“They’re a very nice group, except for the ones who came in and went straight up to their room. You had a lucky break there. She’d have probably asked you to remodel something in the room on the spot. I call her The Pill—in my head.” She smiled, touched a hand to his arm. “You were very polite, even friendly. It has to be gratifying when people—total strangers—so admire your work.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk to them.”

She laughed. “You enjoyed Bob.”

“He’s okay. But next time I’ll know to steer clear when you’ve got a houseful. Tuesday, right? Nobody.”

“Just me. And Lizzy.”

“I can handle you and Lizzy,” he replied and pulled her in before she could evade.

In the moonlight, with the scent of roses. In the shadows of the inn with stars dazzling above. She wasn’t looking for romance, but when it dropped in your lap, what could you do?

She locked her arms around him and took it. The heat, the promise, the quiet splendor of the night.

She fit against him as if she’d been made to. And the scent of her mixed with the perfume of roses. A man could get drunk just on the scent of her.

Better not.

He drew away. “Tuesday. Do you want dinner or not?”

“We’ll order in.”

His grin flashed. “That works for me. Come on, Dumbass, let’s go home.”

She wouldn’t watch him cross the parking lot, she told herself. That was silly, and not at all what this—whatever this was—was about. But she did glance back once, just once, as she walked back to the inn.

She walked back in, to the voices, the energy, the peals of laughter. Smiling—a woman with a hot little secret—she went into the kitchen to make a plate of cookies for her guests.

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

THE SCREAM SHOT HER STRAIGHT UP IN BED AT TWO IN the morning. Dreaming? she wondered. Had she been—

The next scream sent Hope flying out of bed, rushing for the door. She grabbed her cell phone on the run and bolted into the hallway in her cotton shorts and sleep tank. Heart thudding, she charged downstairs and into considerable hysteria on the second floor.

The Pill loosed one glass-shattering scream after the next while her husband, wearing nothing but boxers, gripped her shoulders and shouted at her to stop. Leading with shouted questions, other guests poured out of rooms in various states of undress.

Calm, Hope ordered herself, someone had to be calm.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Mrs. Redman. Mrs. Redman. Lola, stop!”

Hope’s order cracked out, but she thought it carried less insult than a slap across the face. The woman sucked in her breath. Color flooded into her face.

“Don’t you speak to me in that tone.”

“I apologize. Are you hurt?”