One in a Million Read Free

traveled it was usually on business and he always stayed in anon ymous hotels and motels. He'd never been in a bed and breakfast before. While this was a place of busi ness, apparently it was also Stephanie's home.
    He looked from the kitchen to the foyer, then de cided she wouldn't care what he had planned for his day. After fishing his car keys out of his pocket, he walked across the gleaming hardwood floor and out to the curb where he'd left his rental car.
    Two minutes later he was back in the Victorian house. He walked into the kitchen, but it was empty. He crossed to the stairs and glanced up. Was she cleaning his room, or had she gone up to her private quarters? A loud bang made him turn toward the back of the house. He followed the rhythmic noise past the kitchen and pantry into a large utility room. Stephanie sat on the floor in front of a washer. An open manual lay on her lap and there were tools and as sorted parts all around her.
    In the ten or fifteen minutes since she'd cleared his table, she'd changed her clothes. The tailored slacks and attractive sweater had been replaced by worn jeans and a sweatshirt featuring a familiar car toon mouse. As he watched, she jabbed the side of the washer with a large wrench.
    “ Rat-fink cheap piece of metal trash," she mut tered. "I hate you. I will always hate you. For the rest of your life, you're going to have to live with that." He cleared his throat.
    Stephanie gasped and shifted on the floor so that she faced him. Her eyes widened and her mouth twisted into a half smile that was as much sheepish as amused.
    “ If you keep sneaking up on me like this, I'm going to be forced to put a bell around your neck." Nash leaned against the door frame and nodded at the washer. "Is there a problem?"
    “ It's not working. I'm trying to use guilt, but I don't think it's helping." She glanced from him to her jeans and back. "I thought you were heading out."
    “The battery in my rental car is dead."
    “Did you try guilting it into behaving?"
    “I thought a jump would be more effective.”
    “Sure." She tossed down the wrench and rose. Wearing athletic shoes, she barely came to his shoulder. She gave the washer one more kick, then walked toward him.
    “Lead the way." Nash straightened. "I could take a look at that if you would like." Stephanie appeared doubtful. "You don't strike me as the washer repairman type."
    “I'm not, but I'm pretty mechanical."
    “ Thanks, but I'm going to get a professional in. I'll go get my car keys. Why don't you meet me in front?" Stephanie waited until Nash had started down the hallway before running upstairs to get the keys out of her purse. When she reached the top floor, she told herself that her rapidly beating heart had every thing to do with the effort required to climb two flights of stairs and nothing to do with her guest's appearance. She figured she was being about sixty percent honest.
    The truth was Mr. Elegant-in-a-Suit looked just as good in jeans as he had all dressed up. Daylight suited him, as well. Despite the fact that he couldn't have gotten more than four hours of sleep, he looked tanned, handsome and rested. She, of course, had dark circles that had defied her heavy-duty concealer and a bone-deep weariness compounded by a broken washer and an as-ever challenged bank account.
    She took the back stairs down to the rear entrance and climbed into her minivan. After backing out of the driveway, she positioned her car so her bumper nearly touched his.
    Jumper cables proved to be something of a chal lenge, but after rooting around in the garage for a few minutes, she found a set behind a box of old spare parts for some mystery machine. She picked them up and turned, only to run smack into Nash.
    “ You all right?" he asked as he grabbed her up per arms to steady her.
    All right? With her nose practically touching his chest and her hands thrust into his rock-hard stom ach? He smelled good, she thought wistfully as she in haled the