“I’m proposing we spend some time together,” Steve suggested

“Neither one of us wants a romantic entanglement, this is a sure way to avoid them. You and I…both be on the same page,” Steve added.

“Forgive me if I don’t appear suitably impressed.”

“See, I like that about you.”

“What?” Chloe asked.

“That you speak your mind. That you’re not easily impressed. We have a lot in common. Now, tell you do for fun.”

Chloe was at a momentary loss. “I enjoy reading. And I do some knitting.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. I’ve been too busy to have fun.”

“We can fix that.” Steve’s grin was a gradual progression from a smile, making it even more potent.

Dear Reader,

As the days get shorter and the approaching holidays bring a buzz to the crisp air, nothing quite equals the joy of reuniting with family and catching up on the year’s events. This month’s selections all deal with family matters, be it making one’s own family, dealing with family members or doing one’s family duty.

Desperate to save his family ranch, the hero in Elizabeth Harbison’s Taming of the Two (#1790) enters into a bargain that could turn a pretend relationship into the real deal. This is the second title in the SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE trilogy. A die-hard bachelor gets a taste of what being a family man is like when he rescues a beautiful stranger and her adorable infant from a deadly blizzard, in Susan Meier’s Snowbound Baby (#1791)—part of the author’s BRYANT BABY BONANZA continuity. Carol Grace continues her FAIRY TALE BRIDES miniseries with His Sleeping Beauty (#1792) in which a woman sheltered by her overprotective parents gains the confidence to strike out on her own after her handsome—but cynical—neighbor catches her sleepwalking in his garden! Finally, in The Marine and Me (#1793), the next installment in Cathie Linz’s MEN OF HONOR series, a soldier determined to outwit his matchmaking grandmother and avoid the marriage landmine gets bushwhacked by his supposedly dowdy neighbor.

Be sure to come back next month when Karen Rose Smith and Shirley Jump put their own spins on Shakespeare and the Dating Game, respectively!

Happy reading.

Ann Leslie Tuttle

Associate Senior Editor

The Marine and Me
Cathie Linz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Books by Cathie Linz

Silhouette Romance

One of a Kind Marriage #1032

*Daddy in Dress Blues #1470

*Stranded with the Sergeant #1534

*The Marine & the Princess #1561

A Prince at Last! #1594

*Married to a Marine #1616

*Sleeping Beauty & the Marine #1637

*Her Millionaire Marine #1720

*Cinderella’s Sweet-Talking Marine #1727

*The Marine Meets His Match #1736

*The Marine and Me #1793

Silhouette Books

Montana Mavericks

“Baby Wanted”

Silhouette Desire

Change of Heart #408

A Friend in Need #443

As Good as Gold #484

Adam’s Way #519

Smiles #575

Handyman #616

Smooth Sailing #665

Flirting with Trouble #722

Male Ordered Bride #761

Escapades #804

Midnight Ice #846

Bridal Blues #894

A Wife in Time #958

†Michael’s Baby #1023

†Seducing Hunter #1029

†Abbie and the Cowboy #1036

Husband Needed #1098

CATHIE LINZ

left her career in a university law library to become a USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary romances. She is the recipient of the highly coveted Storyteller of the Year Award given by Romantic Times and has been nominated for a Love and Laughter Career Achievement Award for the delightful humor in her books.

Although Cathie loves to travel, she is always glad to get back home to her family, her various cats, her trusty computer and her hidden cache of Oreo cookies!

To all the wonderful librarians out there, like Joyce Saricks, John Charles, Mary K. Chelton, Lynne Welch and Shelley Mosley, among many others. You all open so many doors to readers with your work and dedication, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Librarians Rock!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

Steve Kozlowski had been in the Marine Corps for over a decade. He’d survived the most rigorous training in the world. He’d faced hostile forces in Afghanistan, survived temperatures of over one hundred and thirty degrees Fahrenheit wearing full-battle gear, seen the worst of conditions on half the continents on the planet.

He was one of the few, the proud, the tough.

Which meant he could handle his matchmaking Polish grandmother, no problem.

Even if his Busha was after him to meet the bookworm librarian next door, Steve could handle it. Or so he told himself. If necessary, he’d use evasive maneuvers to sidestep any matrimonial-minded booby traps that may have been laid down for his benefit.

That was the plan.

The reality was that he’d waited a minute too long.

The knock on the back door told him that much.

Steve could ignore it. He could sneak out the front door while his grandmother was in the bathroom.

But that smacked of cowardice, and Marines were not cowards.

“Aren’t you going to open the door?” Wanda called out from down the hall, obviously hearing the continued knocking.

“Affirmative.” Steve briskly yanked the kitchen door wide open.

A female stood there, frowning at him. “Uh, um, I’m looking for Wanda?”

“And you are?” As if he didn’t know.

“I’m Chloe Johnson from next door.”

