Читать книгу Tycoon's Temptation - Katherine Garbera, Allison Leigh - Страница 9

Chapter Three

She was right. The waffles at the Luscious Lucius Café were better than average.

Or maybe it was the company sitting across the table from him that made the waffles taste better than usual. Dane’s reason for being in Montana had nothing to do with pleasure, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Despite her questionable skills behind the wheel, Hadley Golightly was easy on the eyes, humorous and engaging, when she wasn’t busy being self-conscious, and did seem to know everyone in town.

Not a single person entered or left the café without exchanging some friendly greeting with her. He’d been introduced to more people in the past hour than he could have met had he advertised free money. Wood Tolliver had been introduced, anyway.

And Dane figured it was only a matter of time before the sheriff came along, set to hurry him on his way. Once the man had determined that the Shelby hadn’t been reported stolen, he’d had little reason to keep holding “Wood.” But he’d been clear that he wanted to see the back side of Dane, regardless.

It was a new sensation for him. Most people were happy to have Dane Rutherford in their midst. Came with the territory of running Rutherford Industries.

But Dane wasn’t in Montana on business.

This trip had been strictly personal.

Which was why he’d borrowed Wood’s name. Tolliver wasn’t likely to be recognized. Rutherford, however, was as common as Rockefeller.

And a Rutherford asking questions about new faces in town would draw speculation he didn’t need.

He nudged aside his plate and folded his arms on the table, watching Hadley. “You’ve told me all about Lucius. Tell me about you.”

Her eyes were as dark a brown as her hair. And now they widened a little. A hint of pink rode her cheeks, and he knew it was nature that had put it there, not cosmetics. “There’s nothing much to tell.”

“You have one brother who’s the sheriff and one brother who’s the mechanic.”

“Stu also has a ranch. Outside of town.” Her cheeks went a little more pink. “I was leaving there when I—”

“Was driving like a bat outta hell?”

She poked the tines of her fork into her waffle and nodded.

“And Wendell Pierce?”

Her eyes flickered. “What do you know about Wendell?”

“Your brother says you two are involved.”

Her jaw worked. She carefully set down the fork. “I can’t imagine why he’d say that.”

Dane could. Shane-the-sheriff didn’t like the way Dane looked at his kid sister.

He couldn’t really blame the guy for that, he supposed.

“Maybe I misunderstood,” he lied smoothly.

“I doubt it,” she muttered. Her brown gaze skipped around the café. Half the tables and all of the booths were occupied. Then she leaned forward. “They’re trying to marry me off,” she said abruptly. “I mean, do I look that pathetic to you?” She shook her head, and her hair rippled over the turtleneck she wore. It was a pretty, soft yellow. And at least a size too large.

“Never mind,” she hurried onward. “Don’t answer that. My ego can only take so much.”

Her ego should have been plenty healthy. Either the men in Lucius—excluding the apparently interested Wendell—were terminally stupid, or they were blind. And he figured that he’d been better off thinking she was already spoken for in the romance department.

He wasn’t in Montana for romance. Or for good old-fashioned lust, which was definitely a shame, because she certainly inspired that, even with her engulfing sweater.

Hardly a polite topic over breakfast dishes, though, and Dane had been schooled from way back about what was polite and what was not. Seemly behavior versus unseemly.

Not that he’d ever paid those lessons much heed.

“I have a sister,” he said truthfully. “Before she got married a while back I was guilty of derailing a few interested men that I didn’t think were good enough for her.”

“But that’s not what they’re doing.” She lifted her hands. “They’re trying to tie me to the tracks, because they know that nobody besides Wendell is interested.”

He couldn’t help smiling a little, she was so clearly irritated. Telling her that, where he was concerned, her thinking was completely off the mark would only lead to trouble, so he just reached for his mug and finished off his coffee.

She sat back in her chair again and finally set down the fork with which she’d been doing more waving than eating. “The accident was my fault,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to pay for your own damages. I have insurance.” Her expression was earnest. “And Stu may be a pain in my behind, but he’s really a whiz when it comes to fixing cars. He keeps this whole town running, pretty much. And he makes things so beautiful again. Or maybe you want to have your car hauled back to where you live in Indiana?”

He hadn’t spent more than five days straight in Indiana for the past decade, and he could have had an entire team come to Lucius to work on the car he’d picked up on Wood’s behalf if he’d wanted. “A whiz, huh?”

The shining ends of her hair bounced around the barely discernible thrust of her breasts when she nodded. “Honest.”

