly and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll have you better in no time,” Greyson said, moving to the stove to start the tea kettle.

  “How will tea help?” Jenna questioned, her eyes assessing Mya.

  “It helps settle the stomach,” Greyson replied.

  “Oh,” Jenna said. “Can I do anything to help?”

  His gray eyes settled heavily on Jenna. There was something unnerving about him when he looked at her that way.

  “No. She’ll be fine.”

  Jenna was about to argue when Mya gave a helpless wave of her hand. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m pregnant and have a bit of morning sickness.”

  Jenna’s eyes shot between the couple before she retreated to the table and picked up her laptop. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, hurrying to escape. She didn’t know why she wanted to leave so quickly. It wasn’t as if she had never met a pregnant woman before. But Jenna felt as though she’d stepped in on a private moment.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Mya said. “I’m sick all the time. It’s nothing new.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “You’ve been green around the gills for weeks now.”

  Mya gave a weak smile. “At least you’re handling this better than David. He turns as green as I do. He tries though, and I’m glad he’s home again. I’m glad I have you too,” she said, looking at Greyson.

  Jenna glanced between the two. She couldn’t help but ask, “Who is David?”

  “My husband,” Mya answered.

  Greyson’s jaw instantly clenched at Jenna’s astonished reaction.

  The kettle whistled.

  “I believe you were leaving,” Greyson stated roughly, turning his back to grab the kettle and pour boiling water into a mug. By the time he retrieved the peppermint tea from the cupboard, Jenna was gone.

  “You shouldn’t have snapped at her,” Mya said, reaching for the mug.

  Greyson slid it over to her. “She assumed you were cheating on your husband with me.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “We know it’s ridiculous, but I could see it in her eyes.”

  “You do have a knack for reading people,” she said thoughtfully.

  “It’s not hard to read a person who has wide eyes and is gaping like a flounder.”

  “Well, you still shouldn’t snap. If you had told her the truth about who you were, she probably wouldn’t have assumed that.”

  “She’s here to work, not to assume.”

  Mya blew the steam from her tea and settled laughing eyes on him. “You sound positively surly.”

  “If I am, it’s her fault.”

  “I’m almost afraid to go home. You two might come to blows.”

  “Then you have a low opinion of me if you ever think I would hit a woman. And you think too highly of her to believe she would actually stand up to the Mr. Miller,” Greyson snipped.

  “You haven’t told her that you’re the Mr. Miller,” Mya teased, ignoring Greyson’s darkening mood.

  “And I won’t.”

  “I have a feeling David won’t be the only one burning off steam on guy’s night,” Mya said. “All three of you are wound up.”

  “Three of us?”

  “Remy too.”

  “He’s always on the tense side.”

  “I know. But he’s been even more moody. He barked at Mark the other day because he said Remy looked like he could use a green power smoothie.”

  Greyson grimaced. “That’s because Mark’s green power smoothies are disgusting. I would’ve yelled too.”

  Mya shook her head. “No, this is different. You should talk to him.”

  Greyson nearly laughed. “Talk? Guys don’t talk . . . especially if that guy is Remy.”

  “I guess you’re right. But I wish I knew what was bothering him.” Mya took a sip of tea and sighed, mindlessly rubbing her belly.

  Greyson’s gaze softened. “Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or girl?”

  “I’m not sure. I like the idea of a surprise, but I also want to plan. Although, for the nursery, it won’t matter what the baby’s sex is. Frankie and Mark have designed it so that it will work no matter what. Mark is sewing quilted animals. I have a feeling the room will be overflowing with animals by the time the baby arrives.”

  “As long as you leave a spot open for me. I’d like to buy my little niece something.”

  “Niece?” Mya asked.

  “I order you to have a girl,” Greyson stated, his strong words weakening as he smiled fondly. “I grew up with two of the most annoying and obnoxious brothers a kid could have. I’d like to spoil a niece.”

  Mya sipped her tea, attempting to hide a mischievous smile that instantly set him on guard.

  Chapter 5

  Greyson sat in his study with the door firmly closed, preparing to answer Jenna’s email. The last thing he needed was for her to walk in while he was writing an email on company time and end up getting scolded again.

  If he was reasonable and clearheaded, he would’ve set the record straight. But reasonable and clearheaded weren’t options when dealing with Ms. Newman. So, he did what he did best. If she wanted to hear from businessman Mr. Miller, then she would.

  Ms. Newman,

  I have read your concerns regarding the gardener. I suggest, as the manager, you take up your complaints directly with him and deal with the matter how you see fit. Finding out his name would be a good start.

  I’m still waiting for a list of possible business names. Please forward as soon as possible.

