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delicate-looking as a doe. She’d probably broken her ankle fal ing off those ridiculous shoes. A bit irritated, Ian marveled at how different the day was turning out to be than he’d imagined. At this rate, they’d never get any work done.
    Which would delay his return to Chicago, he suddenly realized, and smiled.
    “You can let me in on the joke later,” she said, wobbling, “but for now I’d settle for you pushing the basement button.”
    He sobered and, since his fingers were ful of her shoes, pressed the button careful y with a knuckle on his right hand, setting them into motion. Tension crackled in the few cubic feet of air. Ian felt at a loss to explain how rapidly they’d gotten off on the wrong foot, but if he’d learned anything in his bachelorhood, regardless of fault, it was the man who was expected to make amends. He cleared his throat, then said, “I have to admit I underestimated Mudvil e—is every morning around here this exciting?”
    “Oh, yeah,” she said as the bel dinged and the doors opened. “You should have seen the commotion on Main Street when Alma ran out of biscuits last Tuesday at her restaurant.”
    He laughed and helped her out onto the smooth tiled floor of the basement, but she promptly slipped. Ian caught her in what resembled a low waltz dip, slamming their bodies
    together and bringing their faces within inches of each other. She gasped and he could feel her heart pounding. Desire surged through his body, surprising him. Her eyes grew large and startled. Her skin shone translucent, dewy from the downpour, her cheekbones high and her mouth rounded in an O. A schoolboy urge to kiss her flooded him, but overwhelming the various signals his body transmitted was the screaming pain in the third finger on his left hand. Meredith’s ring felt like a sharp, metal tourniquet.
    “Ms. Shepherd,” he said in a low voice as he pul ed them upright in slow motion and tried to shake off the attraction he felt for her. “It seems that you’re determined to fal again.
    Our progress would be quicker if you would al ow me to carry you the rest of the way.”
    She straightened her slender shoulders and adopted a haughty look. “Oh, you’re asking this time?”
    He pursed his lips, considering the wisdom of arguing with her. The woman was a confounding mix of spunk and vulnerability. Her arrogance annoyed him—he was only trying
    to help, and she continued to be difficult. Stil , he recognized the dangerous signs of physical attraction, and the last thing he needed was yet another woman to complicate his life.
    Delivering Ms. Shepherd to the infirmary and putting distance between them struck him as the best solution. “I’m asking,” he said with as much control as he could muster.
    A look of defeat passed through her eyes and pink tinged her cheeks. “Wel , um, since we only have a little farther to go…” Her voice trailed off and she nodded down a tunnel-like hal way.
    Anxious to get her to the infirmary and take his leave, Ian bent and once again swept her into his arms. This time she didn’t squirm or wiggle, but held herself stiff and unmoving instead. As if by mutual consent, they both stared in the direction of their destination. Ian quickened his pace and lengthened his stride until he reached a doorway over which a hanging sign announced Infirmary.
    The infirmary was little more than a large closet containing a cot and tal metal cabinets with glass doors, behind which were arranged an impressive array of bandages and
    over-the-counter medications. As Ian lowered Piper onto the cot, an inner door that read Janet Browning, R.N. opened, and a woman sporting a pink smock, braces and big red hair emerged. “Good grief, Piper, what happened to you?”
    “I fel and twisted my ankle.”
    The nurse leaned over and smoothed back her patient’s hair. “Did you hit your head on the way down?”
    “Sort of.”
    “What are you doing so dressed up anyway?” the nurse asked,