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something that he could respect.
    A relationship with him was doomed. She would never be anything more than Nikki was to him, and despite her jealousy of the model, Kirsten didn’t want the same relationship with Seth that Nikki had. No, she wanted her own, on her own terms. She was not like Nikki, who when things didn’t work out with one man would just hop in a different man’s bed. Kirsten was almost certain Nikki had spent last night with Rick.
    Now that the barbecue festivities were over, she couldn’t wait for the houseguests to leave, but she didn’t set the schedule—Seth did. And he was making no effort to have his New York buddies return home.
    Reminding herself over and over again, she told herself she had to have this job. If she feared there was even the remotest possibility that she might fall in love with Seth, she knew she wouldhave to leave. It would prove a disaster to everyone. Just everyone.
    But mostly it would prove a disaster to her. Because she knew in her heart that if she ever fell for Seth, she would fall hard, and there wouldn’t be a place on this green earth that she could go that would exorcise him from her heart. And then, like her own mother, without even knowing love she would be finished with it. Forever.
    She glanced down at the empty wineglass. Feeling downright morose, she watched Nikki and Rick romp in the pool, cooling off after the hours in the sun at the barbecue. Their laughter chilled her, and the only thing she could think of that might help the hole in her soul was another glass of wine and a long, bitter soak in the bath very far away from anything relating to Seth Morgan.

Seven
    K irsten was surprised by Seth’s quick return. He was back in twenty-four hours. She was even more surprised by his foul mood. However, he wasn’t any worse for the wear, because of his private jet.
    â€œI want all of the letters cc’d to Mary, and I want the originals for my files,” he dictated, his imperious self sitting at the large oak desk in the living room.
    He reminded her of a gruff old bear, one that had a thorn in his paw. Kirsten wrote carefully, making sure she got everything he told her.
    â€œAnd I want—” he growled.
    She squelched a giggle.
    He drilled her with his stare. “Is there something funny, Miss Meadows?”
    She adamantly shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all, sir.”
    But it was a fib. She found even their conversation ridiculous. They spoke like two strangers when they were not strangers at all.
    The more irritated he looked, the more she wanted to laugh.
    â€œPlease share the joke with everyone, Miss Meadows.”
    Her self-control melted. He’d sounded like her junior high school geography teacher.
    â€œForgive me, I’ve just got a case of the giggles, I guess.” She hiccuped, holding her mouth tight against any further laughter.
    He assessed her, his expression dour. “When you’re through with this, that will be all for the night.”
    She stood. “I’ll get it done right now.”
    â€œFine.” He dismissed her and watched her go, those icy eyes hooded and inscrutable.
    She went into the utility room where the office machines were hooked up. Within ten minutes she had written the memos and faxed them. When she returned to the great room in order togo upstairs for bed, she saw Seth through the large windows. He had already mounted Noir and was going down the road at a lope.
    He was taking an evening ride—without her.
    She swallowed her annoyance and resentment.
    Her feelings were entirely irrational, she told herself again and again. Her status in the household meant she held fewer rights than Viola, and she certainly didn’t see the housekeeper pining to go for an evening ride with the boss.
    Depressed, she went to her room, bathed and slipped on her comfortable old flannel robe. Thinking she might borrow a book from the great room, she walked