“Right. Chloe the librarian. I should have guessed.” He nodded at her dumpy clothes—the charcoal-gray sweater that looked two sizes too big, the white parochial-school shirt and black skirt that sagged around her ankles. The combat-style boots were a bit of a surprise, however.

Her dark hair was in a tight bun on top of her head. She wore black-rimmed glasses that stood out against her pale skin like ink on a newspaper. She had to be the mousiest woman he’d ever seen.

“My grandmother is unavailable at the moment.” Steve deliberately kept his voice low, so as not to scare the poor female.

“Oh, uh…” She glanced around the room as if searching for something. “She told me to stop by and pick up some kolachkis for the library event tonight.”

“Right.” He’d already stolen three from the plate. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Wanda’s grandson, Steve, by the way.”

She nodded. “Nice to meet you. Bye.”

An instant later she was gone.

A minute after that, his grandmother reappeared in the kitchen and beamed at him. “So what did you think of Chloe? Isn’t she a sweet girl? Better than those wild women you seem to favor.”

Steve had to admit that in the past his taste in women had tended to lean toward good-time girls.

Then he’d met Gina. She’d been classy and smart.

He’d thought Gina was different. He’d been wrong. Thanks to an unexpected inheritance from his deceased Texas-oil-baron grandfather, Steve was a Marine with money. Lots of it.

That’s what had interested Gina. The money. Not him.

The recent betrayal still cut deep.

Gina had conned him, saying she loved him when she really loved his bank account.

Humiliated by his own gullibility, Steve had come home on leave to the people he could trust—his family. He definitely wasn’t looking to get into another romantic relationship. No way, no how. He’d visit his family for a while, then he planned on hitting the open road on his Harley, enjoying his freedom before returning to Camp Pendleton in California where he was stationed.

“Steve?” Wanda tugged on his arm to get his attention. “You haven’t said, what did you think of Chloe?”

“She looked like a librarian.”

Wanda frowned.

“She’s not really my type,” Steve added.

Wanda wagged her index finger at him. “You can’t know that from one brief meeting.”

Sure he could.

But he could tell by the stubborn tilt of her head that there was no convincing his Busha of that.

Wanda peered out through two of the aluminum blinds covering her kitchen window. “Oh, my. It looks like Chloe is having some kind of car trouble. You should go help her.”

Sighing, Steve went outside to find Chloe leaning over the side of a compact car. The pose drew his attention to her bottom. Considering the fact that she was dressed like a nun, he felt guilty for even observing the fact that she had curves beneath those ugly clothes.

“What’s the problem?” he gruffly asked.

“I don’t know.” Chloe straightened. “It won’t start. And I’ve got to be at the library in fifteen minutes.”

“Give her a lift,” Wanda called out through the now-open back door.

Looking at Chloe’s flushed face, Steve felt sorry for her.

“Take my car,” Wanda added. “Not that motorbike of yours.”

His Harley was not a mere motorbike, but he saw no point in arguing that fact at the moment.

So much for his battle plan. Busha had clearly won this first skirmish. But the war wasn’t over with yet.

This wasn’t the first time Wanda had tried to fix Chloe up, but it was definitely the worst. For the past few days, Chloe had heard all about Wanda’s grandson Steve. She’d seen all the pictures of his good-looking face and lean body standing tall and proud in a U.S. Marines dress-blues uniform. She’d smiled politely as Wanda had confessed that Steve was something of a ladies’ man, but that he was really only looking for the right woman, and then he’d settle down like his older married brothers.

Chloe wasn’t buying that. She’d recently broken up with a ladies’ man. She’d been blindly in love with Brad Teague, a handsome commodities broker. Her vision had been restored when she’d seen him kissing another woman and leading her up to his apartment.

Brad hadn’t shown a bit of remorse as he’d informed her that it wasn’t natural for a man to settle for just one woman.

She’d informed Brad that he could go jump into Lake Michigan.

Like Brad, Steve Kozlowski was good-looking, confident, sexy.

Like Brad, Steve judged a woman by her appearance. She’d seen the way Steve had looked at her when she’d walked into Wanda’s kitchen. He’d dismissed her as someone not worthy of his attention.

Which was just the way she wanted it.

She hadn’t anticipated the pity, however. That still stung. His expression as he’d helped her into his grandmother’s car had been downright humiliating.

“Are you cold? Would you like me to turn on the heater?” Steve asked her.

“I’m fine, thank you.” The evening was one of those perfect September examples of an autumn Chloe waited for all year. This was her favorite season—the crisp freshness to the air, the changing leaves, the toffee apples in the local market. Oh, yes, she was Fall’s Number-One Fan.

“So, Chloe, what made you decide to become a librarian?”

His question was voiced with a politeness that she felt covered an underlying lack of interest in the answer. So she was brief. “I like books. What made you decide to become a Marine?”

“I like blowing up things.”

She shot him a startled look.

He grinned at her. “Just checking to see if you were listening.”

