He’d made Gina suspicious.

And he didn’t want her suspicious. He wanted her to treat him as she had before. As a friend. He wanted her to talk to him as if she liked him, Nick Balfour, the man. Not Nick Balfour, the eminent surgeon, or Nick Balfour, the very wealthy owner of the monstrous trust fund his grandfather had left him. Being valued for himself was an intoxicating experience that he didn’t want to give up until he had to. He wanted to bask in the feeling for just a while longer.

He knew things would change once he told Gina the truth….

Dear Reader,

Spring is here. And what better way to enjoy nature’s renewed vigor than with an afternoon on the porch swing, lost in four brand-new stories of love everlasting from Silhouette Romance?

New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer leads our lineup this month with Cattleman’s Pride (#1718), the latest in her LONG, TALL TEXANS miniseries. Get to know the stubborn, seductive rancher and the shy innocent woman who yearns for him. Will her love be enough to corral his heart?

When a single, soon-to-be mom hires a matchmaker to find her a practical husband, she makes it clear she doesn’t want a man who inspires reckless passion…but then she meets her new boss! In Myrna Mackenzie’s miniseries THE BRIDES OF RED ROSE classic legends take on a whole new interpretation. Don’t miss Midas’s Bride (#1719)!

Her Millionaire Marine (#1720), from USA TODAY bestselling author Cathie Linz, and part of her MEN OF HONOR miniseries, finds a beautiful lawyer making sure the marine she secretly adores fulfills his grandfather’s will. Falling in love with the daredevil is not part of the plan!

And Judith McWilliams’s Dr. Charming (#1721) puts a stranded female traveler in the path of a mysterious doctor; she agrees to take a job in exchange for a temporary home—with him. Now, this man makes her want to explore passion, but can he tempt her to take the ultimate risk?

Sincerely,

Mavis C. Allen

Associate Senior Editor

Dr. Charming
Judith McWilliams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Moses, with love and gratitude for eight wonderful years

Books by Judith McWilliams

Silhouette Romance

Gift of the Gods #479

The Summer Proposal #1562

Her Secret Children #1648

Did You Say…Wife? #1681

Dr. Charming #1721

Silhouette Desire

Reluctant Partners #441

A Perfect Season #545

That’s My Baby #597

Anything’s Possible! #911

The Man from Atlantis #954

Instant Husband #1001

Practice Husband #1062

Another Man’s Baby #1095

The Boss, the Beauty and the Bargain #1122

The Sheik’s Secret #1228

JUDITH McWILLIAMS

began to enjoy romances while in search of the proverbial “happily-ever-after.” But she always found herself rewriting the endings—and eventually the beginnings—of the books she read. Then her husband finally suggested that she write novels of her own, and she’s been doing so ever since.

An ex-teacher with four children, Judith has traveled the country extensively with her husband and has been greatly influenced by those experiences. While not tending the garden or caring for her family, Judith does what she enjoys most—writing. She has also written under the name of Charlotte Hines.

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe that all these years my mother had been lying about having so-called life-threatening ailments. As soon as I learned the truth, I got in a car and drove. I can finally have a life of my own.

So here I am stranded in beautiful New England. Did I mention my car was stolen and the most handsome man in the universe rescued me? I’m staying in his cabin temporarily. Now, wouldn’t that scandalize Mother? Who knows what the future will bring…? I can’t wait!

Footloose and fancy-free,

Gina

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Prologue

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Gina Tessereck mentally braced herself for the wave of guilt she always felt at upsetting her mother. To her surprise, it didn’t come. Cautiously she probed and found nothing. Nothing at all. It was as if all of her feelings were locked behind a tightly closed door. A door she didn’t dare open because if she did…

“I asked you a question, Gina! Why didn’t you let me know you were home from work early? You know how much I worry at the least little unexplained noise. Really, at twenty-seven, you’d think you might have learned a little consideration. It won’t be long before I’ll be gone, and you can do exactly as you wish.”