“Guess I’ll have to look into it, then.”

Her smile lit every portion of her face, including her eyes. Then she looked at her watch. “Oh, drat. I’ve got to go. I’ve been helping my dad out mornings for a few weeks at the church while his secretary is on vacation. If you’re going to be staying in town, let me know. I run Tiff’s. It’s the boardinghouse at the end of Main Street. Can’t miss the place.” She fumbled some cash out of her purse, dropped it on the table and had scurried out the door before he could get a word out.

Dane sat back in his chair once more and eyed her money.

He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been expected to pick up the check, no matter how large or small. And with the women he usually saw, the check had never involved waffles in a quaint café with a western-style front on a quiet street that saw maybe three cars an hour.

The busy waitress—Bethany, according to her hand-printed nametag—came by with the coffee pot, and he slid his mug toward her. She filled it, offered a distracted smile and headed on to the next table. The people at the tables around him discussed everything from the uncommonly cold weather, to politics, to who was apparently sleeping with whom. And they acted as if he had every reason to be included.

Even though he’d spent the night in a jail cell, now he’d been introduced by Hadley Golightly. Apparently that was enough. It also made her glad he hadn’t pulled any strings to get out of jail from the get-go. He was nothing more than a guy passing through.

Eventually Dane finished off the coffee. More in hopes that it would help the throbbing in his head than anything. The morning crowd had thinned and he pocketed Hadley’s cash and paid the full bill himself. Then he walked down to Golightly Garage and Auto Body. The Shelby had been moved from the tow truck and was parked in front of an open bay.

For a moment Dane let himself suck in the stink of tires and grease. It had been a long time.

Too long.

He shook off the thought with regrettably practiced ease and walked forward when the man circling the car with a clipboard in his hand noticed him.

The other man lifted a square palm and settled his Green Bay Packers ball cap a few inches back on his blond head. “You Tolliver?”

Dane nodded. The other man stepped forward, hand extended and they shook. “Stu Golightly.” He gestured at the car with his other hand, which was encased in a ragged cast. “Damn, but this is a pure shame. Guess you met my little sister, Had, eh?”

Hadley had told him over breakfast that Shane and Stu were twins, but aside from their general size—extra large—there was little resemblance. “She tells me you’re a whiz.”

Stu grinned, apparently as friendly as his brother was not. “I am, but I ’spect you’ll have someone you prefer to work on her.”

He did. But that didn’t serve his purposes at all.

He went around and pried open the passenger door wide enough to pull his leather duffel from where it was wedged behind the seat, along with the driver’s license he’d stashed in a tight fold of leather upholstery the day before when the ambulance had arrived. He stuck the license in his pocket and backed out of the car.

“Write up the estimate,” he told the man, “and call me. I assume you know the number at Tiff’s.”

Stu’s friendly expression chilled. Seemed he was more like his brother than Dane had thought. “You’re staying at Tiff’s?”

Dane nodded and walked away before the man could say more. Judging by that expression, Stu would have the repairs done on the Shelby in record time. The guy may have been happy to work on the rare car, but his enthusiasm evidently didn’t extend to the idea of Dane taking a room at his sister’s boardinghouse.

By the time he’d walked the length of Main Street, Dane had a renewed appreciation for warmer climates. Not that it didn’t get cold in Seattle or Louisville, where he had homes. But it was nothing compared to the chip of ice Lucius occupied.

Fortunately, Tiff’s was just as Hadley had described. The Victorian looked perfectly maintained with its curlicues and lace. But it was painted in pink and green, resulting in what was about the most god-awful color combination Dane had ever seen.

He went up the front steps. As long as it was warm inside, he didn’t much care if there were naked ladies painted on the outside. The door was unlocked and he went in, not entirely sure what to expect. He was used to staying in five-star hotels. Not Podunk-town boarding houses.

The door opened directly on to a wide hall with several doorways leading off it. The floor was carpeted in a pale pink as ugly as the exterior paint, and a narrow tapestry carpet runner stretched along the length of it. Looking straight back, beyond the dark-wood staircase tucked against the wall, he could see what was obviously a kitchen.

And the painstaking piano music coming from one of the rooms off the central hall seemed completely in place.

“Hi.” A very pregnant young blonde walked by, an enormous cereal bowl in her hand. “You must be the new guest.”

Why not? He nodded, and the woman pointed up the stairs. “All the way up the stairs. Two flights. Tower room. You’re lucky. You’ll have your own bathroom.” Then she padded, barefoot, out of sight again.