Oh, she’d been listening, all right. And looking. Despite the fact that she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have noticed the way tiny laugh lines webbed out from the corners of his green eyes, or the way his light blue T-shirt clung to his wide shoulders, or the way his lower lip was full and surprisingly pleasing to look at. Actually, all of him was extremely pleasing to look at—from the top of his dark, short-cropped hair to the soles of his size-eleven feet.

She knew his shoe size because Wanda had told her, while showing her a photo album filled with pictures of Steve, from a baby crawling around to a young man riding a bicycle.

While Chloe thought that Wanda was a real sweetie, she had no desire to jump into another relationship any time soon. She liked her life the way it was—quiet and secure.

There was nothing quiet about Steve. Even his voice held a powerful resonance, his tone that of someone accustomed to delivering orders and having them instantly obeyed.

“You need to turn right at the next light,” Chloe told him.

“I remember. I used to visit the branch library when I was a kid and would visit Busha.”

“You lived in this neighborhood?”

“We lived all over. We moved around a lot because my father was in the Marines.”

“That didn’t bother you?”

“Moving? No. The military is like a big family. Even though we might be going to a new state for a new billet, people went out of their way to make us feel welcome.”

Chloe wondered what that would be like, to be made to feel welcome. It wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced when she’d been growing up. Not after her parents had died when she was eight.

“How about you?” he asked. “Did you grow up around here?”

“Not in this neighborhood, but in Chicago, yes.”

“What about family?”

“I’m an only child. My parents died when I was young. I’ve got an aunt, but we’re not close.”

The only thing her aunt was close to was her chemistry lab and her experiments. Sometimes Chloe had a hard time believing that the emotionally stunted scientist could be related to Chloe’s warm and loving mother Marie Johnson. Marie had been outgoing and full of life. Her older sister, Janis, had been remote and cold.

Janis. The name had a sharp edge that had suited the woman, whose angular face looked as if all the human kindness had been sucked out of it.

“That’s got to be a rough deal, not having family,” Steve said. “I know mine drive me nuts sometimes, but I can’t imagine my life without them.”

Sometimes Chloe did try and imagine what her life would have been like had her parents lived. But doing so only reopened old wounds. There was little point in doing that. She had to deal with the cards life had handed her.

“We turn left up here. The library is on the corner.”

Steve nodded. “And looks just like it did the last time I was here.”

“There’s parking around the back. If you could just let me off at the staff entrance there, that would be great.” She reached down for two heavy tote bags and then tried to balance the plate of kolachkis.

“Hold on a minute.” Steve reached out to touch her arm, covered by the baggy sweater. “Where’s the fire?”

“What?”

“Let me park and I’ll help you carry that stuff in.”

“There’s no need for that…”

“Sure there is. I’m protecting my Busha’s kolachkis from going splat in the parking lot before anyone can enjoy them.”

He efficiently parked the huge boat of a car, and then came around to open the door for her. Chloe would have opened it herself but she was momentarily distracted by the way he walked—shoulders back, head held high. He radiated a powerful presence merely by putting one foot in front of the other.

“Here, let me take that.” Steve reached out and his fingers brushed against hers as he took the plate of kolachkis.

His touch created lightning, flashing up her arm as heat permeated her entire body. She could feel the magic of it, and it was so powerful that the breath was momentarily snatched from her lungs.

No, no, this wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to be happening!

Unfortunately, telling herself that had absolutely no effect. Sexual awareness still hummed through her. A total zing-zing thing.

As if sensing her thoughts, Steve’s eyes met hers in a searching look. While unable to read his exact thoughts, she saw no mirroring awareness there in his smoky green eyes. And why should she? Unless the man had a nun fetish, there was no way he’d notice her dressed the way she was.

That was the plan. And it was working all too well.

The librarian had great legs. Steve had seen a flash of them as she’d jumped out of his grandmother’s car.

Her creamy calves had risen up from her combat boots, the curve of her knee a real attention grabber.

Or maybe he’d just been imagining things, because as he helped her with the door at the library’s staff entrance, she sure didn’t look like anything other than a…well, a librarian.

“Thanks again.” She set the tote bags on the floor and reached for the kolachkis. “You don’t have to stay. I can probably get someone to give me a ride home.”

Her obvious eagerness to get rid of him perversely made him want to stick around for a while. So instead of leaving, he merely went back outside and walked around to the front of the building and entered it that way.

It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in a public library, but he remembered how he and his twin brother Tom would check out the latest Star Wars paperback and then go home and devour it.

There had been a few changes in the place since then. More computers, more READ posters, more audiobooks.

But his main attention was captured by the sign advertising tonight’s program—a special whodunit mystery night.

“Are you here for the program?” The question came from a guy wearing a silk robe over a pair of dark pants. “I’m playing the role of Lord Grimley and this outfit is supposed to be my smoking jacket. I don’t know who thought of this idea of library staff playing the parts of the characters and having the patrons try and figure out who the murderer is in this drawing-room drama,” he grumbled as he tugged on the sleeve of his robe. “The program’s this way, just follow me.”

