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ouch!”
    And just like that, his hands were on her again. On both shoulders, as he guided her back to safety. Dear God, didn’t he know he was the more dangerous thing? She was a natural klutz on her best days—yet another minus from the ice princess equation—and what he did to her equilibrium was downright hazardous to her health and well-being.
    “I’m fine, really, I just—” She turned around, attempting again to put space between them, but somehow only managed to wedge herself, front-to-front, between him and the counter behind her.
    His gaze caught hers and held for that moment. You know, that moment . Like the one that happened in the movies, where a hundred things are said, but not a single word is spoken. And the tension is so tightly wound it all but makes its own soundtrack with its taut silence, fraught with so much promise, so many possibilities, if only one of the couple would just ... do something. One little move was all it would take, and you watch, and wait, dying inch by inch, waiting for one of them to make that oh-so-crucial, heart-pounding move. The moment stretches, and expands, until you think you’ll scream from the sweet, knot-tightening tension of it all.
    A small furrow creased the center of his forehead. “I do think maybe you should sit for a bit. You’re still a little flushed.”
    She slowly closed her eyes, and felt her cheeks flame hotter. So not what the movie guy would say. “Thank you,” she murmured, making a point to be looking anywhere but at him when she opened her eyes. She edged herself to one side, away from the Viking monster, and Quinn mercifully stepped back.
    “Why don’t you sit at the table and I’ll fix you some water. Unless there’s something stronger—”
    “No, really. You’ve been more than kind. You really should take advantage and go look at the place before the event starts. Scary Lois will be here shortly and I—” She broke off when he stifled a laugh with a fist to his mouth, followed by a clearly faked coughing attack.
    “What did I—?” Then she realized exactly what she’d said. Wow, just ... wow. Apparently she really didn’t want to work again. Ever. Except she did. She loved her job. Maybe not as much as the one she’d left behind in Chicago, but as close—closer, really—than she’d expected to find again. Groaning in ever-deepening embarrassment, she turned toward the pantry door and leaned her forehead on it. Any other time she’d have given her noggin a good rap, but she wasn’t too sure, given how the day had gone so far, that she wouldn’t end up in the ER with a concussion. Or in a coma.
    “Are there any beds? In the bedrooms? Upstairs?”
    “What?” She lifted her head and turned to look at him. Had she rapped her head anyway and hit it so hard she’d just forgotten? Clearly she did not just hear him say—“Beds? Wh-why?”
    “I think maybe a little lie-down would be even better.”
    He didn’t even give her the chance to respond. He gently, but firmly, took her elbow and guided her to the front hall and the staircase landing. Unfortunately not in that “Hurry! I must ravish you now!” kind of way. More in the way a person would when helping the frail and feeble-minded.
    “And don’t worry,” he added dryly “I’ll keep an eye out for Scary Lois.”
    Riley groaned again, her mortification complete. At least if she got him upstairs, she could redirect his attention to looking at the rooms, then slide back down, round up Brutus, and make her escape.
    They were at the halfway landing when the entry chimes reverberated through the foyer, finally announcing the arrival of the piano delivery guys. How had she forgotten she still had a baby grand to stage? Not to mention there was foliage carnage to clean up.
    It turned out the delivery guys weren’t exactly Sven and Magnus.
    More like Jeffy and T-Bone. Those were the names someone had actually stitched on their navy blue uniform shirts. She also doubted that