The Private Eye

double-checked every lock on every window, the growing worry about the future of Peregrine Manor all had taken their toll on her during the past few weeks.
    Apparently there was much to be said for having a man like Josh January in the house. In spite of the crutches and bruises, there was something oddly reassuring about his presence. It was unfortunate he had made that pass last night. Now she was going to have to make a point of keeping him in his place. No more going to his rescue in the-middle of the night, she told herself.
    Maggie showered and quickly selected a pair of jeans and an orange sweatshirt from her closet. When she had put them on, she went to stand in front of the dressing table and picked up a brush.
    She had just finished tying her thick hair back into a ponytail when her eyes fell on the crumpled sheet of yellow paper lying on the table. Maggie went very still as vivid details of the night before returned to her.
    There had been a disconcerting and thoroughly devastating masculine arrogance about the way Josh had sprawled on the big bed in the turret room. His dark hair had been disturbingly tousled. The crisp, curling thicket on his broad chest had fascinated her. It had been all she could do to keep from staring. She had wanted to run her fingers through that black mat in the worst way. And she had ached with a desire to soothe the massive bruise on his rib cage.
    The brooding speculation in his eyes had ruffled her senses as nothing else had ever done. When he had talked of his bitter disillusionment with his chosen work, she had sensed the fundamental integrity of the man. Only a man who had a strong sense of integrity would have become disillusioned. Obviously, Josh hadn't gotten into the business for the money.
    Maggie acknowledged with an uneasy little shock that she would never forget that scene in the room next door. It would haunt her for the rest of her life.
    And even though she knew there must be no repetitions, a part of her would always wonder what it would have been like to go to bed with Josh January. She had never in her life experienced such a powerful, deeply feminine curiosity, and she felt ill-equipped to deal with it. Her quiet, uneventful past had not prepared her for even a casual approach from a man like Joshua January.
    And casual was all it had been, Maggie's mouth tightened as she finished surveying herself in the dressing-table mirror. She would have been shaken to the core to discover that Josh was even mildly interested in her, but it was a certainty that he hadn't been half as affected by her presence as she had been by his. She'd been well aware of his half-aroused body, of course, but that meant very little. Men were very physical creatures, very easily aroused. She was old enough to know that. Josh must consider her an amusing challenge – no doubt because he had been warned off her by the Colonel. But that was all there was to it.
    She certainly was not going to call the number on that sheet of yellow paper, Maggie told herself firmly.
    She wondered if he started all his relationships with a mutual background check. Very likely. The man clearly had no romance in his soul. Maybe his profession had destroyed his sense of passion and discovery even as it had destroyed his faith in human nature.
    Nevertheless, Maggie couldn't bring herself to throw away the piece of paper. She picked it up and scanned the boldly scrawled figures. There was a lot of male bravado in those numbers. Josh must have been sure she would make the call.
    Disgusted, she opened a drawer in the dresser and shoved the crumpled sheet inside. She slammed the drawer shut and left the room.
    Halfway down the stairs the aroma of freshly brewed coffee floated up to greet her. Odessa had apparently risen early. Maggie inhaled deeply and smiled with pleasure. The smile was still on her face when she swung the kitchen door open.
    “Good morning, Odessa,” Maggie said before she realized who was inside. “That coffee smells wonderful.”
    “Thanks,” Josh drawled from the far side of the large room. “I make good coffee, even if I do say so, myself. Here, have a cup.”
    Maggie stopped short at the sight of him. He was leaning against the tiled counter, sipping coffee from a mug. His crutches were propped beside him. He looked very sexy in a denim shirt that was open at the throat. And there was no getting around the fact that the man looked good in a pair of jeans. His dark hair gleamed in the