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〃I hear you。 I'm not sure I believe you。〃 Audacious eyes fell from her
face to her neck to her breasts。 Mockery faded when he looked at her
wedding band。 Frowning； he drew himself up straight。 〃I think I've had
it。 Good night。〃 As he brushed past her； she grabbed his arm in alarm。
〃Where are you going？〃
〃To bed。〃 His words were blunt； his tone chilled。
〃Oh； no； you're not。〃
He arched a brow。 〃Are you going to stop me？〃 Slowly he looked down at
the white…knuckled hand on his arm。
She released him fast。 〃But you can't stay here！〃 He continued on toward
his bags。 Unable to think of a better course； she followed。 〃I said； you
can't stay！ There must be some place in the village。〃
Piling luggage under his right arm； he headed wordlessly for the stairs。
Abruptly； he stopped； turning his head only enough to call over his
shoulder； 〃I assume you're sleeping down here？〃
She had no power； no power at all。 〃Yes； but you have to leave。〃
He turned to face her。 His smile was polite； his eyes frosty； his voice
cool。 〃I will in good time。〃 Taking the stairs two at a time； an
astounding feat； given his bulky burden； he disappeared into the attic；
leaving her at a total loss for words。
Anne didn't budge。 Her arms hung limp at her sides； her bare feet were
flat on the floor； her eyes were glued to the attic door； which closed
with a resounding bang。 Even the faint sounds from within…the scrape of
a chair leg； the creak of the mattress under one bag； the thud of
another on the floor； the jangle of metal hangers on a wooden rod…failed
to move her。
A crick in her neck finally brought her back to reality。 Hands bracing
her lower back； she rolled her head in a circular motion in an attempt
to release tension。
Bizarre。 Bizarre situation。 A real…life drama in place of a fictional
one； discarded now on the floor by the fire。 But there wasn't a thing
she could do。 She could agonize over it for hours； but that fact
wouldn't change。
Retreating to her bedroom； she closed the door tightly and propped a
chair against the knob the way her heroine had done in Chapter Six； or
thereabouts。 Quickly； she slipped into a long flannel nightgown； pulled
her hair from its knot； and took refuge under the bed's heavy quilts。
Despite the chair at the door； she wasn't frightened。 Not really。
Mitch's story irritated her； but it was believable enough。 Or； rather；
he was believable。 There was something about him…his intelligent manner
of speech； his clean appearance； his refined air…that spoke of breeding。
Granted； he'd been pretty crude at the start。 But even that could be
explained away。 He seemed neither malicious nor vengeful； only angry at
the rental agent's error。
What to do？ She had no choice but to sleep on the matter。 e morning；
a solution would be found。 It would have to be found。 This was her week。
She wasn't sharing it。
But sleep eluded her。 She cursed the two cups of coffee that she'd had；
the unfinished paperback； the creaking that came from the room above
her。 She finally fell into a restless sleep； only to be awaken at
intervals by the creak of that bed。 It was nearly dawn when she realized
that she wasn't brooding about Jeff for a change。 On that ironic note；
and thoroughly worn out； she slept soundly。
What seemed only moments later； she was jolted awake by a thunderous
noise in the kitchen。 Livid； she bolted out of bed； whipped the chair
from the door； and stormed toward the source of the racket。
〃What； in God's name； was that noise？〃 she shouted； rounding the kitchen
door in time to see Mitch picking up the first of a scattered mess of
pots； pans； and metal utensils that covered the linoleum by the stove。
He wore a navy velour robe that barely touched his knees； and was
barefoot like her。 And disheveled。 And very； very cranky。
Shooting her a sidelong glare； he bellowed； 〃What kind of housekeeper
are you； piling things in the cabi like that？ Did you really expect
them to stay put once I opened the door？ And where in the hell is the
orange juice press？ My Lord； woman； get to it and clean up this mess！〃
Friends who knew Anne to be easygoing； even…tempered； understanding； and
acmodating would never have recognized the spitfire she suddenly
became。 It had been too long a day yesterday； too long a night last
night； too disturbing an ordeal for months； for an ounce of poise to
survive。
Dark eyes flashing； she confronted him。 〃You clean it up。 I didn't make
the mess； and I'm not your slave！ It happens that I didn't touch that
cabi when I arrived。 Put your blame on whomever you please； as long
