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trivialities. However, one of us is agitated, so I guess we should call it a night.”
    Maggie paced the floor of her living room, her anger over the way the evening had ended making her eyes sparkle. Her first opinion of him had been correct. He was arrogant and managing; too used to getting his own way.
    If he only knew how close she ’d been to walking out of the restaurant and refusing to ride home with him. And to think she’d let him kiss her in this very spot not two hours ago. She must have been crazy!
    A good night’s sleep restored Maggie’s distorted view of the previous evening. She never could stay angry with anyone for long; holding a grudge required too much effort. So when she arrived at work the next morning to discover that Marcus had departed an hour earlier on a business trip, she was mildly disappointed.
    This disappointment grew as several long days passed before he returned. And even then she hardly saw him. He was either in court or closeted with someone in his office. It appeared Marcus was every bit as skilled at avoiding someone as he had claimed her to be.
    As Maggie approached Bradford House on the first day of the historical society conference, she realized they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since that fateful evening. Outwardly she was composed; inwardly she was uncertain of how he would behave toward her.
    Why this mattered was something she ’d spent considerable time pondering. When had his actions assumed such importance? She couldn’t even remember when she’d ceased to dislike him. Entering the kitchen, she spied Mrs. Griffin, Marcus’ friendly housekeeper, speaking earnestly to a teenager Maggie recognized as one of her granddaughters.
    “ There you are, Maggie. Nancy, go along and make sure everything is okay with her room. I need to call the caterer. They’ve made a mistake with my order, and I must get the problem resolved before tomorrow.”
    Following Nancy upstairs, Maggie gave some thought to something that had just occurred to her – in which of the various rooms would she be staying? As only part of Bradford House was actually on tour, there were numerous “bedchambers” available. Having seen all of them at one time or another, Maggie had her favorite - the Rose Room. It wasn’t the most lavish, but it was certainly the most romantic.
    The room was a study in soft rose pink from the old-fashioned floral wallpaper to the silky rugs scattered invitingly across the hardwood floors. The lace-covered canopy bed with matching vanity was dark mahogany as was the wardrobe and small writing desk. The oversized bay window with its built-in seat invited its guests to relax and enjoy an unparalleled view of the garden.
    Nancy sauntered past the entrance to the Rose Room without pause, opening the door of the Blue Room further down the hall. Maggie hid disappointment as well as surprise since the room in which she now stood was enormous in size and seemed a waste for only a single occupant.
    “ Can I get you anything?” Nancy asked shyly.
    Maggie smiled reassuringly at the girl. “Some iced tea would be nice.”
    With Nancy’s departure, Maggie set her suitcase on one of two double beds and began unpacking. Her head was inside an enormous wardrobe when she heard the door open. Thinking it was Nancy, returning with her tea, she called out, “Just set it down anywhere.”
    “ What, exactly, am I supposed to have?”
    The sound of those deep tones brought Maggie out of the wardrobe in a hurry, her eyes colliding with a pair of laughing green ones. Dressed in a black suit that must have cost the earth and accentuated the color of his eyes, Marcus looked the answer to every woman's dream. Maggie felt a lump in her throat.
    “I thought you were Nancy, bringing my tea.”
    “You could have a long wait. She was cleaning the silver when I passed through the dining room just now.”
    “It doesn’t matter.”
    He took a few deliberate steps in her direction. “We’ve not