Ms. Taken. Jo Leigh

Charley’s side. “He knows you like to sew. And how much you love those Stephen Sondheim musicals.”

      Holly’s insides melted. “Oh, Charley, it’s true. We are meant for each other. Even time and distance couldn’t pull us apart.” She leaned toward him again, but a knock on the door interrupted. “Wait till you see what I got.”

      She ended up giving him a quick kiss on the chin, then she rushed to the door. The doorman was there along with two other gentlemen. All three were loaded down with packages.

      “Come this way,” she said, waving them in. She crossed the living room, then paused for a moment. Funny, she couldn’t remember which way to turn. She must be overexcited, that’s all.

      She held up a finger to stop the parade. “One sec.” The first door on her right was a bathroom. The second door was the bedroom. “Back here!”

      The room was very large, big enough to make the king-size bed seem small. But the colors were all wrong. Dark browns, hunter green, black. Ugh. Depressing. She’d have to do something about that, and quick.

      The closet was gigantic, with three walls of perfectly spaced clothes, mostly suits, shirts, dress slacks, all color coordinated. But there was one pair of jeans and three pairs of khakis. The poor dear didn’t have the first clue about having fun. But then, that was her job, wasn’t it?

      The men arrived, spurring her into action. She pushed a whole rod of suits together, then started transferring the clothes to the middle wall.

      “In here.”

      The doorman ushered in the other two men.

      “Just put the boxes on the floor,” she said. “I’ll take it from here.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” The doorman deposited his stack first, then kept an eye on the others as they did the same. He ushered them out with a touch of his cap.

      “Mr. Warren will see to the tip,” she said, then she faced the clothes racks once more. She’d definitely need more space for shoes. And where in heaven’s name was she supposed to put her hats?

      DAVID COUGHED. When that didn’t work, he gave Charles an elbow to the ribs. “They’re waiting for a tip,” he whispered.