LITMIR.BIZ

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Everything was properly covered so she tried for a wry smile.

      “Sorry. I couldn’t find any pajamas.”

      As though afraid he might be tempted to use it, he set the frying pan on the rumpled bed with exaggerated care.

      “I don’t wear pajamas,” he said starkly.

      “Yeah, that’s what I figured when I couldn’t find any. Normally I sleep nude, too, but I didn’t feel right doing that here…you know, being a guest in your house and all.”

      “You are not a guest,” he enunciated carefully. “You are a common thief.”

      And that raised her Irish once more. “I may be a lot of things, pal, but I am in no way common. And I haven’t stolen a thing from you,” she fired back. “I even replaced the ninety bucks I borrowed for cab fare.”

      “Ninety dollars! What did you do, take a tour?”

      “Hey! In case you’ve forgotten, it’s New Year’s Eve.”

      Besides, she’d taken a series of cab rides because her car had refused to start again, but there was no point mentioning that little fact. Or how incredibly lucky she’d been to find even one cab let alone several still operating as the weather worsened.

      She spread her hands. “So I was gouged, sue me. Between the holiday and the snow, I was hardly in any position to argue prices. I know I shouldn’t have borrowed your wallet and your keys, but I did return them, so no harm done.”

      “And my shirt?”

      “Oh, for crying out loud. It’s the middle of the night! You want it back? Fine.”

      As she reached for the top button she wondered if he’d really make her take it off. Surely not. This guy was all but starched rigid. Still, the unwanted memory of their shared kiss made her usually agile fingers shake unacceptably. What if she wasn’t reading him as well as she thought?

      One button.

      Two.

      “Stop!”

      Thank heavens! One more button and she’d be wishing for a belly-button ring to distract him. She waited while he muttered something under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

      “I don’t believe this.”

      “I know what you mean,” she agreed, redoing the buttons with a lot more speed than she’d managed to undo them.

      Wearily, he rubbed his face. Mel noted his exhaustion and sympathized. Her own eyes felt gritty. Casting a quick glance around the room she picked up the dress that had fallen to the floor and then spotted her black sweatpants on the chair where she’d tossed them earlier.

      She strode over and tugged the pants up under the shirt with faked nonchalance, conscious of his dark gaze following her every move. Given the situation, it was funny she didn’t feel more threatened.

      “This has been quite a night, wouldn’t you say? What time is it, anyhow?”

      “Past time for you to do some explaining.”

      Mel could hardly miss the silky threat in his quiet tone even if she hadn’t noticed that the hands he’d dropped to his sides were fisted tightly.

      “Who are you?” he demanded.

      “That’s right, we never did get around to introductions, did we? I’m Mel.” Nervously she rerolled the long sleeve that kept falling down to cover her hand.

      “Mel.”

      His lack of inflection was a rattle of warning. He regarded her with an unblinking stare as he repeated her name.

      “Well, Mel, what are you doing in my house at…”

      He glanced down at the expensive gold watch on his wrist she’d noticed earlier. If she’d been inclined toward a life of crime that would have made a tempting target.

      “…three twenty-seven in the morning? Or is it too much for me to expect a reasonable answer to that question?”

      All things considered, he was taking the situation very well. He hadn’t hit her with the frying pan and he wasn’t reaching for the telephone to call the police.

      Yet.

      Mel knew it was more than she deserved. Although she was scared, she knew better than to let him see her fear.

      “How come you aren’t calling the police?”

      “An excellent question. Should I?”

      “Not on my account.”

      He didn’t crack a smile. She watched as one of his hands went back to his forehead to rub absently. Apparently he still had a headache. Heck, she could feel the early twinges of one herself.

      “Look, I really am sorry.” She shrugged helplessly. “The truth is, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was hoping you and your model would spend the night at the hotel, or at least go back to her place. I figured I could return your wallet and keys and be out of here before you showed up in the morning. I didn’t expect you to come here so soon. Not in this weather.”

      “Why?”

      “Why didn’t I think you’d come back so soon?” She raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Or do you mean why didn’t I have anywhere else to go?”

      He started to say something, shook his head and stopped.

      “Why me?” he asked flatly.

      She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You were tall and you were heading toward the exit.”

      He waited, but she didn’t dare add anything else.

      “Of course. That makes perfect sense,” he said mockingly after an interminable minute had passed.

      “Has anyone ever told you, you do sarcasm quite well? Look, it’s late and neither of us is thinking straight right now. Why don’t you go take something for your headache? I’ll make us a cup of hot chocolate to help us sleep. We can finish playing twenty questions in the morning.”

      She moved to brush past him even though she’d known it wasn’t going to be that simple. He stopped her in her tracks simply by snagging her arm. The man had a powerful grip, but she was relieved to find he knew exactly how much pressure to exert to hold her still without hurting.

      “Where do you think you’re going?”

      Mel froze and her heart pulsed a rapid staccato. Could he see through her brave talk? Did he know how badly she was quaking inside? She was totally in the wrong here and she knew it. He had every right to call the police and have her arrested. She had to keep reminding herself that any show of fear was a weakness that might just send his hand reaching for the nearest telephone. Best to keep him off base—if she could. “To your kitchen. I could use a pain reliever myself and I can’t take them on an empty stomach.”

      This close to him again she realized that his tuxedo still held the faintest trace of cigarette smoke and a much stronger floral perfume odor that she wasn’t familiar with. The last wasn’t terribly surprising since it had probably come from the girlfriend and was bound to cost more than Mel would think of spending even if she wore perfume.

      Dark, tired eyes stared down at her. They mirrored his headache and exhaustion, but once again she was reminded that this was no mark. Roderick Laughlin III was a formidable adversary.

      “Look, trust me,” she told him, making no effort to pull away. “I’m not going anywhere dressed like this. We both need sleep.”

      “Trust you?”

      His lips curled cynically and his eyes bored into hers.

      “Interesting concept…Mel. Tell me why I should trust a pickpocket who dresses like a whore and enters my house illegally in the dead of the night.”

      Her

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