Working Overtime. Raye Morgan

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      She’d had three years to get over it, and she’d done a pretty good job. Her life was full of her kids, and her job, in that order. There was no room for anything or anyone else. Especially not a man who stirred up painful memories—and her long-dormant sensual imagination.

      Slipping out of the shower, she dried herself with one of the big, fluffy towels that Hannah Schubert, the house manager, had stocked in the bathroom, then stepped into the bottoms of her Mickey Mouse shorty pajamas and pulled on the top. She twisted her hair into a clip at the back, slipped her feet into fluffy pink bedroom slippers and made a face as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. This was not a picture she would want anyone she knew to ever see.

      Stopping to peek in on her sleeping babies, she paused and smiled, her heart full as she looked at them. Those adorable little angelic faces. Who could guess that all they were doing was storing up the energy to drive everyone crazy again as soon as possible?

      She grinned and turned to go downstairs. Her stomach was grumbling. She’d been too busy to eat at the fast-food restaurant and a peanut butter sandwich would hit the spot right now.

      She moved through the hallway with the confidence born of the knowledge that she was the only one home. Besides herself and her little family, four other people were living in the house right now. Hannah was the house mother and all-around coordinator of most of what went on here. And then there were two contract workers from Seattle who were busy improving the accounting software used by Financial, and an engineer from the Dallas office who was consulting on a sports stadium project. Hannah had gathered them all together to go out to the arena to see an all-star roster of country singers entertain, part of the rodeo that was in town. Chareen had been tempted, but she’d turned down the opportunity for a little fun. It was much more important to her to spend what time she could with her children.

      She padded into the kitchen and looked around 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 СКАЧАТЬ