  Greyson Miller

  Greyson sat back and read the email before sending it. It said what it needed to. If she was going to complain about the “gardener,” then she’d have to be the one to come up with a solution. He was interested to see how this was going to play out. The next move was up to her. Until then, he had a maze to plant.

  * * *

  Jenna hadn’t been sure where to go after the incident in the kitchen. She wasn’t even sure if the couple was still there or if they had moved on. She just knew she had to get some distance from them. A replaying question formed in the back of her mind. Did the baby belong to the husband or to the cranky gardener? She was afraid that the answer was the gardener, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  On her quest to find a work spot, Jenna had spied a shade tree out in the distance. Since the couple was otherwise occupied, she took advantage of the shady nook and settled down to work.

  When Jenna read the email, a lump formed in her throat. He had picked up on the fact that she didn’t even know the gardener’s name. How embarrassing. Of course he would pick up on something so obvious. He also put the responsibility back on her shoulders.

  She frowned and leaned back against a tree trunk to think.

&n
bsp; Jenna still had no idea what to name the business. The mansion was so overwhelming that it was hard to think of it in only one or two words.

  She loved the mansion.

  Even though she’d been here for less than forty-eight hours, she felt as if she was home.

  If only she didn’t have to deal with the gardener or Mr. Miller, then everything would be perfect.

  Since she wasn’t sure about a business name, she decided to move on to creating a form. Unfortunately, a certain employee would have to be given a verbal warning, and a record of that warning was imperative. Hence, the form.

  Jenna had so many things she should be doing right now. The verbal warning was necessary yet a complete waste of her time. He should know better. He was a grown man, possibly with a baby on the way. It’d please Jenna to no end to fire him, but everyone deserved a warning before being let go. And, he was going to have a baby to take care of.

  Maybe.

  Most likely.

  After ten minutes, the form was complete and she was in the process of filling it out.

  Name?

  Damn.

  This was becoming embarrassing. How was she going to give the man a warning if she didn’t even know his name?

  Well, this was just for the record. The actual warning was only verbal and therefore he didn’t need a copy of the completed form. Unless he requested one. She didn’t think he would.

  Jenna typed in “Gardener” for the name and filled out the rest of the form, attempting to be constructive, not merely complaining. It was proving difficult.

  She looked up in time to see the man in question heading across the yard to the hedges. If he’d noticed her, he didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t think he did. From his expression, he was thinking of something. Most likely his pregnant, married girlfriend.

  He picked up his shovel and stabbed into the earth, digging holes large enough for the potted hedges. She leaned back against the tree and watched. There were a million and one things that she needed to do, but perhaps watching for a few minutes might prove useful. He was a closed man. Well, except when talking to the perky blonde, then he was full of smiles, and she had even heard him laugh. It was a warm, rich laugh that tickled the senses . . . not her senses, of course.

  Jenna sighed. This wasn’t helping at all. The only thing that she noticed about him was that he had strong arms and broad shoulders.

  A full fifteen minutes later, she shook herself out of a trance and decided to make an appointment with him to have their talk. She had many calls to make this afternoon, so maybe they could talk over dinner. It might lessen the blow a little if he was eating a delicious meal. Not that she cared if he took offense to the verbal warning. He was obviously one shoe over on the depraved side if he was having an affair.

  Still, he had nice arms and a nice laugh. And his eyes . . .

  And where the hell was Mr. Miller? She knew he was a busy man, but this had gone way beyond rude.

  Jenna closed the laptop and stood. She stretched and then squared her shoulders, crossing the distance to the hedges.

  When she was only a few feet away, she cleared her throat. The irritating man didn’t acknowledge her until he tossed the last bit of dirt around the hedge roots. He leaned against his shovel. “Can I help you?” he drawled.

  “I was wondering if we could have a chat over dinner? I’ll make something really good,” Jenna said with a smile.

  “What do you want to chat about?” he asked.

  Jenna watched him wipe the sweat off his brow with his forearm, leaving a streak of dirt. He must have realized his mistake since he muttered a curse. He pulled the bottom hem of his shirt to his forehead to wipe it clean, exposing his stomach and giving Jenna a front-row peek at his tight abs.

  She must be dehydrated, she concluded, wondering why her mouth was instantly parched. She ripped her eyes away from the gardener’s abs only to find him watching her with a laughing gleam in his eye.

  How was she not supposed to stare when he lifted his shirt with no warning? If she did that, he would stare too. She almost did it just to prove her point, but she realized that it wasn’t quite the same when a woman lifted her shirt.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “What?” Jenna asked. She couldn’t even remember why she was over here. The man was a complete distraction.

  “What are we going to chat about?” he repeated the question.

