Fool's Gold Collection Volume 3. Susan Mallery

      Alistair carried the books to the table and sat down. The first was a novel—a thriller by an author he enjoyed. The second book was, as promised, a history of the area, with an emphasis on the Maá-zib tribe. He leaned back and started to read.

      Some time later, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Paige walked into the kitchen.

      He would guess she hadn’t been awake long. Her skin was still flushed from sleep and her eyes were slightly unfocused. With her long blond hair hanging down loose and her feet bare, she’d shifted from healing angel to sexy temptress.

      Her jeans and T-shirt shouldn’t have been appealing, yet he found himself mesmerized by the way the denim cupped her curves and the soft, worn T-shirt was tight across her chest.

      “Morning,” she said, sounding sleepy. “Sorry. I’m not a morning person. Give me a cup of coffee and fifteen minutes and I’ll be human.”

      She reached for the coffeemaker, but he beat her to it and poured.

      “Sugar? Cream?”

      “Just black,” she said with a sigh. “Hey, you’re a medical professional. Maybe you could hook me up with an IV. That would be great. I could get my caffeine undiluted.”

      She sipped, then blinked. “Wait a minute. You’re up. Are you feeling better?”

      He was close enough to be able to inhale the sweet scent of her skin. He wanted to move that last foot or so and take her in his arms and kiss her into passionate wakefulness.

      “Alistair?”

      “Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m feeling better.” Much better, he thought, enjoying the sensation of being attracted to a charming woman with a delightful smile.

      “Good. You should probably take it easy today,” she said. “Tomorrow is the start of the Spring Festival. You’ll want to see that for sure.” She grinned. “I know you’ve traveled the world and all, but there’s nothing quite like a Fool’s Gold festival.”

      “How fortunate that I’m here right now.”

      “Actually we have them all the time. That’s why we’re good at them. But the Spring Festival is one of my favorites.”

      “Then it shall be my favorite as well.”

      She sipped from her mug. “You’re just so British.”

      “Is that a bad thing?”

      “No. But it might be a little bit dangerous. Because it’s, you know, sexy.” The second she finished speaking, her eyes widened and she slapped her free hand over her mouth. “I did not just say that,” she mumbled.

      “I’m afraid you did.” Now it was his turn to smile. “I find the news quite excellent.”

      “You do?”

      “The queen would be very proud.”

      * * *

      Alistair spent much of the morning reading in “the garden” as he called it. From Paige’s perspective, he hung out in her backyard, which was good. She could avoid him while keeping an eye on him at the same time.

      As she tidied her bedroom and vacuumed the upstairs, she told herself that her morning confession was not completely her fault. She hadn’t been awake. No one could blame her for saying something stupid before her first cup of coffee. Wasn’t there some kind of rule about that?

      A little before noon, she headed downstairs and walked outside.

      “I have to work my shift at the fire station call desk,” she told him. “ I’ll be back about 5:30. Will you be okay on your own?”

      His blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “I shall manage. I’ve been crossing the street on my own for nearly a month now.”

      “Very funny. You know what I mean. You’ve been sick and in a weakened condition.”

      “I’m feeling much less weak.”

      “Good to know.”

      She hesitated, as if there were more to say. As if he were going to ask her to step closer and…and…And what? They weren’t involved. He was some guy who’d gotten sick and she’d given him a place to stay. The fact that he was a handsome viscount and a globe-trotting surgeon ministering to the world’s unfortunates made him slightly more interesting, but so what? In a couple of days, he would be going to stay with Simon and Montana. Sometime after that, he was leaving the country for his next mission, or trip or whatever it was called. She refused to be attracted to him or worse, fall for him. She might just be a girl from Fool’s Gold, but she wasn’t an idiot.

      “See you tonight,” she said firmly. “Have a good afternoon.”

      “You as well.”

      * * *

      Paige returned home right on time. She had wanted to duck out early about five thousand times, but refused to let herself. She worked her full shift, then stayed after a few minutes to chat with some of the firefighters. Finally she left for the short walk back to her place.

      She let herself in the front door and called out. “Alistair? I’m home.”

      There was no answer. She heard music coming from somewhere in the back and followed the sound to the kitchen.

      Only that room was empty as well. She stepped out onto the back porch and saw that the small table had been set for dinner. There was a tablecloth, her mother’s good china and a bottle of wine. Alistair looked up from the book he’d been reading.

      “Hello, Paige.”

      Two simple words spoken by a handsome man with a killer smile. Her toes curled, her tummy danced and somewhere deep in her chest, she felt a longing that made her ache in places she didn’t know she had.

      “Hello.”

      “How was your day?” he asked.

      “Good. Yours?”

      “Quiet. I’ve been reading about the town and its history. This is a very interesting place. The Maá-zib women are impressive. Threatening but impressive.”

      She laughed. “I’ve heard stories.”

      He walked toward one of the chairs and pulled it back. “I’ve taken the liberty of choosing our meal. If you’d like to have a seat?”

      She dropped her purse onto the porch and did as he requested. He poured them each a glass of wine, then settled across from her.

      “I have had a stream of visitors this afternoon,” he told her. “Your neighbors have checked on me. Simon sent a doctor over to confirm that I’m no longer contagious.”

      She laughed. “I’m not surprised. The man is crazy when it comes to his wife.”

      “He loves her and wants to keep her safe. I understand his concern.”

      The words were quiet—simple and heartfelt. Paige knew he was thinking about Sara and their baby and how he hadn’t even been in the country when they’d died. Talk about devastating. But what she wondered was what lesson he’d learned from the horror. Was it never to give his heart again? To never risk the pain? Or had he decided instead to make sure the next time he was there, with his family? Or rather that they were with him?

      But before she could figure out how to ask, he made a joke about the menu and the moment had passed.

      They enjoyed a delicious salad and then an entrée of mac and cheese with chicken and asparagus.

      “Not a traditional dish,” Alistair admitted, taking another helping. “But delicious.”

      “I agree. People in this town can cook.”

      He studied her. “You love it here.”

      “I do.”

      “Is