All Through The House Read Online Free PDF Page A

dark-haired woman in
her fifties. Meg blandly ignored the message.
    "Abigail mentioned you," she observed.
    Nate was facing her now with a faint smile, appearing
totally relaxed and at ease but for the fists shoved in his pockets.
"Yeah, I'll bet she did," he agreed. "She denies having any
particular punishment in mind for me, though."
    "Oh, Abigail always gives everyone a second
chance," Meg said cheerfully.
    Nate almost groaned at the idea. What the hell was he going
to do if that second chance arose? Damn, a minute ago he'd been ready to ravish
her right here on the desk. He wanted her. Was he going to have to choose
between her and the house?
    Whoa, boy, down, he told himself. He didn't even know yet if
she was married. Although if she was, she had no business letting that dreamy
passion creep into her eyes when she looked at him. One minute they'd been
talking, the next she'd gone off somewhere. A powerful instinct had told him
that he had something to do with her reverie. It had lit his fuse, that was for
sure.
    To her friend he said with a certain amount of restraint,
"I'm glad to hear that. I hope that means she's still planning to come to
lunch with me."
    He wasn't going to be surprised if she suddenly remembered
an appointment. He wasn't even sure he'd blame her. What subtlety he possessed
where the opposite sex was concerned certainly hadn't been on display where
Abigail McLeod could see it. He was going to have to work at it. If, that is,
she gave him the chance.
    The actual state of her thoughts would have surprised him.
Abigail was too honest with herself to be annoyed at Nate. She knew darn well
that what had passed between them had taken two. She'd wanted to kiss him as
badly as he had obviously wanted to kiss her.
    Not that one sexually charged moment was going to alter
Abigail's reservations where Nate Taggart was concerned. If anything, it
accentuated them. Still, she was willing to admit she was flattered. It had
been a long time since a man had looked at her quite like that. She was very
sure she had never been so aroused by just a look. Attraction between a man and
a woman usually awakened gently, showing its possibilities in a slow unfurling.
That was the way it had happened to Abigail before. But this was explosive,
exciting, even frightening. And she didn't want to spend the rest of her life
running away from her emotions.
    "Meg," she said, her voice collected, "I'm
going to lunch now with Mr. Taggart. If Pete Johnson calls about seeing that
apartment house, would you suggest three o'clock?"
    Meg looked delighted. "You bet. Have a good time."
    A moment later, they were out in the sunshine. The blue
pickup truck Abigail had seen the day before waited at the curb.
    "Is there a special place you'd like to go?" Nate
asked.
    "Anything is fine," Abigail said.
    They agreed on the Monte Cristo Cafe, a casual, deli-type
restaurant at the other end of town that served great sandwiches and salads.
Once in the pickup, the silence was constrained.
    Finally Abigail asked politely, "Where's your
office?"
    "I'll drive you past it." Nate put on the turn
signal. "I work at home a lot, though."
    Abigail relaxed enough to tease, "In the
ballroom?"
    He shot her one of those devastating smiles that deepened
the groove in his cheek to a near dimple. "Not a bad idea. Me and the
ghosts. Actually, I've set up an office in one of the second-floor bedrooms
that has a balcony. There's plenty of light, I can look out, even open the
doors, weather permitting."
    "You sound like you'll miss the house when it
sells."
    There was a peculiar silence. "Maybe," he said
finally. "There's our office. Not too prepossessing, is it?"
    With professional interest Abigail surveyed the narrow,
false-fronted building as they passed. Huge tubs containing small trees and
masses of pansies sat out in front on the sidewalk. Through the small-paned
front windows she caught an impression of brilliance: white walls, a painting
or woven hanging in daring