Megan's mate

Like hell.

He hated her perfume. Hated that it made his nostrils twitch and his

mouth water.

When I came on board, you were barely treading water.

She couldn't get her breath, simply couldn't.

This kitchen doesn't need you, Mr.

Van Horne. And neither do I.

You need me plenty.

How had his hands gotten onto her shoulders? Why were hers pressed to his chest? The hell with how or why, he thought. He'd show her what was what.

Her eyes popped hard when his hard, sneering mouth crushed down on hers in a very thorough kiss. But she didn't see a thing. Her world, so beautifully secure, tilted under her feet. That was why naturally that was why she clung to him.

She would slap his face. She certainly would.

In just a few minutes.

Damn women, Dutch thought. Damn them all. Especially tall, curvy, sweet-smelling females with lips like... cooking cherries. He'd always had a weakness for tartness.

He jerked her away, but kept his big hands firm on her shoulders.

Let's get

something straight....

he began.

Now look here___

she said at the same time.

They both leaped apart like guilty children when the kitchen door swung open.

Megan stood frozen in the doorway, her jaw dropping. Surely she hadn't seen what she thought she'd seen. Coco was checking the oven, and Dutch was measuring flour into a bowl. They couldn't have been.. .embracing. Yet both of them were a rather startling shade of pink.

Excuse me,

she managed.

I'm sorry to, ah...

Oh, Megan, dear.

Flustered, Coco patted her hair. She was tingling, she realized.

From embarrassment and annoyance, she assured herself.

What can I do for

you?

I just wanted to check a couple of the kitchen expenses.

She was still goggling, her

eyes shifting from Coco to Dutch and back. The tension in the room was thicker than Coco's split-pea soup.

But if you're busy, we can do it later.

Nonsense.

Coco wiped her sweaty palms on her apron.

We're just a little frantic

preparing for Trenton's arrival.

Trenton? Oh, I'd forgotten. Trent's father's expected.

She was cautiously backing

out of the room.

We don't need to do this now.

No, no.

Oh, Lord, Coco thought, don't leave me.

Now's a perfect time. We're

under control here. Let's do it in your office, shall we?

She took Megan firmly by

the arm.

Mr. Van Horne can handle things for a few minutes.

Without waiting for

his assent, she hurried from the room.

Details, details,

Coco said gaily, and clung

to Megan as though she were a life raft in a churning sea.

It seems the more you

handle, the more there are.

Coco, are you all right?

Oh, of course.

But she pressed a hand to her heart.

Just a little contretemps with

Mr. Van Horne. But that's nothing I can't deal with.

She hoped.

How are your

accounts coming along, dear? I must say I'd hoped you'd find time to glance at Fergus's book.

Actually, I have—

Not that we want you working too hard.

With the buzz going on in Coco's head, she didn't hear a word Megan said.

We want you to feel right at home here, to enjoy yourself. To relax. After all the trouble and excitement last year, we all want to relax. I don't think any of us could stand any more crises.

I do not have, nor do I require, a reservation.

The crackling, irate voice stopped Coco in her tracks. The becoming flush in her cheeks faded to a dead white.

Dear God, no. It can't be.

Coco?

Megan took a firmer grip on Coco's arm. She felt the tremor and wondered if she could hold the woman up if she fainted.

Young man.

The voice rose, echoing off the walls.

Do you know who I am?

Aunt Colleen,

Coco said in a shaky whisper. She let go one last shuddering moan, drew in a bracing breath, then walked bravely into the lobby.

Aunt Colleen,

she

said in an entirely different tone.

What a lovely surprise.

Shock, you mean.

Colleen accepted her niece's kiss, then rapped her cane on the floor. She was tall, thin as a rail and formidable as iron in a raw-silk suit and pearls as white as her hair.

I see you've filled the place with strangers. Better to have it burned to the ground. Tell this insolent boy to have my bags taken up.

Of course.

Coco gestured for a bellman herself.

In the family wing, second floor,

first room on the right,

she instructed.

And don't toss those bags around, boy.

Colleen leaned on her gold-tipped cane and studied Megan,

Who's this?

You remember Megan, Aunt Colleen. Sloan's sister? You met at Amanda's wedding.

Yes, yes.

Colleen's eyes narrowed, measured,

Got a son, don't you?

Colleen

knew all there was to know about Kevin. Had made it her business to know.

Yes, I do. It's nice to see you again, Miss Calhoun.

Ha. You'd be the only one of this lot who thinks so.

Ignoring them both, she

walked to Bianca's portrait, studied it and the emeralds glistening in their case. She sighed, but so quietly no one could hear.

I want brandy, Cordelia, before I take a look at what you've done to this place.

Of course. We'll just go into the family wing. Megan, please, join us.