Bedroom Secrets. Michelle Celmer

was official, Tyler Douglas was her hero.

      It was nearly four o’clock when Ty parked his truck in front of his rental house. He walked up to the porch, a spring in his step. He was about to make Tina one very happy woman.

      Girl he reminded himself. He was definitely better off thinking of her as a girl—too young and naive. And he was old enough to know better.

      He unlocked the door and stepped inside, rubbing warmth into his chilled hands. “Tina!” he called, to alert her to his presence. No way he wanted another run-in with her pepper spray.

      “Back here,” she answered. “Cleaning the tub.”

      He followed her voice through the house, noting her progress. The kitchen was spotless, and when he popped his head in the fridge it no longer smelled as if he’d been storing a corpse in it. The carpet had been vacuumed, the blinds and windows polished, and when he stepped in the bathroom, the tile was so gleaming white it nearly had him reaching for his Ray-Bans.

      Kneeling next to the tub was Tina, bent over, jeans snug against her swaying backside, vigorously scrubbing the drain.

      A sudden tug of arousal was answered by a stab of apprehension. If he didn’t get a grip he’d be breaking out in a cold sweat any minute now.

      He was caught off guard, that’s all. He could control this.

      “Everything looks great,” he said, looking anywhere but her curvy behind.

      Tina looked up at him over her shoulder and smiled. “Thanks. I’m almost finished.”

      Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. Damn, she was pretty.

      She turned the faucet on and rinsed the scouring powder down the drain. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up to her elbows and yellow rubber gloves covered her to her forearms. When she was finished, she stood, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. Several spirals of hair fell across her forehead and she blew them out of her eyes. “All done.”

      He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket, peeled three twenties off and handed them to her. “I figured you’d prefer cash to a check.”

      She stripped the gloves off and dropped them in the bucket at her feet. “I thought you said minimum wage.”

      Yeah, that was when he was trying to get her not to want the job. “I said almost minimum wage. I paid my last cleaning woman seven dollars an hour.”