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  She laughed shortly. “No, but I can’t work here once the computerized controls have been implemented.”

  “Why not?”

  She tried to pull away, and his arms tightened around her instinctively.

  “I want to get up.”

  Consenting. That was key. Right. He let her go.

  She stood up, and he had to fight the urge to pull her back into his lap.

  “I’d rather not talk about the whys and wherefores of my decision, Blake. I assume you brought a plan for implementation with you. It makes a lot more sense to focus on that right now.”

  “Not to me. I want to know why HGA, Inc. is about to lose one of its best property managers, and we are going to lose you, aren’t we? You aren’t interested in training to work on one of the other properties.”

  She shuddered. As though the thought was more than repugnant, like it was chilling. “No.”

  “Tell me why.” His gut clenched. “It’s not that Ed guy, is it? You aren’t going to marry him, are you?”

  “No. It’s not Ed.”

  “Then what?”

  She bit her lip and looked at him for several tense seconds. Her heart-shaped face was flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her perfectly pressed general manager uniform was rumpled. She looked delectable and edible and everything in between, but her soft brown eyes were dark with wariness, and that stopped him from acting on his baser impulses.

  “Why?” he practically begged.

  Her full lips thinned in a line of determination. “Would you mind telling me what time it is?”

  He frowned, but looked down at his watch obediently. What the hell? “It’s stopped. My Rolex quit.”

  He sounded as stunned as he felt. He’d paid enough money for this watch to work into the next century.

  She didn’t look surprised, though. She looked resigned. “Maybe you could check your Palm Pilot?”

  Feeling like something was going on here he didn’t get, he pulled the slim case from his inner breast pocket and flipped it open. He pressed the power button and swore. None of his usual icons showed up. In fact, the only things on the screen were the basic operating system links. He tried clicking into setup, and a message came on screen offering to initialize the unit.

  “My entire database and all my programs are gone. The memory had to have corrupted.” That was going to be a pain in the ass. He could sync with his laptop, but anything he’d put in since the last sync was gone.

  She sighed. “What about your mobile phone?”

  That’s right. His cell phone had a time function. He never used it because he always wore his watch. He pulled it off the clip on his belt, and this time the words that came out of his throat were vicious.

  It had that little message on it that said it could only be used for emergency calls.

  “What is going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said at the same time.

  He pinned her with his gaze. “Why?”

  “It’s my fault.”

  “Crappy engineering is your fault?”

  “It isn’t bad engineering. It’s me, well, me and the full moon.”

  “What, you’re a werewolf?” he asked, laughing at the very thought of such a delicate woman getting hairy and growing fangs.

  “That would be easier to live with,” she grumbled.

  Now, this had to be good.

  “You’d rather be a werewolf?”

  “Than get so magnetic I erase hard drives once a month . . . yes.”

  “Magnetic?” This was too bizarre to deal with on a muggy head. He stood up and walked into her small kitchenette. “You got anything up here to make coffee?”

  “Sure.” She started putting together an old-fashioned glass percolator pot.

  “You don’t have a microwave.”

  “There would be no point. After the first full moon, it would be broken.”

  He let that slide and filled the glass pot with water.

  They took their coffee into the living room, and if the sofa creaked when she sat on it, it positively groaned when Blake lowered his over six-foot frame onto it. “So, what, a regular sofa would give you problems, too?”

  She would have glared at the irritating question if he didn’t sound so aggrieved. As it was, she had to bite back a smile she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate. He looked so funny with his big body sprawled on her tiny sofa—if you could even call it that. Even she had to curl her legs up to lie down on it and read.

  “I liked the way the wicker furniture looked in the showroom, and I figured it would be easy to get up to my apartment,” she admitted.

  “The unit wasn’t furnished?”

  “No. I took over management when the last family member that owned the inn decided she wanted to travel the world. The pieces up here were heirlooms, and her nieces and nephews laid claim to them before her first cruise ship sailed.”

  “I suppose wicker was cheaper than a regular living room set as well.”

  She was surprised a guy with his money would recognize such a consideration and said so.

  His blue eyes mocked her. “I didn’t get this far in business ignoring expenditure issues.”

  “Working for the family company didn’t hurt.” She said it teasingly, but he didn’t smile.

  “My dad owned three properties when I joined HGA, Inc. He didn’t want to diversify into resort properties, but now that’s the bulk of what we own.”

  “In other words, it wasn’t nepotism that got you this job, but sound business acumen.”

  Burnished red accented his cheekbones. “I sounded pretty defensive, didn’t I?”

  “A little.”

  “I guess I didn’t want you thinking of me as the kind of man who rode through life on his dad’s coattails.”

  “Like it matters to you what I think.”