Gina looked up from the suitcase she had been haphazardly flinging clothes into, and studied her mother’s small, delicate features. Why had she never noticed the hardness in her mother’s china-blue eyes or the petulant droop of her mouth?

“What is the matter with you? Why are you standing there gawking at me? You haven’t lost your job, have you?” Helen’s voice sharpened.

“I didn’t lose it, Mother. I resigned it. Effective immediately.”

Gina walked over to her closet and opened the door, instinctively rejecting the clothes inside. All those ruffles and soft pastels didn’t suit her. They suited her mother’s petite figure and blond coloring. On her own five-ten frame they looked fussy, and the pale pastels made her look washed-out.

Never again would she buy something that didn’t suit her simply to keep the peace, she vowed as she closed the door with a decided snap.

“How many times have I told you not to slam doors?” her mother demanded.

“I don’t know,” Gina said honestly. “But I do know that this is the last time you’ll ever have to do it, because I’m leaving.”

“Leaving!” Her mother clutched her chest and started to gasp. “I feel…”

Gina watched with a feeling of numbness. “You missed your calling, Mother. You should have gone on the stage.”

Turning away, Gina scooped the last of her underwear out of her dresser drawer, tossed it into her suitcase and yanked the zipper closed.

Her mother’s mouth fell open in shock at Gina’s totally unexpected response. “How can you say that to your own mother?”

“Come to that, how could you lie to your own daughter? Your doctor called me at work this morning and asked me to come by his office on my lunch hour. It was a most enlightening meeting.” Gina cringed at the humiliating memory. “He gave me a lecture about how I was stifling you. About how you’d told him I’d sabotaged your efforts to get a job to help fill your time since Dad died.” Gina’s rigid control cracked slightly at the thought of her beloved father. “The doctor also assured me there was absolutely nothing wrong with your heart.”

“You probably misunderstood him,” her mother insisted. “You really aren’t the world’s brightest person, you know.”

Gina ignored the oft-repeated comment.

“And after I left his office, I got to wondering what else you might have lied to me about, so I went to see the lawyer who handled Dad’s estate.”

“You had no right!”

Gina’s light blue eyes momentarily darkened with anger. “As one of the beneficiaries, I had every right. I found out that, far from leaving you almost penniless as you’d claimed, Dad left you more than enough money to live on. Not only that but he left me enough money to finish my degree.”

Gina jerked her suitcase off the bed and started toward the door.

“But you can’t leave me!” her mother screamed. “I love you.”

Gina paused and looked back at her mother. “Is love your excuse or your explanation for what you’ve done?”

Her mother ignored the question. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going as far away from here as I can get, and as for what I’m going to do, I intend to start living instead of just existing,” Gina said as she turned and walked out the door.

Chapter One

Gina gently touched the brakes of her car as she rounded a sharp bend in the narrow Massachusetts road and saw the lights of a small village directly ahead.

She shifted restlessly, trying to relieve some of the stiffness driving all day had caused. Her stomach, as if in sympathy with her muscles, gave a sudden rumble, reminding her that it had been a long time since lunch.

When she reached the village, she slowed to a crawl, looking for someplace to eat. Finding a brightly lit diner, she parked in front of it.

Grabbing her purse, she got out of the car and automatically locked it. A fugitive gust of crisp September wind raised goose bumps on her bare arms and whipped her reddish-brown hair into her face. She absently pushed it back as she considered unlocking the car and digging through her luggage to find a sweater. Finally she decided she wouldn’t be outside long enough for it to be worth the trouble.

She started toward the restaurant and then paused when a garish sign across the street advertising Bill’s Bar caught her eye. Turning, she studied the faintly dilapidated building, taking in what seemed to be a score of neon signs advertising beers, most of which she’d never heard of.

Her gaze swung back to the restaurant. It looked staidly middle class and boringly respectable. Whereas Bill’s Bar looked daring. Adventurous. In keeping with the new life she was determined to carve for herself.

