Five
Cain’s only indication that he was surprised by her profanity was a single blink, but it was surprisingly gratifying to have caught him off guard, if only for a moment.
For that matter, Violet had caught herself off guard. Violet Victoria Townsend did not swear. Ever.
It felt illicit. It felt great.
Cain resumed his bored countenance, lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Stepping out of our comfort zone, are we?”
“Is getting dressed out of your comfort zone, or do you think you can manage?”
“You’re certainly fixated on my state of dress, Duchess.”
Violet wished she had a saucy rejoinder, but she’d used up all her moxie on the F-word, and he knew it, because he laughed softly as he moved away from her.
His laughter was replaced by a torrent of profanity that put hers to shame as he stumbled a little. “Jesus, I almost stepped on your rat.”
“She does tend to get underfoot,” Violet admitted. “It’s part of why I keep her in the purse.”
Violet started to go to her dog, but Cain surprised her by scooping Coco up first, the tiny brown-and-black dog looking even tinier in his big hand as he held the Yorkie in front of his face and scowled at her.
Dog and man stared at each other for a long moment, as though taking stock of each other. Coco apparently liked what she saw, because she rewarded him with a lick on the nose.
Violet winced, braced for Cain’s disgruntled response, but he surprised her by heading up the stairs, still carrying Coco.
“You’re not going to kill her, are you?” Violet called after him.
He didn’t respond.
When Cain came back down the stairs a few minutes later, he was wearing a faded gray T-shirt that was nearing threadbare, but at least his pants were buttoned. He was still holding Coco, the little dog resting comfortably on his forearm, cradled against his abdomen as though she belonged there.
When he came closer, she saw that his shirt wasn’t plain, as she’d thought, but instead had a very faded pattern. She tilted her head as she recognized it. “Fleur-de-lis.”
“What?” He sounded annoyed.
“That symbol on your shirt,” she explained, pointing when he didn’t reply. “It’s the fleur-de-lis.”
“I know what it is.”
She smiled a little. “Did you know that’s the same pattern I have on my powder room wallpaper?” Violet smiled. “You’re dressed like the bathroom decorated by my grandmother.”
Even beneath his beard, she could see his jaw grinding in irritation. “It’s the logo for the New Orleans Saints.”
She stared at him.
“Football team?”
Violet shrugged.
Cain just shook his head and went to the fridge. He shut it again, seeing it was empty, save the beer and leftovers.
She’d been counting on this and launched her initiative. “I was thinking we could go to breakfast. Discuss our game plan for this makeover mess we’ve found ourselves in.”
He gave her a knowing look. “Changing our tack, are we? Pretending we’re in this together?”
Aren’t we, though?
“It’s just breakfast,” Violet pointed out with what she thought was admirable patience.
He lifted the dog to eye level, then looked back at her, shaking his head. “Toto and I say no.”
“Coco.”
“You basically carried her in here in a basket. We’re going with Toto. Can you even take her into restaurants?”
“No,” Violet admitted. “We’ll have to drop her back at my place. I shouldn’t have brought her at all, but she looked so forlorn when I was leaving the house without her.”
“That’s one idea. Or”—he held up a finger—“you and Toto could both go to your house and stay there.”
She pretended she didn’t hear the suggestion. “What have you been eating since you’ve been here?”
“There’s a bagel place around the corner. It works.”
“Bagels aren’t a bad way to warm up to New York, but you’re never going to learn the city if you only stick within this block.”
“So?”
She sighed. “If you’re going to take over the business, you’ll have to make peace with the city. It wouldn’t kill you to at least try to learn your way around.”
He crossed his arms. “It might.”
Violet blew out her cheeks, reminding herself that he was trying to irritate her. It just came naturally. “If you’re this recalcitrant about breakfast, you’re going to hate shopping, aren’t you?”
“Shopping?” He looked appalled.
“Yep, as I thought,” she said. Then she tilted her head, trying yet another tack: bribery.
“The restaurant has bacon.”
Both Coco’s and Cain’s ears seemed to perk up, though he quickly pasted his sarcastic mask back on. “Yeah, because that’s all it takes to get a man to do what you want. The promise of bacon.”
She merely checked her watch. Waited.
He hesitated. “How far is this place?”
“Walking distance. If you’ll just go get dressed…”
He looked down. “I am dressed.”
“You’re clothed, yes. I mean dressed. For the day.
“To go out,” she clarified when he continued to stare at her.
Nothing.
Suspicion mingled with alarm that things were more dire than she realized. To confirm the worst of her fears, Violet stepped around him and began heading up the stairs.
“What the hell are you doing?” he called after her, setting the dog on the floor and following her.
“Assessing your wardrobe options,” she called.
The master bedroom was at the top of the hall, but a quick glance told Violet it hadn’t been touched.
She paused in the doorway, tensing slightly when she felt Cain come up behind her, too close. Too large. Too male.
“I’m not sleeping in a dead man’s bed,” he said by way of quiet explanation as Coco danced around their ankles.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” she said softly. Downstairs, it had been easy to forget that the home once belonged to Adam Rhodes. Here, though, despite the fact that it had clearly been cleaned, all personal items removed, it seemed as though he could walk in at any time.
Violet instinctively stepped back, bumping into Cain’s chest. For the second time that day, Cain steadied her, only this time his hand went to her waist, not her arms.
And lingered, thumb stroking in a caress.
She refused to react, knowing he was only trying to get a rise out of her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, even if her heart did seem to be beating a touch too fast.
“Are you done handling me?” she asked in a cool tone, her word choice a deliberate reference to their showdown in Edith’s parlor a couple days earlier.
He laughed softly, his breath ruffling her hair. “Still thinking about that, are you, Duchess?”
Cain stepped back, clearly intending to go back down the stairs, but Violet continued down the hall, looking into the first door. Bathroom. The one he was using, judging by the toothbrush on the sink and the beat-up toiletry bag balanced on the narrow counter.