Room...but Not Bored!. Dawn Atkins

like his sister even hinting about his love life. “Do something fun this weekend,” he commanded, then hung up, his roommate jumping into his mind. She’d be hot in bed, he’d bet—active, motivated, goal-oriented. Useful traits in the sack. Hmm.

      Nope. He needed Ariel as a roommate, not a playmate.

      A PUFF OF DAMP AIR blew Ariel awake. Had she left the window of her London flat open to the drizzle? She opened her eyes just as a wet, black blob snorted at her. Focusing one eye, she made out an animal muzzle and realized it was attached to the dog that had burst out of the house when she’d first arrived. Pleased that he’d awakened her, the dog pranced a couple of steps, then shook itself mightily, spraying water and sand everywhere.

      The reality of Ariel’s situation came back to her like a belly flop in the pool of her stomach. Gone was the charming London flat she’d shared with Trudy, replaced by a cramped beach house jammed with water sports junk and construction debris. She picked up the sound of rock-and-roll playing in the front of the house and a woman’s teasing laugh, followed by Jake’s voice.

      The dog, poised near her face, gave a desperate whine—get up and play. When Ariel didn’t move, he loped to the more interesting side of the house.

      She felt gritty all over—her skin, her hair, her eyes. It wasn’t her exhausted imagination, she learned when she found sand on the sheets and pressed into the undersides of her arms.

      The fading light told her it was dusk. Woozy and not a bit rested, she looked at her travel alarm, which she’d taken from her bag when Jake’s banging around the cottage woke her for the third time, and saw that she’d only napped for an hour.

      She looked at the giant hole in the wall between her room and where Jake would sleep. Judging from the lush sound of that woman’s voice, Jake might have company tonight. She’d like to tell him no—the last thing she wanted to hear were erotic moans and headboard banging—but she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up sex with him in any regard. She’d only have to put up with his nocturnal guests for one night, maybe two, until Jake moved out.

      Ariel brushed off the grit, climbed out of bed and went to the bureau mirror to see if she looked as bad as she felt. Oh, yeah. Her hair had come loose from her bun, her mascara formed exhausted semicircles under her eyes and she had the indents of sand pebbles all along her left cheek.

      She felt something soft under her feet and found her silk stockings in a tangled wad. Clusters of holes and long runs decorated the delicate silk. She’d protected them from sand damage only to have that monstrous dog nose them off her bureau and ruin them. She didn’t even have the energy to work up a fit of temper at the dog. At least she had a second pair in her suitcase.

      “Jake, don’t,” the woman called in a tone that meant don’t stop. Feminine wiles and coy flirtation. Blech. Ariel didn’t play games. If she wanted to sleep with a man, which she did from time to time, she showed him with a deep kiss, or responded favorably to his caress. Or she just plain suggested it. Why get silly about something so basic and human?

      Of course, lately, with Business Advantage consuming her attention, there hadn’t been much time for sex. Which was probably why she kept getting snagged by the sight of Jake’s body. Once her career was in order, she would open herself to a relationship. The timing would be perfect.

      Now, she’d unpack, then write up business and personal to-do lists. Lists would put a fence around her whirlwind of worries. She had to make progress before she went to bed for the night or she’d never fall asleep.

      She glanced around the jam-packed room. She’d have to pry Jake away from the Playmate of the Day and get him to clear out his junk before she could even unpack. Then she’d pin him down on the time frame on the cottage renovation.

      That meant looking decent enough to appear in the living room. Ariel ran a brush through her hair, changed into a linen short set and slipped into the bathroom to repair her makeup. She wasn’t primping exactly. She just didn’t want to look as bedraggled as she felt. At the last minute, she dabbed perfume on her wrists and neck.

      Peeking around the hall corner, she saw that Jake and his friend, who wore a bikini that consisted of three bandage-sized triangles held together by dental floss, were dancing swing style to some nouveau jitterbug. The dog jumped up now and then as if to cut in—to dance with Jake, not the woman, who laughed in that lush way that meant business, sexually.

      Jake smiled, but there was distance in his expression. Don’t get too close. She wondered fleetingly what it would take to get past Jake Renner’s affable sexuality to what made him tick.

      Not that that was any of her concern. The dancing made her smile, though, and set her thoughts wandering. She’d needed an aerobic exercise in college and selected ballroom dance since she’d be learning a skill and getting exercise at the same time. The grace and freedom of it had enchanted her. She’d met Grayson in that class and they’d begun their affair. She missed dancing. How long had it been since she’d moved to music, alone or with a partner? Once the business was stable she would have fun, too, she told herself. All in good time. And according to plan. Planning gave you freedom.

      Jake caught sight of Ariel and stopped dancing. “Sleeping Beauty awakes,” he said. “Heather, meet my landlord, Ariel Adams. Ariel, this is Heather.”

      “Hi,” Heather said. Her expression was direct—are you after him?

      No, thanks, she tried to communicate with her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Heather.”

      “You get some rest?” Jake asked her.

      “Some.” Except for the blender and the visiting kid and the giggling girl and the music and the snorting dog. But there was no point getting technical. “Sorry to interrupt,” she continued, “but I was hoping you would clear your things out of my room…?”

      “I guess I should go,” Heather said to Jake. “See you later tonight?” she asked, establishing ownership, presumably for Ariel’s benefit. “For the volleyball game at Ollie’s?”

      “If I’m up for it,” he said, his tone clearly saying Don’t push.

      Poor Heather. She probably hadn’t figured out this guy was as elusive as he was handsome.

      “We’ll have fun. I promise.”

      “You don’t need me to have fun,” he said.

      A tiny frown appeared between the woman’s sharply plucked brows, and she looked from Ariel to Jake, assessing the danger of them getting together. In the end, she sighed, picked up a sarong and a beach bag from a drop-cloth–draped chair, said, “Ciao,” and left. Jake watched her go, admiring her casually—like someone appreciating a work of art, knowing there was a museum’s worth beyond it.

      The dog watched Heather leave, then honed in on Jake, ready for action. When Jake made no move to follow the girl, the dog plopped onto its substantial belly, spread-legged, scattering sand.

      “Is this your dog?” Ariel asked, praying it wasn’t. The last thing she wanted was to be snuffled awake again by a sandy-pawed canine. Even one with eyes as big and brown as a bear’s.

      “Lucky? Nah, his owners live down the beach, but he hangs with me a lot. We’re buds, aren’t we, Luck Man?”

      The dog looked up at him with pure worship on his doggie mug. Sure are, boss.

      “Time to head home, pal,” Jake said, “before your owners start worrying.” He held the door for Lucky, who seemed to droop, like a kid called home for supper, and slowly walked out the door, his back end swaying regretfully.

      Ariel couldn’t help smiling at the sight.

      Jake caught the look. “Great dog, huh?”

      “He sheds a lot of sand.”

      “Be glad he didn’t bring in another starfish. Hid one under the bed once. Talk about stink.”

      Great.

      “So,