No Place Like Home Read Online Free Page A

out a house for sale.

    He had vanished across a big room, crowded with desks and file cabinets, and into a smaller office. Kaye decided that she could either follow him or stand there and scream in frustration, so she trailed across the big room after him.

    He was already tugging a sheaf of papers out of the inside pocket of his overcoat.

    “ The paperwork on your car is not why I’m here,” she said briskly. “I want to buy a house.”

    “ Oh, in that case...” He pushed the papers back into the pocket and waved her to a chair. “What kind of a house? How large? What part of town? Do you have one to sell before you start looking for a new one? What sort of price range—”

    “ You can’t be a very effective salesperson if you don’t listen to the customer,” she pointed out coolly.

    He grinned at her and leaned back in his chair. “I’m all ears,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve found we get somewhere faster if I get some basic information from the client first, like what kind of neighborhood you prefer and whether you like old houses or new ones.”

    “ I haven’t even said that I want to work with you, Mr.—”

    “ If you don’t, why did you come into this particular branch office?”

    “ Because I didn’t know you’d be here!” Kaye snapped.

    His eyes, she noticed, were dark blue, and at the moment they were suspiciously bright. “I gave you my card.”

    “ I lost it,” she admitted, finally. “I had no idea you worked here.” Damn, she thought. Why did I have to lose that business card? It’s not like me to be so careless, and it’s dreadfully embarrassing not even to know his name!

    “ Somehow,” he murmured, “that doesn’t surprise me. This is apparently not my lucky week. Fortunately, I am always up to a challenge. So tell me about the kind of house you want, Miss Reardon.”

    “ I think I’d be happier working with someone who will take me seriously.”

    “ Oh, when it comes to commissions, I take things very seriously,” he assured her. “If you’d like another copy of my card...”

    She took the bit of beige pasteboard with reluctance. His name was Brendan McKenna, it said. That figures, she reflected. He’s as Irish as they make them. The dark blue eyes completed that improbable combination of black hair and fair skin that made the Celtic Irish so very attractive.

    And I’ll bet he’s kissed the Blarney Stone a time or two as well, she thought. A woman of sense would walk out right now, Kaye Reardon, before he really gets warmed up.

    On the other hand, she reminded herself, he had displayed not even a flicker of temper when she had banged up his car, and he had come back to help her get rid of the ice on her windows. If it hadn’t been for his assistance, she would never have made it back to her apartment in time to keep her date, and Graham would have gone off in a huff instead of proposing, and she wouldn’t be here looking for a house at all.

    Perhaps Mr. McKenna deserves the benefit of the doubt .

    “ Why do I get the feeling,” he mused, “that there’s a piece of spinach stuck between my front teeth?”

    “ What?”

    “ It’s the way you’re looking at me,” he pointed out.

    “ I’m sorry.”

    “ Oh, please, don’t let’s start that again. If I’ve passed inspection, perhaps you’ll tell me about your house now.”

    What difference does it make? Kaye thought. Someone was going to sell her a house and collect the sales commission; why shouldn’t it be Brendan McKenna? It would certainly make up to him for the inconvenience she’d caused by battering his car. She passed her list across the desk.

    He read the first line and his eyebrows went straight up. “ Five bedrooms?” he murmured. “Do you run an orphanage in your spare time, Miss Reardon?”

    “ My fiancé and I plan to have a family,” she said with composure.

    “ I see.” It was perfectly bland.

    “ A small family,” she said, and wished that her