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hall before he’d drawn his first breath. Blindly she bolted down the long corridor, the kimono flying behind her like the wings of some giant crimson bird, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
    As the end of the hall rushed toward her, reflexively she darted through the last doorway, slamming the door and turning the lock. Her chest heaved as she slid down the door and sat there, trembling, straining her ears for sounds of pursuit. All she could hear was her own rasping breaths.
    Leah stumbled across the moon-silvered room to the big four-poster bed and collapsed on the white linen duvet cover, drawing the kimono tightly around herself. A few moments of rest, that was all she needed. Then she’d pull herself together, get her clothes, and catch that ride back to Manhattan. A few moments of rest...
    *
    Sunlight teased Leah’s eyelids until, grudgingly, they creaked open
—
just enough to sense the new day. She sighed heavily and closed them again. Remaining curled on her left side, she burrowed deeper under the comforter, snuggling into the warm, solid presence behind her. What a relief, she thought, to get her first good night’s sleep in so long
—
    Her eyes snapped open.
    The powerful arm tightened around her waist, pulling her backward. Its hand drifted over the front of the kimono and gently cupped her breast. Leah swallowed hard as breath fluttered her hair in the slow, even cadence of sleep.
    Who is this?
her mind raged.
What happened?
With relief she realized her underwear was intact, so nothing had actually happened. Not in that sense anyway. Which meant this man couldn’t be Mike Carleton.
    Carefully she turned her head, enough to glimpse the muscular arm that curled possessively over her while its owner slept. Slowly, so slowly, she began to ease out of the man’s embrace.
    “Mmm...Sleeping Beauty awakens.” The deep, drowsy voice froze her in midescape.
    James Bradburn!
    He pulled her back against his long frame and let his big hand travel down her side and the curve of her hip. His breath was hot against her scalp as he slowly parted the silk kimono. “I think it’s time for me to open my birthday present.”
     
     

 
     
     

Chapter Two
     
     
    “Birthday present?” Leah’s voice quavered. She clutched the kimono closed.
    “Mmmm...” The tip of his nose nuzzled her scalp, a strangely erotic sensation. “You smell like lilies of the valley.” His lips brushed her ear, making her shiver. “And something else. Ah yes. Eau de Maker’s Mark. Intoxicating.”
    She tried to turn and face him, but he kept her pinned to himself, spoon fashion. “Allow me to refresh your memory, Mr. Bradburn. If I smell like sour mash whiskey, it’s only because, of the two of us,
I’m
the one who can hold my liquor.”
    He took a moment to digest this. “I see you didn’t appreciate my little quip last night. Perhaps you’d have preferred seeing me grovel in abject apology. Sorry. Not my style.”
    She sighed in exasperation and stared straight ahead at an enormous, old-fashioned chest of drawers. All she wanted to do was escape this bedroom, locate her clothes, and catch the next train to Manhattan. Then she could collect her things from her hotel and slink back to Arkansas with her tail between her legs.
    James’s hand went on the prowl once more, and Leah reflexively blockaded her chest with her crossed arms. He went still. “What’s your name?” he asked softly.
    “Leah Harmony.” Too late, she wished she’d made up a different last name. But if James remembered, or had even known, that his family’s gardener way back when was named Douglas Harmony, he gave no indication.
    “Leah Harmony,” he said, “I am deeply sorry I doused you with bourbon. I assure you it wasn’t intentional.” When she didn’t respond, he leaned over to look at her, but she turned her face in to the pillow. “Believe me, when I ply a woman with alcohol, I’m usually a bit more subtle.”
    Leah felt the edge of