Free Reckless Heart by Barbara McMahon Page A

“I'll bring it all up to your room, Molly. Like I said I would earlier.”
    “Thank you. The laptop can go on the small desk in the room.”
    “There's more room in the office. You can use the second desk near the window, “Josh said. The light's better there than in your room.”
    “I don’t want to be in your way.”
    “You won’t have time to be in the office during the day. I do most of the office work during normal business hours. We won’t conflict. If I have to work at night, you’ll just have to put up with my presence.”
    Which would probably prove so distracting she wouldn't get a single word written. She knew her imagination would fly if Josh were nearby, but in the right direction?
    Somehow she was beginning to see herself as the heroine to his hero. And that was never going to happen.
    “Thank you.”
    “I’ll get it now,” Lance said heading outside.
    “I'll be in the office,” Josh said, rising and walking in that direction.
    So much for there being no conflict in the evenings if she wanted to write then.
    As Molly did the dishes, she thought maybe Mrs. Montgomery stretched the truth a bit. Josh hadn’t proved impossible—yet. He’d certainly told her off a couple of times, but he had the right of it each time.
    And he hadn’t said much about dinner’s disaster.
    He’d given her more chances than the other places of employment had, and that was definitely in his favor. She wished he had continued telling her about the other housekeepers. If the first two left for the reasons he’d given, it didn’t make him a demanding boss at all.
    Why had the others left so soon after arriving?
    Too tired to be creative by the time Molly had her computer hooked up, she opened the file of chapters she’d already written and read through them, editing as she went.
    She didn’t know where Josh had gone and refused to admit to being disappointed he didn’t have work in the office that night. The lighting was good. And it was quiet. Maybe too quiet. Not that she wanted him there. What if he asked about her book, asked to read it to him?
    Starting at chapter one, she found herself dissatisfied with the descriptions. They didn’t really capture the essence of what she wanted to portray.
    She closed her eyes imaging Josh standing beside her. How could she get that description down on paper so all readers would see him as she did?
    Her head nodded.
    She opened her eyes. She had to get to sleep if she was to get up early enough to prepare breakfast. With a sigh, she turned off the computer. Two days and not a single new word written. She might have underestimated how much time it would take to finish the book.
     
     
    Molly felt as if her head had barely touched the pillow when loud, rapid knocking on her door woke her from a deep sleep. Sitting upright in surprise, she realized dawn was still a half hour away.
    “Molly, dammit, wake up!” Josh pounded on her door and called her name. Was there a fire?
    She scrambled from the bed and ran to the door, flinging it open. Blinking in the bright hall light, she peered up at him.
    “What’s wrong?”
    He slowly lowered his still-raised hand as he took in her appearance. Her hair, tousled and disheveled from sleeping, swirled around her face like a soft brown cloud. A sleep crease from her sheet slashed across her cheek. Her eyes were half closed against the light. And she wore a pale blue, skimpy satiny sleep shirt that draped over her, hugging her curves and valleys.
    Josh felt a burst of desire unexpected and hard. He stepped closer, skimming the back of his fingers down her flushed, warm cheek.
    “Is there a fire?” she asked, shaking her head to come awake.
    “No fire.”
    His gaze traveled down to her pink polished toes. Her legs were bare, tanned, shapely. The sleep shirt, stopping at the midpoint of her thighs, almost fell off one shoulder.
    “Josh?” Molly took in his attire. He wore only a terry robe. At least she thought that was all he wore.