Suiteheart Of A Deal: Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?. Wendy Etherington

fixed a stern eye on him. “Okay, I’m not agreeing to anything just yet, but if we do get married—and I’m only saying if—everyone will have to be told that it’s strictly a business arrangement.”

      Beck bared his dazzling white teeth in a grimace. “Ah, well, there might be a little problem with that.”

      Yup. She was right. Problems already. “Really? Why?”

      “Well, it’s my grandmother, see. She’d be horrified if she thought the marriage wasn’t real. From her standpoint it would violate the spirit of the trust. I think my grandfather meant for me to be happily married.”

      Good grief. Rainey dropped her chin and looked at him the way she might look at a teenager who’d just tried teenage logic on her. “Call me crazy, Beck, but wouldn’t you be violating the spirit of the trust anyway? I mean, we’re not exactly smitten here, you know.”

      The question caught him off guard and he hesitated. Alarm surged through Rainey like an electric jolt. Oh, no.

      Surely he wasn’t attracted to her in a serious way. How could he be? They had just met yesterday.

      A playful smile played across his luscious lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”

      “What are you really saying? That we have to pretend to be smitten, for your grandmother’s sake?”

      “Yup, for hers and everybody else’s. This is a small town, Rainey. People talk.”

      “That’s ludicrous. How are we supposed to keep that up?”

      He helped himself to another full-length appraisal of her. “I don’t know about you, but I won’t have any trouble playing my part.” He glanced at her breasts. Licked his lips. Grinned like a monkey.

      “Look, Beck,” she warned him with narrowed eyes, “you mustn’t get any ideas about me. I’m here to run an inn, nothing more. Understand?”

      “Perfectly,” he agreed with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman.

      Ooh, he was maddening! How on earth was a woman supposed to know when this guy was being real?

      “Besides,” Rainey added, regretting it almost immediately, “I’m…I’ve just been through…I’m a little vulnerable right now. You have to respect that.” Darn, now why did she go and say that? It was way more than he needed to know.

      Beck’s eyes widened, but he had the sense not to press for an explanation. “Okay, I will,” he agreed solemnly.

      What a bunch of bunk. The man was as phony as a three-dollar bill, and Rainey didn’t trust him as far as she could spit. Oops, what had become of the tea? She went to the stove and turned the burner on again. Beck rose and came up close behind her. Before she could turn around, he placed his hands flat on the countertop on either side of her and closed her in.

      “What would be so bad about being married to me?” he murmured into her hair. “You might actually like it.”

      His taut body was just inches away from hers, and Rainey felt the heat coming off it. He smelled like sandalwood again. What was it? Soap? Aftershave lotion? Intermingled with his own natural scent, it was heady stuff. A lonely woman could easily fall prey to Beck, she realized. It would be sooo easy.

      But it wasn’t going to happen to her. No way. Loneliness had caused her to make one stupid choice. She couldn’t let it happen again. Especially here, where she had no escape route. What would she do—move to Vancouver? Sheesh, at this rate, she could end up in Japan.

      Lips pursed, she peeled his right hand smartly off the counter and turned around. Bad move. He just replaced it and closed her in again, face-to-face this time. Before she could react, he leaned down and brought those tantalizing lips very close to hers.

      Flustered and trembling, Rainey assumed he was going to kiss her again. He didn’t. Instead, he merely brushed his cheek against hers. His whiskers were bristly, his skin warm. His breath was hot on her face. In sheer defiance of her will to resist him, a wave of desire washed over Rainey and her lips parted in anticipation.

      “It could be so good, Rainey,” he whispered as she fought a powerful urge to put her arms around him. He was so close, so gorgeous, so sexy. One little kiss. What was the harm, really? After all, they’d kissed once before and the world hadn’t ended.

      Just as her fingertips made contact with his muscular sides, he abruptly pulled back. “Take a few days to think it over. Then get back to me.”

      A slow burn crept up Rainey’s face and she flinched. How dare he treat her that way? Oh, what a fool she was! To think that…

      Then, without so much as a backward glance, he strutted out of the apartment, whistling—so sure of himself that she wanted to scream.

      Seconds later the kettle whistled, too. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she snapped.

      5

      FOR THE NEXT three days, Rainey briskly went about the business of becoming general manager of the Honeymoon Haven.

      On the morning of the first day she introduced herself to every member of the staff, in each case offering reassurances that despite whatever they had heard, all was well at the Haven. To her surprise, most of them were more interested to know how she felt about working with Beck than about the security of their jobs. Smiling tightly, she insisted she was thrilled, simply thrilled, to have Beck Mahoney as a partner. There was a lot of whispering behind her back, a little snickering and some blatant laughter.

      “Humph! So it’s going to be the two of you now, is it?” Mrs. Norman shouted at her. The women were close enough to touch, and Rainey almost fell backward. Before she could regain her footing and muster a reply, the head housekeeper said “Humph!” again and marched away.

      Hollis was more succinct. “So, it’s you and B-b-beck,” he commented, adding a stutter to his already impressive collection of quirks.

      Passing her in the corridor at noon, Beck leaned down and whispered, “Have you thought it over?”

      “No!” Rainey snapped. She was still hurt and humiliated and, darn it, she was staying that way as long as possible!

      After the lunch crowd cleared out, she had the plants removed from the dining room and spent a breathless afternoon helping the kitchen staff to rearrange the heavy tables. Then she called each of the inn’s suppliers and formally introduced herself.

      Before heading home, a sweaty, fatigued Beck poked his head into her office. All day he had been struggling alongside Hollis to temporarily repair one of the inn’s two ancient furnaces. The weather had turned cool, and the guests had been forced to don sweaters. Moaning and grumbling, they repeatedly conveyed their displeasure to Rainey.

      “Have you thought it over yet?” he asked yet again.

      “No, I haven’t. Get lost!”

      “Certainly.” He bowed deeply as he backed out of the doorway. Oooh, he was such a pain! She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a laugh.

      On day two she cleared the clutter from Lilly’s office and went through dozens of bulging files, sorting the wheat from the chaff. There were documents dating back ten years or more, some on crumbling, yellowed paper. One file held the sticky remnants of a half-eaten butter tart.

      In the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, at the very back, she found a folder labeled “Rainey.” What the devil? Brows furrowed, she opened it and pulled out a single sheet of mauve, floral stationery—a letter addressed to her from Lilly.

      My dearest darling niece,

      I expect that by now you have recovered from the shock of my recent decision and are getting on with things. I apologize for leaving the inn in such a poor state. I confess that lately I have left the running of the place mostly to Freda and Hollis. I am confident they will be a big help to you and Beck