The meeting room was already crowded, so Steve took a seat in the back row and studied the flyer that he’d been handed on his way in. Sure enough, Chloe’s name was on it. Chloe Johnson playing the part of Miss Abbington, loyal secretary to Lord Grimley.

Steve didn’t really pay attention to the various clues that were given as the drama began. Instead he remained focused on Chloe. Her shoulders were hunched forward as if she were trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. She reminded him of a nervous rabbit as she jabbed her glasses back in place when they slipped down the bridge of her nose.

So what was it about her that intrigued him?

That was the mystery that engrossed him as he sat there watching her.

He knew the exact moment she saw him, because she faltered a moment while delivering the line, “But Lord Grimley was the last one to see George alive.”

Steve was surprised at the glare she shot him a moment later. There had certainly been nothing mousy about that. It had carried the punch of a grenade launcher.

So what was going on here? Because something sure was.

Chloe couldn’t believe Steve had the nerve to spy on her while she was doing the library program. She’d told him he could leave, that he should leave. So why hadn’t he? He wasn’t the kind of man who normally spent an evening at the local library, she was sure of that.

Steve was a man of action. A Marine accustomed to the adrenaline rush of battle. A man who loved speed. She’d driven with him, she knew. The guy rode a Harley, for heaven’s sake.

He stood out like a wolf in a bevy of docile hens. Most of the rest of the audience was collecting Social Security, not combat pay.

A frown from Martin Pritchett, the branch manager playing the role of Lord Grimley, let her know that she’d just missed a cue.

Chloe quickly recovered and the rest of the drama went by without a hitch. The audience was asked to write down the name of who they suspected to be the murderer on a slip of paper, which was put into a box decorated with question-mark wrapping paper.

Chloe had organized a drawing for several door prizes, including books by bestselling mystery authors.

Martin had the honor of finally revealing the murderer. “The guilty party tonight was actually none other than…” He paused for dramatic effect. Martin enjoyed being the center of attention. “The loyal secretary Miss Abbington. Shame on you, Miss Abbington.” He shook a finger at her as she hung her head in remorse.

The audience seemed to enjoy the event, applauding enthusiastically at its conclusion. Or maybe they were just happy about the hot tea and goodies that Martin had invited them to consume. Chloe noticed that Wanda’s kolachkis disappeared quickly.

Steve noticed the same thing. “Busha’s offering seems to be quite a hit.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching you.”

She didn’t like that answer, not one bit. And the intensity of her reaction surprised her. After all, she’d spent years learning to suppress her emotions, to stay calm, to remain invisible and not make waves. So why was it that one sexy Marine seemed to have the power to change all that?

He was invading her turf—the library. One of the few places where she felt at home, where she felt in her element. Surrounded by books and information, all cataloged and shelved in an orderly manner.

“I also thought I could give you a ride back home after this,” Steve added as he reached past her for a cookie.

Chloe badly wanted to refuse. But the person with whom she’d thought she could hitch a ride had actually carpooled with someone else this evening, someone who lived in the opposite direction from Chloe’s house.

Beggars can’t be choosers. How often had Janis told her that? Too often.

Steve polished off his cookie and reached for another. “My grandmother entrusted you to my care tonight. She’d shoot me if I didn’t bring you back and make sure you got home safely.”

So Steve was only doing this to please his grandmother? Somehow that didn’t make her feel much better.

Chloe was glad when a patron interrupted them with a question about the name of a mystery author she couldn’t remember. Helping unite people with books was what Chloe did best.

When the patron walked out with the book she’d wanted, Chloe was sidetracked by Lynn Scott, the children’s librarian. “Who’s the hottie you were talking to earlier?”

“He’s my neighbor’s grandson.”

“You have all the luck. My neighbor’s grandson is a holy terror, aged three.”

“My car broke down so he gave me a lift tonight.”

“Seeing him gave me quite a lift, too,” Lynn noted with a grin. In her mid-thirties with long dark hair she usually wore in a braid, Lynn was one of those people who brightened the world with their presence. She and Chloe had hit it off from day one.

“Don’t let your husband hear you saying that.”

“There’s no harm in just looking,” Lynn noted.

Chloe tried telling herself that as Steve drove her home a short while later. No harm in just looking. The glow of the streetlights passed over his face, creating sharp angles and increasing his good looks.

She shifted her attention to his hands on the steering wheel. His fingers were long and lean. As he tapped out the beat of a Rod Stewart song with his index finger, she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have him tapping out a sensual beat on her body.

He had the radio playing so they didn’t have to talk much. She was glad. Her thoughts were much too messed up for her to make polite conversation.

She wondered what he was thinking. Was he eager to get rid of her? Was he wishing he were someplace else? With someone else?

Why should she care? If she were smart, and she was, she shouldn’t have any interest in Steve’s thoughts. Or his body. Or his lean hands.