He went up the stairs to the first landing, glanced down the hall at the collection of doors—mostly closed, and went up the second flight. There was only one room at the top and he went inside, closing the door behind him.

There were windows on three sides of the room. All were covered with filmy white curtains, and Dane tugged aside one set to look out on a wide expanse of snow punctuated periodically by winter-nude trees. In the distance he could see the thin, glittering ribbon of a stream backed by a row of evergreens.

He shrugged out of his coat and retrieved his cell phone from his duffel. As soon as he turned it on, it beeped with messages. He ignored them and dialed his sister. She answered after only a few rings.

Dane didn’t waste time. “How is he?”

“Stable for now,” Darby answered.

“Still unconscious?”

“Yes.”

Dane stifled an oath. “Is Felicia there?”

Darby laughed a little at that. “Are you kidding? Our mother doesn’t do hospitals, you know that. Not even for our dad. She’s staying at the house, though.”

“If Roth knew she was staying under his roof, he’d probably have another heart attack,” he said. Once Roth and Felicia Rutherford divorced, they’d never had another kind word to say about the other.

More than twenty years ago, yet neither one of his parents had managed to move on.

He gingerly rubbed the pain in his forehead and turned away from the view.

He was a fine one to judge others about moving on.

“Call me on my cell if anything changes.”

Darby promised to do so and hung up. She’d never have bought it if he’d claimed to be taking a vacation and it had been easy enough to convince her he was in Montana on business. Her interest in Rutherford Industries had always been minimal, and since she now lived in Minnesota with her husband, the five kids he’d come with plus the one they’d had together, that interest had decreased even further.

Only, now Darby was back in Louisville, staying by Roth’s hospital bedside. He knew she didn’t approve of him being absent right now even if she understood it to be business. But it was better if she didn’t know Dane’s real reason.

His sister had been through enough when it came to Dane’s quarry. Alan Michaels had kidnapped and tormented her when she was a child. He had no intention of telling her that the man was at large again. Hell, Roth had suffered a heart attack the same day he’d learned it.

Dane looked around the room. It wasn’t going to win any awards for spacious design, but it had the necessities and was appealing in a comfortable sort of way with its clean, light looks. The bed was wide enough, covered by a quilt that he figured was handmade, and there was a narrow desk and chair beneath the set of windows that overlooked the street.

He ached from head to toe and the bed looked inviting, but he had work to do. So he sat down in the chair and dealt with the phone messages. He called Wood and broke the news about the car. His friend mostly groaned. But since Wood already had three other Shelbys in his collection, he could afford the luxury of being patient for the repairs. Then Dane called Mandy Manning. The message he left on her voice mail was brief.

“I’m in Lucius. Call me.”

* * *

“I’m late, I’m late for a very important date.” The words echoed inside Hadley’s head as she hurried up the steps of Tiff’s. She’d spent an hour longer than she’d intended at the church, and had still had to stop off at the grocery store before going home.

Since sharing a table at Luscious with Wood Tolliver that morning, it’d taken her twice as long to accomplish everything she’d attempted, because her thoughts kept straying into foolish directions.

She’d mangled his car and that was that. She didn’t figure a man would be likely to overlook that particular detail.

She maneuvered the front door open with her two free fingertips, worked a foot inside, followed by her thigh, then hip.

“Here.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Wood seemed to appear out of nowhere on the step beside her, his hands easily plucking three of the bulky canvas bags out of her hands.

“Where do you want them?”

“Kitchen,” she said faintly. He was polite enough not to mention her gaping expression, and she was grateful for it.

He pushed open the door the rest of the way for her and waited. She could feel cold air rushing past her and she hurriedly closed her mouth and went inside.

He followed her into the kitchen and set his bags on the counter next to hers. Then she tried not to gape all over again when he tossed his jacket on the counter and—as if he’d been doing it for years—poured himself a mug of coffee. Well, she tried and failed, anyway, and managed to shake her head when he held up the mug, offering it to her first before lifting it to his own lips.

“You look surprised,” he said after a moment. He leaned his hip against the counter and smiled faintly. “Is it me drinking your coffee, or is it just me?”

Her oversize white mugs were eclipsed by his long fingers. His nails were clipped short and neat and she couldn’t imagine there ever being grease or dirt beneath them. He’d also changed out of the borrowed shirt, she noticed, and the gray one he now wore made his blue eyes seem less piercing but no less… arresting.

