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than blankets.”
    “Perhaps he should sleep with his huge, warm dog—”
    “This is the most absurd conversation I’ve ever been a part of,” Jonathan finally cut in, exasperated and raising his cup to his lips to avoid looking at them.
    Both women turned to him as if noticing him for the first time.
    “Is she the one?” Marissa asked with calculation.
    Natalie quickly came to her own defense. “I assure you, Miss Jenkins, I shall not be warming anyone’s bed but my own.”
    “Of course not,” she murmured very slowly, gazing back at her curiously. After an uncomfortable pause, she stood to leave. “Well, I think I’ll just get dressed and be on my way. If you change your mind, Miss Haislett, he prefers the left side.”
    “The left side?”
    “Of the bed.”
    “Oh, I’m sure that’s no concern of mine, Marissa. But may I say the man certainly has a taste for beauty—”
    “I don’t believe this is happening in my kitchen,” Jonathan interjected with growing wonder, tipping his cup to his lips again and draining the liquid with two large gulps.
    Both women looked at him innocently, then Marissa moved to kiss his cheek. “Good-bye, darling.”
    He grunted but said nothing as he continued to stare at the tabletop.
    Marissa walked to the door, gave them both an amused glance, and quickly left the kitchen.
    The room fell still as death. Natalie looked to her lap, clutching the towel with her throbbing hand as she played intently with the fabric of her gown with the other. She knew he’d shifted his gaze to watch her but she just couldn’t bring herself to look at him, so engrossed as she was in the quality of fine, peach muslin.
    “I apologize for that,” he mumbled at last.
    She shrugged but said nothing.
    “Natalie, look at me.”
    She raised her eyes to meet his, and it took everything in her to keep her features neutral. “It’s quite all right. What you do in your home is your own business, sir.”
    “Stop being so formal,” he ordered, at once annoyed.
    She ignored his outburst and looked again to her gown. “I only wonder why on earth she was here this morning when you rid yourself of her last night.”
    She didn’t expect him to laugh, and the suddenness of the reaction made her glance up sharply. He stared ever so intently into her eyes, smiling broadly, then leaned very close to her face. “Did you expect me to wait for you, sweetheart?”
    The question alarmed her, and she certainly didn’t know how to answer him. She couldn’t just walk out on him for flirting, though, because something larger was at stake. That’s what she had to remember. She was here for a purpose and she needed to get back to the reason for her untimely call.
    Keeping her expression completely indifferent, she whispered, “I am not your sweetheart.”
    His eyes narrowed with lighthearted mischief. “Not yet.”
    Natalie shivered. Her heart was suddenly beating frantically, but to her total frustration she couldn’t find the strength to move. He sat so close to her she could feel the warmth of his body, could see every fleck of blue in the deep grayness of his eyes, could detect the musky smell of sandalwood and rich masculinity.
    “I will not be anyone’s mistress,” she assured him in a measure of defiance.
    “You have beautiful hair, Natalie,” he whispered seductively, raising his hand to run his fingers through the ends. “Not quite red, not quite blond, and so full and curvy like your—”
    “Do you suppose I could have more coffee?” she blurted, jerking back out of his reach, knowing irritably that he would conclude the request to be simple evasion since she’d only taken four or five sips.
    For a moment he didn’t move. Then finally, with an exaggerated sigh of defeat, he stood with both cups in hand and walked back to the counter. “So, let’s get back to the point of your visit.”
    This was why the man had such a reputation, she mused. He could seduce a lady with words and a smile if