Definitely Bill’s Bar, she decided.

Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she quickly crossed the street, pushed open the bar’s door and stepped inside.

Nervously her gaze swept the crowded, noisy room. Feeling conspicuous, she hurriedly sat down at an empty table near the door. Picking up the cardboard menu lying on the red-and-white-checked plastic tablecloth, she studied it. It was heavy on imported beers and light on food.

A middle-aged waitress appeared a few minutes later. “What can I get you?”

“A bowl of chili, apple pie and a cup of coffee,” Gina said.

“Won’t be a minute.” The waitress headed back to the kitchen, calling out Gina’s order to someone named Margie as she went.

Gina leaned against the back of the scuffed wooden chair and surreptitiously studied the bar’s patrons while she waited for her food. A large party at the back seemed to be having a great time. A wistful smile curved Gina’s mouth at the infectious sound of their laughter.

“Here you are, miss.” The waitress slapped a big bowl filled to the brim with chili down in front of her. A steaming cup of coffee followed. “I’ll get your pie in a minute.”

Gina was adding milk to her coffee when the bar’s door opened and a slither of chilly night air wrapped itself around her ankles.

“Hey, Nick, how’s the arm coming?” a man from the back of the room called out.

Curious, Gina turned to see who Nick was. Her eyes widened when she saw the man standing just inside the door. He was tall. At least six inches taller than she was. And broad. She measured the substantial width of his shoulders beneath the thick, cream Aryan sweater he was wearing.

Unconsciously her tongue moistened her lower lip as her eyes traveled down over his flat stomach and his long, jean-covered legs.

Hastily she glanced down at her chili, trying to stifle her sudden, inexplicable fascination with his body. She took a slow, deep breath, hoping the flush she could feel burning her face wasn’t visible to anyone else in the room.

What was the matter with her? she wondered uneasily. So what if the man was built like the embodiment of every sexual fantasy she’d ever had. She was old enough to know that sexual attraction was nothing more than nature’s way of ensuring the continuation of the species.

Compulsively her gaze returned to the man. Maybe so, she conceded, but in his case, nature had certainly baited one very attractive trap.

She watched from beneath her lashes as the man walked toward the bar, sat down and reached for a glass of beer the bartender placed in front of him without a word ever having been spoken.

A regular patron, Gina concluded as she studied the man’s ruggedly carved features, her eyes lingering on the strength of his square chin. He had a strong face. Not conventionally handsome, but arresting. Full of character and strength.

Gina watched as he awkwardly picked up his beer with his left hand. Curious, her gaze swung to his right hand and she noticed a cast peeping out from beneath the sleeve of his sweater. He appeared to have broken either his arm or his wrist.

Her eyes narrowed speculatively as he impatiently shoved his fingers through his inky black hair. Nick, whoever he was, did not appear to be in the best of humors. Was his arm painful? she wondered, finding the idea strangely unacceptable. Or maybe something else was bothering him? Maybe he was recovering from a bad relationship? she thought fancifully. Maybe his heart was broken?

Gina’s gaze traced over the sensual line of his lips and mentally jettisoned the idea. He looked like a man who would break hearts, not have his own broken.

Absently, she picked up her spoon and started to eat, her eyes never leaving Nick. He appealed to her on an instinctive level she hadn’t even been aware had existed until now.

Sex, she mocked her own reaction. That was all it was. Plain old animal attraction.

But what an animal Nick was, she thought dreamily. The king of the beasts. Rugged and…

“Here’s your pie, miss,” the waitress’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Gina blinked and looked down, surprised to see that she’d finished her chili.

“Thank you,” Gina said, hoping the woman hadn’t noticed her preoccupation with Nick.

It was a vain hope. The waitress leaned closer and whispered, “That’s our Nick Balfour. He has a place outside-a town. Known him since he was a kid. And his folks before him. And he ain’t got no wife tucked away like some I could mention. You like what you see, kiddo, grab it. Life’s too short not to.”