  “Oh,” Jenna said, squaring her shoulders again. “I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to discuss our working situation and what I expect from staff . . . you.”

  “Is this a two-way conversation? Do I get to tell you what I expect?” he asked, leaning against his shovel again.

  Jenna gave a nod. “This would be the perfect opportunity.”

  “I have a feeling you won’t like what I have to say,” he said with a secret smirk.

  “I have a feeling the case is mutual. Dinner will be ready at six. Please don’t be late. And don’t take a shower in Mr. Miller’s room,” she warned, heading to the house.

  Greyson watched Jenna’s marching form disappear into the house. He didn’t know whether to laugh or throw his shovel.

  One thing he did know: He was going to set the record straight tonight.

  * * *

  Jenna was putting the finishing touches on dinner when Greyson walked into the kitchen, covered head to toe in dirt.

  “You’re filthy!” Jenna scolded, shooing Greyson out of the kitchen. “Go take a shower. You only have five minutes before dinner is ready.”

  “You said I couldn’t take a shower,” Greyson said.

  “I said you couldn’t take a shower in Mr. Miller’s bathroom. There are a dozen other bathrooms you can use.”

  “But there is only one I want to use,” Greyson argued, watching with satisfaction when Jenna’s lips thinned. He didn’t know why he just didn’t tell her he had lost track of time and had wanted to warn her that he’d be a little late for dinner.

  Maybe he wanted to provoke her just like she provoked him.

  “That’s his bathroom, not yours.”

  “Is it really?” Greyson taunted, his head cocked to the side.

  “Yes. And I’m here to protect his property.”

  “No. You’re here to manage it.”

  “Same difference. I’m here to protect and manage. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let you dirty up his shower,” she stated, waving a wooden spoon back and forth in front of him.

  Greyson nearly smiled at her as she huffed and blustered. “Fine. Then I’ll use your bathroom,” he said. This time he did smile. Her stuttering reaction was exactly what he needed to lift his spirits. He turned on his heel and left her gaping at him. “I’ll be down in five minutes,” he called. A single curse was her response. He grinned.

  Greyson didn’t use her shower. He didn’t feel like transferring his clothes and necessities up to her room, even though it would’ve pleased him to know it irked her. Greyson decided to use his shower since, well, it was his. If she wanted to drag him from the bathroom, then he welcomed her to try. The thought popped an unwanted picture into his head of her in the shower. It wasn’t a bad picture. In fact, it was . . .

  Damn.

  By the time he was clean and dressed, he found Jenna waiting at the table with crossed arms.

  “You’re late.”

  “Lots of dirt,” Greyson replied and sat down across from her.

  “If the food is cold, it’s your fault.”

  “I’ll eat it,” Greyson said. “I’m so hungry I doubt I’ll even taste it.”

  Jenna uncrossed her arms and began dishing out portions of chicken pasta.

  “You don’t have to make my plate,” Greyson said, watching her spoon heaps of food onto it.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” she requested, ignoring his comment.

  “Like what?” he asked, picking up his fork.

  She sat down and picked up her own fork. “How long have you been
a gardener?”

  Greyson took a bite of chicken and looked thoughtful for a moment. When he swallowed, he said, “I believe five weeks. Maybe a week or two more. The first two weeks weren’t really gardening. It was more like . . . digging.”

  Jenna choked. “Five weeks? Why did Mr. Miller hire you without qualifications?”

  “Why did he hire you?” Greyson asked.

  Jenna ignored the question, but the look she shot him was deadly. “How long have you and Mya been together?”

  “I’ve known her for three years.”

  “Oh,” she said quickly, taking a big bite of pasta. “Do you have any siblings?” she finally asked after a few minutes of silence.

  Greyson looked up. “I have two brothers. You?”

  Jenna stilled. “None.”

  Greyson had picked up on a slight flinch but decided to let it go. He didn’t really want to know about her anyway. He was just being polite.

  “Do you have any hobbies?” she asked.

  Greyson shook his head. “No.”

  She tried a few additional questions, each resulting in one-word answers. Jenna looked as if she wanted to reach across the table and strangle him.

  Jenna took her last bite of pasta, settled back against the chair and crossed her arms, waiting for him to finish.

  Greyson shoveled the last of the food into his mouth, hiding his smile. He knew Jenna was fuming on the other side of the table, and he had a wicked sense of satisfaction knowing that he was the one who had made her mad.

  He also knew that she was getting ready to tear into him at any moment, and he found himself contently waiting for her to begin her assault.

  “Is there dessert?” Greyson asked innocently.

  Jenna’s brows pinched together. “There’s ice cream in the freezer.”