Virgin In Disguise. Rosemary Heim

some of the newer housing developments he’d seen around the Twin Cities area.

      “Oh, don’t even go there. It’s ostentatious and ridiculous, I know. He never had a family of his own to spend his money on, so it all went to…stuff. I wish he could have found better use—” Her mouth snapped shut with a sharp click of teeth. “Turn around.”

      She had him cuffed and moving towards the stairs before he could figure out what her outburst might mean. He tucked the information away for later.

      Upstairs, the bedrooms carried through on the promise of the first floor. Decorated in what some designer probably considered rustic charm, the rooms reminded him of a bed-and-breakfast he’d stayed in once. He’d intended for that weekend outing to end with a romantic proposal. Then he’d discovered the truth about his almost-fiancée’s “love.” He shied away from any more memories of the disaster he’d barely avoided.

      They stopped just inside the door of the second bedroom. It was the smallest and farthest from the top of the stairs. Colorful rag rugs warmed the hardwood floor. The bed was a roomy queen with a Shaker-style headboard.

      “Good. I hoped this bed was still here.” She nudged him into the room. “This will work just fine.” The gym bag she’d carried up landed on top of the blanket chest at the foot of the bed.

      “You’re pretty familiar with the place.”

      “We used to come up here during the summer when I was little, but I haven’t been since high school.” She motioned him farther into the room. “I wasn’t sure how much of the furniture I remembered would still be here.”

      “You and your uncle?”

      “And Mom.” A sad tone entered her voice. Another bit of information for future consideration.

      She zipped open the bag and pulled out a few items. “The bathroom.” She nodded toward the door and followed him into the short hall.

      The two smaller bedrooms shared a bathroom with a single entrance from the hallway. She turned on the light and stepped aside for him to enter. As she unlocked the cuffs, his quick recon of the room revealed pretty much what he’d expected. No second door and no window big enough for him to squeeze through to freedom.

      He turned to face her and she pushed the small pile of items into his hands. “Five minutes. Plenty of time for you to come up with some sort of weapon. Unless you’re serious about wanting me to trust you.” She stepped back and pulled the door closed.

      He set the soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, all still in their wrappers, on the counter and shook out the last item.

      “Hey, Elf. What are the shorts for?”

      “To sleep in.”

      “I don’t normally—”

      “This isn’t normal. This is Minnesota and you’ll sleep in shorts.”

      “Testy, testy.” He smothered a chuckle and silently thanked her for the foresight. Sleeping in the nude might be his preference, but he didn’t care for that sort of exposure in this sort of situation.

      Between his boxers and the shorts, he might stand a chance of disguising the evidence of his body’s intense reaction to her every time she got close to him.

      Three minutes later, two minutes before she intended to pound on the door and roust him, the bathroom door swung open to reveal a half-naked Frank Cabrini.

      Angel’s breath caught in her throat. Helsinki. He’s gorgeous. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, golden tan. A light dusting of coal-black hair covered his chest, narrowing over his six-pack abs and disappearing into the waistband of the navy knit shorts she’d picked up as an afterthought.

      She kind of regretted having had that afterthought.

      Insane or dead. She was going to be one or the other before the weekend was over.

      “Keep looking at me like that and I won’t be held responsible for the results.” He reached out and tapped her chin, confirming her fear that her mouth had fallen open. “Do you want to search me, in case I did come up with a weapon?”

      She didn’t want to but couldn’t stop from dropping her gaze to the front of his shorts. A wave of heat started somewhere in the vicinity of her chest, flowing up in embarrassment and rolling down in hunger.