She’d never been the sappy sort to get all hot and bothered over a man. Not until she’d met Brad. And that experience should certainly have cured her of any desire to repeat past mistakes.

But there was no ignoring her reaction when Steve had touched her hand earlier.

Chalk it up to hormones, or sexual chemistry, or nerves. Whatever she called it, she was not about to act on it.

Chances were that after tonight, Steve would go out of his way to avoid her. Her plan was working. She should be pleased, not all restless and edgy.

He pulled into the driveway and turned off the car before turning to face her. “So do you want to tell me what you’re up to?”

His question caught her completely off guard. “Wha-at are you talking about?”

“I just have this feeling that you’re up to something.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe not.”

“Thanks for the ride. Good night.” A second later, she’d hopped out of the car and raced into her house.

Steve watched her go, noting her haste. Not the actions of someone with nothing to hide. So what was the little librarian next door really up to?

He found out several hours later while making a midnight raid on the fridge and the leftover roast beef Busha had stored there. As he entered the dark kitchen, he noticed that the kitchen blinds were rolled up. Which allowed him free visual access to Chloe’s kitchen window, only a few feet away, also with the blinds rolled up. Unlike him, she’d turned on the lights as she looked in her fridge, on the other side of her kitchen.

“Well, I’ll be….” Steve swore under his breath.

The dowdy librarian had been transformed into a sexy woman, wearing a Bears’ jersey that went mid-thigh, allowing him a generous view of a pair of gorgeous legs.

He’d been had!

Chapter Two

Steve blinked and looked again. Maybe he’d just imagined Chloe.…

Nope, there she was. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders instead of tightly pinned up. The silky strands fell around her shoulders in sexy disarray.

And there was no mistaking her long shapely legs. Steve had excellent night vision and he could see just fine how great her body really was. This was no frumpy librarian!

She’d deliberately made him think she was a stereotypical dowdy bookworm. Why? What kind of con was she pulling here?

His internal lie-detector system went on high alert. Steve hated being deceived. Especially by a female. Chalk it up to his bad experience with Gina. The memory of how she’d hoodwinked him still made his gut clench.

Steve couldn’t believe he’d been had by another female. He’d sworn not to be taken in again, yet here he was, in the dark about the girl next door. The supposedly sweet neighbor who had given him a hard time tonight with her superior intellectual attitude.

If she’d been trying to get his attention, she had it.

But that was just it. She hadn’t tried to get his attention. It was almost as if she’d gone out of her way to make him overlook her.

The same question arose again. Why?

Steve was tempted to go over there and demand answers, but it was after midnight. Not exactly the time to go knocking on someone’s door.

That was okay. Steve could wait. He’d done plenty of that in combat. Sometimes a mission required patient surveillance in order to get good intel.

Yes, sometimes waiting worked out just fine. It made the ultimate confrontation all the more satisfying.

Switching on the coffeemaker Saturday morning, Chloe’s gaze lifted to the vintage hand-painted wooden sign she’d put over the sink. Home * Sweet * Home.

Chloe loved her brick bungalow. Not a day went by that she didn’t thank the Realtor gods for her good fortune in finding it. The instant she’d spotted the For Sale sign planted in the scrubby lawn, she’d immediately called the number listed. Once inside, she’d been won over by the generous rooms and abundance of natural light. She’d envisioned the possibilities instead of being turned off by the negatives, like the dated kitchen in garish green and maroon.

Nothing, not the chipped molding, scarred hardwood floors or the other blemishes around the house had deterred her. Those were cosmetic things that could be corrected by someone with the ability to look beyond the dull surface to the sound heart beneath it all.

In the thirties, these homes were the dream houses of working-class Polish, Bohemian, German, Irish and Italian families. Now this one was Chloe’s dream house.

Some might find the architecture unappealing. She’d heard plenty of people say that the bungalows in this neighborhood all looked the same.

Chloe found comfort in the dependability of that sameness. Because you knew what you were getting.

But what you did with it, ah…that’s where the creativity came in.

Chloe had done plenty with her bungalow. Not as much as she’d like, but she’d made some inroads on her to-do list in the three years since she’d bought it. And she’d done her research with the help of the Historic Chicago Bungalow Initiative. Thousands and thousands of the one and one-half story residences had been built in a semicircle around the city, sometimes called the “Bungalow Belt.”

Compact in size, well-crafted, efficiently laid out, the house had only needed a bit of rehabbing. Okay, maybe more than a bit. She’d replaced the cracked linoleum floor in the kitchen with black-and-white tile before moving on to the rest of the house, going from the back of the house toward the front, through the dining room and then the living room.

She hadn’t done it alone. Lynn’s husband was a handyman and he’d done a great job working on Chloe’s house. She’d done a lot of the work herself as well, like stripping the avocado-green paint from the Arts and Crafts-style glass-fronted cabinets in the living room and restoring the natural wood.