“I am,” she admitted belatedly. “Surprised you’re here, I mean.” The Lucius grapevine must have had a temporary power outage.

“Should I have gone elsewhere? You’re the one who suggested it.”

She had, in a minor fit of madness even though she’d never believed he would take her up on it. “The Lucius Inn might be more to your liking. They have room service, and satellite television and—”

“Now you’re making me feel unwelcome.”

“No!” Dismayed, her fingers crumpled the canvas bag she’d been unpacking. “I didn’t mean that at all. Of course you’re welcome here. It’s the least I can do. But, I just—”

“Hadley.”

“What?”

He set his mug down and leaned his arms on the

counter until his face was only a foot from hers. “I was kidding.”

She could see those small scars near his eye again. “Oh. Right.”

His mouth kicked up a little on one side and after a moment he straightened again, picking up the mug. “Got a lot of stuff there. Thought you were helping out your dad at his church this morning.”

She swallowed and diligently focused again on unpacking her purchases. “I was. I did. Then I went shopping.” Nothing like stating the obvious, Hadley. Her face felt hot. “I have another guest coming in this afternoon. She actually made the reservation a few weeks ago, which is pretty unusual for me. So I wanted to make it particularly special for her.”

Wood lifted a tissue-wrapped bundle of wild flowers from the smallest bag. “Nice.” He tipped the bundle toward his nose, smelling them. “You buy flowers for all your guests?”

Feeling like the biggest ninny on the planet, she cautiously slipped them out of his hand. “Not for the regulars.” If she were one of her characters that she wrote about, she’d have flirted outrageously with the man and had him falling over himself to win her heart.

Instead she retrieved a crystal vase from the breakfront and filled it with water, wishing that she could control the heat that filled her cheeks whenever she glanced his way.

He had to move out of her way for her to reach the sink, which he did, but not enough, and standing so near to him made her breath feel woefully short.

“Tiff’s used to really be a bed and breakfast, but since I’ve taken over we’ve become more of a boardinghouse.” She turned off the water and reached for the flowers again.

“Who ran it before you?”

“My mother, Holly.”

His eyebrows rose. “Holly. Golightly.”

His surprise was toned down more than the usual disbelief she’d heard most of her life and she found herself smiling a little. “I know. And, yes, her favorite movie was Breakfast at Tiffany’s with Audrey Hepburn. Mom wasn’t anything like the character Holly Golightly, though. Well, other than being a survivor.” She arranged the flowers and stepped back to study them.

“Pretty,” he murmured.

She nodded, her eyes still on the flowers.

“What happened to her?”

Hadley sighed a little. “She died when I was twenty. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

Funnily enough, she had the sense the words weren’t merely a platitude. She looked up at him and he wasn’t looking at the flowers, at all. “We all were.” And even though there were days she missed her mother with a physical ache, she’d lived through the worst of her grief and could think about her without wanting to dissolve.

She set the flowers safely to one side and returned to unpacking the rest of her purchases. Any minute he’d probably get bored and leave the room. “What about your parents?” she asked quickly, before she lost her nerve.

“Divorced a long time ago.”

She paused, caught by something in his expression that she couldn’t have defined had she tried. “That must have been hard,” she said quietly.

His gaze didn’t waver. “Be glad you never had to live through your own parents going to war.”

Hadley’s fingers tightened around a fresh tomato. She set it down before she punctured the skin. The war between her mother and natural father had gone on before she’d been born. Beau Golightly was her stepfather. “So.” She took a cheerful note. “What’s the word on your car?”

“Your brother is working up the estimate.”

“He’ll be fair. And not just in deference to my insurance rates that are undoubtedly going to go up again.”

“Again?”

She shrugged and smiled ruefully. What was the point in being offended over the simple truth? She folded the emptied canvas bags and stacked them beneath the sink. “We both know I’m not going to win any driving awards.” She straightened and brushed her hands down her slacks.

Maybe if she focused on the business at hand, she would prove she wasn’t inept in that area, at least. “We need to get you settled in a room, then. Can’t have you just hovering around the downstairs rooms with no place of your own.”

Joanie Adams padded into the kitchen, the ever-present cereal bowl in her young hand. “No sweat,

Had,” she said, obviously overhearing Hadley’s comment. “I told him to go up to the tower room. He’s the one you were expecting, right?”

Hadley’s smile wilted a little. Joanie had her heart in the right place. “Actually, he isn’t.”

