Allison Leigh - Tycoon's Temptation - The Truth About the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Lady / HerTexan Tycoon

The presence of Wood Tolliver at Tiff’s.

Vince Jeffries ambled in. Next to Wood, who didn’t really count, Vince was her newest boarder. Typically quiet, the thirty-something balding man sat at the end of the table, barely nodding a greeting at the rest. Even Joanie came in after a fashion, keeping a wide berth between herself and Wood, as if he had been barking at her for the room mix-up when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Hadley couldn’t help wondering what he thought of his lunch companions and was no closer to a conclusion when the pecan tarts had all been eaten and the dining room was clear again, save the dirty dishes, her and Wood.

She tried waving him back when he began helping her clear the table, but he paid no heed, and in less than half the time it usually took, she had the dining room restored to order and the kitchen sink was full of soapy water.

“A lot of service you’re providing for a boardinghouse,” Wood observed.

She gave up protesting his help. The man seemed set on it regardless of what she said. “You’re pretty determined to do whatever you want, aren’t you?” She looked pointedly at the dish towel he’d picked up.

“Pretty much,” he allowed smoothly.

She smiled despite herself and shoved her hands back in the hot, soapy water. “So, what do you do back in Indiana?”

He dried a plate and carefully stacked it on top of the others. “This and that. What time is your special guest coming this afternoon?”

Hadley glanced up at the clock, dismayed to see how quickly the time was slipping past. “A few hours yet. She said to expect her around four. She’s coming up from Wyoming.”

He lifted his eyebrows at that, and Hadley shrugged. “From one snowy place to another. I know. But it’s business, and believe me, if I turn it away, I’ll hear about it from my sister, Evie. She’s on my case enough as it is for being too, well, too—”

“Soft?”

She looked sideways at him and felt her heart skid around in her chest again when their gazes met. “Yes.”

Steely blue roved over her and she felt it like a physical thing. “Soft isn’t necessarily bad,” he murmured.

Her face felt warm, and blaming it on the sudsy water would be an outright lie. “Well.” Her voice was even more breathless. “It is when the profit margin around here is as minimal as it is. She’d have this place listed on one of those Best of shows on television, if she were in charge, and never let any rooms go empty for long.”

He slipped the forgotten plate out of her fingers and ran it through the rinse water. “But you don’t run Tiff’s for the profit, do you.”

She blinked, trying to gather her scattered wits, few as they seemed. “When my mother died, my father and brothers wanted me to take over Tiff’s. Nobody could bear to sell it off. Evie was already married with her own responsibilities, and there was nobody left but me.”

“And what did you want?”

“To run Tiff’s, of course,” she said after a tiny hesitation that she assured herself wasn’t noticeable.

He looked back at the dishes he was drying, and she had to resist the impulse to gasp in a breath of air. The man had a serious impact on people. She wondered if he knew.

From beneath her lowered lashes, she watched his movements. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his casual shirt to his elbows and she might not know the names of the latest Paris designers, but she did know silk when she saw it. And the heavy watch circling his corded brown wrist looked like something that never needed an advertisement.

Who was she kidding? Of course he knew his own effect.

“So what’s Joanie’s problem?” he whispered.

Hadley’s tone turned tart. “Other than being eight months pregnant by a good-for-nothing liar who made sure he beat down whatever self-confidence she had left after her father had already stomped out most of it?”

Then, because she was in no mood to let Joanie’s ex-boyfriend sour her afternoon, she shook her head and grabbed the last of the bowls. “Sorry. I just cannot abide liars. Anyway, you certainly charmed

Mrs. Ardelle. I haven’t seen her smile so much since she moved in here last year after her husband passed away.”

Dane listened to Hadley’s determinedly cheerful voice. She couldn’t abide liars. Ordinarily he’d have said the same. “And Vince Jeffries?”

“He’s been here a few months. He’s looking for work.”

“You take in strays.”

Her head swiveled around to look at him, her soft lips parted.

Soft-looking lips. Soft woman.

His fingers strangled the dish towel for a minute. Had it not been for Marlene, the Rutherford family housekeeper, he wouldn’t have known one towel from another, much less what to do with it around a pile of dishes. But Marlene hadn’t cared that he was Roth Rutherford’s heir and had assigned chores whenever it suited her.

“Everybody needs a place to call home,” Hadley said after a moment. With a quick jerk, she pulled the plug and the soapy water gurgled down the drain. “If Tiff’s provides that, then I’m happy.” She wiped down the counters, rinsed her hands and plucked the dish towel out of Dane’s hands. She stood close enough that he could smell the fragrance of her shampoo. It was clean and soft.

Just like she was.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll get you settled in your new room.”

There was a touch of huskiness in her voice that he was smart enough to take as a warning. She might be useful for his purposes right now, but he didn’t tangle with innocent women.

They were too easily hurt.

He nodded and followed her past the staircase and around to the far side of the house. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share a bathroom,” she said as she pushed open a door and went inside. She picked up an old-fashioned key from the dresser and handed it to him as he entered. “And believe me, considering how nice you’ve been about the accident and all, I’d be happy to keep you in the tower, but—”

“I’m no Rapunzel,” he murmured.

She flushed a little, glancing at his hair. “Prince Charming, maybe.” Then she flushed even brighter. “You’ll be warmer down here, so that’s one advantage. Did you have any luggage?” Her words came so fast they nearly tumbled over each other.

“A duffel. I’ll move it right now. I didn’t unpack or anything up there, so you shouldn’t have to do much to get ready for your other guest.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she assured him quickly as she stepped back into the hall. As if she weren’t comfortable being in his room while he was in it, too. “Except for the regulars, I change the sheets and towels and stuff around here. One more doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

It wasn’t smart of him to think of Hadley and bed sheets. Not when the conceivable reasons for that combination dragged at him in a painfully tantalizing way.

He looked over her head at the door adjacent to his. “That the bathroom?”

She slid her foot backward, putting even more inches between them. It amused him. And relieved him from having to do it himself.

“No, actually.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, but the rich brown strands fell forward again almost as quickly. “It’s my bedroom. The bathroom we’ll be sharing is between the rooms.” She ducked her head and mumbled an excuse before darting up the hallway. Seconds later he heard a phone ring somewhere in the house, only to be quickly answered.

He eyed the two doors.

Too close together.

Dane scrubbed his hand down his face. Christ.

He was in Montana to settle a score that—in his opinion—could never be settled enough. He didn’t have time for distractions.