"So, are you Marta's grandson?" she asked in a conversational tone as they walked towards the house "No, I'm her brother," he answered, stepping to the side so that Cloe could walk on the path.

Cloe's back became ramrod straight, causing her to stumble before she righted herself. Without a look back, she hurried inside the house, leaving him to wonder what the h.e.l.l that reaction was about.

Chapter 4.

"What the h.e.l.l do you mean you hired her? She's not staying here!" Christofer shouted from the living room. Whatever Marta's response was, it was quiet.

Cloe sighed as she headed back out to her car to grab the rest of the grocery bags. It had been a while since she had to buy this much food for one of her employers, but Marta had insisted that there wasn't anything in the house. After a quick inspection of the kitchen before heading back outside, Cloe quickly agreed that they hadn't overdone it.

After grabbing her iPod, she grabbed the last of the bags, locked her car, and headed back inside. Once she was back in the kitchen, she could hear him yelling again. With a sigh, she cranked up the volume on her iPod.

Whatever his problem was about her being here she had no doubt that Marta would win. Normally she wouldn't care one way or the other about losing a job, but Marta was a very nice, feisty, if somewhat shy woman who needed more help than her spoiled brat brother was giving her.

At first she'd been a little unnerved at the discovery, but she'd been working with the older generation for a long time now and Christofer was not the first very young sibling that she'd encountered. That didn't bother her. No, what bothered her was the fact that the nice guy she'd thought she'd met in the pharmacy was really a toad who treated his sister, his elderly sister, like an unwanted dog.

The man didn't want to take his sister anywhere when she clearly wanted to go out and live her life. Marta d.a.m.n near broke her heart when she got all excited about driving to the grocery store. Then she began pointing out all the places she'd heard about, heard not been to, to Cloe and told her how she was just dying to try this or that. Finally, Cloe hadn't been able to take it any longer and took her to the buffet. Marta seemed so excited to be there. It was obvious to Cloe that she hadn't been out to eat in a very long time. Marta acted the same way at the store.

When she'd thought the brother was an old man she'd been fine with the situation, realizing that there wasn't much that an elderly man could do to help his sister. She'd decided that she would try helping them both out, but when she'd discovered the brother was much younger, healthy and lazy she got a bit p.i.s.sed. This was cla.s.sic elderly neglect. For G.o.d sakes there wasn't so much as a box of baking soda in the house.

After she put the last of the groceries away and no one came to tell her that she had to leave, she decided to make herself useful. She grabbed the new cleaning supplies they'd bought and started cleaning.

The counters, stove, table, refrigerator and cabinets probably took a half hour to clean. She swept up the floor and was about to get the mop, but decided she would just have to get on her hands and knees and scrub the d.a.m.n floor. It was clear that the floor hadn't been mopped in years. Well, at least not properly, she amended a moment later when she spotted the telltale signs of a mop having been moved over the floor at some point. With a resigned sigh, she filled up the bucket with hot soapy water, grabbed the brush and got to work.

As she worked, her mind kept going back to the playful banter she had with Christofer at the pharmacy. It really was a pity that he'd turned out to be such a spoiled little ingrate. Oh well. Marta said he stayed in his bas.e.m.e.nt room most of the time and only came up to check on her or make her a meal so she probably wouldn't run into him very often if she stayed.

Even though she'd just met Marta, she wanted to stay and help her. She seemed so nice and clearly she needed someone to take care of her. Her brother certainly wasn't doing it, she thought with a snort of disgust. No wonder the townspeople seemed to hate him, she was certainly starting to.

"Woman," Christofer said in warning, "if you hit me with that d.a.m.n cane again I'm going to take it!"

She didn't even hesitate when she whacked him on the a.s.s. He glared at her as he smartly jumped out of the way of the next swing. She matched his glare with one of her own.

"You do not tell me what to do, Christofer Petersen. I am a grown woman and if I want to hire someone to come live with me and help me then that is exactly what I'll do!" He noted her accent becoming more p.r.o.nounced the way it did whenever she was angry.

"This is my house, Marta. I decide who comes and who goes," he reminded her.

She folded her hands in her lap and for a moment said nothing, making him think that he'd won. He really should have known better.

