Protecting Peggy. Maggie Price

spicy male tang of his cologne pervading her lungs.

      “When Samantha showed you the picture she drew, I wondered how on earth you guessed it was a bunny. You knew because you saw Bugs at the top of the stairs.”

      “The rabbit and the picture are both hot pink.” He shrugged. “I made a wild guess.”

      “An accurate one.” She smiled as she fingered a wayward wisp of hair off her cheek. “Thank you again for defusing what might have turned into an even more unpleasant situation, Mr. Sinclair. If you’ll join the other guests in the dining room for coffee, I’ll see to breakfast.”

      “You’re always so polite while you’re trying to get rid of me.” He smiled, a slow curving of the lips that gave his strong-featured face a devastating appeal. “What’s it going to take for you to call me Rory?”

      She slid her tongue along her bottom lip. She didn’t want to picture herself in his arms, breathing his name against his heated flesh, but she did. “I think…” Her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat. “It would be wise for us to keep things between us on a business level, Mr. Sinclair.”

      He said nothing for a moment, just stared down at her with those off-the-chart blue eyes until she had to fight the urge to squirm.

      “You’re right, Ireland,” he said softly. “That would probably be the wise thing to do.”