Ditto for the built-in china cabinet in the dining room. The floral-patterned Staffordshire set she’d picked up at a garage sale for ten dollars looked perfectly at home on the cabinet shelves. She paused to straighten the large serving dish next to a delicate teacup and saucer.

Chloe loved order. No doubt that was a result of the emotionally chaotic circumstances of her childhood. Janis had made it clear to the eight-year-old Chloe that she wasn’t to mess up anything—Janis’s schedule, her austere condo, her plans.

That wasn’t the kind of order that Chloe wanted. She liked the kind that was warm and welcoming, but had a place for everything. Because that kept things from getting out of control. And Chloe had learned early on not to rock the boat, to fly under the radar and not to get wild or out of control.

Thinking about wild naturally led her thoughts to Steve and her reaction to his simplest touch last night. Racing hearts were not in her plans. She’d taken a chance with Brad and look how that had ended up. Not good.

No, it didn’t pay to depend on others for your happiness. A house was a much more reliable thing.

Her thoughts returned to her bungalow. The living room and dining room were completed but now she had to focus on the kitchen. She’d downloaded information from the Internet about proper restoration, replacing fixtures that didn’t match the period or design of the house was a no-no. Someone at work had told her that one of the home-improvement stores had a big sale coming up, so Chloe was eager to check the sale flyers in her Saturday newspaper.

Chloe was thinking about kitchen faucets when she opened her front door to grab her newspaper, as she did every Saturday morning. In some places the newspaper was dropped at the sidewalk near the street, but here it was still delivered to the front porch.

Since she was only wearing her Chicago Bears nightshirt, she let the door provide cover for her while she leaned down to reach…nothing.

She reached farther…and touched warm flesh.

“Ahhh!” Startled, Chloe fell backward, ending up in a heap on her foyer floor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve inquired from above her.

She frantically tugged on the hem of her nightshirt, trying to cover what she could. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing down there?”

“Looking for dust bunnies,” she retorted tartly before scrambling to her feet.

“Dust bunnies, huh?” He grinned at her. “Find any?”

She reached behind her for the afghan Wanda had crocheted for her last Christmas, yanking it from the reading chair and wrapping it around herself. “I did not invite you in,” she pointed out.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I was until you grabbed my hand on the front porch.”

Steve shrugged, drawing her attention to the broad shoulders beneath his dark pullover. “I thought you were reaching for me.”

“I was reaching for my newspaper. I didn’t know you were out there. What were you doing out there?”

“Like I said, I came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About this disguise of yours.”

She blinked at him and lifted her chin before tugging the afghan a little tighter around her shoulders, like Queen Victoria gathering her royal robes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. I want to know why you were dressed the way you were last night.”

“And what way might that be?”

“You know very well what way. Like a frumpy librarian.”

“Isn’t that what you were expecting?”

Steve hadn’t expected her to turn the tables on him and put him on the spot. “It doesn’t matter what I was expecting.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the one who was being deceitful.”

“In what way?”

“By making me think you were…”

“Yes,” she prompted him. “Go on.”

He sensed dangerous foot-in-mouth quicksand ahead. “That you were something you’re not.”

“I can assure you, I am a librarian. You saw me at work last night.”

“I also saw you raiding your fridge at midnight. And I’m seeing you right now.”

“So?”

“So you don’t look the same way you did when you came knocking on my grandmother’s door last night. And I want to know why. Why the deception?”

“It wasn’t a deception. I was merely wearing my costume for the library program last night. The whodunit mystery program, remember? You were there.”

“Yes, I was there.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that I don’t like being made a fool of.” His voice reflected his irritation.

“If you feel that you acted foolishly, then you accomplished that all by yourself. You didn’t need any help from me.”

“What were you hoping to accomplish by dressing that way?”

“Why do you care?”

“Chalk it up to my natural curiosity. You’re obviously an attractive woman. I can’t help wondering why you tried to disguise that fact last night.”

He thought she was attractive? Her ego soared before she shot it down with the reminder that this was a man accustomed to saying whatever a woman wanted to hear. She was smart enough not to fall for that. Right? She was also smart enough to get more clothes on ASAP. It was difficult to maintain one’s dignity wrapped in an afghan. “I am not having this conversation half-dressed.”

“You look fine to me.”

She glared at him. “And you’re the type of man to judge a woman by her appearance as to whether or not she’s worthy of your attention, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“You proved it by the way you reacted when I walked into Wanda’s kitchen yesterday evening. You dismissed me.”

“I had no idea they taught you to read minds in library school.”

“It was obvious.” She lifted her hand to her glasses, adjusting the frames before fixing him with a direct stare that dared him to fib.

“Okay, I admit I may not have been thrilled to see you,” Steve admitted, “but it had nothing to do with you or how you looked.”

“Right,” Chloe scoffed.

“Look, I was just feeling a little…aggravated with my matchmaking grandmother for her heavy-handed attempts to hook me up with the girl next door.”

