LITMIR.BIZ

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open with her foot, testing the driveway for traction.

      Ice hidden beneath a dusting of snow.

      Looked friendly. Treacherous beneath the surface. Just like a man.

      But she meant that in the most complimentary way possible, because she really didn’t have baggage that was going to destine her to become an ill-tempered, unwanted old lady who chased little children with her cane just to hear them scream.

      Not that she was paranoid that she’d never have another chance to get married again. That was a ridiculous notion. The last thing she wanted to do was date another man, let alone get married. The fact that she was starting over in the dating arena at age twenty-seven? No problem. She couldn’t have planned her life better if she’d tried. Everything was perfect.

      She planted other foot solidly on the ground, grabbed her personal digital assistant that was oh-so-handy for downloading straight into her computer, straightened her suit, dug her heels into the snow for traction and prepared herself to march up to the door of her new client and change his life.

      Hmm…maybe she should get a dog. Drew had always been antidog, but he was gone now, wasn’t he? If she got a dog, at least there would be one male who would share only her bed at night. Floppy ears, thick fur, four legs and a tail now topped her list of desired attributes in a man. Wouldn’t that be entertaining, if she started asking her dates to drop their pants so she could inspect for a tail?

      See? There was humor in her miserable life.

      Dammit. She’d used that word again: miserable. If she kept doing so, someone was bound to think she actually felt that way. She must eradicate it from her vocabulary, effective immediately.

      She watched her breath puff out in white clouds as she hurried up the steps, carefully balancing her weight so her feet didn’t slip out from under her. Think about the client. Right. She could do this. Concentrating was no problem. She was a highly sought after professional genius, right? Of course right. She was never, ever wrong.

      Okay…so find the significance of the icy steps.…Wow. It was like her brain was in a deep freeze. Come on, Cassie! Think! No, don’t panic that you’ve lost your talent. Close your eyes. Take deep breaths. Relax the muscles. Think about the client. Icy steps. Client. Stress.

      Got it! Obviously, Malcolm Tyler Parker was too busy to put sand on his steps. Very interesting.

      Cassie pulled out her PDA and jotted down the information. The man couldn’t sleep and didn’t take care of his property. Good to know. She entered the information in the “failure to perform basic home maintenance” column and proceeded to the door.

      Hopefully, her new client would be an easy fix.

      She wasn’t sure she was up to a monstrous challenge with a recalcitrant client, not with her soul still splattered on the pavement and trampled by a herd of rampaging cattle.

      Scratch that.

      She was fine.

      Her soul was intact.

      Her ego…maybe a little frayed around the edges. Nothing that a quick hem job couldn’t fix. If only she knew how to sew…

      She forced herself to take a leisurely moment to admire the old horseshoe that had been converted into a door knocker, then banged on the door.

      One minute after seven. Perfect timing.

      No one came to the door.

      She knocked again.

      Still no one.

      Cassie frowned. Surely he hadn’t left already? She clicked on “work schedule” to double-check her file. Yes, he’d told her he left for work shortly after seven. He should still be there. Her notes were never wrong.

      She knocked again, harder, pretending it was Drew’s head she was pounding against the wood. Ah, how soothing. Taking her own advice to identify her stresses and visualize resolution, however socially inappropriate or legally prohibited.

      She was definitely a genius.

      A door slammed inside the house and Cassie straightened. She patted her hair to make sure it was neat, checked her nylons for runs, clamped her teeth together so they wouldn’t chatter from the cold, ignored her desire to rush home and put on flannel-lined blue jeans, fleece-lined boots and a wool sweater, and readied herself to face her new client.

      With any luck, he would be extremely annoyed by the interruption and she could see what he was really like. She was on a roll now. The old Cassie was back. She should become an inspirational speaker on how to recover from emotional devastation. She was that amazing.

      The unmistakable click of a lock being opened cued her to don a demure smile that would neither propel her new client into more stress nor dissipate stress that might already be present. Was she good or what?

      The door opened and she forgot everything. “You’re kidding.”

      “Cassie? What are you doing here?”

      It was Ty.

      From New Year’s Eve.

      The same Ty with whom she’d tongue-tangoed eight days ago.

      This was so not turning out to be her month.

      3

      MALCOLM TYLER PARKER.

      Ty.

      Duh.

      Was she an idiot or what? So blinded by his gallantry that she hadn’t noted the possibility that “Ty” and “Malcolm Tyler” could be the same person.

      Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

      “You’re Malcolm Tyler Parker, aren’t you?” As if she needed to ask.

      He scowled. “How did you know my name? Or where to find me? I’m not in Information.” His voice was cautious, his body blocking the doorway as if to keep her out of his house.

      “You gave it to me.” Sure sign of his stress. Didn’t even recall hiring Halloway Consulting to save him. There you go, Cassie. Think about work and not about how completely embarrassed you are to be standing here on his doorstep thinking about what his tongue feels like against yours.

      He raised an eyebrow and shifted in the doorway, then shifted again. Too tense to relax? He was in such need of her services. “I told you my name was Ty. Didn’t give you my full name or my address.”

      “Sure you did. How else would I have gotten it?”

      Ty frowned and, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but notice that he looked quite sexy in his suit. In the light of day, it was apparent that Ty’s eyes were not black. They were a deep brown and they were narrowed in…disgust? Irritation? Raging desire for her body?

      And he smelled so good. It was the same scent that had embedded itself in her sweater on New Year’s Eve…and hadn’t left the fibers all day Sunday.

      Not that she’d pressed the sweater to her face all day or slept with it under her pillow just so she could smell him.…

      Definitely not.

      Cassie! What was she doing? Ty’s enticing scent was clearly not what she should be concerned about. A much bigger issue was his stress. And how she was going to explain sexually assaulting him a week ago.

      Damn. She was going to have to explain that one.

      But he really did look good in the light of day, didn’t he? He was the epitome of a wealthy businessman heading into New York City for work. A ridiculously sexy capitalist who undoubtedly had stolen many a woman away from her man.

      Not that Cassie was attracted to him. She didn’t go for the corporate type. Except for Drew, and that had worked out oh-so-well. She’d always fantasized about the down-home boy who’d sling the kids over his shoulder and take them to work with him. A man who’d

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