LITMIR.BIZ

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“He sold old lady Bates a car and told her the engine was optional equipment.”

      She laughed in spite of herself. “It’s not a bad old truck,” she countered. “It just needs a few things…”

      He glanced at the rear tire and nodded. “Yes. An overhauled engine, a paint job, reupholstered seats, a tailgate that works. And a rear tire that isn’t bald.” He pointed toward it. “Get that replaced,” he said shortly. “You can afford a tire even on what you make teaching.”

      She gaped at him. “Listen here, Mr. Scott…” she began haughtily.

      “You know my name, Sally,” he said bluntly, and his eyes were steady, intimidating. “As for the tire, it isn’t a request,” he replied flatly, staring her down. “You’ve got some new neighbors out your way that I don’t like the look of. You can’t afford a breakdown in the middle of the night on that lonely stretch of road.”

      She drew herself up to her full height, so that the top of her head came to his chin. He really was ridiculously tall…

      “This is the twenty-first century, and women are capable of looking after themselves….” she said heatedly.

      “I can do without a current events lecture,” he cut her off again, moving to peer under the hood. He propped one enormous booted foot on the fender and studied the engine, frowned, pulled out a pocketknife and went to work.

      “It’s my truck!” she fumed, throwing up her hands in exasperation.

      “It’s half a ton of metal without an engine that works.”

      She grimaced. She hated not being able to fix it herself, to have to depend on this man, of all people, for help. She wouldn’t let herself think about the cost of having a mechanic make a road service call to get the stupid thing started. Looking at his lean, capable hands brought back painful memories as well. She knew the tenderness of them on concealed skin, and her whole body erupted with sensation.

      Less than two minutes later, he repocketed his knife. “Try it now,” he said.

      She got in behind the wheel. The engine turned noisily, pouring black smoke out of the tailpipe.

      He paused beside the open window of the truck, his pale green eyes piercing her face. “Bad rings and valves,” he pointed out. “Maybe an oil leak. Either way, you’re in for some major repairs. Next time, don’t buy from Turkey Sanders, and I don’t give a damn if he is a relative.”

      “Don’t you give me orders,” she said haughtily.

      That eyebrow lifted again. “Habit. How’s Jess?”

      She frowned. “Do you know my aunt Jessie?”

      “Quite well,” he said. “I knew your uncle Hank. He and I served together.”

      “In the military?”

      He didn’t answer her. “Do you have a gun?”

      She was so confused that she stammered. “Wh…what?”

      “A gun,” he repeated. “Do you have any sort of weapon and can you use it?”

      “I don’t like guns,” she said flatly. “Anyway, I won’t have one in the house with a six-year-old child, so it’s no use telling me to buy one.”

      He was thinking. His face tautened. “How about self-defense?”

      “I teach second grade,” she pointed out. “Most of my students don’t attack me.”

      “I’m not worried about you at school. I told you, I don’t like the look of your neighbors.” He wasn’t adding that he knew who they were and why they were in town.

      “Neither do I,” she admitted. “But it’s none of your business…”

      “It is,” he returned. “I promised Hank that I’d take care of Jess if he ever bought it overseas. I keep my promises.”

      “I can take care of my aunt.”

      “Not anymore you can’t,” he returned, unabashed. “I’m coming over tomorrow.”

      “I may not be home…”

      “Jess will be. Besides, tomorrow is Saturday,” he said. “You came in for supplies this afternoon and you don’t teach on the weekend. You’ll be home.” His tone said she’d better be.

      She gave an exasperated sound. “Mr. Scott…”

      “I’m only Mr. Scott to my enemies,” he pointed out.

      “Yes, well, Mr. Scott…”

      He let out an angry sigh and stared her down. “You were so young,” he bit off. “What did you expect me to do, seduce you in the cab of a pickup truck in broad daylight?”

      She flushed red as a rose petal. “I wasn’t talking about that!”

      “It’s still in your eyes,” he told her quietly. “I’d rather have done it in a way that hadn’t left so many scars, but I had to discourage you. The whole damned thing was impossible, you must have realized that by now!”

      She hated the embarrassment she felt. “I don’t have scars!”

      “You do.” He studied her oval face, her softly rounded chin, her perfect mouth. “I’ll be over tomorrow. I need to talk to you and Jess. There have been some developments that she doesn’t know about.”

      “What sort of developments?”

      He closed the hood of the truck and paused by her window. “Drive carefully,” he said, ignoring the question. “And get that tire changed.”

      “I am not a charity case,” she said curtly. “I don’t take orders. And I definitely do not need some big, strong man to take care of me!”

      He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. He turned on his heel and walked back to his own truck with a stride that was peculiarly his own.

      Sally was so shaken that she barely managed to get the truck out of town without stripping the gears out of it.

      JESSICA MYERS WAS IN HER BEDROOM listening to the radio and her son, Stevie, was watching a children’s after-school television program when Sally came in. She unloaded the supplies first with the help of her six-year-old cousin.

      “You got me that cereal from the TV commercial!” he exclaimed, diving into bags as she put the perishable items into the refrigerator. “Thanks, Aunt Sally!” Although they were cousins, he referred to her as his aunt out of affection and respect.

      “You’re very welcome. I got some ice cream, too.”

      “Wow! Can I have some now?”

      Sally laughed. “Not until after supper, and you have to eat some of everything I fix. Okay?”

      “Aw. Okay, I guess,” he muttered, clearly disappointed.

      She bent and kissed him between his dark eyes. “That’s my good boy. Here, I brought some nice apples and pears. Wash one off and eat it. Fruit is good for you.”

      “Okay. But it’s not as nice as ice cream.”

      He washed off a pear and carried it into the living room on a paper towel to watch television.

      Sally went into Jessica’s bedroom, hesitating at the foot of the big four-poster bed. Jessica was slight, blond and hazel-eyed. Her eyes stared at nothing, but she smiled as she recognized Sally’s step.

      “I heard the truck,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to go to town for supplies after working all day and bringing Stevie home first.”

      “I never mind shopping,” Sally said with genuine affection. “You doing all right?”

      Jessica shifted on the pillows. She was dressed in sweats,

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