“So you would have reacted the same way had a gorgeous lingerie model walked into your grandmother’s kitchen?”

She had him there. And she knew it. He hated when that happened.

That didn’t stop him from trying to defend himself. “I recognize your attack for what it is, an attempt to deflect attention from your own behavior.”

“I behaved perfectly fine.”

“By dressing up like a frumpy librarian?”

“I told you, I was wearing a costume—”

“You certainly were. And not just for that mystery thing last night. You didn’t want me to know how good-looking you really are. Why?”

Instead of answering his question, she said, “I need more coffee. And I need to get dressed. Coffee first.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.

“No need to do that on my account.” If he were a better man, Steve would have told her that the afghan still left a tantalizing display of her bare thighs for his appreciation. Instead he noted the way she managed to walk all uptight and offended and still be sexy.

She removed an extra mug from the cabinet and reluctantly nudged it across the counter toward him. “I suppose you could drink a cup while I get dressed. Or you could go home….”

“No chance of that.”

Chloe took her coffee mug filled with coffee into her bedroom with her, no easy feat given the fact that she was still holding the afghan around her body. Fifteen minutes later, the caffeine was finally hitting her system, giving her the energy to face the sexy but exasperating Marine in her kitchen.

She was dressed in a pair of tailored khakis and a white shirt, but she didn’t like the way she looked in the mirror above her cherry dresser. So she changed and put on a T-shirt. A plain navy one. She’d quickly run a brush through her shoulder-length hair and decided not to take the time to do more with it. Who knew what Steve might be up to in her kitchen?

He was up to the sports section of her newspaper, calmly sitting at her kitchen table, looking as comfortable as if he’d been there every morning for the past year.

He glanced up and then gave her a slow smile. “So you’re a Bears fan, huh?”

It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to the nightshirt she’d worn when he’d first arrived. That’s because she was thrown by his smile and the effect it had on her. His smile was entirely too disarming. Wicked and tantalizing at the same time. Very much like the man himself, she suspected.

She had to remind herself that this was a man accustomed to seducing women. Not that Wanda had exactly put it like that, but she’d said how “popular Steve is with the ladies.” Chloe could tell that much on her own. Steve possessed the same kind of inherent confidence that Brad had. And he was even better looking than Brad. Not a good mix.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your grandmother’s house?” she said.

“Not until I get some answers. You still haven’t told me why you deliberately tried to deceive me.”

“That’s rather egotistical of you. Assuming that everything revolves around you. That my behavior was a result of you.”

“Wasn’t it?”

His directness rattled her. So did the ease with which he made himself at home in her domain. He should have looked like a bull in a china shop. But he didn’t. He fit in.

No, stop that thought right there! Delete, delete, delete. Maybe if she answered his question, he’d leave. “Look, suffice it to say that you’re not the only one Wanda practices her matchmaking on.”

“Meaning?”

“Your grandmother is a sweetie, but she’s been raving about you for weeks. And when you suddenly decided to visit her during your leave, she was over the moon. She was also intent on my meeting you.”

“And your objection to that was…?”

“As I said earlier, I know your type.” She still stood, her hands gripping the back of the oak kitchen chair as if doing so would prevent her from something she might later regret. Grabbing him or tossing him out—she couldn’t be sure.

“What type would that be?”

“A player. And having just been through a bad experience with a man who informs me that it isn’t natural for a man to settle for just one woman, I wasn’t interested in being played, okay?”

To her surprise, his expression turned serious. “Okay. I can understand that. I just came off a bad experience myself. Which is why I got so upset about you conning me.”

“That’s not the way I’d describe it.”

“That’s how I viewed it. You wore those clothes to keep me at bay.”

“You’re only interested in me now because you think I look prettier than I did last night.” There, she’d said it.

“I tried to get to know you last night, but you weren’t cooperating.”

“You were just taking pity on the frumpy girl,” Chloe retorted. “You didn’t really mean it.” This was a sore point for her. “I’ve already been dumped by a guy who I thought was interested in me, only to find that he was merely biding his time until a prettier woman came along.”

“Ah, betrayal. That’s something we have in common,” Steve said. “Bad luck in the romance department.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I find it hard to believe that you’ve got bad luck that way.”

“Believe it.”

“That’s not what your grandmother thinks. She never mentioned anything about bad luck.”

“She doesn’t know everything, although she’d like me to think she does.”

The devil on her right shoulder warned her that Steve could be conning her, trying to gain her sympathy. “Your grandmother is a wise woman.”

“And a stubborn one. She’s not going to give up on getting us together, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it.”

“Trust me, my grandmother has a way of wearing you down,” Steve noted.

“And I suppose you have a plan to counter that?”

“Of course.”

“First tell me about the woman who betrayed you.”

It was a test. She half expected him to toss off her request with some slick response. When he hesitated, she added, “I told you what went wrong with my relationship.”