Joanie’s sweet face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Hadley waved her hands. “Don’t be silly. I should have been here when Mr. Tolliver arrived. It’ll all be fine.”

“I’m not choosy,” Wood murmured. “As long as there’s a bed.”

But Joanie still looked troubled. Fat tears filled her blue eyes. “I was only trying to help.”

Hadley tucked her arm through Joanie’s, leading her from the kitchen. She knew from experience that once Joanie started the waterworks, it only got worse from there. “I know you were,” she soothed. “Truly, Joanie. It’s fine. No harm done.” She snuck an apologetic look over her shoulder at Wood as she herded Joanie back to her room. If he thought Joanie’s reaction extreme, it didn’t show on his face.

The man was proving to have the patience of Job.

The only other person she knew personally with that kind of patience was her stepfather, Beau.

By the time Hadley had opened a fresh box of tissues and Joanie’s wailing had ceased, Hadley wanted nothing more than to sit down with a good book and put up her feet. But lunch needed to be prepared, and she had to move Wood out of the tower and into the only other room she had prepared for guests.

Mrs. Ardelle was banging away on the piano keys, and Hadley stuck her head in the parlor, meaning to yell hello over the notes.

Wood sat on the bench beside the white-haired woman, holding the pages of the sheet music in place.

Hadley hovered, unnoticed in the doorway until Mrs. Ardelle finished with a flourish and dimpled at Wood. “Do you play?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Badly. Blame six years of enforced lessons. No—” he waved Mrs. Ardelle back in place on the bench when she made to move so he could take her spot “—you keep playing. My ego would roll over and die if I made an attempt at it.”

Mrs. Ardelle laughed gaily, clearly taken with Wood’s deprecatory drawl. Hadley smiled herself as she tiptoed back to the kitchen without disturbing the two.

Fortunately, lunch was easy, requiring little of her thoughts, which were definitely preoccupied again with her unexpected guest. Chicken salad, broccoli soup and pecan tarts. When everything was ready she set it all out on the buffet in the dining room using special containers that would keep the dishes hot or cold, and rang the dinner bell. They’d come by and eat when it suited them over the next hour.

Wood escorted Mrs. Ardelle into the dining room before Hadley escaped to spend her lunchtime as she usually did—squirreled away in her room for an uninterrupted hour of writing. But she surprised everyone, including herself, by fixing herself a serving and sitting down at the table.

Mrs. Ardelle’s bright eyes skipped from Wood to her as she chattered about the latest gossip going around Lucius, and Hadley had the suspicion that she’d just given the elderly woman a new topic to gossip about.

The presence of Wood Tolliver at Tiff’s.

Vince Jeffries ambled in. Next to Wood, who didn’t really count, Vince was her newest boarder. Typically quiet, the thirty-something balding man sat at the end of the table, barely nodding a greeting at the rest. Even Joanie came in after a fashion, keeping a wide berth between herself and Wood, as if he had been barking at her for the room mix-up when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Hadley couldn’t help wondering what he thought of his lunch companions and was no closer to a conclusion when the pecan tarts had all been eaten and the dining room was clear again, save the dirty dishes, her and Wood.

She tried waving him back when he began helping her clear the table, but he paid no heed, and in less than half the time it usually took, she had the dining room restored to order and the kitchen sink was full of soapy water.

“A lot of service you’re providing for a boardinghouse,” Wood observed.

She gave up protesting his help. The man seemed set on it regardless of what she said. “You’re pretty determined to do whatever you want, aren’t you?” She looked pointedly at the dish towel he’d picked up.

“Pretty much,” he allowed smoothly.

She smiled despite herself and shoved her hands back in the hot, soapy water. “So, what do you do back in Indiana?”

He dried a plate and carefully stacked it on top of the others. “This and that. What time is your special guest coming this afternoon?”

Hadley glanced up at the clock, dismayed to see how quickly the time was slipping past. “A few hours yet. She said to expect her around four. She’s coming up from Wyoming.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that, and Hadley shrugged. “From one snowy place to another. I know. But it’s business, and believe me, if I turn it away, I’ll hear about it from my sister, Evie. She’s on my case enough as it is for being too, well, too—”

“Soft?”

She looked sideways at him and felt her heart skid around in her chest again when their gazes met. “Yes.”

Steely blue roved over her and she felt it like a physical thing. “Soft isn’t necessarily bad,” he murmured.

