Porter was just stepping out of the shower at the end of the workday when his doorbell rang. It was a little late for deliveries, but maybe it was the custom lock set for the front door of the house his crew was finishing up. He’d already missed signing for it once. Whipping a towel around his hips, he bolted down the hall.
But it wasn’t the UPS guy on his front porch. It was Maggie.
For a moment, she took his breath away in the slim pencil skirt and blouse that looked more like something she’d wear for work in California than anything appropriate for the inn. Her pale blonde hair had been put up into one of those fancy twists, but over the course of the day, it had loosened a little, until a few wisps fell down to frame her face, softening the whole look. Exactly how he liked it best. H
