Her guest carried a leather duffle and a garment bag into the house. Her gaze moved between his expensive leather boots and her own mouse slippers with their tattered ears. When she finally headed upstairs to her own bed, she must remember not to look at herself in the mirror. Confirming her worst fears would cause her to shriek and wake the boys.

The man signed the registration card she'd left on the front desk and she took an imprint of his creditcard. Once she'd received approval, she handed him an old-fashioned brass key.

“Your room is this way," she said, heading up the stairs.

She'd put him in the front bedroom. Not only was it large and comfortable, with a view of Glenwood, but it was one of only two guest rooms that weren't under her third-floor apartment. When she wasn't completely booked, she found it much easier to have guests stay there than to constantly keep at her kids to stay quiet. Being loud and being a boy seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Five minutes later she'd explained the amenities of the room, said she would be serving breakfast from seven-thirty to nine and asked him if he would like her to leave a newspaper outside his door in the morning.

He refused the paper.

She nodded and headed for the hallway.

“Mrs. Wynne?" She turned back to look at him. "Stephanie, please." He nodded. "Do you have a map of the area? I'm here to visit some people and I don't know my way around."

“Sure. Downstairs. I'll put one out for you at breakfast."

“Thank you." He offered her a slight smile, one that didn't touch his eyes. It was late and she was so tired that her eyelashes hurt. But instead of leaving that second, she hesitated. Oh, not more than a heartbeat, but just long enough to notice that the overhead light brought out brownish highlights in his close-cropped black hair and that the hint of dark stubble on his square jaw made him look just a little bit dangerous.