In A Heartbeat by Donna MacMeans Page A

Ornamental bushes and what she supposed were the remnants of a garden led from the pool area to a wide grassy field beyond. She could see the outline of trees against the darkening sky. Not a light from a neighbor could be seen. Oreo’s fluffy tail brushed against her leg. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”
    “Thanks, Tom. I owe you one.” Hank’s voice drifted from the hallway. “I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.” He walked into the great room a few moments later.
    “I promised to get that fire going.” He pulled a brown leather bomber jacket from a closet to replace his muddy windbreaker. “Oreo can come out with me and do her thing while I get some firewood.” Oreo dashed across the room at the word “out”, twirling in tight circles at Hank’s feet.
    “Traitor,” Angela scolded, too low for Hank to hear.
    “Once the fire’s going, I’ll grab one of those burgers to eat on the run. You ought to rest that foot, young lady.” He pointed to the couch then zipped up his jacket. “And eat something before the food gets cold. Don’t wait for me.” Man and dog disappeared out the door.
    Men. Already he was telling her what to do, and for nothing more serious than a sprained ankle. She almost laughed, imagining his orders if he knew the full truth. As tempting as the couch appeared, no way was he going to find her there on his return. She shouldered the strap of her overnight bag and bracing her arms against opposite walls, she limped away from the great room and toward the hallway of closed doors.
    The first door on the left opened to a small no-frills bedroom with French doors to the back terrace. After checking to make sure the door to the hall had a lock, she fell on the bed, her ankle aching more than she cared to admit. She rolled to her back, checking for an adjoining bathroom. “Rats,” she muttered, partially to relieve the eerie silence of the nearly deserted house. “There has to be a bathroom around here someplace.”
    Leaving the heavy shoulder bag on the bed, she resumed exploring. She opened a door on the opposite wall and knew immediately she had stumbled into his office. The room still held his woodsy scent. She drew a deep breath. His essence drifted through her, pooling deep inside. Instantly, she felt transported to earlier that afternoon when he’d held her in his arms. Her head had rested on his shoulder. For a moment, she thought he might care for her beyond that of concern for her injury.
    Silly goose, she scolded herself. He’s dating a model. A man like Renard—handsome, intelligent, successful—a man like that would have no interest in her.
    She quickly scanned his desk and the book-laden shelves, half expecting to see a photograph of Elizabeth Everett mocking her from an ornate silver frame. But there were no photos. A laptop computer sat on the desk, waiting for its owner to bring it humming to life. A land line phone sat nearby.
    She looked past the elaborate wall unit of bookcases to the adjoining room. Curiosity and a few awkward steps carried her to his bedroom. The carefully made king-size bed framed by four massive bedposts caught her by surprise. Her bed at home still had the sheets tossed back from when she had left that morning. Guilt twinges increased as she looked around the room. Clean. Sharp. Masculine. A prickling at her neck warned her she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t resist.
    The sound of Oreo’s nails rapidly clicking on the hardwood floor reached her.. Panic struck. If he found her here in his room, he’d know she’d been snooping. Running from discovery, of course, was impossible. Even sneaking out of the room would be difficult, given her unsteady gait.
    Holding her breath to soften the pain, she hobbled slowly, quietly, expecting any moment to hear his heavy footsteps in the hall.
    She made it to the door and peeked into the hallway. No Hank. Backing out, she pulled the door silently closed behind her. With a soft sigh of relief,