would be a waste."
"Practical Roman," she said, tsking in a way that reminded him of his sister's own good-natured ribbing about his practicality. He wasn't sure he liked the shrewish Tess teasing him.
"I'll bring you a nightlight if you go wait for me in your bedroom."
She gave him a crooked smile, pivoted on her heel, and bounded up the steps.
A ll that leg wasted on a woman too ornery to live with. He shook his head, retrieved the nightlight from the kitchen junk drawer, and headed upstairs.
She was sitting on the bed, covers drawn up over the knees she hugged up under her chin. Thank goodness for that quilt. A man could take only so much tempting before he broke. Still, he couldn't help but speculate at what he'd find under that old quilted bedcover. How would Tess Abbot react if she knew what primal thoughts heated his blood?
Then he realized she was taking her own time perusing his bare chest.
Run , urged a tiny voice inside his head. Run fast and far.
" Here." He thrust the nightlight at her, but she didn't take it. She just stared at it, eyebrows raised.
"A Winnie-the-Pooh nightlight?" Amusement laced her words.
"I bought it when my nephew visited."
"You babysat your nephew?"
"No, I eat little children. You'll find his bones in the bone pile out back. Jeez, Tess. What kind of man do you think I am? I'll plug in the nightlight for you." He dropped to one knee beside the dresser where there was an electrical outlet.
"Aren't you the gentleman," she all but purred from the bed.
"Anything your little heart desires, Princess," he grumbled, fighting the nightlight's bent prongs into the outlet.
"In that case, St. John --"
He rose and faced her, dread inching up his spine.
"- -Turn off the overhead light on your way out…please."
That was it? No tirade about the Spartan accommodation, or the lack of curtains on the window? Even a please? He was almost disappointed.
"Sure," he said.
"And leave the hall light on…in case I get up during the night."
"Anything else Her Highness requires before her humble servant retires for the night?" he parried.
"I'll whistle if I think of anything."
"I just bet you will."
CHAPTER THREE
The third time Tess opened her eyes and squinted into the sunlight streaming through the bedroom's unclad window, she knew she wasn't having a nightmare. The lumpy bed beneath her and the slanted ceiling over her head were real, as real as yesterday's fire at The Castle.
Tess winced. She'd put everything she had into that project. She'd even had a couple prospective buyers interested, buyers expecting a livable house. Now what was she going to do?
She could call Aunt Honey and hash out options with her.
No, she couldn't. Not for the next three weeks. Aunt Honey had gone to a monastery somewhere in the Andes. Spiritual enlightenment was Aunt Honey's latest passion. No cell phones allowed. Besides, she needed to assess the damage at The Castle before she could determine any plan of action.
Tess climbed out of bed , slipped on Roman’s shorts, and stumbled down the steps. Roman's door was shut. Obviously the fire for which he was responsible wasn't nagging Prince Charmless awake this morning. After all the times he'd hammered on her front door at the crack of dawn, it would serve him right if she returned the favor and knocked on his door right now.
She yawned. Maybe she'd do just that…right after she had her first cup of coffee.
She shuffled into the kitchen to the coffeemaker. There was already coffee in it. Just enough to fill a mug. But the pot was cold. Yesterday's brew?
Not in Mr. Neat's domain.
Alarm tingled at the base of Tess' skull. If the cold coffee wasn't from yesterday--
She charged Roman's bedroom door and threw it open. No Roman. No happy face pjs. Just his made-up bed.
She dashed out the front door. The driveway was empty as well. He'd abandoned her. That countrified version of her father had up and stranded her in the woods!
Blood pounding in her ears,
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley