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My House Or Yours?
Lass Small
MARRY ME… AGAIN!Josephine Morris hadn't seen her ex-husband in almost four years when the storm of the decade hit. Suddenly they were stranded in the last hotel room in Dallas - together. Chad Wilkins had been a master in the bedroom, and now the seducing scoundrel was intent on wooing her back into his life - and his bed!He swore that he'd changed. And a horrified Jo was this close to succumbing. Jo knew she should be strong, but how could she resist a veritable force of nature? And what would she do when her relentless ex decided he was ready to play house - full-time?
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u1d9732f5-168c-59a3-b39c-c5a63e45bef6)
Excerpt (#u73ff2cc8-f973-57c9-9196-05a25f881632)
Dear Reader (#u6cb3162e-4162-5c2c-aac6-b43e2da7d7cf)
Title Page (#ub9d1a2f6-0ee1-56ef-b0b4-22cf1e0b2750)
About the Author (#u09e055e7-0609-57cc-b9c7-4de3cde64a05)
Dedication (#u0271b854-fe98-55c4-9a29-84df308350e4)
Chapter One (#ueb9bedb4-9bfe-50cb-a0ee-5be5dc329949)
Chapter Two (#u4454feda-dcb9-5da8-9e9f-1bab079d1eca)
Chapter Three (#u21f0cfb2-a58b-5d35-86b9-d6f10750ac4b)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
There, In The Doorway, Stood Chad.
He smiled across the room at his stunned ex-wife and said, “May I come inside out of the rain?” How like him to intrude back into her life this way! Jo couldn’t form a single word; she was in shock.
He smiled as a man does whose life is beyond his control. “I’ve taken a leave of absence and moved up here.”
In stark horror, Jo uttered a guttural, “No!”
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll leave these wet things down here tonight. Are we roomies?”
“No!” she gasped. But Chad clearly had other ideas…
Dear Reader,
Go no further! I want you to read all about what’s in store for you this month at Silhouette Desire. First, there’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the triumphant return of Joan Hohl’s BIG BAD WOLFE series! MAN OF THE MONTH Cameron Wolfe “stars” in the absolutely wonderful Wolfe Wedding. This book, Joan’s twenty-fifth Silhouette title, is a keeper. So if you plan on giving it to someone to read I suggest you get one for yourself and one for a friend-it’s that good!
In addition, it’s always exciting for me to present a unique new miniseries, and SONS AND LOVERS is just such a series. Lucas, Ridge and Reese are all brothers with a secret past. and a romantic future. The series begins with Lucas: The Loner by Cindy Gerard, and continues in February with Reese: The Untamed by Susan Connell and in March with Ridge: The Avenger by Leanne Banks. Don’t miss them!
If you like humor, don’t miss Peachy’s Proposal, the next book in Carole Buck’s charming, fun-filled WEDDING BELLES series, or My House or Yours? the latest from Lass Small.
If ranches are a place you’d like to visit, you must check out Barbara McMahon’s Cowboy’s Bride. And this month is completed with a dramatic, sensuous love story from Metsy Hingle. The story is called Surrender, and I think you’ll surrender to the talents of this wonderful new writer.
Sincerely,
Lucia Macro
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
My House Or Yours?
Lass Small
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LASS SMALL
finds living on this planet at this time a fascinating experience. People are amazing. She thinks that to be a teller of tales of people, places and things is absolutely marvelous. This is Lass’s 40th book for Silhouette!
To my new editor, Marcia Book Adirim, a.k.a. “Mab.”
One (#ulink_d33cb568-e2d6-5c68-9a2d-f7f8054f53f1)
That late-January day, the Dallas-Fort Worth airport was jammed. The weather there was TEXAS weather and marvelous, as usual. But north of TEXAS just about all the airports clear across most of the United States were closed because of The Storm.
In the complex, where one pack of delayed passengers stood, there was the under-sound of people moving and talking and complaining. It was like a muted roar. Here and there a single voice surfaced and like a fish leaping from turbulent waters can be seen, the sound of restless people could be heard.
The question was asked by one of the ski people, “Did you hear anything about Colorado?”
Across heads, the replying voice was sour with the reply. “Snowed under.”
Another voice then inquired, “Well, what do you expect this time of year?”
There’s always someone logical who is exceptionally distasteful to be around at a time like that.
From a relentless optimist, there was the comment, “When you get to the slopes, there’ll be just that much more snow!”
A good attitude.
Then a male voice called over the packed heads, “How’s Chicago? I can’t see the board from here.”
A female who was closer to the board complained crossly, “Socked in.”
Some clown commented in surprise, “They ski in Chicago?”
And from farther back in the crowd, a voice said crossly, “I didn’t take time off work in order to sleep on a chair or on the floor in an airport.”
Since Jo Morris was a seasoned air traveler, she was not perturbed. With her brown eyes, she was a cool, collected, twenty-eight-year-old. She was a flexible woman who could handle any unexpected situation. Well, most.
She was a program problem-solver for one of the awesome computer greats. She really knew computers. She’d been on the first wave at fourteen with an Apple II Plus.
“Attention, please.” The voice was wonderfully male. It was the Do Not Fear. I Am In Control-type voice. He was at one of the flight counters. He had all their attentions.
He was a marvelous-looking, well-made man in a perfect uniform who was asking the muttering crowd to listen to him. He’d had all the female attention right away.
No one in the trapped pack believed there was any solution. They were mostly restless and disappointed, and some were sulky, but they all quieted down.
It was unarguable that the airport had no control over the weather that was lousing up other airports someplace else. Or even if by some miracle bad weather sneaked into TEXAS, who could control weather? So why would anyone be angry with the airport personnel?
The person addressing them was a captain of one of the stranded planes. He stood on a movable step-up and scanned the crowd. As always happened when men scanned crowds, and Jo was in the crowd, the man’s eyes landed on her. He smiled in the way men smile at a woman who interests them.
And it was mostly to Jo that he said, “I have some hotel rooms available. Because of the locations in the hotels, they are not choice rooms, but you can shower and rest. It would be better if you could double up.” He smiled at Jo. “It would be rude to use a double room as a single. Who’s double? Raise your hands.”
A man’s voice next to Jo said, “We are.”
While she was recovering from the sound of him, a slip of paper was passed from the pilot to the hand that reached past Jo’s shoulder.
In the crush, a body pressed slightly against Jo’s side. And her own body reacted strongly. That was weird. She hadn’t reacted to any touches since”Well, Jo,” a nicely rumbling voice said in her ear. “Want to share. again?”
All the bedlam around faded away as she turned like a particle in a slowly melting glacier. She didn’t have to turn far, but it took a long time and her lips parted during the same millennium.
Since a millennium takes a while to pass, she had the time to notice, in all that while, no one around aged. Interesting. They were all locked in by her shock, but they appeared unaware of what had happened.
Eventually her slight, slow turn did take her stare to the speaker at her shoulder. And it was, indeed, he. Her ex-husband.
He looked the same. His brown hair was thick. His brown eyes were lazy and amused. He was thirty-eight and old enough not to accost an ex-wife.
She spoke. She said, “Chad.” With him, she’d always been a similarly brilliant conversationalist. She hadn’t actually needed to talk, but her inability to communicate was why she had her master’s degree. It was one of the reasons.
He smiled at her as if they’d amicably parted just last week. “So you do remember.”
“How amazing to run into you here.” Not having seen him in so long, she could evaluate him more critically.
He looked fantastic. No wonder all the female students in his seminars stared and shifted in their chairs. Just seeing him, her own body was being crass. At twenty-eight, she was old enough to have better control.
He lifted the paper slip to call her attention to it. “I have a room. You’re my first choice. Want to share?”
How could her body carry on that way? Did it expect—Of course not. Then why—Her mouth said, “Why, how amazing to run into you in an airport!” And she was immediately aware she’d already said something similar. In turn, he would immediately know he’d boggled her.
He always had.
Females acted so silly around Chad Wilkins that he’d accepted it as the normal behavior pattern in women. He simply assumed all women, at all times, acted the way she did around him. He used her conduct as a measuring stick for women. He had never assimilated his lure and he wasn’t at all egotistical about himself.
He’d never been very bright about women.
In the crush, the stranded pilot had come through the mob, and he touched Jo’s shoulder. “Are you alone? There’s one vacant room left. It’s mine.” His grin was just great.
Why couldn’t she just go along with the pilot? It was the perfect escape from Chad. She could make an excuse later with the pilot. But she should seize on this chance to avoid the temptation and escape Chad!
However, Chad smiled kindly at the discreetly salivating pilot and replied, “She’s with me.”
That had a familiar ring to it. And Jo remembered Chad saying that to friendly men. But then after he’d shooed off whomever, he would tilt his head down to listen to some foggy old man’s dissertation on something so obscure as to be beyond heeding.
The pilot, who wasn’t empty peanut shells, gave Chad a studying look, then returned his regard to Jo. “If it doesn’t pan out, I’m in 409.”
She looked at him in serious regret. There stood a normal man. And she heard as her mouth said, “Thank you. But don’t wait up.”
The pilot waited for more.
She again looked at him regretfully, but she slowly turned back to Chad, taking another millennium to do that simple thing.
Her ex-husband ignored the reluctant-to-give-up pilot who’d never before been turned down. Chad took hold of Jo’s elbow as if she was property. Come to think of it, he’d always been possessive.
Chad asked Jo, “Where are your things?”
“Here.” She indicated the across-her-body, shoulder-slung, light bag. “I travel light.”
He accepted that as logical and informed her with confidence, “I’ll find a cab.”
And he would. He always could. In all the time Jo had known Chad, he could solve anything. But not Jo. He had never been able to solve Jo.
As they plowed through the packed people, the divorced pair left the abandoned pilot watching after them.
Chad got the first cab that was available. Of course he would. He invited any of the waiting others who were going to that particular hotel to join them. Altogether, not counting the driver, they squeezed in six.
“This many’s illegal.” The woman driver mentioned her evaluation—to Chad. She would sort him out as their leader.
With authority, Chad gently instructed the cabdriver, “It’s an emergency.” With a pithy, deliberate pause, he added, “And we tip well.”
That was language the driver understood. Most people recognized Chad’s position as unheralded leader right away. The cabdriver was no exception. Males sometimes had trouble with the premise of Chad’s superiority, as had the pilot, but most people finally would accept the fact that Chad was the leader.
Leaders have very little spare time.
