LITMIR.BIZ

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to wipe an already sparkling table. “I need other accommodations until a minor problem’s sorted at my place.”

      “Problem as in plumbing or a hole in the roof?”

      “More like rodents in the basement.” His pensive gaze flicked up from his steaming cup. “I’ve organized a suite in town. I’d like you to help me get the place organized.”

      One minute she was a waitress, next she was being whisked away to a hotel by a multimillionaire. She had to catch her breath. Shelby slid into the seat beside him.

      Behind them, her boss’s unhappy voice ground out.

      “Those chairs are for patrons only.”

      Shelby jumped up. Mr. Connor’s usually nonexistent jaw was jutting. On either side of a bulbous nose, his small dark eyes narrowed. He addressed his remarks to Dex.

      “She’s here to serve tables. You’re a good customer, but I have a business to run.”

      Dex got to his feet. “Shelby was taking my order.”

      Connor exhaled as if he’d heard it all before. “Look, we don’t run that kind of establishment. If you want to—you know—chat, there are other places for that.”

      Shelby’s temper flared. Did Connor call her what she thought he’d just called her? She stuck out her own chin.

      “Now wait a minute—”

      Dex held up a hand. “Let me handle this.” He addressed Connor. “Obviously that isn’t the kind of discussion I’m having with Ms. Scott.”

      “It looked pretty cozy to me,” Connor replied. “Particularly after your nice long talk yesterday.” He eyed Shelby. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

      “I’ve offered Shelby employment,” Dex said. “I believe she passed on her resignation to you this morning.”

      “So it was you.” Connor narrowed his gaze again. “Sure. She resigned, but I still have her till the end of the week.”

      “I was hoping,” Dex continued, “that you might consider releasing her earlier than that.”

      “Like when?”

      “Like now.” Connor shrugged. “Like I said, I have a business to run.”

      Dex drew out his wallet. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement—”

      “I don’t want your money.”

      Dex scratched his temple. “We need to settle this somehow…” He peeled off a few big bills.

      Connor sniffed, then put out his palm. “Fine. But I’ll warn you. She’s not worth it.”

      While Dex’s expression darkened, Shelby shrank back. She might want to deck Connor, but she suspected Dex just might do it. But then a crooked smile eased up one corner of Dex’s mouth and he stuffed the notes down the front of Mr. Connor’s Hawaiian-print shirt.

      “That amount should cover any inconvenience or losses to your establishment. Now, I’m sure we’d all prefer that this parting be amicable.” His voice dropped and hardened. “Doesn’t have to be.” He peeled off another couple bills and offered them to Lila. “Thanks for the impeccable service in the past. I’ve enjoyed the food, even if your boss is a jerk.”

      He asked Shelby to get her handbag. It took her ten seconds. When she was back, he grabbed her hand. She kept up as he headed out of the shop and down the busy sidewalk.

      “Connor’s face was blotched, he was so mad,” she said.

      “Connor’s an oaf.”

      “Do you usually give oafs huge amounts of money to shut them up?”

      “No, I don’t. But it was either that or shut him up another way.” Connor was lucky he hadn’t collected a broken jaw. Dex dragged a palm across his growling stomach and winced. “Damn, I’m hungry.”

      “You get hungry when you’re mad?”

      Usually he didn’t get angry.

      “Must be some primitive instinct to refuel before and after battle, I guess.”

      “When I want to let go and punch something,” she said as they strode past people strolling on either side of them, “I jump on my horse and take a long hard ride.”

      “Not as good as knocking back a stack of pancakes.”

      “Much better for the waistline.”

      He paused and glanced at her. She looked hotter in that uniform than he remembered. Even in a burlap bag, Shelby’s assortment of curves would be difficult to dismiss. Pretty much impossible to forget. Her waistline had nothing to worry about.

      Their stride had slowed. And he was still holding her hand. Clearing his throat, he let go.

      “Have you hired an exterminator for the rodents?” she asked, shaking out her fingers. He must have been holding them tight.

      “I’m not sure which method to take. Bait or blast.”

      “Sounds nasty.”

      “Nothing you or Tate will ever need to worry about.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now let’s get organized. We’ll make a list. Groceries can be delivered to the suite.”

      “I’ll personally choose any food to be prepared. You have to keep a close eye on what kids eat.”

      “I’m sure the delivery service has that covered.”

      “But I like to walk up and down the aisles.” He scratched his head. “Why?”

      “I won’t know everything I need until I see it.” Sounded like a lot of work to him, but her mind seemed set so they found a market and gathered up staples—bread, eggs, meat, Oreos. And fresh vegetables, including spinach. Shelby insisted greens were important for a growing boy. So long as she didn’t expect him to put any of that Popeye food near his plate.

      Later, they arrived at the Beverly Hills Hotel. After porters collected the groceries, the valet parked the car and Dex checked in. They arrived at their suite at the same time as the porters. In the kitchen a moment later, he opened the first grocery bag and shuddered.

      Shelby craned to see. “The way you screw up your nose around spinach, anyone would think it was covered in slime.”

      “That’s exactly what it’s like when it’s cooked.”

      “It’s packed full of vitamins.”

      “You sound like an advertisement.”

      She drew out a bag of carrots with the green bits still attached. “These are great for adding fiber to your diet. Vitamin A, too.”

      “I’m more your potato-done-any-way kind of man. I’ve never met a curly fry I didn’t like.”

      A stack of cans in hand, she twirled around, found the pantry and headed over. “I make my own brand of fries. Hopefully you won’t have to worry about feeding them to the dog under the table.”

      “I don’t have a dog and you don’t have to cook.”

      “Not even my specialty? Inch-thick seared juicy steak?”

      He held his empty stomach. “You dare to talk that way when you know my condition?” He picked up a carton of cream. “Where are you on desserts?”

      “I believe every day should end with wrapping your lips around something satisfyingly sweet.”

      His gaze dipped to her hips. Well, they were in agreement there.

      She turned away from the pantry while he was on his way to the fridge, and they bumped into each other. He wound a steadying arm around her. The contact was harmless; she even laughed when he said, “We’ll have

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