Shameless by Ann Major

hand between her breasts. “Only lunatics or maniacal Marines get up at such an ungodly hour.”
    â€œYou didn’t even read my list—”
    â€œI know how to keep house! You don’t have to tell me what to do!”
    â€œYou could have at least read—”
    â€œDidn’t anybody in colonel school ever teach you to delegate?”
    â€œThere’s no such thing as colonel school.”
    â€œMaybe there should be.”
    She’d made a habit of sleeping through the alarm he set for her every night just as she had made a habit of ignoring the long lists of chores he left on the kitchen table every morning. Instead, she did what she thought needed doing, which was more than he ever saw. Naturally, there were some resulting fireworks. He had started in on her that first night.
    No sooner had they sat down to supper than Phillip had started shooting blunt questions at her, like, “Did you do…?” Then he’d systematically gone down his list, which he knew by heart and she hadn’t bothered to read, unerringly selecting the tasks she’d neglected to do, such as keeping the doors locked all the time, instead of the chores she’d done.
    â€œDid you iron my shirts?”
    â€œIn this heat?”
    â€œWhy isn’t my bed made?”
    â€œIt isn’t? Why, I went in—”
    She’d stopped. No way could she admit that when she’d lifted his pillow, she’d thought of him lying there and cupped it against her face to breathe in his tangy, male scent. Then the memories of them together in his bed had flooded her and she’d run.
    Blushing, she’d toyed with a strand of her hair. Her tongue seemed to stick itself to the roof of her mouth.
    He’d turned a little red, too. “Okay. Okay. Forget the bed.”
    â€œI can if you can.” She’d hardly breathed.
    â€œWhat about my clothes in the hamper?” he’d growled.
    â€œThe…hamper’s in your bedroom, too,” she’d whispered.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI—I’ll do them tomorrow…if you’ll bring the hamper to the laundry room.”
    â€œDid you—”
    â€œPhillip, did you memorize your old list—”
    â€œI know what I wrote down—”
    This was bad.
    Cocking her head saucily, she’d shaken her yellow curls. To gain time she’d fluffed them around her shoulders. “Of course, I didn’t do those silly things on your silly list. There were way too many. If you knew anything—you’d know no woman could have done all that in one day—”
    â€œOf course you didn’t? What kind of employee are you?”
    â€œThe same kind of boss you are. A good boss would praise me for making the kitchen look so wonderful. I rearranged—”
    â€œYou hid everything. I couldn’t even find a spoon.”
    â€œIt’s called finding a place for things and putting them where they belong. I even dusted behind the canisters and…and I bleached the sink.”
    He’d glared at her.
    â€œThat wasn’t on my list.”
    â€œThe porcelain was all yellow and stained.” She’d smiled.
    â€œDon’t forget this is my house. You work for me.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have to if you’d help me get a real job.”
    He’d jabbed at his eggplant. Then he’d begun to eat in silence. When he helped himself to seconds, she’d beamed. “How’s the eggplant Provençale by the way?”
    â€œEggplant? I don’t eat eggplant!”
    â€œThen why is yours all gone?”
    He’d eyed his clean plate with amazement. “Because…because I was starving, that’s why!”
    â€œBecause you liked it,” she’d amended gently.
    â€œI wrote steak at the top of my list.”
    â€œHave you been listening to me at all? I didn’t read your stupid list. I don’t do lists.”
    â€œI wanted