  “Obviously it does. I’m not real sure why that should surprise you after me practically inhaling you with my lips twice in less than an hour.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re—”

  “Bold?”

  “Blunt.”

  His lips twitched. “Yes. Does it bother you?”

  “I just don’t know how to take it. I work for you; I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss me senseless. It isn’t businesslike.”

  “You told me you were going to quit.”

  “Is that why?”

  “I’d like to think knowing you wanted to quit made the difference, but I’m not sure it would have mattered if you hadn’t said anything about leaving HGA, Inc. I didn’t like seeing Ed lock lips with you.”

  “I don’t know why.”

  Blake shrugged. “Around you a lot of primitive feelings come out. I get possessive. I want you, Ivy.”

  She choked on her coffee and had to stand up to stop coughing. “Forget blunt,” she wheezed, “you’re certifiable.”

  He stood up and patted her back, the feel of his hands on her anything but soothing. “Come on, honey, it can’t be that big of a surprise.”

  “It is.” She had never known another man as uninhibited in declaring his desire for her.

  Heck, she’d never known a man who wanted her with the possessive hunger Blake had exhibited since arriving earlier.

  She stepped away from him. “I’m fine now.”

  He searched her face, as if looking for signs that she needed further ministrations, and then nodded.

  They returned to their seats, but she found herself sitting next to him on the narrow sofa instead of in the chair she’d occupied earlier.

  She tried to move, but his hand locked onto her knee, and she froze as sensations she wished she could ignore washed over her.

  “Tell me about the moon thing.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear?” she couldn’t help asking.

  “Yes.”

  She marshaled her thoughts, trying to decide where to begin. She’d spent so many of her adult years trying to pretend that she was as normal as everyone else
. Now that the time had come to actually admit to her gift-slash-curse it-depends-on-how-you-look-at-it thing, her heart started hammering against her ribs.

  Her fingers curled into fists against clammy palms. “I’ve only talked about it with one person outside my family since I told my best friend, Linda Baker, in the seventh grade.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “She didn’t believe me. She said a lot of stuff that hurt.”

  “I’m not an adolescent girl.”

  “In other words, you might not believe me either, but you won’t call me a lunatic and tell me you’d rather be best friends with Angela Potter?”

  “Linda was the idiot to choose another girl over you for friendship. I was never that stupid. Not even when I was a kid.”

  She smiled. Years later and totally irrelevant, his encouragement still warmed her through. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” His fingers squeezed her knee, and jolts of sensation zinged along nerve endings that traveled a path straight to the core of her.

  She had to start talking, or she was going to lose her ability to do so. “For as long as anyone in my family can remember, puberty has caused the advent of more than a menstrual cycle for the females. It’s also when the moon magnetism starts.”

  “What is moon magnetism? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s not scientifically documented, but refers to the phenomenon that happens to the women in my family every full moon.”

  “You get magnetic?”

  “Right, only it’s not totally consistent. Sometimes things happen I don’t expect.” Like the car accidents. “And then things I least expect to be immune to me are.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “I’m sure there is a scientific explanation for that part, but I don’t know what it is. Probably something to do with the material surrounding technology I expect to be affected, or maybe a dip in my magnetism during that time.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “Of the exceptions?”

  “No, of what happens when you get magnetic.”

  “Well, you’ve already seen what happened to your watch, your Palm Pilot, and your cell phone.” What more did he want?

  “All of which can be explained by technical malfunctioning.”

  “All three at once?” Did he really believe that? Maybe it was easier to take than the bizarre truth about her messed-up body chemistry.

  “It could happen.”

  “I’m the malfunction, or at least I cause it.”

  “That’s pretty conceited of you, or paranoid, depending on how you look at it,” he said, his humor close to the surface.

  “Do you seriously think I would make this stuff up?”

  His expression turned serious. “No. I’m sure you believe what you are saying, but a few broken gadgets does not mean you’re a walking magnet every full moon.”

  “It would be a lot more than a few if I didn’t stay away from hi-tech areas during that time of month.”

  “Have you ever tested that theory?”

  “No, but, Blake, I’m not the first woman in my family to experience it. I don’t need to test the theory. I know what would happen.”

  “Family folklore is often based in fact, but it isn’t always accurately interpretive of events.”

  She should have known Blake would be this way. He and Ed had one thing in common. They were both better at dealing with concrete realities than inexplicable phenomena.

  “I’ve had four car accidents in my life, and they all happened during a full moon. Not one of them has been my fault either. It’s like the other driver couldn’t avoid hitting my car. They were drawn to me in some very strange way.”

  “If it were really a matter of you drawing the other cars, you would have had a lot more accidents than four in your lifetime.”

  He thought she’d come up with this as a way of excusing poor driving habits. “You have no idea how careful I’ve been.”