“Yeah, you were going with a jerk.”

That stung, indicating that her judgment where men were concerned was faulty. Which might be true, but she sure didn’t appreciate him pointing out that fact. “Don’t you have someplace else you need to be right now?”

“No. You asked me a question, and I’m going to answer it. Want some more coffee?”

“I can get it myself.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“And I suppose you’d like me to pour you some more coffee while I’m at it?”

“If you do, I’ll share these with you….” He held up a bag from a local bakery.

“Where did those come from?”

He read the side of the bag. “The Busy Bee Bakery.”

“I meant how did they get here?”

“I brought them.”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“You’re telling me you went to the bakery in the fifteen minutes I took to get dressed?”

“No.”

She tried not to grit her teeth in frustration. “Are you always this exasperating?”

“No, I can be much worse.”

“That’s great to hear.”

He held up the bag and waggled it. “So, do you want some or not?”

“What’s in the bag?”

If he’d said a chocolate éclair, she could have resisted the temptation. But when he said, “Brownies,” she knew she was a goner.

“Are you interested?” he said.

“An even trade. A refill on your coffee for a brownie.”

“Works for me.”

She loosened her grip on the chair and busied herself getting plates out of the kitchen cupboard before taking the coffeepot over to the table to refill his mug. “I still don’t know how you got these here.” She pointed to the bag of brownies.

“I carried them.”

“When? And don’t tell me this morning unless you’re ready to suffer the consequences.”

“I had them in my hand when I first arrived, but when you reached for me…”

“I was reaching for the paper!” she corrected him.

“I dropped them on your front porch.” He peered inside the bag. “Luckily they didn’t suffer from that little mishap.”

“And you retrieved them from my porch while I was getting dressed?”

“That’s right. Are you always this intent on solving mysteries?”

“I like things to be in order.”

“Marines like order, too. See, that’s something else we have in common.”

Chloe wasn’t so easily convinced. “Before you distracted me with decadent baked goods, you were going to tell me about this romantic bad luck you had.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to say, which wasn’t unusual for him. Confiding had never been his thing. And telling her about Gina meant telling her about his inheritance.

Who was he kidding here? His grandmother had probably already told Chloe about the money.

Was that why Chloe had acted the way she had? Was this all an elaborate hoax to get his attention by pretending to avoid it?

He couldn’t help being suspicious, given his recent track record where females were concerned.

Then his logical side reminded him that he had no intention of falling for Chloe. There was no danger of that. Sure he was a bit intrigued by her, but he was only here in Chicago for a short period of time during his leave.

Not telling her would mean he was afraid to. So he bit the bullet and started talking. Reluctantly. In his own way and in his own time. “Well, you’ve probably heard the sad story before—poor guy inherits money and a beautiful woman cons him into thinking she’s in love with him when all she really wants is access to his bank account.”

“Were you in love with her?”

Love. That four-letter word that had ended up sucker punching him without warning. “I thought I was.”

“How do you know she was only interested in your money?”

“I don’t tell many people about it. I’m assuming my grandmother told you, right?”

Chloe nodded before hurriedly assuring him, “Believe me, I’m not interested in your bank account.”

“You’d hardly tell me you were, now would you?”

“True.” She shifted uncomfortably before quickly returning the spotlight on him. “But getting back to your story.”

He could tell she didn’t like talking about herself. Something else they had in common.

“This girl—” Chloe was saying when Steve interrupted her.

“Her name was Gina. She was smart and classy. Gorgeous. A real knockout. And I discovered the truth when I found her with a good buddy of mine. I overheard them talking. He’d told her about the money. I’d told him, never thinking…” His jaw tightened. What an idiot he’d been. “Anyway, they both duped me.”

“What did you do?”

“Walked in and told them the game was over. Gina tearfully tried to tell me that I’d misunderstood.”

“Had you?”

Steve shook his head. “I saw the guilt in my buddy’s face.”

“So it was actually a double whammy. You were betrayed by both a gold-digging woman and by your buddy.”

“At least he wasn’t a Marine,” Steve said. “He was a civilian.”

“Oh, that explains it then,” Chloe noted dryly. “Civilians aren’t to be trusted.”

“Hey, I spill my guts to you and you respond by mocking me?”

“You were reciting facts of what occurred. That’s not the same as spilling guts.”

“Like I’m ever gonna get all sappy about stuff,” he scoffed.

“That would never happen, right?”

“I’m a Marine.” His voice was brisk and powerful. “We don’t do sappy.”

“Right. You do tough and in control.”

“Affirmative.”

“Except where it comes to your grandmother?”

“Affirmative. But I do have a plan.”

“Why am I not surprised by that…?” Chloe murmured before taking her last bite of brownie.

“The way to combat my grandmother’s matchmaking moves is not to launch a counteroffensive. That would only make her dig in her heels more. Instead, we lull her into thinking she’s winning the battle.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Simple.” He grinned at her again. “We move in together.”

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