Anne McAllister - Fletcher's Baby!

She felt her cheeks begin to burn. “I said, no!”

Sam took a step back and raised his hands, palms out, as if to defend himself. “Fine. The butler’s pantry for me.” He started toward the stairs.

“I’m calling The Taylor House!”

“Go ahead. I’m not leaving.”

Josie watched him go, frustrated, annoyed, and determined not to give in. “Go ahead yourself! Sleep on the love seat!” Get a crick in your neck. Serve you right for being so obstinate.

She shut her door, barely managing to take her own advice and not slam it. Then she retreated to her bedroom, determined to ignore him. She had one more couple left to arrive, who would be getting there late. Ordinarily she’d wait for them downstairs in the butler’s pantry, reading or watching television.

Obviously that wasn’t an option tonight.

So she stayed in her room, alternately reading and hauling herself up to pace irritably. When the phone rang an hour later she snatched it up. The people who had been scheduled for Coleman’s Room couldn’t make it.

“Sorry to call so late,” they apologized. “Family emergency.”

“No problem,” Josie assured them. Then she hung up and closed her eyes. “Oh, damn.”

She didn’t have to do it. She almost didn’t do it.

But Josie had spent enough nights in her life sleeping in uncomfortable circumstances to have a modicum of sympathy—even for Sam. Reluctantly, she went down to the butler’s pantry.

It was dark, but in the moonlight spilling through the tall, narrow window, she could see Sam lying on the love seat, his legs dangling over the end.

“Come to see if I was comfy?” he drawled.

“Came to tell you that you can have Coleman’s Room,” she replied through her teeth. “The guests just canceled.”

In the moonlight she saw the slow spread of his grin. Her very own version of the Cheshire Cat. Then he stretched expansively and hauled himself up. He was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.

Josie had beat a hasty retreat up the steps.

Unfortunately, the image had stuck in her mind.

And having him in Coleman’s Room was turning out to be worse than letting him sleep in her parlor would have been. Her parlor was on the other side of the bathroom. Coleman’s Room shared a common wall with hers.

She crawled back into her own bed and tugged the duvet up to her chin. Resolutely she turned away from the wall. From the memory. From Sam.

It didn’t help. She knew he was there.

Just like he’d been last time...

It was her birthday. September ninth. And she was determined that it would be the most special birthday she could remember.

For years she’d pretended an indifference to her birthdays. In foster families there were fewer disappointments if one didn’t expect too much. Even when she’d lived with her own parents, things had been so unpredictable that Josie had learned not to expect.

When she’d come to stay with Hattie and Walter, they had celebrated with her. That was as close to having a real family—and real birthdays—as she could remember.

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