LITMIR.BIZ

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the room, enjoying the contrast to her own little tiny kitchen at home. The stove was a huge gleaming monstrosity, the refrigerator had three doors, side by side, the sink had all the latest attachments, and beautiful copper-bottomed pans hung over the center island. Think of the gourmet dinners she could concoct in this place. Sighing happily, she switched on the radio and reached into the bread box. A cha-cha came on the air and she began to sing along with it, adding a few dance steps with her pink-slippered feet at the same time.

      Now where did Hannah keep the peanut butter?

      Michael paused on the wooden steps and looked up at the beautiful old house. He was feeling better already. He needed sleep and he needed it soon. This looked like a place where he might be able to get it.

      He knocked on the big wooden door with the beveled glass windowpanes, but there was no answer. In the distance, he could hear a radio playing, and the sound of someone singing. Trying the knob, he found it turned easily in his hand, and he went on into the entryway.

      The place looked just as good inside as out. Polished hardwood floors gleamed in the lamplight. Persian carpets, neoclassic furniture, reproductions of works by Constable and Turner, and plenty of flower arrangements all combined to lend the place an air of quiet dignity and peaceful serenity. And most of all, after the wild scene at the hotel where rodeo rowdies caroused through the corridors all night long, there was the wonderful silence that lurked in the hallways.

      Sighing happily, he set his leather suitcase and canvas suit carrier on the floor of the entryway and started toward where the radio was playing. He’d been told to ask for a Hannah Schubert, who managed the place. In just minutes, he was sure his head would be on a cool, crisp pillow. He could hardly wait.

      Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, his gaze encountered a woman in baby doll pajamas and fluffy pink slippers, hair only half caught in a band at the back of her head. She was just taking a huge bite out of a peanut butter sandwich and catching sight of him at the same time.

      “You’re not Hannah Schubert, are you?” he asked wryly, knowing the answer before the words were out of his mouth. For some reason, finding Chareen here didn’t really surprise him. After all, he’d been thinking about her all afternoon.

      But Chareen seemed surprised. She gasped, breathed the wrong way and began to choke on the peanut butter. He was at her side in two quick strides, pulling her into the curl of one arm while he pounded on her back with the flat of his free hand. Funny. For such a slim thing, she felt solid and deliciously rounded against his arm. He wanted to keep her there for a while, but she was already fighting to get free of him and he let her go reluctantly.

      “You!” she cried as she backed away, still coughing, her face red and her eyes watering. She couldn’t believe it. Was she cursed or something? There he stood, big as life, looking incredibly handsome with his hair mussed so that it fell over his forehead, his tie hanging loose and the top button of his shirt undone. He was so masculine and attractive, it made her ache inside. What had she done to deserve this?

      “It must be kismet,” he was saying dryly, looking at her with a bemused smile. “We meet again.”

      She would have kept on backing right out of sight if she could have, but the counter stopped her. Still staring at him, ready to jump should he make a move toward her, she licked the peanut butter from her fingers and reached for a paper towel to finish the job.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded, embarrassed to be caught running around in her pajamas, intrigued by the sight of him and chagrined to think he might realize just how much she liked what she saw.

      “What are you doing here?” he countered, looking her up and down and knowing he was being blatant about it, but unable to resist. She looked good enough to kiss, even in her present disheveled condition, and he realized he wasn’t as displeased as he should have been to find her thrust back into his day.

      “I have permission to stay here,” she told him, drawing herself up rather grandly for a person who’d just been choking to death on peanut butter in his embrace. She pulled her arms across her chest in a defiant posture, meant to outweigh the picture she knew she made in her childish pajamas. “My house is being repaired and I needed a place to stay for a few days, so Leonard, my supervisor, suggested I stay here.”

      “What a coincidence,” he told her, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I have special permission to stay here, too.”

      She frowned. That was all she needed. Surely he was mistaken. “No,” she said sternly. “You can’t stay here. This place is for contract workers and visitors from other branches of TriTerraCorp. You’re an executive. Executives stay at the hotel. The company has a very expensive suite for them.” She gestured with a jerk of her head. “You’ll have to go and stay there.”

      “I’ve been,” he told her tranquilly. “And I left again. There’s a rodeo, you know.”

      She blinked, thinking that over. “I know. But it’s not at the hotel.”

      “It may not be, but the cowboys are. They’re riding the place hard and they plan to die with their boots on. I didn’t get any sleep at all last night. Tonight, I plan to sleep like a baby.”

      Her shoulders drooped. She knew she’d probably lost this one. It was so annoying to see him standing there so easily, as though he belonged, telling her the way things were going to be. She wished with all her heart that she could honestly tell him there was just no vacancy. But the way things were going, he’d probably find a way to have her kicked out and take over her room.

      “Okay,” she told him grudgingly, “but if you’re going to be staying here, you’ve got to promise me one thing.”

      “What’s that?”

      “Promise that you won’t keep sneaking up on me like this. I’m going to be jumpy as a cat for as long as you’re around.”

      He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She was just so damn appealing. “I promise.”

      “Good.” She heaved a sigh, as though that took a real load off her mind. “Okay, here are the rules. We’re all equal here. No bosses. No ordering anyone around. Everyone gets a bedroom, but we all share one bathroom on each floor. There’s a ‘knock three times and pause’ rule on all the doors, especially the bathroom door, because the locks are old and cranky. Sometimes they don’t work very well.”

      She paused, waiting to see if that was enough to scare him away. When it obviously wasn’t, she sighed and went on. “You’re supposed to supply some of your own food, though Hannah keeps a stock of staples that everyone is welcome to use. She has them clearly marked. She makes breakfast available for all from six to seven-thirty every morning.”

      He nodded, agreeing to the rules as she’d stated them. “That all sounds very good.” He flexed his shoulders. He would have liked to stay here chatting with her for hours. That husky voice of hers still worked its magic on his senses, and he had to admit, she was a hit in those diminutive pajamas. It just about made a man forget all about some ridiculous promises he’d made to himself.

      She was acting skittish, but something told him she might be receptive with the right persuasion. Why not give it a try? A knowing smile, a touch, a raised eyebrow—he knew the ropes. He might even get her to share a bed with him this very night.

      But, much as he was tempted, he knew he wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t a player. She had all the earmarks of a woman who viewed marriage and family as a major goal, and that was the very kind of woman he avoided at all costs.

      Besides, he was dead tired. He had to get some sleep. After one last regretful look at how cute her breasts looked under that ridiculous pajama top, he sighed and asked, “How do I find out which room I’ve got?”

      She shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Hannah. She and everyone else in the place are at the rodeo. They’ll be back about midnight, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll just hand me the other half of my sandwich,” she added, pointing out where it lay on the counter behind him, “I’m going to

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