LITMIR.BIZ

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on fire!”

      He yanked the towel off her shoulder and flung it to the floor. It was engulfed in flames. He stomped out the fire, then spun her around and swatted her back, shoulders and backside. Which didn’t feel terrible, but still…

      “Hey, hey, hey!” she yelled, slapping at his hands.

      He stepped back, then jammed his hands on his hips. “Are you okay?”

      She twisted to look at her clothes. They were singed and smoking, but intact. “I think so. The towel must’ve touched the grill.”

      He grunted. She could tell he was already sorry he’d hired her.

      Oh, well, she’d just have to change his mind. She smiled prettily and batted her eyelashes. “Should I take some more orders?”

      “No,” he said with a frown. “We’re going to close for the rest of the day so I can try to hire back some former employees.” His frown deepened. “And so I can get an extra fire extinguisher.”

      She swallowed a sheepish smile. “What do you want me to do?”

      The words left her mouth innocently enough, but once they reached the space between them that was charged with tension, they took on a weighted meaning. Images of the possibilities of what he might want her to do darted through her mind, sending her temperature higher than the fire she’d started. For a split second, she thought she saw desire flash in his eyes, too. But if so, it was gone just as quickly.

      She thought about the comment the woman in the hair salon had made about Marcus Armstrong not liking women. Alicia definitely felt his animosity, and wondered if he sensed hers, though she was doing her best to keep it hidden.

      “You can get settled into the boardinghouse,” he said, his voice gruff. “Ask for Regina, she’ll find you a room. Be back here in two hours, ready to work.”

      Oh, she would be ready to work, Alicia thought. Ready to work on him. Because if Marcus Armstrong was one of those old-fashioned men who thought women were frivolous, silly and subordinate, she’d happily be the female to bring him to his knees.

      7

      Alicia stood at the window of the plain but comfortable room she’d been assigned in the enormous and bustling boardinghouse. To her right, an orange sun melted into a pink-and-red sunset bleeding over a black mountain range. It was the stuff of Hollywood movie backgrounds—a surreal backdrop for a surreal little town.

      The movie The Stepford Wives came to mind.

      She held her cell phone to her ear and listened as it rang on the other end. She expected to leave a voice message for her mother, but Candace answered.

      “Hello? Alicia?”

      “Yeah, Mom, it’s me. I’m just checking in. Looks like I’ll be staying here for a while.”

      “Oh? I’m disappointed you won’t be coming back right away. Is Sweetness as pretty as it sounds?”

      Alicia absorbed the calming view and exhaled. “Yes,” she admitted. “Very pretty. But it’s also very humid, and there are lots of bugs.”

      Candace laughed. “You always hated insects of any kind. Bo asked me to ask if his truck is okay.”

      Alicia thought of the monogrammed panties that had rolled out from under the front seat. “The truck is fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “Is everything okay there?”

      “Sure,” her mother said cheerfully.

      Too cheerfully.

      “So, have you met any mountain men?” Candace asked, her voice breezy.

      “My boss,” Alicia said idly. “I took a job in a diner to pass the time.”

      “A diner? Are they aware of your little problem with pyromania?”

      Alicia frowned. “I don’t set fires…not on purpose, anyway.”

      “Is he cute, your boss?”

      Alicia shifted her gaze to the diner across the street just as Marcus Armstrong himself emerged to lock the door behind him. Unbidden, her vital signs increased.

      “No.” No one could accuse the man of being cute. After spending a couple of hours with him and the handful of waitresses he’d hired back, listening to his expectations for the eatery, she’d developed a list of adjectives for him—tough, opinionated and unyielding. But not cute.

      “Oh, well,” Candace said, “there are other more important qualities in a partner.”

      She turned her back to the window. “Mom, I’m not looking for a partner.”

      “I know.”

      Candace sighed and Alicia realized her mother was talking to herself as much as to her daughter, perhaps coming around to the belief that her “cute” boyfriend wasn’t all he was cracked up to be.

      “How do you like your bracelet?” her mother asked.

      Guilt seized Alicia. She touched her bare wrist where her mother had fastened the bracelet that morning. Sometime during the day she’d lost it, but hadn’t noticed until she’d undressed to take a shower.

      “I love it,” she said, which was the truth. She only hoped it was in the pickup truck somewhere.

      “Good,” Candace said, her voice infused with pleasure. “I’m asking because I’m thinking about starting my own jewelry business.”

      “That’s terrific, Mom. You’d be good at it, and you have great contacts in retail.” She wet her lips. “What does Bo think about the idea?”

      “I haven’t mentioned it to him yet.”

      “Maybe it’s something you should keep to yourself for now,” Alicia suggested. “Until you work out all the details.” Or else Bo would probably plant doubts in her mother’s head. She hated that Candace was so easily influenced by men who didn’t have her best interests in mind.

      “Maybe you’re right,” Candace agreed, her voice distant.

      Alicia’s phone beeped. She glanced at the screen to see her boss, Nina, was calling. “Mom, I need to take another call. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

      “Of course, dear. Good luck with your story.”

      “Thanks, Mom. Goodbye.” Alicia disconnected the call. Worry over her mother niggled her stomach, but she’d learned long ago not to get involved in her parents’ relationships. Eventually, the players would change anyway.

      She connected the second call. “Hi, Nina.”

      “Just checking in to make sure you weren’t kid-napped…or worse.”

      “No,” Alicia said with a laugh. “I got a job working in the town diner. I figure I can talk to a lot of people that way.”

      “You’re a waitress?”

      “I’m the manager and, for now, the cook.”

      “You? The woman who set the microwave on fire in the break room?”

      Alicia frowned. “That was a faulty bag of popcorn.”

      “Right. Did you give your real name?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Won’t that be a problem when you provide your social security number?”

      “I’ll figure out something to stall the paperwork.”

      “No doubt. Have you met any of the Neanderthals?”

      “I’m working for the head Neanderthal, Marcus Armstrong.”

      “You’re kidding.”

      “He’s overhauling

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