Playing the Playboy by Noelle Adams Page A

her several minutes.
    She told Agatha and Hector what was happening, and they didn’t even raise their eyebrows. Just nodded and went about their business.
    Laurel wasn’t exactly pleased with herself. She felt kind of sick. She needed to proceed with making a plan for saving her inn, though, and the first step was getting rid of Andrew.
    She went back to reorganizing the pantry, but she regularly checked out the window to see if he had returned. Nearly an hour later, she saw him walking down the steps.
    She went closer to the window so she could see more clearly.
    He’d been taking the stairs quickly, but he slowed halfway down, as if he’d just seen his belongings waiting for him down on the terrace.
    He was carrying several canvas bags hooked over his arms. They were bags one could get at the local grocery store.
    Laurel sucked in a breath, a new and disturbing idea coming into her mind.
    She had to go to another window in order to see the terrace. By the time she had, Andrew had reached his stuff.
    He adjusted the canvas bags onto one arm and used the other to pick up his luggage.
    Then he carried all of it—not up the stairs toward the road but toward the inn. He didn’t try to go into the lobby but instead walked around the main building, she assumed heading toward the back door that led up to the room he’d been using before.
    Laurel sucked in an outraged breath. Surely he wouldn’t… There was no way he could think about staying when she’d told him to leave.
    She ran around the building and caught up with him just as he’d reached the back door.
    “It’s locked,” she said, slightly breathless. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”
    Andrew glanced back at her, his face relaxed, almost pleasant. “Yes, I had realized that.”
    As she watched, he pulled something out of his pocket—it looked like one of those multi-tools that held dozens of handy devices in one—and, without even pausing, he flipped out a tool that looked like a thin screw driver.
    “This particular lock is quite old and should probably be replaced,” he said with a smile. He inserted the tool into the lock, jimmied it for a few seconds, and then pulled it out when they both heard the lock click. “It’s very easy to get in.”
    Laurel froze with shock and indignation as Andrew turned the doorknob and entered the building.
    When the reality had fully processed, she followed him into the hall and then into room she’d cleaned out less than an hour ago. “You’re breaking and entering!”
    “That’s only true if the inn belongs to you.” He put the pile of bags he held on the bed and shook his arms out.
    The bags must have been heavy, since he’d been carrying what would have taken her three trips to haul in.
    “It does belong to me,” she gritted out, bewildered and shocked—and absolutely hating that feeling. “Get out.”
    “Your claim on the inn is obviously under dispute. As such, I have just as much right to stay here as you. Since you can’t open for guests until this is settled, there’s obviously room for me. I won’t get in your way.”
    He spoke as if they were discussing a simple business matter, as if nothing were unusual or problematic about his behavior. As if he weren’t invading her home.
    She was almost shaking with anger, but she knew the anger was dangerous. He was completely controlled at the moment, so she needed to be too.
    “You’re planning to stay here until things are settled?”
    “Yes. I can take care of myself, so you’re welcome to ignore me if you’d like.”
    “Ignore you?” She was breathless, and her cheeks were overly warm.
    She didn’t know who this man was. He certainly wasn’t the friendly, open charmer he’d been in the days before. Or the intimate, tender lover he’d been last night.
    He wasn’t tense, wasn’t concerned, wasn’t revealing any sort of emotion at all.
    And it hurt.
    It hurt that what was so important to her was obviously not important to