Free The Invitation (Matchmaker Trilogy) by Barbara Delinsky

time. The last thought made her doubly nervous, and the explanation he offered didn’t help.
    “Cactus-prickly when you’re awake, sweet woman when you’re asleep. It makes me wonder which is the real you.”
    “You’ll never know,” she informed him. Her poise was fragile; there was something debilitating about lying on a bed near Noah, wearing not much more than an old T-shirt.
    His gray eyes glittered. “It’d be a challenge for me to find out. Mmm, maybe I’ll make it my goal. I’ll have two full weeks with not much else to do.”
    Shaye didn’t like the sound of that at all. “And what about the treasure you’re supposedly seeking?” she demanded.
    “Samson’s doing the seeking. As far as I’m concerned, there are many different kinds of treasure.” He surveyed her body more lazily. “Could be that the one you’re hiding is worth more than the one my uncle seeks.”
    “As though I could hide anything this way,” she mumbled.
    “Precisely.”
    “Look, I was sleeping. I happen to be exhausted. Do you think you could find a tiny bit of compassion within that stone-hard soul of yours to leave me be?”
    He grinned, wondering what she’d have said if she’d known something else had been close to stone-hard moments before. No doubt she’d have used far more potent words to describe his character. Come to think of it, he wondered how many of those potent words she knew.
    “You’re really very appealing like this,” he said softly. “Much more approachable than before. I like your hair.”
    “Go away.”
    “I hadn’t realized it was so long. Or so thick. The color comes alive when you let it down like that. Why do you bother to tack it up?”
    “To avoid comments like the ones you just made.”
    “I’d think you’d be flattered.”
    “I’m not.”
    “You don’t like me,” he said with a pout.
    “Now you’re getting there.”
    “Is it something I said, something I did?”
    She squeezed her eyes shut for a minute, then, unable to bear the feeling of exposure any longer, bolted up and reached for the sheet.
    Noah looked as though he’d lost his best friend. “What did you do that for? I wouldn’t have touched you.”
    There was touching and there was touching. He could touch her with his hands, or with his eyes. Or he could touch her with the innocent little expressions he sent her way from time to time. She knew not to trust those little expressions, but, still, they did something to her. Far better that he should be growling and scowling.
    “It’s your eyes,” she accused as she pressed her back to the wall. “I don’t like them.”
    This time his innocence seemed more genuine. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”
    “They creep.”
    “They explore,” he corrected, “and when they find something they like, they take a closer look.” He shrugged. “Can you blame them? Your legs are stunning.”
    She quickly tucked her legs under her. “Please. Just leave and let me sleep.”
    Since the path had been cleared for him, he hopped up and sat on the bed.
    “Noah…” she warned.
    “That’s the first time you’ve called me by name. I like it when you say it, though you could soften the tone a little.”
    “Leave this cabin now!”
    He made himself more comfortable, extending an arm, propping his weight on his palm. “You never answered me when I asked about boyfriends. Do you have any back home? Where is home, by the way?”
    “Philadelphia,” she growled. “There, you’ve gotten some information. Now you can leave.”
    “A little more. I want a little more. Is there a boyfriend?”
    In a bid for dignity, she drew herself up as straight as she could. Unfortunately he was sitting on the sheet, which ended up stretched taut. And even with the extra inches she felt dwarfed. Why did he have to be so big? Why couldn’t he be of average height like her lawyer friend, or the stockbroker? For that matter, why couldn’t he be malleable, like they were? They’d have left the