Working Overtime. Raye Morgan

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      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 bed.”

      He picked up her sandwich but he didn’t hand it to her right away. “Midnight,” he said, frowning. “No, that’s impossible. I need a bed now.”

      “Sorry,” she said, stepping closer to take her sandwich and turning as though about to flee.

      “‘Sorry’ won’t help,” he said, grasping her wrist before she could pull away. “I’ve got to get some sleep. Now.”

      She glared up at him. “What do you expect me to do about it?”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. Be a little helpful, maybe.”

      Their gazes held a moment too long. That sense of awareness sizzled between them, and her heart was beating so loudly, she knew he had to hear it.

      This was utterly ridiculous. How could she be standing here in these silly pajamas, with his hand holding her wrist in a viselike grip, feeling like a teenager with her first crush? Determinedly, she yanked her hand away and glared at him, rubbing her wrist.

      But he hardly seemed to notice. “What rooms are empty?” he asked crisply.

      “I don’t know,” she said, knowing she was acting like a sullen child but unable to help herself. “I don’t pay much attention.”

      “Don’t you?” His gaze narrowed. “What floor are you on?”

      “The second. But…”

      “Are there any empty rooms near you?”

      “That’s not the point.”

      “There must be a room across the hall from you. Anyone in there?”

      She hesitated. “Not that I know of, but that doesn’t mean…”

      He started for the door. “It means I’m going to be sleeping there tonight.”

      “You can’t,” she said, hurrying after him back to the entryway.

      “Oh, can’t I?” He slung his suit carrier over his shoulder and picked up his suitcase, then turned to look at her. “Just watch me.” He gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, fair lady.”

      She searched his eyes suspiciously, looking for any sign that he was making fun of her, but she couldn’t pin anything down.

      “Why can’t you just camp out on the couch until they get back?” she suggested rather halfheartedly. She knew he wouldn’t go for it and he didn’t even bother to say so. Instead he waited, giving her a look of expectation, and she sighed and flounced off toward the stairs.

      “The door might be locked,” she said over her shoulder as he followed her to the second floor. “The bed might not be made up.”

      “I’ll sleep in the bathtub if I have to,” he said calmly, not even pretending he didn’t like the view he had in front of him going up the stairs. “Just give me a pillow and don’t turn on the shower. Once I fall asleep, I don’t plan to wake up again until morning.”

      She hurried to put distance between them, but stopped in front of the room she was staying in.

      “Here’s mine,” she said, cracking open the door to deposit the peanut butter sandwich just inside and to sneak a peek at her sleeping boys. They looked fine, and she closed the door again just as he arrived.

      “And here’s the room you plan to hijack,” she said, trying the handle. It opened easily. She went straight to the bed and pulled back the bedspread. “I thought so. No sheets.”

      “I’ll rough it.”

      “No, you won’t.” She was scandalized. “I’ll find you sheets. Here, help me pull back the blanket. I’ll make your bed up for you. Just wait a minute.”

      He pulled back the blanket as she’d suggested, then shrugged out of his jacket, pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. All he wanted to do was fall down on the bed and close his eyes, but he waited while she opened drawers, looking for bedding.

      Her hair had come completely loose by now, and it swirled around her pretty face in a way that made him want to kiss her nose. She looked so beguiling with the tanned skin of her long legs gleaming in the lamplight. But when she’d found the sheets and turned, coming back toward him, he had to laugh at the picture she made. Her legs were lovely, but it did look as though she were wearing two very angry Persian cats on her feet.

      “What?” she said indignantly, stopping in her tracks. “What’s so funny?”

      “Nothing,” he said quickly, shrugging out of his shirt and dropping it onto a nearby chair. “Nothing at all.”

      She was going to say more, but one look at his muscular chest rendered her speechless and she looked away quickly, praying that she wouldn’t turn red as she moved toward the bed with the fresh sheets. The picture Sherry had created in the calendar had nothing on the reality. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to a real live shirtless man. СКАЧАТЬ