out to be a precocious little brat, who took every opportunity she could to let Erin know she wasn’t wanted there.
The last straw had come after she had heard her father and stepmother arguing about her. With a few cruel words she had learnt that her father was no more pleased to see her than her stepmother was, that she had been the result of an effort on her parents’ part to try and make their marriage work.
Even now she didn’t like to think about it, to realise that she hadn’t so much been wanted by her parents but had been a final attempt to pull their marriage together. It wasn’t surprising that such parents should have destroyed her.
Oh, her mother had tried her best, had loved her in her own way, but ultimately it was Bob who always came first, even if he wasn’t always right.
She had left her father’s house after hearing that argument, and the lack of argument at her decision to leave only served to enhance the fact that she hadn’t been wanted there in the first place.
And so she had been left alone, with very little money, and no visible means of supporting herself. In a place as large as Calgary, a city growing at a rate too fast for its population, she had felt sure she would be able to get a job. She could, if she didn’t mind waiting two or three weeks to get an interview. She had been through it all before in England, and she didn’t have the funds to wait that long, so she took the first job she could start immediately, little realising that once she began work she had no time to look for a more suitable job.
She spent the evening doing her laundry, suddenly realising at bedtime that she hadn’t eaten again. Joshua Hawke had probably gone out and had a big juicy steak, forgetting all about the childish creature he had invited to join him.
Why had he done that? He didn’t seem to be the type good Samaritans were made of. And yet he had listened as she sobbed her heart out. Listened! The poor man hadn’t had much choice about it, she had cried all over him!
Well, that wouldn’t happen again. She didn’t need or want anyone worrying over her, least of all a tall arrogant stranger who mocked her most of the time.
She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed when she left her room the next morning to find the brown pick-up noticeably absent. Joshua Hawke must have left very early, it was only eight-thirty now. Perhaps he worked on one of the ranches after all. But his hand, when he had touched her, hadn’t felt calloused and rough. It hadn’t felt soft and effeminate either, making his occupation a puzzle.
Why on earth did she keep thinking of the man! She wasn’t likely to see or hear from him again, he had probably forgotten all about her now that he had returned home.
Did he have a wife? She somehow didn’t think so. Why she thought that she didn’t know, he just hadn’t looked married. She was probably wrong, he probably had half a dozen children too! Maybe that was the reason he had been so patient with her display of tears, because he had children of his own.
But he hadn’t treated her like a child, despite calling her ‘little one’ and ‘baby’!
She had to stop thinking about the man; he had gone now, and she doubted he would ever be back. This motel rarely had the same visitors twice, the rooms were not exactly of a glamorous standard.
‘Daydreaming?’ Frances Johnston asked waspishly, as she sat behind the desk in the reception area, looking attractive in a tight blouse and even tighter skirt.
‘No, I—I was just—thinking.’ About Joshua Hawke! And she wouldn’t do it again. The man had shown her a little kindness, but he was gone now, for ever.
Frances’ mouth twisted. ‘A bit early in the day for that, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe,’ Erin dismissed, knowing that the other woman was spoiling for an argument. Frances didn’t like her, was aware of her husband’s interest in her, and she liked that even less. If only she knew how Erin hated Mike’s attentions, the way he took every opportunity to touch her, the way he crudely made verbal passes at her! The whole thing made her cringe, but Frances seemed to enjoy acting the jealous wife, and took delight in making digs at Erin whenever they were alone together.
Frances looked down her nose at her. ‘I have to take care of the office for a couple of hours. You start the rooms and I’ll catch you up later.’
She knew that meant she was on her own again today, and the thought of cleaning forty rooms single-handed for the second day running made her groan in dismay.
Her resentment burned all the time she was loading the clean linen on to the trolley, wheeling the huge vacuum-cleaner out on to the pathway.
She couldn’t stand much more of this, she just didn’t have the stamina for it. For about the tenth time in as many days she promised herself that tonight she would look through the newspapers for another job, knowing that when the time came she would be too tired and disheartened to bother.
Room twenty-six first; she could be sure that room was empty. Would Joshua Hawke have left any of his personality in the room, or would it just be the impersonal room it had always seemed?
Joshua Hawke again! He meant nothing to her, nothing. How could she possibly miss a person she didn’t even know, a person who had taken a few minutes out of his day to listen to her? She couldn’t. And yet his mocking kindness had stayed with her all during the night, and for once she had slept soundlessly.
The room was in darkness, the curtains having been left drawn, and the smell of alcohol was very strong. Erin’s nose wrinkled with distaste. Joshua Hawke hadn’t just left an imprint of his personality on the room, he had left it in almost as much of a mess as it had been yesterday!
She sighed heavily. So he hadn’t been so different after all, just another man out for a good time. The ‘talk’ he had wanted last night could have been a lot more than that. Thank heavens she had refused.
She moved to the window to pull back the curtains and let in some light, gasping as a hand caught her around the wrist and the rumpled mound of sheets and blankets materialised into a body—a male body.
‘Mr Hawke!’ she gasped.
‘’Morning, sweetheart,’ he smiled up at her, his eyes lazily appreciative, his black hair tousled into disorder. The sheet fell back to his waist as he sat up in the bed, and Erin didn’t need much imagination to know that the rest of him was as naked as that hard-muscled chest!
‘I—Good morning,’ she returned stiltedly. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’ She looked away from that naked chest and the clear outline of his thighs beneath the sheet.
Heavy lids lowered over teasing green eyes. ‘Honey, this sort of disturbance I like,’ he grinned at her.
Erin wished he wouldn’t smile at her, it gave her a fluttering sensation in her stomach and made her breath catch in her throat. ‘I thought this room was empty,’ she said awkwardly.
‘It is—except for me.’
‘I——’ She suddenly realised he was still holding her wrist, his thumb running over the delicate veins there. When she tried to pull away his grip tightened, pulling her down beside him on the bed. ‘Would you let go of me?
