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looked past her plain features and plumpness to ask her out had only wanted one thing. Even if she’d been willing to do that on a first date—or even a second—she would’ve been too embarrassed to get undressed.
    She’d been fourteen when her mom died, and until recently, she’d put all her energy into taking care of her dad and two younger sisters. But Miranda had her degree now, and a hunky boyfriend, and Claire had her husband and three-year-old son.
    And all Audrey had was a dead-end job.
    As the sun rose in a brilliant palette of pinks and lavenders, so did Audrey’s spirits. Was she going to give up now? Just because things were a little more difficult thanshe’d imagined? Slink back to the magazine and be taken for granted the rest of her boring life?
    No way.
    After breakfast Audrey dragged the vacuum cleaner to the den, intent on conquering the dust and dirt there.
    Mark shuffled in with a six-pack and settled into his recliner.
    She pursed her lips at the thought of him spending another day lounging in the recliner watching sports news. She glared at him and fired up the vacuum.
    Snarling, he grabbed the remote and turned the volume up full blast.
    She repressed the urge to seize the remote and chuck it into the pool. Or toss the vacuum at the TV screen.
    Mark Malone wasn’t the only one who’d had hardships in life. Surviving the loss of her mother hadn’t been easy. But she certainly hadn’t thrown herself a big pity party.
    But she wouldn’t lose her temper again. Come to think of it, now would be the perfect time to actually clean his room. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him about his past this morning! She left the vacuuming unfinished, gathered her cleaning supplies and headed down the hall.
    First, she raised the heavy shades that blocked out the bright morning sun from both windows. What a shame to see such a beautiful pine bed so dry and dusty. A good polish with orange oil brought the wood to a glossy shine. She remade the bed and then began dusting the armoire. On top sat a Matchbox car and an old, tattered, wallet-size picture of a little boy, about eight years old. The boy didn’t look like Mark. A brother? A childhood friend? She didn’t know anything about his family. And John had acted extremely suspicious when she’d asked.
    She caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Jumping back, her heart banged against her chest when she glanced up and found Mark standing in the doorway, glaring.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing with that?”
    With a shaky breath, she dropped the picture back on the armoire and casually moved past him to the bed, smoothing the comforter over the clean sheets.
    Flexing chest muscles and a flat stomach revealed by low-riding jeans distracted Audrey from his question. Hadn’t his shirt been buttoned before? It was hard to concentrate with his brown chest hair arrowing down to well-defined abs.
    â€œJust dusting.”
    He raised one brow in disbelief as he lifted a bottle of beer to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a long swallow. From her hands smoothing the comforter, his piercing gaze journeyed slowly to her chest, lingered a moment and continued to scorch over her hips and thighs.
    Her facade of poise withered under his scrutiny. There was that look she thought she’d imagined last time. The flare of desire in his eyes made her feel like someone else, someone alluring and sexy.
    It was awfully hot in here. Maybe she should have turned down the air conditioner. Changing sheets was hard work.
    But that didn’t explain the sharp ache between her thighs.
    Mark’s gaze shifted to the bed, then back to her. “Gonna help me get it all rumpled again?”
    Audrey blinked. The romantic haze cleared from her eyes. She crossed her arms and looked pointedly out the bedroom door. “I thought you wanted to watch TV.”
    He smacked his lips together and wiped his