Gina’s stomach did a sudden flip-flop, and her fingers began to tingle as she imagined what Nick would feel like if she were brave enough to take the woman’s advice and grab him. He’d feel firm and warm and…

“Think about it, kiddo. Like they say, you only go round once.”

“Um, thank you,” Gina muttered.

Satisfied, the waitress gave her a thumbs-up and sauntered off.

Taking a deep breath to slow her racing heart, Gina looked back at Nick. He was staring into his beer as if he expected to find the secret of eternal life written on the bottom of the glass.

There was no getting around it. She found Nick Balfour fascinating, she faced the fact with her usual lack of self-deception. At least, she found his physical appearance fascinating, and she’d very much like to find out if his personality measured up to his body’s promise.

No, nobody could have a personality as great as his body was, she conceded. She simply wanted to see if the personality came anywhere close.

So how did one go about picking up a man in a bar? Gina searched her memory for a clue and came up blank. The situation had never come up before.

Think. She tried to organize her muddled thoughts into a plan. Women have been picking up men since time immemorial. If they can do it, so can you.

Maybe she could make a comment that demanded an answer? Something like what’s a gorgeous hunk like you doing nursing a beer in a backwater bar like this? Gina choked on her coffee at the thought of actually being blasé enough to say something that trite.

There was always the weather or that old chestnut about haven’t we met before. But even if she was willing to try such a clichéd opening, first she had to get close enough to him to do it.

She laid her fork down beside the now-empty pie plate and considered the problem. If she walked over to him and tried to strike up a conversation, and he brushed her off or, even worse, ignored her, she’d be mortified.

But did it really matter if she was embarrassed? She didn’t know any of these people. Did she really care what they thought? No, she didn’t, but she did care what Nick thought, she conceded. It might not make any sense, considering the fact that he was a stranger, but she did care what he thought of her.

She cast a furtive glance at his uncompromising profile. He was still staring into his beer. He certainly wasn’t watching her. She doubted if he’d even seen her when he’d come in. Not really seen her. Men almost never did. She was too tall and too skinny and too…too nondescript to generate much interest in the opposite sex.

Face it, Gina Tessereck, she told herself. You haven’t got what it takes to set masculine hearts ablaze. But it would be nice if she could ignite a spark of interest in just one, she thought wistfully.

She grimaced. The list of what she would like to be different in her life was as long as her arm, and moaning about it wasn’t going to change anything. Only action would change things. And no matter how uncomfortable or embarrassing it might turn out to be, she was determined to change. To grow. She’d given herself until the winter semester at college began to expand her horizons. And she intended to start by traveling and by exploring an emotional relationship with a man.

Compulsively, her gaze returned to Nick. He looked as if he were positively bursting with fantastic possibilities. All she had to do was to have the courage to tap them. Her lips firmed in determination.

Opening her purse, she took out money to pay her bill and dropped it on the table along with a good-size tip for the helpful waitress as she mulled over the problem of making contact with Nick.

She could walk up to the bar and ask the bartender for a bottle of beer to take out with her, she considered. Then, while the bartender was getting it, she could turn to Nick and ask him if he knew of any bed-and-breakfast places nearby. It was a reasonable question to use to start a conversation.

Swallowing nervously, Gina got to her feet. But before she could move toward the bar, someone touched her arm.

Startled, she turned to find herself looking at a slightly overweight, middle-aged man who gave her a leering smile and then ran his eyes over her body with a lascivious look that made her skin crawl.

“I beg your pardon!” Gina gave him her best imitation of her mother’s freezing outrage. “I don’t believe I’ve met you.”

“That’s easy enough to fix. I’m Jim, and who are you, babycakes?”

Gina blinked uncertainly, not sure what to do. Jim wasn’t following the script. He was supposed to retreat in the face of her obvious disinterest. Instead he’d inched closer. Close enough for her to smell the sickly sweet odor of his cologne. Her stomach rolled protestingly.