"Then I'll use my money and move out. I'll rent a two bedroom apartment closer to town and Cloe can come live with me."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "You're not leaving, Marta. We don't need anyone. I take good care of you."

She snorted.

She actually snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, noting that his own accent was starting to come through. d.a.m.n it. Hadn't that woman done enough today? First she nearly makes him lose control in the store and now she was messing with his home life. Clearly the woman needed to leave and soon.

"You do not take care of me, Christofer," she said firmly.

He gaped at her. What the h.e.l.l? "I put a roof over your head," he started, holding up one finger to give her a visual of just how much he did for her. "I put food on the table, which I cook I might add," he pointed out, adding another finger. "I do the laundry," he said as another finger joined the party. "And I run all the errands for the house," he said firmly as the fourth finger went up, proving without a doubt that he took great care of her.

She shifted in her seat. "I would not call what you do cooking."

"What's that supposed to mean? You never had a problem with it before!"

"You make watery tea. Your idea of breakfast is lumpy oatmeal or a piece of fruit and burnt toast," she announced, holding up a finger. "Your idea of lunch is a sandwich, and they're not very good. I'm tired of bologna," she said, earning a glare as she held up another finger. "Your idea of dinner is whatever's in a can or one of those disgusting frozen meals," she said, adding another finger. "You run errands only when you have time and you never bring me along," she snapped as the fourth finger went up, but she didn't stop. "You never spend any time with me. You're always in the barn and when I ask you to do something you make me feel like I'm nothing but a burden," she announced, wiggling all five fingers to get her point across.

"What do you mean, I don't spend time with you? I sit down with you for every meal and I check on you several times a day!"

She scoffed. "You sit at the table, reading or fixing one of your sketches and your idea of checking on me is to listen to my heartbeat from the barn."

"That's not true!" It was.

Marta smoothed her skirt down. "I'm tired of being a burden to you, Christofer. I know you gave your word to Papa and you've kept it to the best of your ability, but now I am releasing you from your promise. I know you would rather be anywhere else but here and with Cloe here you can do that now."

That gave him pause. "You hired her to get rid of me?" That actually hurt. It was true that he didn't want to be in this town, but he wanted to be with her. She was his sister, his family, his friend and without her he would be all alone in the world.

"That's one of the reasons."

He began pacing the room. "I'm not leaving, Marta. This is my home and you are my family. So, if that's the reason for this woman's presence then you might as well send her away, because I'm staying."

"So is she if she still wants the job after all of your yelling."

"I did not yell!"

"You're doing it now!"

He groaned as he picked up his pacing. An idea hit him. He stopped and faced her. "What do you really know about this woman? More to the point, how did you hire her? For all you know she could be a thief or an ax murderer."

"I hired her through an agency. They did a background check on her, drug testing and I contacted all her former employers and they couldn't say enough nice things about her."

d.a.m.n.

He started pacing again.

"She's very nice. She let me go for a ride, took me out to eat and-"

"I paid for you both to go out," he pointed out.

She smiled. "No, you didn't, Christofer. Cloe paid, not you."

He eyed her, not liking that smug expression on her face one bit. "She can't stay and that's final."

"Why?"

Because if Cloe stayed he would end up breaking the vow that he'd made to his sister and the one that he'd made to himself. He wanted Cloe's blood so badly that he actually ached with the need to go after her. He also wanted to f.u.c.k her while feeding from her then f.u.c.k her again and then probably f.u.c.k her again, he thought, but he couldn't tell his sister that. So he gave her a lame answer instead. "Just because."

She snorted as she stood up and headed for the door.

"Good, go tell her to leave," he said, confident that his word was law.

She laughed at him.

Good G.o.d, what the h.e.l.l?

"I'm going to bed, Christofer. I will see you and Cloe in the morning."

"She won't be here!" he called after her.

"She better be."

He growled softly as he watched his sister disappear into her room. That woman was not staying. He didn't care what Marta threatened him with. If Marta tried to move out he would either drag her back here or follow after her. Either way Cloe was not staying a moment longer. He couldn't tell Marta this, but she was risking the young woman's life by keeping her here. He'd never wanted anyone's blood or body more in his life. His self-control was good, but it wasn't perfect.

Cloe had to go.