as it isn't on me！ And what right do you have to wake me up？ This is my
vacation； or didn't you hear that last night？〃 Only a deaf man could
have missed a word now。 Goaded by his indignant stare； she ranted on。
〃This noise was enough to wake the dead。 Not that I needed anything as
loud as that to disturb me。 Your twisting around up over my head all
night was bad enough！ Just because you have insomnia doesn't mean that I
have to have it！〃
His stare was chilling。 〃You wake up in a lovely mood； don't you？ Very
different from my usual women。〃 He looked her over； head to toe。 〃That's
quite an outfit； also different from my usual women。〃
Naturally； Anne had left her robe hanging in the closet。 Whirling on her
heel； hair flying out behind； she returned to her room； put on the robe；
then； with a wave of weariness； sank down onto the edge of the bed；
elbows on knees； face buried in her palms。 Inhaling deeply； she tried to
still the throbbing at her temples。 His women。 His women； indeed。 She
wasn't his or anyone else's。
The sorrow of that thought deflated her。 If Jeff could only see her now！
Ashamed； she gathered up a towel and soap in the hope that a long； hot
shower would ease her tension and improve her mood； and for a short time
it did。 The water pressure was strong； sending steamy trails over the
taut muscles of her neck and back。 Rich…lathering shampoo left her hair
squeaky clean and shiny； hanging in damp clusters about her shoulders
when she finally emerged； toweled herself vigorously； and returned to
her room。
Half an hour later； wearing a navy sweater； jeans； and sneakers； she
headed for the kitchen to make coffee。 It was already hot on the stove。
To her surprise the floor was free of debris； the offending cookware
stacked neatly in the cupboard。
She smiled a bit smugly。 So he had cleaned up himself Take that； male
chauvinist pig！ And he had made himself scarce。
Helping herself to coffee； she took a seat at the table。 Despite the
outburst； she had actually slept until ten…thirty。 Now she heard
footsteps on the stairs and the slam of the bathroom door。 All she had
to do was to wait until he finished his shower and dressed。 Then they
would face their dilemma like adults。
When the shower started； she relaxed back in the chair； bing her
still…damp hair with slender fingers； spreading it out over her
shoulders to dry。 Her gaze was drawn through the three…sided window of
the breakfast nook to the backyard。 She hadn't seen it the afternoon
before and found instant pleasure in the rustic scene； the well…kept
lawn； the scattering of maples and pines； the intermixing of apple trees
with fruit hanging ripe and ready for picking。 The morning mist had
begun to burn off； speared here and there shafts of sunlight。
The scene was exactly what she had hoped to find； so peaceful and quiet；
that she was unprepared for the roar behind her。
〃You used up all the hot water！ Damn it； don't you have a considerate
bone in your body？〃
Mitch stood in the door of the kitchen； dripping wet； wearing nothing
but a towel around his hips。
For a second； she couldn't breathe。 He was incredibly well built。 Arms
and shoulders of granite flanked a chest that was tanned； sinewed； and
matted with fair hair made darker by the water。 His stomach was flat and
firm； his slim hips a solid start for muscled thighs and lower legs。
Swallowing convulsively； Anne forced herself to look away。 〃I'm sorry；〃
she murmured。 〃I didn't realize there would be a shortage。〃
〃Didn't realize？〃 he mocked loudly。 〃Well； next time； realize。 I like my
showers long and hot； too！〃
Annoyed that he was annoyed； since this was her house for the week； she
took a mouthful of coffee and then nearly choked。 〃My God；〃 she cried
when she finally swallowed； 〃this coffee is like mud！ What did you put
in here？ Or should I ask〃…her eyes narrowed…〃how much of my coffee did
you put into that pot？ I don't see any groceries of yours around here。
Make yourself right at home； thanks a lot。〃
His anger faded。 Lips twitching； he leaned nonchalantly against the
doorjamb。 〃Why shouldn't I make myself at home？ I plan to spend the week
here。〃
She sputtered out a furious laugh。 〃Oh； no； you're not。〃 She rose
quickly； forgetting every good intention to keep calm。 〃You'll have to
find another place。 I'm sure you'll have no trouble； what with your
delightful personality and winning smile。〃
With an arrogant shift of his shoulders； he left the doorjamb and
placidly headed away。 〃You find the substitute；〃 he called over his
shoulder。 〃I'll be staying here。〃
She trailed h