Stephanie gasped and shifted on the floor so that she faced him. Her eyes widened and her mouth twisted into a half smile that was as much sheepish as amused.

“If you keep sneaking up on me like this, I'm going to be forced to put a bell around your neck." Nash leaned against the door frame and nodded at the washer. "Is there a problem?"

“It's not working. I'm trying to use guilt, but I don't think it's helping." She glanced from him to her jeans and back. "I thought you were heading out."

“The battery in my rental car is dead."

“Did you try guilting it into behaving?"

“I thought a jump would be more effective.”

“Sure." She tossed down the wrench and rose. Wearing athletic shoes, she barely came to his shoulder. She gave the washer one more kick, then walked toward him.

“Lead the way." Nash straightened. "I could take a look at that if you would like." Stephanie appeared doubtful. "You don't strike me as the washer repairman type."

“I'm not, but I'm pretty mechanical."

“Thanks, but I'm going to get a professional in. I'll go get my car keys. Why don't you meet me in front?" Stephanie waited until Nash had started down the hallway before running upstairs to get the keys out of her purse. When she reached the top floor, she told herself that her rapidly beating heart had everything to do with the effort required to climb two flights of stairs and nothing to do with her guest's appearance. She figured she was being about sixty percent honest.

The truth was Mr. Elegant-in-a-Suit looked just as good in jeans as he had all dressed up. Daylight suited him, as well. Despite the fact that he couldn't have gotten more than four hours of sleep, he looked tanned, handsome and rested. She, of course, had dark circles that had defied her heavy-duty concealer and a bone-deep weariness compounded by a broken washer and an as-ever challenged bank account.