the very man she was trying to stay away from.
‘‘Yeah, you’re doing great, Eileen,’’ she told herself and headed for her desk. She had to make the reservation before leaving for the day. Sending the Rolodex into a wild spin, she muttered, ‘‘Just great.’’
The Hammond Inn was the perfect romantic getaway. An hour and a half away from Orange County by freeway, it was a world away in feeling. The town of Temecula had started life as a stagecoach stop…and was now an interesting collection of old and new.
Many of the original buildings were still standing in old town, but the new housing developments were springing up all over everywhere like a virus run amok. Still, there were ranches and elegant old homes studding the landscape and the Hammond Inn was a perfect example.
A gracious Victorian, it had been perfectly restored to its former glory. Its wraparound porch was studded with hand-carved pillars painted a pristine white. The house itself was bright, sunshine-yellow with white trim and dark green shutters. The wide porch held clusters of white wicker furniture, inviting cozy conversations. Hanging plants hung from the overhanging roof, dotting the porch with thick green foliage. Late-blooming chrysanthemums burst into rainbows of color along the skirt of the house and lined the long walkway from the curved driveway. Maples and oaks, now boasting their brilliant fall colors, crouched around the house like protective soldiers decked out in their dress uniforms.
A cold wind swept through the hills, rattled the leaves and bowed the flowers as Eileen and Rick walked up the path.
‘‘It’s gorgeous,’’ she said, turning around to get the whole picture. Trees dotted the rolling, winter-brown hills and though new housing developments were encroaching, they were still far enough away that the inn seemed secluded. Private.
Eileen shot Rick a sidelong glance and told herself to get a grip. They weren’t here for romance. The inn was simply a temporary headquarters. They were here to conduct meetings with a few of Rick’s clients. They all lived locally and it was much easier for Rick and her to spend the weekend at the inn rather than driving the freeway to Riverside County every day.
Although, she thought, turning back around to continue walking, if they had been here for romance, they couldn’t have picked a better spot.
‘‘I like it,’’ Rick said, oblivious, thank heaven, to her thoughts. ‘‘The owners aren’t the kind to organize ‘fun’ for their guests. They leave me alone to conduct business.’’
Eileen shot him a look and shook her head. ‘‘Get down, you funky party weasel.’’
He stopped and gave her that look she was becoming all too accustomed to. It was the sort of stare you gave someone speaking a foreign language. Conveying the thought that maybe, if you listened hard enough, you’d understand. ‘‘Party weasel?’’
‘‘Funky party weasel. That was sarcasm.’’
‘‘Thought it might be.’’
Eileen waved one hand up and down in front of him. ‘‘But honestly, Rick. Look at you. You drag that gray world you work in everywhere you go.’’
He touched one of his lapels. ‘‘This is a blue suit.’’
‘‘Whoa. Cuttin’ loose.’’
One dark eyebrow lifted. She was getting used to that, too.
‘‘I’m here on business,’’ he reminded her.
‘‘You never heard of casual Friday?’’
‘‘It’s my company, we don’t have casual Friday.’’
‘‘The fact that it’s your company is the point. You could have casual Friday every day if you wanted to.’’
‘‘I don’t.’’
‘‘Hence, the gray world,’’ she said, walking again. ‘‘Life—conformity style.’’
Rick caught up with her in a couple of long strides. He was really tall—he towered over her. She liked the difference in their heights. She liked that he looked serious, but his eyes sparkled. Wow. Was that a glint of humor she saw there?
‘‘You know, some people actually dress for success.’’
She shrugged. ‘‘I figure, success means you can dress however you want to.’’
‘‘Ah, so I should be wearing jeans and a torn T-shirt.’’
‘‘Nobody said anything about torn.’’
She took the five, freshly swept steps to the porch and stopped at the top. Turning around to face him, she had to look down, since he’d stopped at the bottom. ‘‘I don’t remember you being such a stuffed shirt when you were a kid.’’
‘‘I,’’ he pointed out as he climbed the steps to stand eye level with her, ‘‘grew up.’’
She clutched her heart and grinned at him. ‘‘Cut to the bone.’’
‘‘You’re impossible, aren’t you?’’
‘‘That’s been said before.’’
‘‘Not hard to believe.’’
For several moments they stood there looking at each other. Rick broke away while Eileen was still in a sexual trance. He bounded up the rest of the steps and crossed the wide porch.
He reached out, opened the door and held it for her to pass through in front of him. His gaze dropped over her before lifting to meet hers again. ‘‘Besides, I don’t see you in jeans.’’
She smiled at him. ‘‘You will later.’’
‘‘Can’t wait.’’
Eileen stared up into his eyes and told herself to ignore the flash of heat that sizzled in those brown depths briefly before disappearing. She didn’t need this complication.
Four
Their suite was bigger than the one he usually took when he stayed here. Of course, Rick thought, usually he didn’t bring his secretary with him. Margo wouldn’t have come along, preferring to be at home on the weekends with her husband. As for Eileen, he probably should never have pretended—to both of them—that he’d needed her on this trip.
Just the drive on the freeway had been torturous. His hormones were doing the kind of back flips they hadn’t done since he’d hit puberty and had his first fantasy about…what the hell was her name? He shook his head. Didn’t matter. And it would probably be a good idea to keep the word fantasy out of his mind, too.
God knows, he didn’t need any encouragement.
He watched Eileen walk around the big living room, inspecting the whole place, from the books lining the bookshelves, to the hearth, already set and ready for a romantic fire. An overstuffed sofa in a pale flowered fabric crouched in front of the fireplace and two matching wing chairs sat on either side of it. Gleaming wood tables held vases of fresh flowers and dozens of scented candles dotted nearly every surface of the room.
‘‘It’s gorgeous.’’
He nodded. She certainly was. That black skirt of hers had been driving him nuts since she’d arrived at the office. She’d left her car in the parking lot at the office so they could drive down together. And during that long hour and a half, his gaze had slipped to her bare legs often. Her dark red shirt was plain, businesslike, and yet still managed to give his heart a kick start. Her hair, though, tempted him sorely. The long, loose waves draping around her shoulders made him want to spear his fingers through it. He’d had to keep a tight grip on the steering wheel, just to defeat the urge to reach out and see if her hair felt as soft as it looked.
‘‘Shall I set up on that table?’’
‘‘Hmm?’’ He gave himself a mental