LITMIR.BIZ

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collar of his coat and use it to pull herself against him. The feeling was so out of character that it frightened the hell out of her and made her stomach churn with nervous energy. In the past seven years, since her self-imposed exile from sex, her body had rarely betrayed her. Sure, there had been a few late nights with a good romance novel in her bed, but other than that, nada.

      As she looked at this man, every inch of her screamed Caution!

      “Mac Valentine?” she said, relieved that her voice sounded steady and cool.

      He nodded. “I think I’m early.”

      “Only by a few minutes,” she assured him. “Please come in.”

      As he walked toward them, his stride runway-model confident, both Mary and Tess stood and offered him their hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Valentine,” Mary said evenly. “We were just enjoying a midmorning pick-me-up.”

      “I understand.”

      “Chocolate is life’s blood around here,” Mary continued warmly.

      “I wondered what that amazing scent was the minute I got off the elevator.”

      Tess patted Olivia on the back. “Well, that’s our resident chef’s doing. Olivia makes magic and we all get to enjoy it.”

      His gaze rested on Olivia. “Is that so?”

      Olivia shrugged good-naturedly. “I’ve never been good at false modesty, so I’ll just say, yes, I’m a damn fine cook.”

      Amusement glittered in Mac Valentine’s dark eyes, and Olivia felt a shiver travel up her spine.

      “And on that note,” said Mary, packing up the rest of her brownie and half-full glass of milk, “Tess and I will leave you in Olivia’s capable hands. Welcome to No Ring Required, Mr. Valentine.”

      “Thank you.”

      Tess shook his hand again, then when his back was turned grabbed another brownie, before following Mary out of the room.

      Trying not to laugh, Olivia watched Mac take off his coat and lay it over an empty chair, then she gestured to the table. “Please, have a seat.” She snatched the orange platter of brownies off the counter and held it out in his direction. “Would you like one?”

      He glanced up at her. “Do I have to roll over and pant?”

      “Only if you want seconds.”

      Mac Valentine’s eyes flashed with surprise at her quick comeback. “I’ll let you know.” Then he took a brownie from the plate.

      She sat beside him and folded her hands primly. She didn’t know exactly why this man was here, but she had a feeling he brought trouble with him—several varieties of trouble. “Now, your assistant didn’t reveal much about why you’re here today when she made the appointment. Perhaps you could.”

      “Of course.” He sat back in his chair. “I need you to turn my home into something far more ‘homey’ than what it is.”

      “And what is it?”

      “A lot of unused space.”

      “Okay.”

      “I have clients coming in from out of town, and I want them to feel as though they’ve visited a family man, instead of a…” He paused.

      She lifted her brows. “Yes?”

      His lips twitched. “Someone who has no idea what those two words really mean.”

      “I see.” And she did. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked with a clueless millionaire playboy.

      “I think it would be best if you saw my house for yourself.”

      She nodded, her gaze darting to the untouched brownie before him. “All right. But you understand my main area of expertise is in the kitchen.”

      “I was led to believe you were a multitasker.”

      Why wasn’t he eating her brownie? “I am, but if it’s true homemaking you’re looking for then Tess might be a better—”

      “No,” he said, cutting her off.

      She paused and gave him an expectant look.

      “I want you,” he finished, his face hard.

      “Yes, I can see that,” she said cautiously. “There’s just one problem.”

      “And what would that be?”

      “Your relationship with my father.”

      His brows lifted, just slightly. “I have no relationship with your father.”

      “He called me this morning and said you might be stopping by.”

      “Did he?”

      “Yep.”

      Mac studied her for a moment. “You have the reputation of being a soft-spoken sweetheart, did you know that?”

      “Are you trying to tell me that I’m not living up to my reputation?”

      That query produced a wry smile from him. “I think I’m going to have a bite of this brownie now.”

      It’s about damn time, she thought as she watched him slip the thick dark cake between his teeth. He had large, strong-looking hands and thick wrists, and she felt a humming in her belly as she wondered what he did with his hands that garnered him such a roguish reputation.

      Her father had left her with a big warning about Mac Valentine. But instead of being worried she felt as curious as a one-year-old with an uncovered wall outlet in her sights.

      “Good?” she asked, pointing to the half-eaten brownie on the plate.

      “Very good.”

      “I’m glad,” she said evenly. “Now, Mr. Valentine, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

      Three

      If there was one thing Mac Valentine could spot a mile away, it was a worthy adversary. She may have been only a few inches over five feet with eyes as large and as soft as a baby deer, but Olivia Winston’s cleverness and sharp tongue clearly declared her as a force to be reckoned with.

      He hadn’t seen that coming.

      But then again, there was nothing he loved better than a challenge.

      He watched those brown fawn’s eyes narrow, and knew she would wait all day for the answer to her question.

      “Due to circumstances beyond my control,” he began, “my financial firm has lost its top three clients. I expect this to change over the course of the next few months when they realize that no one else in this town can make them the kind of money that I can, and did. But in the meantime, I need some help from you in landing a few heavy hitters.”

      Olivia’s gaze flickered to the tabletop. “Do you need my help rebuilding your business or your reputation?”

      “I see your father has done more than warn you about me.” She didn’t confirm or deny this, so he continued, “My business is not in any danger, but yes, my reputation has come into question and I cannot—and will not—allow that to continue.”

      “I see.” Her smile turned edgy. “So, you want these potential clients to stay at your house instead of a hotel?”

      “They’re the type who appreciate home and family and soft edges—” he waved his hand “—all of that.”

      “But you don’t.”

      “No.”

      She stood and took the plate that was in front of him, the plate with half a remaining brownie on it. “I have a question for you,” she said, walking to the sink and depositing the dish there. She was small, but all curves, and when she walked it was seduction with

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