Undercover Husband. Rebecca Winters

fell in love with the hardwood floors stained in a dark walnut color. The wood moldings and wainscoting against the off-white walls of the main living areas came as a surprise and added a traditional flavor. The same dark stained shutters at the windows gave total privacy, while the leather easy chairs and sofas, modern lighting and glass dining table off the kitchen with its own bar counter and stools gave the interior warmth.

      A book-lined study complete with cherrywood desk and computer software, also contained a large television and VCR. Everything was tasteful, comfortable and unpretentious.

      “The bedrooms are along this hallway. Mine is in front. I’ll put you in the middle bedroom because it has a comfortable queen-size bed, and the bathroom is just across the hall. I’ve been using the last bedroom as a storeroom. It needs to be decorated and furnished. Unfortunately I haven’t had the time to see about it yet.”

      Because of people like me, she mused guiltily.

      He sounded very matter of fact, but Brit couldn’t stop thinking about the sleeping arrangements. During the night, a mere wall would be separating them. Except for her father, she’d never lived in the same house with a man.

      Sleeping in Roman’s home would be a very different proposition. Somehow she was going to have to forget that his bed was so close to hers. But try as she might, she knew she wouldn’t be able to prevent certain intimate pictures of him from forming in her mind.

      His strong, whipcord frame and dark good looks made her think thoughts she’d never entertained about a man in relationship to herself. They brought the heat to her cheeks as he paused at the door to the middle bedroom.

      She felt his narrowed gaze wander over her. No doubt he’d noticed her flushed face. “Make yourself at home. I’ve already done up your bed with fresh linen and put clean towels in the bathroom for you.”

      She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. “Thank you again. It seems like that is all I ever say to you.”

      “It’s nice to hear,” came the low-pitched response. “Just remember. If you didn’t need my services, I would be out of a job. I should be the one thanking you.”

      At that comment she couldn’t help but smile, then shyly met his level gaze. It was a mistake. In the semidarkness of the hall, their proximity, combined with his masculinity, was all too potent. “Your point is well taken. Nevertheless, I am grateful.”

      She noted the quick rise and fall of his chest, wondering what exactly was going through his mind. After all, it was almost midnight.

      Most likely he was anxious to do whatever it was he did when he was alone. Providing living quarters for a client who was going to be underfoot around the clock had to be a new experience for him, too. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden.

      “I—I’m sure you’re tired, Roman. I know I am, so I’ll say good-night and see you in the morning.”

      She’d moved halfway into the room when he said, “Why don’t you join me for a nightcap first?”

      Much as she would have loved to say yes, she didn’t dare. For a lot of reasons she was afraid to explore, it would be better if she went straight to bed. Besides, he’d only mentioned the idea out of courtesy to a guest. “I appreciate the offer, but I had a soda at Mom and Dad’s.”

      His unreadable expression didn’t change. “All right then. Sleep well.” After hesitating a moment longer, he disappeared down the hall, leaving her feeling out of sorts.

      Though her body was exhausted, she couldn’t imagine being able to sleep. Maybe a hot shower would help her mind as well as her body to relax. Grabbing a nightgown and robe from her suitcase, she crossed the hall to the bright, modern bathroom and shut the door.

      The fluffy towels, a black, beige and white stripe, reminded her of him, making it impossible for her to turn off her errant thoughts. The soap and shampoo he supplied, everything carried his stamp, increasing her cognizance of his vital, living presence in her life.

      She slipped out of her clothes and submitted herself to the spray, wishing she could blot him from her consciousness. Eight hours ago she hadn’t known of his existence.

      How could one man have changed her life so drastically since four o’clock this afternoon?

      Roman could hear the water running while he locked up the house and turned off lights. Much as he tried to concentrate. on anything else, he couldn’t prevent vivid images of the woman in the shower from passing through his mind.

      He’d entertained houseguests on numerous occasions, mostly his brother and sister-in-law and their children.

      This was different.

      No way could he forget Brit Langford was standing under that water. With clothes on, she was breathtaking. The sight of her without—

      Stop right there, Lufkilovich.

      Realizing it was going to be a long night, he headed for the kitchen and pulled a can of beer from the fridge. He rarely drank anything alcoholic, but tonight he needed something to offset the adrenaline running rampant through his body.

      When the beer didn’t give him the relief he craved, he had a strong urge to call his elder brother, Yuri. But it was two in the morning in New York. Out of the question!

      He could phone his best friend, Cal Rawlings, Diana’s husband. Unfortunately it was past their bedtime and he hated waking either of them.

      The only other person he felt inclined to confide in was Chief Wilson. Nevada was an hour earlier than Salt Lake. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to give him a jingle and discuss Brit’s case with him.

      The older man reminded Roman of his deceased father. They’d hit it off during the stakeout. Crazy as it was, he wanted the chief and his wife to attend the mock wedding. Or maybe he just wanted verification that he’d done the right thing in going undercover as Brit’s husband.

      To his chagrin, when he made the phone call, there was no answer and no machine asking that he leave a message. It could mean the chief had gone to bed. Or he and his wife were out somewhere.

      Frustrated, Roman turned off the kitchen light and headed for his ensuite bathroom to brush his teeth. He’d have to phone him in the morning.

      All was quiet in the house. Brit had gone to bed. By the time he’d slid under the covers, he was angry with himself and glad he hadn’t talked to anyone.

      You’re losing it, Lufkilovich. The woman asleep in the next room has slipped past all your reliable defenses and has somehow worked her way beneath your skin. You’re not the same man you were before you took this case.

      Far into the night Roman wrestled with his own particular demons, then shot out of bed when he heard a scream that sounded like the fabric of a blood-curdling nightmare.

      Brit!

      He entered her room without knocking and turned on the overhead light, forgetting that he wore nothing more than the bottom half of his sweats.

      She was thrashing about under her covers, making terrified moaning sounds, obviously deeply disturbed.

      Cursing the hairy-faced monster who had done this to her, he sat down on the side of the bed and called her name, urging her to wake up.

      Her eyes suddenly flew open. Through the curtain of her disheveled hair, he could see they were glazed over. She didn’t recognize him.

      “Brit—It’s Roman.” He smoothed the ash-gold strands from her pale face. Right now she possessed an almost ethereal beauty. But it was the moisture on her cheeks that brought out his protective instincts like nothing he’d ever experienced in quite the same way before. “You’ve had a nightmare.”

      His voice appeared to bring her back to some semblance of reality. “I—I don’t understand.”

      She was disoriented. “You’re at my house, Brit. Remember? I heard you cry out.”

      She