so fine it was male model worthy? Didn’t he know that she’d spent the last seven months building her business, leaving her no time for men of any kind? Much less the kind with magazine-cover asses? “No,” she finally managed, when she realized she hadn’t answered him. Because she was staring. Again.
“Not finding much,” he said, and straightened. “Why don’t I lead you to your room, get you settled and see if maybe there are any candles in there so you can have some lighting, then borrow this”—he waved the flashlight around—“and dig around a little more.”
Oh, great. Trevor Hamilton was going to be in her bedroom after all. While she was in it. That’s what she needed. Well, that was exactly what she needed, or wanted anyway, but she doubted he’d be on board with the suggestion, especially as he’d so quickly shot down her earlier assumption that he’d been looking for temporary companionship. “Sure.” She slid off the stool, slapped her thigh so the dogs fell in beside her, hefted her nylon bag and reached for her other duffel.
“I’ll get these.”
She didn’t bother arguing. With her luck she’d swing around a corner and take out some eighth-century figurine or something. Better if he was the one who took that risk. At least he was family.
“Where are we headed?” he asked, hovering at the entrance to the front hallway.
“I haven’t a clue. I looked at the map earlier, but—” She stopped short of telling him she’d gone off exploring in the opposite direction. She didn’t need him reporting to Lionel that his sitter had been snooping. “I think I got turned around.”
He slid one bag to the floor. “Here, let me look at the map.” He held out his hand for her notebook.
She hesitated.
He smiled. “Trust me, I’m not interested in Lionel’s dog-sitting mandates and endless house rules.”
What are you interested in? She shoved the book in his hand, thankful she’d managed not to say that out loud. In her head it had sounded sexily suggestive. Best she’d left it right there.
“Good God,” Trevor murmured, juggling the book and the flashlight.
“You’re skimming.”
“Is there an index to this thing? How long are you staying, anyway?”
“Twelve days. And the section on my accommodations is in the front.”
“Ah. Says here you can choose any room in the upper east wing.” He looked up. “You were in the west wing when I found you.”
She shrugged casually. Or so she hoped. “I’m better with left and right than east and west.”
He eyed her for a moment longer, then flipped the book shut and handed it to her. “Follow me.”
As they left the kitchen for the front hall, the air got noticeably cooler.
“Uh-oh.”
“What, uh-oh?” Emma said.
“No heat.” He started trudging up the main staircase. The dogs wove their way between them, with Martha quickly out in front, and Jack trying his best to kill them both by sending them falling backward as he nudged through their feet.
When Trevor got to the main landing of the second floor, he said, “Change of plans. Follow me.”
“What change of plans? Wait a minute.” But she had to hurry to keep up with his long-legged stride.
“We can look for the generator switch and whatever else we need in the morning when we have daylight. And, hopefully, some sun to go with it. But for tonight, we can huddle in here.” He paused in front of a pair of double doors and swung them open. “Follow me.”
Emma stuck her head inside the door. As Trevor moved inside, the small beam of yellow light illuminated enough furniture to show that it was a sitting room or parlor of some kind. A rather large one.
“Aha,” he said, flashing his beam across the room to highlight the detailed filigree in the masonry surrounding a huge fireplace. Another flick of his wrist showed the wood stacked next to it. “That’ll do. For the night anyway.”
“Wait a minute. You’re proposing we both stay…in here? Together?”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Conserve heat. There are a few bedrooms with fireplaces, but not in your designated wing. Of course, we could break Lionel’s rule book and go find one with—”
Just the brief visual of her and Trevor stumbling together through the dark house, looking for a bedroom with a fireplace—where they would both, presumably, stay for the night—was enough to make up her mind. “Here is fine.”
She walked in with Jack on her heels. Martha obviously knew the room as she trotted right over to the long