“I’m not interested,” she muttered, not wanting him near her, but also not wanting to bolt for the door and give up any chance of speaking to Nick Balfour.

“How do you know that? Why don’t you let me buy you a beer, and we can get acquainted?” Jim insisted, seeming to find her nervousness a turn-on.

Nick turned as the whiny pitch of Jim’s voice grated across his nerves. His eyes narrowed speculatively as he saw the woman the older man was trying to pick up. Jim’s taste in women had definitely improved. Not only was she satisfyingly tall, but… His eyes slipped down the length of her slender figure, lingering on the slight thrust of her breasts beneath her dark-green shirt.

He shivered as he imagined the feel of her breast filling his hand. Trying to control his body’s instinctive response to the provocative thought, he forced his gaze upward, only to find that her face was just as intriguing as her body. He studied the slight tilt of her nose with its faint dusting of freckles, which perfectly matched her reddish-brown hair, before moving on to the full curve of her pink lips. They made him long to feel them beneath his own. To find out if they really were as soft and pliable as they looked.

He watched as her face paled in annoyance at Jim’s refusal to take no for an answer. Or was it fear?

Odd, he thought curiously. A woman that attractive should be experienced enough to flatten lechers like Jim without even thinking about it. And yet she didn’t seem to be able to shake him off.

Why not? he wondered, and then hastily quashed his interest. It wasn’t any of his business, he told himself. He couldn’t afford to get involved. Women, especially those who looked the way she did, demanded more from a man than he had to give. Bitter experience had taught him that.

Nick sighed as he saw the sudden flare of panic in her expressive eyes when Jim inched even closer to her. She shouldn’t be out alone if she didn’t know how to deal with the Jims of the world. She had no right involving innocent bystanders in her problems.

But right or not, he was unable to resist the growing fear he could see in her face. It wouldn’t take long, he told himself as he got off the bar stool. He’d slap down Jim, walk her to her car and that would be the end of it. He refused to even acknowledge the flash of loss he felt at the thought.

“You heard the lady, Jim.” A dark, velvety voice flowed soothingly over Gina’s agitated nerves. She turned to find herself staring into Nick Balfour’s cool gray eyes. She felt as if she could drown in their incredible depths. She took a deep breath, trying to break their mesmerizing hold on her, and the faintly spicy fragrance of his cologne filled her nostrils.

“Give it up, Jim.” Nick’s voice hardened perceptibly when Jim didn’t move.

“Hey, no call to get all bent outta shape, Nick.” Jim held up his hands as if warding him off. “I didn’t realize I was poaching. But if you should decide you want a change, babycakes, give me a call. Everyone knows me.”

Gina’s breath escaped on a relieved sigh as Jim returned to his own table.

“I’m Nick Balfour. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Gina Tessereck, and thank you,” she muttered as she scrambled for something bright and witty to say. Something that would make him want to linger to get to know her better.

“Do you come here often?” Gina mentally cringed as she heard the inane question emerge from her mouth.

“No. Where are you parked?” he asked her as they emerged from the bar.

“Across the street,” she said, trying not to let her chagrin at his clear disinterest show.

His hand unexpectedly closed around her arm as she stepped off the curb, and he jerked her back as a car hurtled past them.

Gina landed against his chest. She could feel the scratchy sensation of his wool sweater against her cheek, and the heat pouring from his large body momentarily suspended her rational thought.

“You okay?” he asked when she didn’t move.

No, she wasn’t okay, she thought frantically. She was fast losing her entire sense of perspective, and she didn’t have a clue as to what to do about it.

“Did that fool Jim really upset you that much?” Nick asked, and Gina felt her stomach twist at his concerned tone.

“No, I… I…” I always sound like the village idiot around sexy men, she thought in dismay.

“Are you well enough to drive?”

Gina took a deep breath and forced herself to step away from him.

“I’m fine,” she blurted out, and then could have screamed in frustration when she realized that she’d just blown a great chance. If she’d claimed to have been too upset to drive, he might have offered to buy her a coffee while she calmed down.

