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got an eyeful of his broad back. Wide and rippling with muscles. Then he turned to face her and Meg’s gaze fell on the tuck in his towel, thinking that it didn’t look very secure and could fall off at any moment. Her throat went dry.
    He said, “If you haven’t come to turn the bed down, have you brought my bags?”
    Guiltily flashing her gaze upward, she said in a rush,“You have bags?” Why hadn’t he taken them up with him?
    â€œWhen I left the train station, I did. All I have with me is my case.”
    That explained it A haphazard check in. “Oh . . . then I’m certain Delbert will get them for you.”
    Think, Meg! She had to get out of here. If anyone found out she was in a hotel room with a half-naked man, she would be ruined. The image of the cultivated lady she’d worked so hard to portray would fizzle. To think, she’d just been contemplating a scandal. Well, if this wasn’t scandalous behavior, she didn’t know what was.
    Escape was the operative word here. But not until she could walk without tripping on her unmentionables. How did one make herself look a lot more at ease and calm pulling up her muslin and pinning it while a man watched? She just couldn’t. Not even the old Meg had that much nerve.
    The heat on her cheeks burned hotter than a stove. It took every bit of self-reliance she could collect to plan her retreat—a retreat she wasn’t sure she wanted to make. After all, he was gorgeous. Positively the most attractive man she’d ever seen nearly naked. Who was she fooling? He was the only man she’d ever seen nearly naked.
    Miss Edwina’s words drifted to her: When a woman is approached by a man she hasn’t been introduced to, she must ask for his calling card to ensure he has “Mr.” in front of his name and has listed his street and number. Meg was certain her man in the towel didn’t have one on him. Bother it anyway, she had to leave or else face consequences she couldn’t repair.
    Stepping out of her petticoat, she dipped down andbunched it in her fists. “I have to be going now.” She pressed the stiff cloth against her breasts, keeping her arms crossed and covering as much fabric as she could.
    â€œIf you need anything . . . don’t, ah, hesitate to ask at the front desk.” With a backward walk, she managed to get to the door and clutch the knob. Turning with what she hoped appeared to be a polished gracefulness, she opened the door. Checking first to see if the coast was clear, she hadn’t taken a single step out of the room.
    Grandma Nettie came down the hallway escorting the new arrival to his room while Delbert Long rolled the second-story bellman’s cart right behind them and directly toward her.
    Meg slammed the door and pressed her back against it, the petticoat still at her breasts—only one-handed now. The other hand was like a vise on the doorknob.
    â€œAnother accident?” the man queried. A single brow rose in a wry arch.
    Panic welling in her throat, Meg couldn’t reply.
    The sharp reverberation against her shoulder blade as the wooden door panel was knocked on, made Meg jump away as if she’d been scorched.
    More knocking. Then: “Porter, sir,” came Delbert’s announcement.
    Standing in the middle of the room, looking helplessly from one end of the bed to the bureau and fireplace and the bathroom door, she didn’t know where to hide. And when the man proceeded toward her with that damp towel looking ready to fall off, she squeezed her eyes closed and took in a deep breath. Certainly no help for the situation, but if that towel unwrapped from his middle and exposed him, shedidn’t want to see. On the other hand, she could look through the fringe of her lashes and he wouldn’t be the wiser . . .
    Precariously close to her ear, and in a whisper so deliciously low and baritone it caused her to