Her face felt warm, and blaming it on the sudsy water would be an outright lie. “Well.” Her voice was even more breathless. “It is when the profit margin around here is as minimal as it is. She’d have this place listed on one of those Best of shows on television, if she were in charge, and never let any rooms go empty for long.”

He slipped the forgotten plate out of her fingers and ran it through the rinse water. “But you don’t run Tiff’s for the profit, do you.”

She blinked, trying to gather her scattered wits, few as they seemed. “When my mother died, my father and brothers wanted me to take over Tiff’s. Nobody could bear to sell it off. Evie was already married with her own responsibilities, and there was nobody left but me.”

“And what did you want?”

“To run Tiff’s, of course,” she said after a tiny hesitation that she assured herself wasn’t noticeable.

He looked back at the dishes he was drying, and she had to resist the impulse to gasp in a breath of air. The man had a serious impact on people. She wondered if he knew.

From beneath her lowered lashes, she watched his movements. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his casual shirt to his elbows and she might not know the names of the latest Paris designers, but she did know silk when she saw it. And the heavy watch circling his corded brown wrist looked like something that never needed an advertisement.

Who was she kidding? Of course he knew his own effect.

“So what’s Joanie’s problem?” he whispered.

Hadley’s tone turned tart. “Other than being eight months pregnant by a good-for-nothing liar who made sure he beat down whatever self-confidence she had left after her father had already stomped out most of it?”

Then, because she was in no mood to let Joanie’s ex-boyfriend sour her afternoon, she shook her head and grabbed the last of the bowls. “Sorry. I just cannot abide liars. Anyway, you certainly charmed

Mrs. Ardelle. I haven’t seen her smile so much since she moved in here last year after her husband passed away.”

Dane listened to Hadley’s determinedly cheerful voice. She couldn’t abide liars. Ordinarily he’d have said the same. “And Vince Jeffries?”

“He’s been here a few months. He’s looking for work.”

“You take in strays.”

Her head swiveled around to look at him, her soft lips parted.

Soft-looking lips. Soft woman.

His fingers strangled the dish towel for a minute. Had it not been for Marlene, the Rutherford family housekeeper, he wouldn’t have known one towel from another, much less what to do with it around a pile of dishes. But Marlene hadn’t cared that he was Roth Rutherford’s heir and had assigned chores whenever it suited her.

“Everybody needs a place to call home,” Hadley said after a moment. With a quick jerk, she pulled the plug and the soapy water gurgled down the drain. “If Tiff’s provides that, then I’m happy.” She wiped down the counters, rinsed her hands and plucked the dish towel out of Dane’s hands. She stood close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. It was clean and soft.

Just like she was.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll get you settled in your new room.”

There was a touch of huskiness in her voice that he was smart enough to take as a warning. She might be useful for his purposes right now, but he didn’t tangle with innocent women.

They were too easily hurt.

He nodded and followed her past the staircase and around to the far side of the house. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share a bathroom,” she said as she pushed open a door and went inside. She picked up an old-fashioned key from the dresser and handed it to him as he entered. “And believe me, considering how nice you’ve been about the accident and all, I’d be happy to keep you in the tower, but—”

“I’m no Rapunzel,” he murmured.

She flushed a little, glancing at his hair. “Prince Charming, maybe.” Then she flushed even brighter. “You’ll be warmer down here, so that’s one advantage. Did you have any luggage?” Her words came so fast they nearly tumbled over each other.

“A duffel. I’ll move it right now. I didn’t unpack or anything up there, so you shouldn’t have to do much to get ready for your other guest.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she assured him quickly as she stepped back into the hall. As if she weren’t comfortable being in his room while he was in it, too. “Except for the regulars, I change the sheets and towels and stuff around here. One more doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

It wasn’t smart of him to think of Hadley and bed sheets. Not when the conceivable reasons for that combination dragged at him in a painfully tantalizing way.

He looked over her head at the door adjacent to his. “That the bathroom?”

She slid her foot backward, putting even more inches between them. It amused him. And relieved him from having to do it himself.

“No, actually.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, but the rich brown strands fell forward again almost as quickly. “It’s my bedroom. The bathroom we’ll be sharing is between the rooms.” She ducked her head and mumbled an excuse before darting up the hallway. Seconds later he heard a phone ring somewhere in the house, only to be quickly answered.

He eyed the two doors.

Too close together.

Dane scrubbed his hand down his face. Christ.

He was in Montana to settle a score that—in his opinion—could never be settled enough. He didn’t have time for distractions.

No matter how beautifully she filled a pair of snug jeans.