LITMIR.BIZ

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a pair of jeans, she discovered the bottle of prescribed painkillers.

      At least she’d found them, she thought as she closed the door on the bathroom. The problem was, she probably shouldn’t give the medication to the patient—not with all that booze in him. He’d just have to wait a few hours. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to him.

      A loud snore greeted her as she walked back into the living room. Her client still sat where she’d left him, except now his chin was resting on his chest, and he was tipped forward at an alarming angle.

      Hurrying forward, Sadie decided that sleep would be the best thing for him, until the effects of the alcohol wore off. If she could just get him into a more comfortable position, he might stay that way for an hour or two, and give her time to clean up the deplorable mess around the house.

      Mrs. Simpson’s explicit instructions echoed in her mind. Ignoring the little voice that warned her she was breaking all the rules, Sadie took hold of Jordan Trent’s broad shoulders and eased him sideways until his head lay flat on the seat.

      Now that he was sleeping, she couldn’t help noticing that her new employer was a good-looking man. Thin straight nose, angular jaw, and what she liked to call a poetic mouth—sensitive and sensual. Embarrassed by her unexpected appraisal, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

      Gingerly, she lifted the bandaged foot and propped it over the arm of the couch. Then, taking care to keep his lap covered with the blanket, she pulled his other leg up to join the injured one, rolling him onto his back. So far, so good. Except he looked kind of scrunched up in the middle, and his head needed to be raised.

      Reaching behind the sleeping man, she tugged at the cushions jammed behind his back. She let out a startled shriek when without warning he clamped his arms around her back and pulled her down on top of him.

      “Cold,” he mumbled. “Come down here and keep me warm.”

      “Mr. Trent!” Sadie’s attempt at sounding outraged was embarrassingly muffled by his bare chest pressing against her face. A soft dark fuzz tickled her nose as she struggled to free herself from the tight embrace.

      Mindful of his injured foot, she pried his arms open and wriggled out of his hold. Glaring down at him, she said stiffly, “I’ll get the comforter from the bed.”

      His only answer was to drop one eyelid in a roguish wink.

      Feeling more than a little flustered, Sadie marched into the bedroom, dragged the quilt off the bed and carried it back to the couch. Jordan Trent, judging by the closed eyes and loud snoring, appeared to be fast asleep this time.

      Even so, she kept a wary eye on him while she tucked the comforter around his body. He didn’t move, and after a moment’s hesitation, she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. His skin felt cool and dry.

      Satisfied, she left him sleeping and went back into the kitchen to tackle the cluttered mess in there.

      An hour later she had the counters cleared, the dishes washed and stacked, and the floor picked up and wiped over as best she could with the frayed string mop she’d found propped up outside on the veranda.

      The only source of heat she could find was a small electric fan heater, which turned out to be quite effective in the cramped confines of the living room. In fact, she opened the door to the bedroom and the bathroom while she worked in there, and by the time she had restored some order to the house, the whole place felt quite toasty.

      Sneaking back into the living room, she peeked at the man still asleep on the couch, then began the task of picking up all the files and papers from the floor. A pair of crutches lay behind the couch. She picked them up and propped them against the wall within reach of the injured man.

      After a few minutes she unearthed an expensive laptop computer from under a pile of blueprints. Obviously on loan from Jordan Trent’s office, she assumed. Casting a reproachful glance at her client, she wondered what his boss would say if he knew that an expensive piece of office equipment had been thrown on the floor and could easily have been stepped on.

      She was disconcerted, to say the least, to discover Jordan Trent’s ice-blue eyes open and watching her with mild curiosity.

      “Am I still dreaming,” he asked pleasantly, “or did some kind friend arrange for an angel of mercy to visit me?”

      Clutching the computer to her chest, Sadie scrambled to her feet. “I hope you’re feeling better, Mr. Trent.”

      “Jordan. And thank you for your concern. Apart from a dull hammering in my head and an agonizing burning sensation in my ankle, I imagine I’ll live. Now, who are you?”

      Sadie put the computer down on the corner of the only table in the room. “Sadie Milligan. I’m the temp you hired. I did introduce myself earlier, but you were...not feeling very well. You probably don’t remember.”

      She stood in awkward silence while Jordan Trent studied her face with narrowed eyes. “I guess I wasn’t dreaming then,” he said at last.

      “Actually, you were rather drunk. Trying to replace your painkillers with brandy.”

      He managed a grim smile. “That I do remember. Things got rather vague. I seem to—” He stopped short, and sent her another penetrating look. “Did I make a pass at you?”

      “Not exactly. I believe you were simply trying to get warm.”

      He nodded, obviously relieved. “I wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

      “Neither would I,” Sadie said emphatically.

      Jordan closed his eyes as a spasm of pain crossed his face. “Seeing as I only have one good foot, that is,” he muttered.

      “Oh, wait, I found your painkillers.” She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle off the counter. After running some cold water into a mug, she carried it back into the living room. “I guess it’s okay to take them now. I mean, after drinking all that alcohol...”

      “I didn’t drink that much,” Jordan Trent said, taking the bottle from her. He shook two of the capsules into his hand and tossed them in his mouth.

      Sadie handed him the mug and waited for him to swallow the pills. He looked a little pale, and she wondered if it was the pain in his ankle or the headache from the alcohol affecting him. “When did you last eat?” she asked abruptly.

      He looked startled by the question. “Sometime last night, I guess. I tried scrambling some eggs this morning, but I had to sit down again and left them on too long. Where did you find the pills?”

      “In the bathroom, underneath a pile of damp clothes.”

      “Oh, those.” A look of embarrassment flitted across his face. “I threw them down there when I got home from the hospital yesterday. I apologize for the state of the place. I know it’s a mess but...” His voice trailed off as he looked around the room. “Well, I can see you’ve been busy. Did you perform the same miracle in the kitchen?”

      “And the bedroom and bathroom,” Sadie said with a note of satisfaction in her voice. “Now all we have to do is get you clean and fed and—”

      “Wait a minute.” He raised his hand as if to ward off any attempt by her to touch him. “Hold on one cotton-picking minute. I’m not moving off this couch. Not for you, not even for the president of the United States. I tried that this morning and I can tell you with absolute authority that the slightest movement of this ankle can cause unbearable, debilitating agony.”

      Sadie lifted her chin and fixed him with the same stare she’d used on all five of her younger brothers and sisters when they’d balked at her commands. “You have to go to the bathroom sooner or later,” she said smugly.

      Jordan’s dark brows raised a half inch. Before he could answer, she added, “Since your ankle is going to hurt then, you might as well get it all over in one go. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel once

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