LITMIR.BIZ

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Porter sat in her car and waited at the end of the line for gas, all the while watching the mechanic in the garage to the right of the filling station. He wore traditional blue coveralls, and she could tell he had thick, jet-black hair, broad shoulders and a lean waist, but that was it.

      She’d left her apartment in Atlanta, packed her things for an indefinite stay and then driven 120 miles to Claremont, Alabama, to see the man and convince him to share his love letters with the world. And now he had his head tucked under the hood of a car.

      “Come on, turn around.” Her plea was interrupted when an older version of Richard Gere tapped on her window. Destiny rolled it down. “Yes?”

      “Ma’am, I can’t reach your tank unless you pull up to the pump.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what held her attention. The mechanic had finally come out from under the hood and had moved to a bevy of tools against the opposite side wall. “Aah, so you’re another of Troy’s admirers. I wonder if I shouldn’t start paying him some sort of commission for all of the extra customers I get.” The man chuckled then nodded toward the pump, still several feet away. “Why don’t you move forward a little so I can at least pump your gas while you’re doing a rather pitiful attempt at flirting long-distance?”

      “Oh, I wasn’t, or, I didn’t mean to stare.”

      He raised a dark gray brow.

      Destiny felt her cheeks flame. “I’ve never even met the man.” And that was the truth. But she did know everything he wanted in a woman and how he’d treat the one who earned his love, which was why she’d made this trip. However, she wouldn’t share that with this man. She also wouldn’t share it with the mechanic, who apparently had lots of admirers around town.

      He’d have plenty more if he let her publish those letters.

      She decided she’d change the subject and attempt to save herself any further embarrassment while the man removed the nozzle and busied himself with his work. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a real full-service gas station.”

      He nodded as he put gas in her red Beemer. “I suspected as much. You aren’t from around here.” He pointed a knowing finger toward Destiny’s face. “Claremont’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and I’m pretty sure if you were from around here, I’d have noticed.” He glanced toward the garage. “But it isn’t my attention you’re trying to get anyway, is it? Not that it’d matter. I’m happily taken.” He winked. “So, you just passing through or staying awhile?”

      Destiny wished she could control her traitorous eyes, but the guy in the garage had finally faced her and she was, quite frankly, speechless.

      The older man cleared his throat. “I’m Bo Taylor, by the way. The lady who just walked into the station is my wife, Maura. Assuming you’re listening to my rambling and all.”

      Destiny blushed again. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t mean to...”

      “Yeah, you do, but that’s okay. Every young lady from town comes here as often as possible.” Bo frowned as the nozzle clattered and the gas stopped pumping. “This isn’t full yet. Let me get her started back up.” He flipped the silver lever on the pump and the thing clicked to life again. “Tell you what, I’ll go get Troy and offer an introduction. The customer line is gone now anyway.”

      “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him.”

      The man nodded once as though the matter was decided, ignored Destiny’s protest and started toward the garage. And the gas, which was taking forever to pump, clicked to a near standstill when he walked away. Destiny didn’t even know the numbers could turn that slowly, but then again, all of the gas stations in Atlanta had digital displays. This one, like everything else she’d seen so far, seemed straight out of the 1950s. And since it continued turning slower than traffic on I-285 at rush hour, she barely had three gallons in the tank when Bo returned with tall, dark and mesmerizing Troy Lee by his side.

      He was a good six-two, easy, the jet-black hair even darker shining in the sun. Destiny’s hands involuntarily tightened on the wheel, and she made her fingers relax so the blood could start flowing again. Did he really look this good, or was it the fact that she already knew so much about the man and the thoughts of his heart that made her feel as if she were going to pass out merely looking at him? The subscribers to her magazine would simply have to have a photo to accompany his love letters...once Destiny had the authority to put them in print. Which she’d have, one way or another, before next month’s issue. She had to; she’d already promised her advertisers.

      “Troy, this is...” Bo Taylor waited for her to fill in the blank.

      “Destiny,” she said. “Destiny Porter.”

      “Nice to meet you.” He gave her an easy smile, and a deep dimple popped in place slightly beneath his left cheekbone. Somehow that single indention made him even more incredible.

      “She’s from out of town, but I didn’t find out yet if she’s passing through or staying awhile.” He looked again to Destiny.

      She really had to get a grip. “I’m from Atlanta. Staying awhile.”

      Bo nodded. “Troy, my throat is parched. I thought that line of customers was never going to die down, but Ms. Destiny is the last one for now. Can you finish up here? I’m going to head on in and get a soda with Maura.”

      “Sure.” Troy nodded at the man retreating to the station and didn’t seem to notice how guilty he looked as he left Destiny to deal with her unwanted attraction on her own. She did not need to be distracted by his looks. She simply needed his signature on a contract, a contract that would allow her to expose his innermost thoughts to the world.

      Nervous, she looked away from the handsome country boy and spotted the latest copy of her magazine in the passenger’s seat, as well as a printout of the email that caused her to take this trip. And the love letters—this man’s love letters. She reached into the backseat, grabbed her gigantic purse and flung it over the evidence.

      A deep clearing of his throat brought her attention back to the guy outside the car. “You okay?” He tilted his head with the question.

      Destiny noticed he’d leaned against the pump and crossed his arms, which drew more attention to biceps that would put every guy in her Atlanta gym to shame. And she suspected from his letters that he wasn’t the kind of guy to hit a gym. He’d mentioned putting in a good, honest day’s work every day. She also knew that he’d support his wife’s choice if she wanted to work outside the home, but if she decided to be a stay-at-home mom, he’d support that just as much.

      She knew so much about this guy, but he didn’t know the first thing about her. She’d have to change that, and she couldn’t waste time about it. Those letters could save her magazine. So she had to gain his trust and then get the rights to run them.

      No sweat.

      But she was sweating now, and she didn’t think it was necessarily due to the Alabama heat. Did all guys down here look like that?

      Destiny saw that he still waited for her to answer his question. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just wanted to have my purse handy when it’s time to pay.” She shot a glance at the churning pump. “I’m guessing the customer lines have something to do with the speed of the pumps?”

      He laughed, and the sound rippled over her skin like cocoa butter on a hot day at the beach. She’d have never thought a guy from a tiny town in Alabama could have this effect on her senses. Then again, she’d have never thought a guy from here would be as sensitive and heartfelt as the one standing beside her car.

      But he didn’t know she knew about that. She snuck a glance at her passenger seat to make sure his letters were covered.

      “So, you said you’re staying awhile. What are you planning to do in Claremont? We aren’t exactly the tourist capital of the world, other than the dude ranch and the fishing camp. But

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