Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,27

a bush as she photographed an outbuilding, she'd seen him walk gingerly to his car, hesitate before opening the door, then yelp in agony as he sat down. She'd had to stifle a laugh; it felt so good to know she'd gotten the better of him. But then, he'd gotten the better of her, too, but it sure was worth it.

Libby hadn't seen him yet today, even though she'd spent the morning photographing the interiors of the mansion's first floor. After a quick lunch and a friendly chat with Mrs. McElroy, she headed upstairs to begin work in the second floor chambers.

This was the first one she entered and as Libby surveyed the room's furnishings, she decided it must have been the master bedroom. It had an adjoining bathroom and not only was the bedroom spacious and generously proportioned, but the antique bedroom suite that filled it was elegant and costly.

Libby fluffed up the plump, down-filled pillows and gazed up at the headboard. Well over six feet tall and made of solid walnut, it was embellished with elaborate scrolls, cartouches, and panels of inlaid burl. Paneled bedrails connected it to a matching, somewhat shorter footboard.

Libby stretched a hand upward to play gently with a fringed tassel dangling from the bottom of one of two bell-cords that hung over the headboard and disappeared into the ceiling. They probably activated a call box in the kitchen below, she decided, thinking it was something for her to investigate later. Her eyes wandered over the rest of the room, noting the matching, marble-topped dressers, wall and ceiling gas fixtures, and an assortment of gilt-framed paintings. The walls were covered with a quaint, floral patterned wallpaper set off by heavily varnished walnut woodwork and a polished floor covered with plush, densely-woven rugs.

A small, round tea table, also topped with marble, was placed in a far corner, accompanied by two chairs and an export tea service of undetermined, but antique, vintage.

Bright sunshine streamed through the window, making the room cheery and welcoming.

Oh, this bed feels heavenly, Libby thought, sinking deeper into the airy pillows. It was so tempting to close her eyes and take a much-needed nap after another night spent tossing and turning. Another night thinking about Chris. Every time she dreamed of the possibilities, cold reality would intrude, sharply reminding her of the impossibilities. She felt her eyelids droop uncontrollably of their own free will.

"This is the last place I would have expected to find you," a deep voice boomed from the doorway, "in my bed, sleeping. Or is testing the mattresses part of your research on this old building?"

Libby's eyes flew open as she heard the words and the voice attached to them. Dear heaven, this was his bed? Panic stricken, she noticed too late the men's toiletries on the dresser and a denim work shirt thrown carelessly on the floor. Thoroughly embarrassed, Libby blushed deeply. This was the last place she wanted to be found, too.

She started to arise, pushing herself up on one elbow, when Chris gently nudged her back down. Involuntarily, she let out a low moan of pain as her stiff muscles tried to resist him.

Chris cocked an eyebrow as he sat down at the foot of the bed facing her.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No."

"Hmm…maybe you threw your back out earlier today?" he asked with dawning recognition, pressing the point.

"Ah…no," Libby hedged, wondering where the line of questioning was leading.

"Then perhaps I can assume you've overextended your muscles in some way?"

"You could assume that," she replied acidly, "but it's none of your business and it’s certainly nothing I would admit to. I'm photographing the bedrooms this afternoon and if you don't mind, I really should take advantage of the sun's angle right now and get started."

Libby moved a leg to the edge of the bed, preparing to roll off when Chris stopped her, catching her foot between his large hands.

"Not so fast, Cinderella. You look like you're about to make a mad dash for the pumpkin," he admonished with a laugh, enjoying her defenseless position.

"If that's what it takes to escape you and get back to work, I'll grow a whole patch," she retorted, noticing he hadn't taken his hands off her foot yet.

"Now, let me get this straight," Chris began as he gently traced the arch in her foot.

Libby couldn't tell if his actions were deliberate or unintentional, but it suddenly didn't matter. Her legs relaxed in heavenly response to his slow and gentle motions as he