Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair. Maureen Child

got what we wanted. No point now in trying to make it something it wasn't.”

      He opened the back door to a gust of icy wind and said, “Look, let's just forget it, all right?”

      “Sure,” she whispered as she watched him hurry barefoot across the icy deck toward the neatly stacked pile of firewood. As he gathered up a few logs and some kindling, the wind whipping the edges of his robe around his calves, Keira jumped off her stool, crossed the floor and quietly closed and locked the back door.

      Instantly he straightened up, whirled around and shocked, stared at her through the glass. He crossed to the door and gave the knob a turn and a shake. “Keira, open the damn door.”

      “I don't think so,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and tapping one bare foot against the cold wood floor.

      She'd never been so mad in her whole life. Or so humiliated. For God's sake, she'd let him do things to her no one had ever done before, only because she'd felt a connection to him somehow. Some minuscule, apparently clearly one-sided, feeling. How could he ever think that she would have slept with him just to make him stay?

      Did she really give off such a slutty vibe?

      And what the hell kind of people was he so used to dealing with that would make him assume she was so coldblooded?

      He shivered, clutched the firewood tighter to his chest and gave her a glare she was sure sent his employees scuttling for cover.

      Keira, however, remained unmoved.

      “Damn it, Keira, it's snowing out here!”

      “You're under the porch roof.”

      “It's freezing.”

      “Start a fire.”

       “On the deck?”

      “Frankly, I don't care if you freeze solid to the spot. I'll put up a small but tasteful plaque, something like Here Stands An American Moron.”

      “This is not funny!” he shouted, and hunched deeper into his way-too-thin-for-snow robe.

      “No kidding!” Keira walked closer to the glass so she could burn her stare into his eyes. “I cannot believe you. You actually think I'd prostitute myself to get you to stay here?”

      “I didn't say that,” he reasoned.

      “Oh, yes you did, you pompous, self important, miserable son of a bitch.”

      “Look, I was wrong, okay?”

      “You're just saying that so I'll open the door,” she snapped.

      “Damn straight.”

      “Well, forget it! You deserve to freeze, but you probably won't. You're so damn cold already, I don't see how you could possibly get any colder!”

      “Can you let me the hell in the house and then yell at me?”

      “Why should I let you in?” she demanded, so furious she was seeing red at the edges of her vision. Amazing. You really did see red if you were angry enough.

      “Because … because …”

      “See? Even you can't think of a reason!” Keira shouted.

      “Hah!” Nathan raised one hand in the air, dropped some kindling on his foot and hopped in place. “Because if I die out here, I won't be able to stay the damn month and your town won't get the money you want so badly.”

      “Funny,” she said, thoughtfully tapping one finger against her chin, “but I don't remember it saying anywhere in the will that you had to be alive and here for a month. It'd probably be okay if we just prop you up out there on the deck.”

      “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.”

      “You've got a heck of a lot of nerve, Nathan Barrister. You call me a ho, and I'm the one who's infuriating?”

      He flicked a glance behind him when the wind shifted and a flurry of snow rushed at him from the lake. Turning his gaze back to hers, he said tightly, “Keira, open this damn door and let me inside.”

      “And if I don't?”

      “Then I'll break the glass with one of these logs and we'll both be freezing our asses off.”

      Hmm. Good point. Well, she hadn't really planned on letting him become an ice sculpture on the deck. Though the idea was all too tempting at the moment.

      “Fine.” She reached out, unlocked the door and then stomped across the room so she was as far from Nathan as she could get and still be able to give him dirty looks.

      He rushed into the room, dropped the firewood into the hearth, then pounded his bare feet against the floor and slapped his hands at his arms, trying to get his blood moving.

      “Cold?” she asked sweetly.

      “Funny,” he snapped, snarling at her.

      “As cold as that tiny little marble in your chest? You know, the one you call your heart?”

      Still shivering, he turned his back on her, started a fire in the hearth and huddled next to the flames as they sputtered, caught and licked at the dry wood. Finally, he turned a look on her. “My heart's got nothing to do with any of this.”

      “Since it probably gets very little use, I'm willing to bet you're right,” Keira hissed.

      “You tried to freeze me to death!” His voice ricocheted off the high beamed ceiling and Keira didn't even flinch.

      “Don't be such a baby.”

      “A baby?” Astonishment flashed across his features and she waved one hand at him dismissively.

      “You're lucky I let you back in.”

      There was a long moment of silence before he finally said, “Yeah. You're just crazy enough to have left me out there, so I guess I am lucky. And frostbitten.”

      “That was a nasty thing to think about me,” she said, ignoring his complaint, “and even nastier to say.”

      “You wouldn't leave it alone. You had to know what I was thinking,” he pointed out, raising his hands high in amazement. “What is it about women, anyway? They poke and prod at a man to tell them what he's thinking and when he does, they lock him outside in a damn snowstorm!”

      “Is it our fault that what you're really thinking is so ridiculously insulting that we aren't prepared?” Keira slapped the granite counter. “We want to know what you're thinking, because, silly us, we actually think your minds aren't twisted little black holes.”

      “No, you expect us to be like you,” Nathan said tightly, still scowling, still stamping his feet on the floor trying to get his circulation moving again. “All warm and fuzzy, wanting kids and a dog and a white picket fence and—”

      “Are you delusional?” Keira interrupted his rant. “Who said anything about a picket fence?”

      “You don't have to say it,” he challenged, stabbing one finger in the air, pointed at her. “It's who you are. You're Ms. Roots herself. Well, I don't have roots. Don't want any and if I found some I'd rip ‘em out of the ground.”

      Keira stomped across the room until she was right in front of him. His blue eyes were wild and hot, and the set of his jaw told her he was every bit as furious as she was. Well, good. No point in being mad all by yourself. And besides, he'd probably never lost his temper. Not the ever-polite, always distant Nathan Barrister. So, she'd let him rant and rave. Maybe it'd do him some good. God knows it was doing wonders for her.

      “Your perfect little town has nothing I want or need. As soon as possible, I'll be on my jet, heading for the opposite end of the world.”

      “Good. Nobody's