LITMIR.BIZ

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couldn’t believe he’d run out of the store like a blushing teenager stumbling over his own tongue. He tried to tell himself that it was his low blood sugar, but he’d eaten enough of those amazing snickerdoodles to raise his glucose levels through the roof. Hopefully, it was just the lack of protein doing a real number on him.

      It couldn’t possibly be the way the beautiful single mom had pulled her hair free from its rubber band and had shaken out the silky locks right in front of him.

      He hadn’t seen hair that thick and luscious since... Well, since...he didn’t know when. Megan Adams had such a natural beauty and such a wholesome way about her—just like the cheerleaders in high school he used to pine after, the ones who hadn’t even known he’d existed.

      In fact, Megan probably had been a cheerleader and one of the girls who wouldn’t have given him the time of day back then. Probably still wouldn’t, at least in his Peyton Johnson persona.

      Hell, after looking at some of the invoices and computer records while she’d been out playing soccer mom, he had to wonder if she even knew the store existed.

      The books were a disaster—from the bookkeeping to the mounds of overdue repairs. Clay definitely had his work cut out for him.

      Clearly, Megan was in over her head and no amount of homemade cookies would make up for the fact that some immediate personnel changes would need to be made.

      How was he going to turn the store around and not let on who he was?

      Already he’d made the slip about Mia Hamm to Megan’s daughter. Clay actually did know the World Cup–winning soccer player. He knew a lot of professional athletes and celebrities, thanks to all the charity events he supported and attended. And most of the athletes he associated with knew that they couldn’t float through life on athleticism alone—unlike Todd Redding and some of the other guys on the high school football team. Not that Megan’s daughter, with her matching braids and grass-stained knees, was anything like the jocks who used to pick on him back then.

      Still, if he wasn’t careful, he’d blow his cover before he got through the first day. He needed to get away from all that luscious red hair and those big brown eyes so he wouldn’t get soft and say something that would give him away.

      Taking a break and getting some solid food, like one of Caroline’s juicy cheeseburgers, in his stomach would help.

      Normally, he steered away from red meat and fried foods—ever since he’d moved to California, in fact. It had been part of his attempt to create a new identity to go along with the successful life he’d built for himself.

      But he decided that he might as well enjoy a burger and fries now, then get back to healthier choices once he figured out where he could find the nearest Whole Foods Market.

      As he strode past the ice-cream store—damn, there were a lot of temptations in this town—his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID, needing to make sure he answered with the right identity. After all, only his assistant knew Clay Jenkins and Peyton Johnson were the same man.

      The display read Don Carpenter.

      It was about time the store manager called him back. Where was he on a work day? And why in the world would he leave Clay’s precious start-up business in the hands of that gorgeous but distracted and incompetent woman?

      “This is Peyton Johnson,” he answered.

      “Don Carpenter here. I’m so sorry I missed your call earlier. I’m at the Brighton Valley Medical Center with my wife. They were running some tests when you rang.”

      Clay understood medical issues and emergencies came up, but why hadn’t Don called to cancel their appointment? And why hadn’t he hired a reputable backup employee?

      “You and I were supposed to meet at noon today,” Clay said.

      “I could have sworn we scheduled that for Wednesday.”

      “Today is Wednesday.”

      “Oh, dear. Normally I take my Cindy in for her treatments on Tuesdays, which I did yesterday. But she passed out early this morning, and I had to bring her in to see her doctor today, and now they’re running tests. So that’s thrown me off-kilter. I’m sorry.”

      Cindy must be Don’s wife, and the treatments he mentioned had to be pretty serious if they routinely took place at the hospital each week. Clay couldn’t very well chastise the man for missing work because of his sick wife.

      “Don’t worry about it,” Clay said. “I met with Megan. She showed me around and gave me access to everything I need to get started.”

      “Oh, good. Megan’s a great gal. And she’s been a big help at the store. The customers love her fresh-baked goods. Single mom, you know, with those two sweet kids.”

      Clay didn’t know if sweet was the right word to describe Lisa and Tyler. In fact, one of those kids had been suspended today for not being sweet at all. Of course, Clay could forgive the kid his hacking attempts in an effort to even the score with a class bully. After all, he’d certainly been in Tyler’s shoes back in the day. If Clay stuck around long enough, he’d have to...

      Wait a second. What was he thinking?

      “Megan’s been a godsend,” Don added. As he continued to sing her praises, Clay wondered if they were talking about the same woman.

      “But you won’t meet her when you come into town tomorrow,” Don added. “Wednesday is her normal day off.”

      “Today is Wednesday,” Clay repeated. “I’m in town now.”

      The conversation had just made a complete circle, and Clay was no more informed about the happenings at Zorba’s than he’d been three hours ago.

      “You’re right,” Don said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. But I’m afraid I have to hang up now. The doctor is coming with Cindy’s results. I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow, Mr. Johnson.”

      Clay ended the call, then looked at the phone in his hand and blew out a sigh.

      No wonder the shop was falling apart. Don was so caught up with his sick wife that he couldn’t focus on the store. In fact, he’d had to hire in help—and incompetent help at that.

      Did Clay even dare leave Megan alone long enough to grab a bite to eat?

Chapter Three

      Clay opened the glass door to Caroline’s Diner and scanned the interior of the small-town eatery, with its pale yellow walls and white café-style curtains on the front windows.

      To the right of an old-fashioned cash register stood a refrigerated display case filled with desserts—each one clearly homemade. He studied the towering meringues and whipped-cream toppings on the pies, the four-layer chocolate cake, the deep-dish peach cobbler.

      He glanced at a blackboard that advertised a full meal for only $7.99. In bright yellow chalk, Caroline had written, “What the Sheriff Ate,” followed by, “Chicken-Fried Steak, Buttered Green Beans, Mashed Potatoes, Country Gravy and Cherry Cobbler.”

      The advertised special sounded delicious, but Clay had his heart set on a cheeseburger. Besides, he’d had a near run-in with Caroline’s husband, Sheriff Jennings, once. And the old man had been sixty pounds overweight back then.

      Clay doubted if the law enforcement officer could even buckle his gun belt after eating daily meals like that for the past seven years. Of course, Sam Jennings had to be retired by now.

      Sally, a salt-and-pepper-haired waitress who’d worked at the diner back when Clay had been in high school—and probably much longer than that—stopped by his table and smiled. “Can I get you something to drink?”

      “Water will be fine.”

      “Our iced tea is fresh brewed. How ’bout I get

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