Millionaire on Her Doorstep by Stella Bagwell

possible. I’m willing to pay extra. Yes. Whatever it takes to get the papers finalized.”
    For the next five minutes, Maureen listened patiently to the agent’s excuses and promises. By the time she hung up, she wanted to scream with frustration. It was the third time she’d called the man this week and she figured he was probably as sick of dealing with her as she was with him. But Maureen couldn’t help it. She had to get away from this ranch as soon as possible.
    Rising from the stuffed armchair, she walked over to the window and pushed back the heavy muslin curtain. Her room didn’t have a privileged view of the courtyard but rather looked out at the distant mountain range to the north.
    Which was likely for the best, Maureen thought. Each time she caught a glimpse of the shimmering swimming pool, her thoughts turned to Adam and the night they’d dived into the pool and each other.

    All this past week she’d tried to put her attraction to him in proper perspective. She kept telling herself it would pass. She promised herself she was only suffering a fleeting, physical malady that would eventually cure itself. But so far, that hadn’t happened. Each time Adam approached her, everything came rushing back. The kisses, the hunger, the incredible excitement she’d experienced in his arms.
    For the first time in years, Maureen felt helpless and scared. She didn’t want any man to have such a powerful effect on her. And to fight it, she’d done the only thing she could think of to do. She kept as much distance as possible between her and Adam. And whenever he’d been near, she’d made sure every word, every look, was cool and professional.
    But the strain of acting was beginning to take its toll, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. At work she could make herself struggle through the day. But knowing she had to come back to the Bar M in the evenings and face the risk of running into him each time she left her room was too much for her nerves to bear. She had to get into her own house. And fast.
    Still, Maureen was sick of cowering in her room every evening like a timid little rabbit. She couldn’t let Adam control her every move!
    With that thought in mind, she changed out of her dirty work clothes and into clean jeans and a white, short-sleeved camp shirt. The French braid hanging down the middle of her back was ragged, so she brushed it loose and anchored her hair away from her face with a white headband. Then she left her room and headed to the kitchen.
    It was still too early for supper. Chloe hadn’t yet
returned to the house from the stables, much less started preparing a meal.
    Content to settle for something cool to drink, Maureen poured herself a small glass of orange juice. As she sipped, she wondered why Adam’s mother didn’t hire a live-in cook and housekeeper. The Sanderses could certainly afford the extra help. Just their gas exploration business alone must be worth a staggering amount. Not to mention the ranch.
    But from what Maureen could see, neither Chloe nor any of the family lived as if they had money to burn. Including Adam. The only extravagant thing she’d noticed about him was his ostrich boots, and since he’d taken his pocketknife to one of them, they were hardly anything to flaunt.
    A door behind her opened and closed. Maureen turned away from the refrigerator just in time to see Adam entering the kitchen. Her fingers unconsciously tightened on the glass in her hand, and her chin lifted.
    â€œHello, Maureen.”
    The softly spoken words took her by complete surprise. The two of them had already talked earlier that morning at work. Their conversation had been brief, to the point and, for the most part, agreeable. He’d greeted her coolly and she’d returned the brisk hello with an even shorter one. So what did this new greeting mean?
    â€œHello,” she returned.
    He moved into the room,