He walked into the kitchen only to find it empty and....clean? What the h.e.l.l? His eyes dropped to the floor. It was shiny and white with rose petals. He frowned down at the floor. He could have sworn that it had been a dull gray this morning. The room no longer smelled of old food, dust and a thousand other odors. It smelled of chemical and oranges. Every surface was clean and shining. He could have done that, he thought with a grumble.

He closed his eyes and listened. He heard two heartbeats. One on the first floor, which was Marta's and the other was on the second floor, which meant that Cloe had made herself at home.

Oh, h.e.l.l no....

He took the back stairs two at time and raced towards the sound of her heartbeat. It came from a closed door at the end of the hallway. Without slowing down, he threw the door open and quickly stumbled forward, tripping over his own two feet from the sight that greeted him.

"Don't you knock?" Cloe snapped as she grabbed a towel to hold up in front of her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would come out. His eyes were fixed on that d.a.m.n towel that she was now using to cover up heaven. He glared at the d.a.m.n thing, willing it to drop or shift to the side a foot or two so he could see that beautiful body again. Large b.r.e.a.s.t.s tipped with dark pink nipples, a flat stomach with just the slightest swell, wide hips and soft (he was willing to bet his life they were soft) b.u.t.terscotch curls between her legs that were just begging for his devotion and he would give it too.

Gladly.

"The towel's not going to disappear and I'm not dropping it."

She couldn't know that for sure, he decided as his gaze on the towel intensified. For another moment he stared, more like silently pleaded for it to move.

"You really need to get laid," she said dryly.

His eyes snapped up to hers. Holy s.h.i.t! Was that an offer?

Cloe rolled her eyes as she managed to wrap the towel around herself and tucked it in between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s without giving him a show.

d.a.m.n.

"Is there something that you wanted?" she asked.

You. "I-I wanted to..." he stammered before his voice trailed off. His gaze had dropped back down to the cleavage that he wanted to run his tongue over and he was back to willing the towel to drop.

She sighed as she walked over to him. Thank G.o.d because his feet wouldn't move and he was practically screaming at them to go to her. She was taking the initiative. That was fine with him. He'd let her set the pace and then he'd take over and probably take her on every surface in this room.

Cloe gripped his arms, tightly. Oh, yeah. He leaned down to kiss her when he was unceremoniously shoved from the room. A split second later, the door closed in his face.

"But...but...."

He heard her soft laughter from behind the door. He stared at the door for another moment before he came to his d.a.m.n senses. It was probably a good thing the door was between them so that his blood, well most of his blood, could return to his head. He was f.u.c.king weak, he thought with disgust.

For fifty years he'd been able to keep the promise that he'd made to himself for his sister's sake, but one look at a woman's beautiful body had him ready to say the h.e.l.l with it and take what he wanted, what he couldn't have. It only proved that she needed to get the h.e.l.l out of this house and out of this town before he lost his good sense and gave in, destroying his sister's life in the process.

He pounded on the door. "Cloe!"

With an exasperated sigh, she answered the door. Thankfully, she was dressed. His gaze skimmed over the tight tank top and oddly arousing green and blue flannel pajama bottoms. To his utter delight, the two pieces of clothing didn't meet, giving him a glimpse of that taut little stomach and navel. d.a.m.n, he'd love to trace that with his tongue.

He was f.u.c.king pathetic, he thought helplessly.

Two warm fingers gently gripped his chin and pulled his attention away from his new obsession. He may have whimpered.

"Hi, nice to have you back," Cloe said with a wry smile. "Now, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" She released her hold on his chin and he had to fight not to drop his eyes back down. From the look on her face he knew that if he did that he would be looking at the door again.

He gave himself a mental shake. Right, he needed to get her out of his house and soon.

"You're fired," he said firmly in a tone that brokered no argument.

She yawned. "Okay, see you in the morning." She moved to close the door.

Christofer pressed his hand against the door to stop her. "Didn't you hear me? I said you're fired."

"That's two times," she said with a small smile.

"Yes...yes, I did say it twice."

Was she insane?

"I'll make sure to tell Marta that in the morning."

"Wait, what?"

Cloe gave him a coy smile. "Marta told me to tell her if you tried to fire me and how many times. Something about a cane....not really sure." She shrugged.

Aw, s.h.i.t.

This was not happening. He was the man of this family. This was his house G.o.dd.a.m.nit.

"You're fired!"