LITMIR.BIZ

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as being a famous architect, with clients who are desperate to have my name on their building, but I don’t want a business empire. I simply enjoy feeding people.”

      Tyler’s face chilled. “Being able to call it a Prentiss building isn’t the only reason people want my designs. I’m good at what I do.”

      Apparently she’d touched a nerve again.

      “I’m sure you’re an excellent architect,” Sarah said, debating whether she should explain that she knew about the investigation in Illinois. No, she decided, taking another look at his arctic expression.

      A gremlin inside of her wanted to goad him, but she didn’t think it was wise. It might be like catching a tiger by the tail—both hanging on and letting go would be equally dangerous.

      “Then you’ll accept my professional assessment of your building,” Tyler said.

      Sarah lifted her chin. The offer of free advice was tempting, but she didn’t want to be put under an obligation and couldn’t afford to hire him.

      “I’m not helpless and I’m quite capable of taking care of it by myself,” she told Tyler. “I’m sure you have more important things to do with your time.”

      “You don’t need to get huff—” Tyler stopped, apparently rethinking what he’d intended to say. “That is, I know you’re capable. But you aren’t an architect. I expect to be in Glimmer Creek until my mom and brother leave. Why don’t I take a look at the analysis from the building office when it comes, along with the blueprints for your building? I’d be happy to make recommendations.”

      She knew quite well he’d started to say she was getting huffy and rolled her eyes. In her opinion, huffy was gender-specific. If she’d called him that, he would have felt his masculinity was being threatened. That was another point in Theo’s favor—he didn’t get in a tizzy about his manhood, though being a neutered cat, he might not feel he had that much to defend.

      Sarah gave herself a shake. Her thoughts tended to drift when she was tired, and she still had to clear out the register and take care of a dozen other things before she could go home.

      “That was sarcastic, not huffy,” she returned, and Tyler looked faintly embarrassed. “But I’m not making any decisions until I’m more rested and have done more evaluation of my own.”

      “I understand. Maybe you can assist me in return.”

      Sarah was instantly wary. “How?”

      “I’ve contacted over a dozen general practitioners in Stockton to get an appointment for Nathan, but the earliest slot for a new patient isn’t for two or three weeks. Do you have any contacts who could help? Maybe someone in your family?”

      “Go to the Glimmer Creek clinic. No appointment needed.”

      “I noticed there was a clinic in town, but I’d prefer someone in private practice.”

      Sarah gave him an exasperated look. “Give me a break. The GC clinic is brand-new and state-of-the-art. All of our medical professionals work out of it, but I’d recommend Dr. Romano for your brother. He was a reservist who served in the air force during the first Gulf War. Just call and ask when he’s there.”

      Tyler nodded. “Okay. Do you mind if I wander around and take measurements, just in case you decide to accept my opinion on your renovations?” He pulled a tape measure from his pocket along with a small notebook.

      “You brought a tape measure?”

      “It’s a habit. If you don’t let me do some innocent checking, my mother’s feelings may be hurt. She really hopes I can come up with a solution for you.”

      Invoking Rosemary’s feelings was dirty pool. “Fine. Do some measuring. Just stay out of everyone’s way. Would you like a cup of coffee before I empty the coffee makers?”

      “Sure. Decaf if you have it, regular otherwise.”

      Sarah poured him a large to-go cup of decaf and cleaned the coffee makers, then put the now day-old baked items into plastic bags.

      “Don’t you have someone who can do that?” Tyler asked.

      “Somebody comes later to clean, but we take care of the coffee machines immediately and bag the day-old items.”

      “What about those?” He gestured to the loaves of bread she’d kept separate.

      “They’ll be made into croutons. Croutons are popular in the shop, and we also use them for our restaurant and catering needs.”

      Leaving Tyler to roam the building by himself, Sarah took the contents of the till back to the office and got it ready for the bank’s night drop box. The shift supervisor cosigned the slip, and Sarah sealed the deposit in a large envelope.

      “Hey, guys, I’ll be right back,” she told the kitchen crew. They waved, used to her going to the bank each evening.

      The swing shift was the smallest, except when they were catering a dinner. Luckily in Glimmer Creek, there were plenty of people willing to work on an as-needed basis.

      Tyler was sitting at a table by the front window, pouring over figures in his notebook, presumably the measurements. She just couldn’t see what he hoped to do with them without knowing the proposed regulations.

      “Um, are you done yet?” Sarah asked, wanting to push him out the door.

      “I have a bit more to do. Your candy chef said she takes a break at eight, so I’m waiting till then to finish my measurements in the smaller kitchen.”

      * * *

      TYLER FOUGHT BACK a smile at the harried look on Sarah’s face. She hadn’t agreed to accept his advice, but the more she resisted, the more he wanted her to take it. The situation was unusual for him, to say the least. He was no longer accustomed to pursuing clients and certainly not to being turned down for a free consultation.

      “Fine. I’m going to the bank with the night deposit.”

      Sarah unlocked the door and went outside. Tyler found himself watching as she walked up the street, her hips swaying gently. The late sun glinted like platinum fire on her hair, and he shifted uneasily, more physically aware of her than he wanted to be.

      As she turned to cross, a motorcycle came roaring up the street and veered toward her. Tyler jumped to his feet as the rider reached for the thick envelope she carried. The biker missed, but pushed Sarah hard enough that she went down.

      Tyler ran outside as he dialed 911 on his cell. The emergency operator answered on the first ring.

      “A motorcyclist just tried to rob Sarah Fullerton, half a block southeast from her business,” he said concisely. “Across from the bank. They hit her and drove off.”

      “Yes, sir. Please stay on the phone while I dispatch officers to the scene.”

      Sarah was sitting up when he got there, dazed, but still clutching the envelope.

      “I’ve called the police,” Tyler explained, trying to determine if she was badly hurt. “Do you need an ambulance?”

      “No, and I don’t need the police, either. It was just a motorcyclist who doesn’t know how to steer.”

      “Somebody tried to rob you, Sarah,” he announced bluntly, anger burning through him. “I was watching, and there’s no question the biker was reaching for the envelope. He also struck you and left. That’s hit-and-run.”

      A hum of agreement came from the onlookers who’d gathered.

      Sarah tried to get up, and he insisted she stay put. “You need to be checked first.” Tyler heard a voice from his phone and put it to his ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

      “I’ve dispatched paramedics, sir,” the dispatcher said. “May I have your name, phone number and address?”

      Tyler

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