One Night With You Read Free

noticed Kendra struggling with a large container of liquid soap and a few other items. After counseling himself to pretend he didn’t see her, because he didn’t want any involvement with her, he walked over to her.
    â€œLet me help you with that. I hope your car is around there in the parking lot.”
    â€œIt is. Thank you.”
    He lifted the container of liquid soap. “Did you think you could carry this?”
    â€œI was hoping that I could.”
    â€œUh-huh. Come on.”

    Kendra’s eyebrows shot up. The man’s attitude was as masculine as his looks and aura. His “come on” was nothing short of a command. She walked with him to the car, not in obedience but in gratitude for not having to carry that heavy load.
    â€œYou’re very kind to me, Mr. Maguire.”
    â€œIt’s the way I was raised. I’ll ride home with you.”
    He made no effort to be ingratiating, she saw, and she appreciated that. It had begun to dawn on her that Reid Maguire knew who he was and didn’t have a need to curry favor or to shine up to anyone. Well, neither did she.
    She parked in front of her house, opened the trunk of her car and, unwilling to wait for him to do it, walked around to remove her purchases. When she got to the trunk, Reid Maguire stood beside it with both hands on his hips. She glanced up at him and felt as if she would shrink beneath the assault of his withering stare.
    â€œIf you’ll go ahead and open your door, Ms. Ruther ford, I’ll bring these things in for you.”
    â€œThanks, Mr. Maguire.” She did as he suggested, feeling as if she’d had a parental tongue lashing. She was not used to his kind of man. Besides, she didn’t expect men to do things for her just because she was a woman.
    â€œWhere do you keep this?” he asked, referring to the big container of liquid soap.
    â€œIn the laundry room, but that’s down in the basement.”
    â€œMs. Rutherford—”
    She held up her hands, palms out. “All right. All right. On that shelf to your left, please.”
    He put the soap on the shelf, came back upstairs and headed for the front door without saying anything.
    â€œMr. Maguire!” She spoke sharply, and he stopped, turned and looked at her with an expression that questioned her impudence. “Sorry, but I wanted to get your attention. Thank you for helping me. You were raised to be gracious. So was I, and I’d appreciate it if you would at least accept a cup of coffee or tea, or a glass of milk, in case you don’t drink tea or coffee.”
    He stared at her for nearly a minute, and when a half smile formed around his lips, she nearly grabbed the banister for support. What a mesmerizing man! “Thank you for a cup of coffee. I hope it isn’t instant. I get that at home.”
    She took a deep breath, recovered her equilibrium and said, “You’ll smell it in a minute.”
    To her surprise, he followed her to the kitchen and took a seat. He pointed to a loose board at the base of the radiator. “Why doesn’t this surprise me?”
    â€œWhat? Why doesn’t what surprise you?”
    â€œThat board hanging loose down there in a brand-new house. This builder is known for his shoddy work. I’ll bet if I went through this house, I’d find a dozen things wrong with it.”
    She got two plates, cut two thick slices of chocolate cake, got forks and napkins and put them on the table with the cake. “The coffee will be ready in a minute. What do you know about Brown and Worley?”
    â€œPlenty.”
    She put the coffee in front of him. “Would you like milk and sugar?”
    â€œMilk, please.”
    Something wasn’t right, and she had to find a way to pry from him the information that he was obviously in no rush to provide.
    â€œDid you buy a house from Brown and Worley?”
    â€œThis cake is delicious. Did you make it?”
    â€œYes, I