Free Cordinas Crown Jewel by Nora Roberts

what she’d done to that humble chicken, but she’d turned it into a feast.
    He began to revise his notion that she had a rich, irritated husband or lover stashed somewhere. She was too efficient, too clever in the kitchen to be somebody’s spoiled and pampered tootsie.
    Which was a good thing as fantasizing about another man’s woman was too close to fooling around with another man’s woman. And that was on his short list of unbreakable rules.
    If he moved her out, he’d be back to square one. If he moved her out, he’d be admitting he couldn’t keep his hands off her. If he admitted that, well, where was he?
    Giving up, he rose—remembered at the last minute to tug on sweats—and went down the hall to the bathroom. He didn’t notice the sparkling tiles and neatly hung fresh towels any more than he’d have noticed soap scum and damp heaps. But the scent caught him, because it was hers.
    And it tightened every muscle in his body.
    He yanked his pain medication from the cabinet, then shoved it back again. Damn pills made him stupid.He’d rather toss back a handful of over-the-counter stuff and a short, neat whiskey.
    He didn’t allow himself to so much as glance at her bedroom door, to think—even for an instant—of her lying in bed behind it. A minute later, he realized that fantasy would’ve been wasted because she wasn’t in bed.
    He heard her voice, the quiet murmur of it coming from the kitchen. Eyes narrowed, he paused, listened. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but the tone was soft, full of affection. It set his teeth on edge.
    Who the hell was she talking to? He moved forward and caught the end of her conversation.
    “Je t’aime aussi. Bonne nuit.”
    The quiet click of the phone on the receiver came an instant before he hit the lights.
    She stumbled back, bit off a scream and slapped both hands to her mouth.
“Mon Dieu! Vous m’avez fait peur!”
She let out a shaky breath, shook the French out of her head. “You frightened me.”
    “What are you doing down here in the dark?”
    She’d crept down to check the phone, and finding it working, had called home to reassure her family. She kept the lights off and her voice low to avoid exactly what was happening now. Explanations.
    “The phone’s back on.”
    “Yeah. Answer the question.”
    Her shoulders went back, her chin went up. “I didn’t realize I was meant to stay in my room like a child after bedtime,” she tossed back. “I’m repaying you for the lodging, and assumed I was free to make use of the house.”
    “I don’t give a damn if you dance a tango in the moonlight. I want to know why you’re sneaking around and whispering on the phone in the dark.”
    She gave him the truth, and coated it with ice. “I couldn’t sleep. I came down for a drink and checked the phone. When I discovered it was in order, I made a call. Don’t worry, I reversed the charges. If my mobile worked in this … backwater, I wouldn’t have presumed to use yours. And having the courtesy to be quiet when another person in the house was,
presumably
, sleeping isn’t sneaking.”
    It was reasonable. It rang true. So he nodded, slowly. “Fine. You want to check in with your husband orboyfriend, go ahead. But don’t prowl around like a thief.”
    Her color bloomed, her eyes went burning gold. “I was not prowling, and I don’t have a husband. If you must know, I spoke with my mother to reassure her I was well. Is this inquisition over?”
    He hated feeling stupid so he said nothing and stepped to the cabinet for aspirin.
    “I should’ve known.” With an impatient huff, she took down a glass to fill it with water. “You’re only more impossible when you’re in pain. Here.”
    “I don’t want water.” He moved around her to root at the bottle of whiskey from the pantry.
    “Have the water first, you’ll spoil the taste of the whiskey otherwise.” She got down another glass, took the bottle from him and poured a tidy three fingers. “I