“Is that blue Ford yours?” He pointed to a car parked a little down from the restaurant.

“No.” Gina shook her head. “I have a brown Camry. It’s parked…” She broke off as she realized that her car wasn’t where she’d left it.

Frowning, she looked up and down the street. She was positive she’d parked in front of the restaurant. She turned and checked the other side of the street. There were no Toyotas of any make.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I left my car right there.”

Nick watched as she pointed to the vacant spot behind the Ford, momentarily distracted by her slender fingers with their shortly cut, clear-varnished nails. He hated long, luridly colored nails.

“I know I left it there,” she repeated as if the very strength of her words could make her car reappear.

“Either you’re mistaken about where you left it or someone took it.” Nick stated the obvious.

“Thank you, Sherlock Holmes!” she snapped, fear and frustration swamping her awe of him.

“Everybody hates the messenger!” Nick gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap,” she muttered. “But everything I own is in that car. It can’t have been stolen. I mean, this is rural Massachusetts, for heaven’s sake!”

“You think big cities have a monopoly on crime?” he asked dryly when he really wanted to ask why she was traveling around the countryside with everything she owned. Didn’t she have a home? And a man who cared enough to keep her there?

“I know crime is everywhere,” she said. “But knowing it’s out there doesn’t mean I expected it to find me. I was only gone long enough to eat dinner. And I locked it.” Her voice rose despairingly.

Nick’s experienced ear caught the first sign of hysteria in her voice, and he hastily moved to head it off.

“You’ll need to report it.” He gave her a simple task to handle.

“To whom?” Gina looked vaguely around the deserted street as if she expected a policeman to materialize out of the pavement.

“Amos Mygold is the sum total of our law enforcement. This time of night he’s probably at home.”

Gina swayed slightly as she suddenly remembered that all her traveler’s checks were in the car’s glove compartment.

Nick instinctively reached for her, steadying her against his chest.

The feel of his hard body pressing against her from thigh to chest held her growing panic at bay. This close to him, she found it impossible to focus on anything as mundane as being stranded in a strange town, filled with even stranger inhabitants—if Jim was any sample—with very little money.

“It isn’t that bad.” Nick’s deep voice flowed comfortingly over her.

“That’s what you think,” she muttered into the thick wool of his sweater. “All my traveler’s checks were in the car.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.” Gina forced herself to step out of the comfort of his arms. She was a competent adult, she reminded herself. She could handle this. “I didn’t want to risk losing them if someone snatched my purse.”

“Well, that part of your plan worked,” he said dryly, and Gina gave a muffled gurgle of laughter.

Nick felt a flare of interest at the intriguing sound. She was such an odd combination. Her appearance suggested a poised, sophisticated woman, but her reactions seemed much more vulnerable. He found the combination fascinating.

“You can get the traveler’s checks reissued,” he said. “All you need to do is call the company with the serial numbers…” He stopped at her pained expression.

“You do have the serial numbers, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I even separated them from the checks the way the bank said to. It’s just that I put the numbers in my suitcase in case someone stole my purse.”

“Where do you live that you’re always worried about your purse being stolen?” Nick asked.

“At the moment in my car,” she said with a despairing look at the empty space where it had been parked.

“Which means you are now homeless,” he said, regretting the words the minute he saw her face pale.

“Quite.” Gina straightened her spine and tried to sound more purposeful than she felt. She’d wanted to stand on her own two feet, and this was her chance. So why wasn’t she feeling more elated at the opportunity?

“Your car is insured?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll call the insurance company first thing in the morning.” She tried not to think about where she was going to spend the night and how she was going to get there. Did towns this size have rental car offices? she wondered. At least she still had her credit card in her purse so she wasn’t exactly penniless. And there was the legacy from her father. She’d call the lawyer who’d handled her father’s estate first thing in the morning and ask him to wire some money to her.

“Is there anyone you want to call?” Nick probed.