  He shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. “I’ve been in a couple of accidents myself, and I can guarantee you the moon had nothing to do with them.”

  He didn’t believe her. He wasn’t even pretending to give her a fair hearing. His skepticism was as palpable as his desire for her. She shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow she had thought he would at least try to understand, if not believe.

  “It doesn’t matter what I say to you; you’re going to explain it away as something else.”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  “But you’ll be thinking it.”

  “I can’t deny that.”

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged off his apology and his disbelief. Neither of them mattered. She wouldn’t let them matter. “Okay, fine. I’ve explained my need to leave your employment, and whether or not you accept it won’t change the outcome. I am quitting.”

  A speculative gleam entered his narrowed blue eyes. “If I can convince you that your family tradition is nothing more than an excuse for technophobia, will you stay on with HGA, Inc.?”

  “I am not a technophobe.”

  “Right.”

  Oooh . . . he was lucky steam wasn’t coming out of her ears. “Trust me when I say that you have even less chance of convincing me than I had of convincing you. And I’m not a bullheaded male too stubborn to see what’s right in front of his face.”

  He smiled at her insult. Actually smiled. “Honey, I’m not ashamed to admit that in some ways a bull and I have a lot in common.”

  “I’m talking about the head between your ears, oh, master of crude innuendo.”

  He laughed and leaned forward until his lips hovered right above hers. “I like it when you get feisty, Ivy.”

  She could taste his lips on the air between them, and that kind of thing was way too dangerous. Without giving him a chance to stop her, she slipped off the sofa and around the matching wicker coffee table.

  “Stop trying to seduce me.”

  He leaned back, and the wicker groaned again. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Because you . . . because I . . . It’s a bad idea!”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, his sleeve raising to reveal his dead Rolex. “Come to Cleveland with me tomorrow. There’s an appliance store there that specializes in guest properties. They’ve got some air-conditioning and heating units I want you to look at with me.”

  This was way worse than Linda Baker’s refusal to believe. He was not only dismissing her concerns, but he was asking her to fly in the face of them. “That would be insane.”

  “I take full responsibility for anything that happens while we are there connected to your supposed magnetism.”

  “So, if we walk into a store and all the electronic units stop working, you’ll what . . . hire a repairman?”

  “Something like that.”

  She had spent her entire life since puberty avoiding just such a situation. “No way.”

  “Give it a chance, Ivy. Look at it this way. Either I convince you that your fears are groundless, or you convince me they aren’t. Either way, the trip isn’t wasted.”

  “You’re assuming I care whether or not you believe me.”

  “I know you care. The question is, do you have enough courage to do something about it?”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

  “Then prove it to yourself.”

  “You don’t know when to give up.”

  “Sure, I do. When it’s hopeless. You are not a hopeless cause.”

  “I can only agree on one condition.” Even as she uttered the words, her mind shrieked in shock at them.

  Three

  “Name it.”

  “We don’t go anywhere my magnetism could cause lasting or irretrievable damage.”

  “I won’t take you into any data
entry offices.”

  She rolled her eyes. “For a techno-geek, you sure have a limited understanding of what can be messed up by a magnetic field.”

  “You think I’m a geek?” he asked, sounding really offended.

  “If the pocket protector fits, wear it.”

  “I don’t use a pocket protector,” he growled, sounding more like an angry wolf than a techno-geek, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

  “You use a Palm Pilot, you don’t need a pocket protector, but I bet you’ve got an attachment to carry it on your belt.”

  “So what if I have? That doesn’t make me a geek.”

  “Just because I don’t own one doesn’t make me a technophobe either.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Touché.”

  “We’ll have to take my car.”

  “Why?”

  “It doesn’t have an onboard computer, and if you want to get farther than the entrance to the parking lot, it will have to be in a car that runs on old-fashioned mechanical ingenuity.”

  “What do you drive?”

  “A ’66 Mustang.”

  He smiled. “I was afraid you were going to say a Model T.”

  “I’m not a twenty-first century anachronism, Blake. The way I live my life isn’t always my choice.”

  He nodded, looking pained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

  “No offense taken.”

  “Are you sure?” His gaze pierced her as if he was trying to read her mind. “It doesn’t bother you that I think your curse is more in the realm of family folklore than reality?”

  Put like that . . . She sighed. “Maybe a little, but I’m not mad at you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  He was getting that look in his eyes again, the one that said he was thinking about kissing her. She leaned back where she was kneeling on the other side of the coffee table. As if two more inches of distance would help. “Do you mind doing the driving?”

  “You don’t mind me driving your car?”

  “I’ve never been in an accident when I was the passenger.”

  “And you’re positive that has nothing to do with your driving . . . ,” he teased.

  She laughed, realizing he really meant no disparagement of her character. The guy had a sense of humor that needed a leash.