Free Longing for Home by Kathryn Springer Page A

that divided the ceramic tile from the hardwood flooring in the hallway.
    Kate’s eyes narrowed as she thought about that. Alex found himself looking forward to her response.
    “Technically, you can’t…” She ruined the effect by stifling a yawn. “Give me orders until Monday.”
    “Consider this a practice round.”
    “I thought you had already perfected the art of telling people what to do.”
    So had Alex.
    But something told him that Kate wasn’t “people.” No doubt about it. They were going to drive each other crazy for the next two weeks.
    But even more crazy?
    Alex found himself looking forward to it.

Chapter Eight
    H umming along with the classical music she’d put on, Kate snapped open a red-and-white checkered cloth and let it drift over the top of the kitchen table in her apartment.
    Once that was in place, she skipped back to the stove, lifted the lid on the enormous cast-iron kettle and gave the marinara sauce another stir. Kate’s nose twitched appreciatively as the scent of tomatoes, garlic and fresh herbs perfumed the air.
    Almost ready.
    Dumping a batch of homemade linguini into a pan of boiling water, Kate set the timer and then raided the cabinets for her eclectic blend of china plates.
    Most people in their right mind would be taking a nap the day after catering a wedding reception, not preparing another meal. But Kate wasn’t most people. And others, oh, like the man who’d all but ordered her to go home and get some sleep after said reception, might argue that she wasn’t in her right mind.
    A foreshadowing of things to come.
    Fortunately, Kate didn’t have to report to the inn until Monday morning. The first guests, a Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Gibson, wouldn’t be checking in until later in the afternoon, which gave her time to plan and prepare the breakfast menu. Something that Alex had no control over.
    Kate smiled as she took a loaf of bread out of the oven.
    Something brushed against her leg and she glanced down. “No, this isn’t for you,” she told the enormous rust-colored tabby curled around her ankle. “I’m sure Mr. Lundy will bring you a nice can of tuna.”
    Her friend loved animals, but because pets weren’t allowed in the retirement home where he lived, Mr. Lundy had a tendency to spoil her two cats rotten.
    Kate heard a rap on the door and smiled. He was also the first to arrive.
    She opened the door. “Right on time…”
    “You don’t have a security system. Or a lock on your door.”
    Kate winced as Alex strode past her.
    Ambushed again.
    “I’ll get on that.” As soon as possible.
    “You don’t answer your phone, either.” Alex stopped in the middle of the room, which suddenly seemed a lot smaller than it had ten seconds ago. “I didn’t realize you lived above the café.”
    And yet he’d found out. Kind of disturbing. But what Kate found even more disturbing was the way her pulse started jumping like a hyperactive terrier whenever Alex was nearby.
    “I grew up in a house a few blocks from Main Street, but Dad sold it when he relocated to Arizona, so I moved into the apartment. It’s very convenient. I like it.” And you’re rambling, Kate.
    “Convenient.” Alex nodded. Something in his expression told her that particular description was the only one that fit.
    Kate’s gaze swept the room. She tried to see the apartment through his eyes. The furniture had seen better days, so she had hidden the outdated fabric under white canvas slipcovers and colorful pillows. Watercolors by local artists strategically covered the holes in walls that she’d painted a delicious shade of yellow.
    Kate loved having a space to call her own. It just happened to be a very small one.
    Face it, Kate. Your entire apartment would probably fit in the man’s walk-in closet.
    Alex’s gaze snagged on the stack of stoneware plates that Kate had stationed at the end of the table. “You’re expecting company?”
    “I think so.”
    The eyebrow rose. “You think