LITMIR.BIZ

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concern lacing his tone. Not to mention his certainty that she would have been in Joyful if she’d been able. She’d figured other people would notice her absence at the funeral and make some negative assumptions. Not Johnny.

      His unexpected confidence in her was a strong reminder of one thing she’d tried to forget in her years away from this place. Though he hadn’t known her long, Johnny Walker had known her better than anyone else. She’d spilled her most secret heart to him in the few short hours they’d shared together.

      The acknowledgement almost hurt, making her flinch.

      He glanced over. “You okay? In pain? Emma?”

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “We’re almost to the house. If you want to give me your keys, I’ll get somebody to bring your car over later.”

      Keys. The keys! She looked at him sheepishly. “I’m so sorry, Johnny, I forgot. I don’t have keys to the house. I have to go by and pick them up from the Realtor.”

      He stiffened.

      “I really hate to be such a bother.”

      “It’s not a bother,” he insisted. “But, knowing there’s only one realty office in town, can I assume you mean Jimbo Boyd’s place?”

      At her nod, she heard him give an audible sigh. Then he looked at his watch. “It’s twenty till six.” He lowered his voice, almost as if speaking to himself. “The office should be closed by now. I’m sure she’s…the secretary’s…left.”

      She shrugged. “Probably. But I told Mr. Boyd I’d be getting in around dinnertime. He said he’d be working late on some paperwork and that I should just knock if the front door was locked.”

      The tenseness in his shoulders appeared to ease a bit. “Okay, no problem,” he said with a nod as he pulled over to turn the SUV around. “Let’s go to Mr. Boyd’s office.”

      

      THOUGH SHE’D RAISED her voice and refused to budge out of the way, Daneen Walker had finally realized that nothing short of the miraculous landing of a spaceship in the middle of the street—or possibly a blue-light special on support hose—was going to prevent Cora Dillon from barreling into the Boyd Realty office. The woman was as relentless about her money as she was about her gossiping, and she wanted to get paid now.

      She didn’t see a spaceship, and the closest K-Mart was miles away, but Daneen got a miracle, anyway. The rumble of an engine pulling up along the front curb made Cora take a step back and turn around so Daneen could come all the way outside.

      “Isn’t that Johnny?” Cora asked. She moved one work-worn hand up to shield her eyes from the late-afternoon sun shining directly onto the front of the building.

      Daneen nodded, recognizing the SUV. Her heart sank and her stomach tightened. As if Cora wasn’t bad enough, now she had to try to act naturally in front of Johnny? This was bad. Johnny Walker knew her better than just about anyone. He usually saw through her lies whenever she tried to tell one. He had that prosecutor thing down pat, as Daneen had learned more than once in the years since she’d been related to the man.

      She should’ve hung up on Jimbo as soon as she’d heard his voice last night. Or never answered the phone to begin with, since she had caller ID. Then she might not have been such a pushover this afternoon and wouldn’t have been caught unaware by the biggest busybody in town…and by Johnny.

      Since Cora was no more able to turn her eyes away from the hunkiest, most talked-about man in Joyful than any other female, Daneen took advantage of her distraction and risked a quick button-check of her blouse and skirt. All clear.

      “Who’s that with him?” Cora continued.

      Daneen hadn’t even noticed the other occupant of the car. Like Cora, she shielded her eyes, tightening her jaw as she spied a woman’s blond head inside the vehicle. “I have no idea.”

      Then Johnny was out of the car, walking around to the passenger’s side. He looked up and saw them, but instead of returning Daneen’s friendly wave, he froze, as if surprised to see her. Why he’d be surprised to see her standing outside her own place of employment, she couldn’t say.

      Nor could Daneen say much of anything else when the other door of his SUV opened and a long, slim female leg slid out. The day suddenly seemed to get a little cloudier, and the mouthful of air she’d just inhaled turned stale in her lungs.

      Daneen tensed, watching Johnny square up those big, broad shoulders of his, then help the woman out. They exchanged a few words as he easily lifted her down.

      The blonde leaned into him, hobbling a bit as they approached the front of the building. Daneen rolled her eyes…typical woman’s trick, she’d used it herself. A twisted ankle was a good way to get chest to chest with any hunky male with a hero complex. Straight Vixen-101 stuff.

      The question remained—who was the blond-haired bimbo trying women’s tricks on Johnny Walker, the man Daneen had grown used to thinking of as her personal property?

      

      IF JOHNNY hadn’t already gotten out of the truck by the time he spotted Daneen standing outside Jimbo’s office, he would have come up with some lame excuse and driven away. The last thing he wanted was to bring the two women face-to-face within the first hour of Emma Jean’s arrival back in town.

      Too late now. Emma wanted her key, and Daneen would be even more angry if she realized they’d tried to avoid her. Nor would Emma consider staying in the truck. She wanted to speak to Mr. Boyd and no twisted ankle was going to stop her. Besides, she insisted she was already feeling better—an outright lie if he’d ever heard one, given the way her lips trembled and her eyes teared up when she tried to stand up unaided.

      “’Evening,” Johnny said with a nod as they approached the front door. Emma was leaning into his side, his arm supporting her around her waist as comfortable and easy as could be. Only a cardiologist would have been able to tell his heart was beating hard enough to bust out of his chest. He told himself it was merely the thought of having to deal with Emma and Daneen together. But somewhere, deep inside his gut, he knew it was more likely because of the way Emma felt pressed against his side.

      Just about perfect.

      “Mrs. Dillon,” he said, easily recognizing the dour-faced woman standing beside Daneen.

      Cora Dillon had once worked as a lunch lady at the Joyful Primary School and now did cleaning work wherever she could get it. He half expected her to rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon, the way she would way back in second grade when he’d try to sneak an extra piece of fruit from the lunch line. “Reduced price lunch for poor folks means one apple, Mr. Walker,” she’d say, loud enough for every kid in the cafeteria to hear. “And no cookie!”

      That pretty much summed up his childhood. One apple and no cookie. Some steely-eyed adult like Mrs. Dillon always seemed to be around to make sure no trashy Walker kid tried to snitch anything more than his charitable due.

      He half wished the old woman would get charged with jaywalking, or lifting a piece of candy out of the Brach’s sampler display at the grocery store without paying for it.

      There was one case he’d sure as hell prosecute.

      Mrs. Dillon gave what for her probably passed as a friendly smile. “Mr. Walker,” she said in greeting.

      Johnny kept his hands well out of spoon range, just in case, even though he knew she couldn’t very well rap the knuckles of the county prosecutor. Particularly not when one of her own rowdy grandsons was a recent beneficiary of Johnny’s goodwill toward the high-spirited youth of Joyful.

      “Nice to see you, ma’am,” he replied, every bit as evenly.

      Then the woman turned her attention on Emma Jean, studying her like someone might study a particularly difficult crossword puzzle or riddle.

      “This is Emma Jean Frasier. I’m sure

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