“Eventually,” he said.
He wore a black T-shirt over dark jeans, and as he entered the kitchen Phoebe saw he was barefoot. He didn’t make a sound, his movements smooth, controlled. She’d noticed that about him during their brief meeting yesterday. She could see him glued to a computer but at the same time she could see him—what? Doing yoga, maybe. She did yoga herself, at least sort of, and always felt more physically in control, poised, after a session.
Buster followed Noah to the white porcelain sink and plopped down at his feet.
“Buster seems to like you,” Phoebe said.
“I’m the man with the food. I think he misses Olivia. Maybe Dylan, too.”
“You’re taking care of Buster?”
He leaned back against the sink. “You seem surprised.”
No kidding. “I guess I am. Olivia didn’t mention you’d be staying.”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
Phoebe wondered what had prompted it but shook off her questions. “I’m here to make pesto.” She pointed toward the mudroom and the back door out to the terrace and gardens. “With the basil. For Olivia.”
“Ah. Yes. Before it goes to seed.”
“My sister Maggie was supposed to join me but she got called away.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Help? Phoebe didn’t know why she was so flustered, then realized she had every reason to be, with a house-sitting, dog-sitting Noah Kendrick a few yards from her. He had to be used to a different lifestyle than what he’d find in Knights Bridge. He also had to be used to having more to do—or at least other things to do—than what Carriage Hill offered.
She unloaded her canvas bag. “I brought pine nuts, garlic, parmesan and olive oil. I think that’s all I need.” She didn’t want him hanging around, watching her, bored, and quickly tried to think of something he could do. “Olivia said she has a mortar and pestle. Do you think you could find them?”
“A mortar and pestle,” Noah said, his tone unreadable.
“They should be in a cupboard. You know what they are?”
“Mmm.”
He hadn’t moved but she was intensely aware of his scrutiny as she set the bottle of virgin olive oil she’d brought on the counter. “I’ve never actually made pesto but Maggie emailed me a recipe. I assume you’ve never…” She stopped herself, rephrased. “Have you ever made pesto?”
He smiled that smile again. “I haven’t.”
“It doesn’t look hard.”
Why was her heart beating so rapidly? Just because he was even richer than Dylan didn’t mean she had to get crazy. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way he looked at her, his air of self-control and calm. Those eyes. That smile. She hadn’t noticed them yesterday the way she did now, perhaps because she’d been preoccupied with getting the transcript of the conversation she’d overheard to Dylan, so that he could get it to her swashbuckler. She’d planned to ask Maggie how that had gone when they were making pesto. She hadn’t thought to ask her on the phone.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “How did your first night in Knights Bridge go?”
“Quiet,” Noah said. “Just Buster, an owl and me.”
The twitch of a smile, that spark of humor in his deep blue eyes—Phoebe felt a rush of heat that she couldn’t define or understand. She blamed Friday night. Sneaking past her sister and friends into the masquerade, dancing with a stranger and overhearing an alarming conversation from another stranger had kicked her adrenaline into high gear. Even venturing up to the hidden room in the library attic had taken a toll on her normally calm, sensible nature. If she hadn’t found that room, she realized, she’d never have gone to the masquerade.
She turned to Noah with a pleasant smile, the sort that she often used when she was at a loss at the library. “How long will you be here?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll see.”
“I don’t want to disturb you. I can pick the basil and then make the pesto back at my house.” She gestured vaguely with one hand. “I live in the village.”
“You won’t be disturbing me,” he said. “It’s not as if I have a lot to do.”
A bored high-tech billionaire. Just what she needed. “So you think pesto-making has possibilities?”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m happy to help.”
“Great,” Phoebe said, half meaning it, half not. “Why don’t you look for that mortar and pestle while I start on the basil?”
“Sounds good.”