LITMIR.BIZ

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below his belt.

      Desperate to restore his equilibrium, he swatted her hand away. Hurt washed over her expression, but of course, stubborn woman, she didn’t back down. Instead, she snagged a box of tissues off the entry table and, after gesturing at his forehead, shoved them against his chest. “Care to tell me what happened?”

      The terrifying experience replayed in his memory, reigniting his earlier fear and anger. “You nearly got me killed, that’s what.”

      Her face paled. “Killed?”

      “Yeah.” He flung out his right arm, gesturing toward the closed door. “You threw me out in a damned ice storm, and my car almost skidded off this godforsaken mountain.”

      Kyle had forgotten about Shayna’s giant dog until the beast charged him, his enormous front paws pinning Kyle’s shoulders to the door. Keeping one eye glued to the dog’s bared teeth, he glanced at Shayna. The color had returned to her face with a vengeance.

      To his surprise, she ignored her dog’s threatening behavior. “First of all—” she ticked her point off with her index finger, as if preparing to recite a long list of his sins “—I didn’t throw you out into anything. You showed up uninvited. Not my fault you chose to tackle the mountain in bad weather. Secondly,” she said with another ticked finger, “you can hardly blame me if you aren’t smart enough to slow down and take care on a dark, rainy night.”

      Her logical response angered him further. He hated stupid mistakes. Especially his own. “Who expects ice in November?”

      The dog took exception to the vehemence in Kyle’s voice. Brinks’s weight pressed against him even more forcefully. Fist-sized paws branded his chest, restricting his airflow and threatening permanent damage to his ego.

      “Think you can call your dog off?” he asked through gritted teeth.

      “Not until we get a few things straight.” She planted her hands on her hips, drawing the butt-ugly robe even tighter against her lush figure. “Obviously, if you drove your car into a ditch—”

      He opened his mouth to object, but reminding himself of the power of silence decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

      “—you’re going to need a dry, warm place to sleep tonight. Unfortunately, Brinks and I don’t offer shelter to rude jerks.”

      Cautiously, he raised both hands to his sides in modified surrender. “Please forgive me. I was angry with myself for being careless. I shouldn’t have taken my temper out on you.” Swallowing hard, he mustered up a charming smile. “Since I find myself at your mercy this evening, I hope I can convince you—and Brinks—to reconsider.”

      She nodded imperially, but the movement wasn’t quick enough to hide the smirk flirting with the corners of her mouth. Seemed the price of her sofa was a slice of his pride.

      She snagged Brinks’s collar and wrestled the dog off his chest. Her robe slipped, exposing one creamy, delectable shoulder. He forced his eyes level with hers and ordered them to stay put as he remained pressed to the door, awaiting her verdict.

      The dog, his watchful eyes glued to Kyle, backed up and sat at attention next to Shayna.

      “Brinks and I have decided to accept your apology. You are welcome to the spare bed.”

      “Thank you.” He moved away from the door, and his soaked shoes squished. How could he have forgotten how cold and wet his clothes had gotten while he’d traipsed around in the icy rain? “Can I also borrow your shower? And some dry clothes?”

      “The shower, yes, but—” she eyed him from head to toe, her perusal warming him from the inside out “—I’m not sure I’ve got anything that’ll fit you.”

      The middle-of-the-night huskiness in her voice hit him below the belt. He turned away, one hand propped on the paneled wall as he toed out of his drenched shoes. In his periphery, he saw her nibbling her bottom lip, toying with the length of hair draping over her generous breast, wordlessly assessing him. His discomfort—and suspicions—grew.

      Were her nerves—like her earlier meltdown—legitimate or calculated? Were the ill-fitting robe and husky voice deliberate ploys designed to distract him? He could easily imagine Patty using sex to get her way, but Shayna? Sure, he’d seen her short fuse, but he’d also seen her fierce pride. She didn’t strike him as the type to degrade herself that way, but desperate people often took desperate chances.

      How far was Shayna willing to go to protect her secrets?

      Testing her, he closed the distance between them. The color in her cheeks heightened, and the fingers twining through her hair trembled. He couldn’t help but imagine the erotic tickle of those long strands sliding across his thighs.

      She sidestepped him and let the dog outside. When she turned back around, her robe slid even more. He realized the exact instant Shayna’s nervous fingers encountered the exposed skin of her shoulder. The red in her face deepened from embarrassed to horrified.

      “Oh, my!” She clutched the warped collar in both hands as she started backpedaling toward the stairs. “Please excuse me for a moment. I need to, uh—” the hem of her robe flared as she swiveled and ran “—change.”

      At the base of the stairs, she stuttered to a slow stop. One hand released its death grip on her robe and grabbed the newel post so hard her knuckles turned white. She drew in several long, deep breaths before pivoting towards the room.

      Her cheeks remained flushed, but her precise posture gave the impression of confidence.

      “The bathroom’s through there.” She pointed to a door below the stairs. “It’s connected to the spare room.” Tension clenched her jaw, and her eyes didn’t quite meet his, yet her voice betrayed none of her distress. “I’ll see about finding you something to wear.”

      She didn’t make it past the third riser before she stopped again. Kyle was pretty sure he caught the sound of a whispered four-letter word. With a heavy sigh, she turned and headed back down the stairs.

      “I don’t get many overnight guests, so I need to double-check and make sure there are clean towels in the bathroom.” She crossed the den, both hands clutching at her neckline.

      While he waited, Kyle laid his ruined shoes out in front of the toasty fire, hoping to hell they dried before morning. He shed his heavy, wet wool coat, looking around for something to prop it on. He stopped his scan when he noticed Walker’s agreement on the coffee table. Dropping the coat next to his shoes, he picked up the papers just as Shayna reentered the room.

      “Bathroom’s all set, but I’m afraid you’ll have to let the shower run for several minutes before you get any hot—” Her words and her feet came to an abrupt halt when she saw what he held. Her robe was very tidy and very securely belted.

      “So.” He saluted her with the papers. “You read it?”

      The layers of composure seemed to visibly flake off her frame. “Yes.” Slowly, she continued across the room.

      “What do you think?”

      “I think I should have made my terms clearer up front, Mr. Anderson.” She took the papers and shoved them in her pocket. “Tonight’s offer of hospitality is contingent upon your not speaking about anything or anyone mentioned in that agreement.”

      She’d ducked his question, but her formal wording provided all the confirmation he needed. “So what do you propose? We spend the evening staring at each other?”

      “Of course not. Surely you can discuss matters outside your job. Current events? Movies? Coke versus Pepsi?”

      Was she nuts? She expected them to engage in chitchat? The gash on his head throbbed painfully. He clenched his eyes and rubbed his fingers over his knotted forehead.

      “Goodness, look at that scowl. A body’d think I suggested we spend the evening learning to macramé!” The musical vibrations of her laughter compelled

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