“No,” Gina said shortly, having no intention of telling him why. The story of her life to date made her sound like a fool. But then, maybe she was, she thought glumly. First her mother had used her love to manipulate her, and then some thief had stolen her car. She wasn’t exactly batting a thousand.

Nick digested the uncompromising negative, wondering what she was running from. The frustrated pain in her voice certainly suggested something.

“It’s going to take a while for you to get things straightened out,” Nick said slowly as an idea burst fullblown into his mind, the brilliance of it momentarily stunning him. “In the meantime, I think we could be of use to each other. You’ll need a place to stay, and I could use a temporary housekeeper.”

He gestured with his cast. “With my right hand out of commission, I can’t do much, and what little I can do with my left, I do slowly and badly. Not only that, but I’ve had enough of Bill’s chili to last me a lifetime. Being my temporary housekeeper would give you a place to stay until you sort things out, and would give me a clean house and a few meals,” he said, hoping his explanation sounded credible.

He hadn’t hired a housekeeper already because he hadn’t wanted a stranger intruding on his privacy, but the thought of Gina sharing his house filled him with anticipation.

Gina swallowed against the sudden spurt of excitement that short-circuited her breathing. Surely he couldn’t be offering her a job? At his house? Just the two of them? Alone together?

“Have you done any housekeeping?” he asked her.

“If you mean as a job, no. But I can certainly clean and cook,” she said absently, her mind busily considering his unexpected offer.

She knew full well she should refuse. Prudence demanded it. She might be monstrously attracted to this man, but she didn’t know him well enough to share a house with him.

But the people in the bar did. She remembered how someone in the back had greeted him by name and what the waitress had said about having known Nick all his life. If he had had any unsavory tendencies, surely his neighbors would know about them and react to him accordingly. Secrets were impossible to keep in a small town, weren’t they?

Not only that, but his offer made a great deal of sense. They both had something the other needed. And it would be a wonderful chance to practice relating to a sexy man, she reminded herself.

Strangely enough, the fact that he really needed a housekeeper depressed her. It would have been nice to have thought that Nick was so attracted to her that he was creating the job as an excuse to keep her around. But just because he wasn’t initially attracted to her didn’t mean that she might not grow on him, she assured herself.

Gina felt a sudden flush warm her cheeks at the thought of where she’d like to grow on him. Dangerous, her common sense chided her. A man like Nick Balfour could destroy a woman’s peace of mind. But what a way to go, her emotions countered.

“What kind of work do you do?” she asked in an attempt to find out a little more about him.

Nick frowned slightly. He didn’t want to lie to her, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to tell her the truth, either. Invariably, whenever he mentioned that he was a thoracic surgeon to an attractive woman, he got one of two reactions. Either they saw dollar signs and started sizing him up as a potential husband who could afford to indulge their tastes for luxury, or they launched into a recital of medical symptoms—either their own or someone else’s.

He didn’t want either of those reactions from Gina. He wanted her to see him as a man, without the accompanying baggage of his profession confusing the issue.

Gina watched as his face hardened into a reserved mask, wondering what had caused it. Her question? Had it embarrassed him? Could he have a humdrum, gonowhere type of job and think she might look down on him because of it?

“I’m a technician,” Nick finally said, remembering what one of his more acerbic professors had once said about surgeons. “And I have to have complete mobility in my right hand to work. So for the time being, I’m just marking time while my bone knits. Speaking of jobs, are you on vacation?” he slipped the question in.

“No, I was a data-entry clerk in Chicago. I got fed up with the same old routine and decided I wanted a change. I’d always wanted to see New England in the fall, so here I am,” Gina said.

There was more to her leaving her job than that, Nick decided as he watched the shadows darken her eyes. Something or someone had hurt her very badly to send her running this far.

“Think of my offer as a chance to see the fall foliage up close and in depth.” Nick carefully kept his voice casual. He didn’t want to scare her off with too many questions. For some reason it was becoming increasingly important to him that she stay.

“But I don’t really know you. You could be an ax murderer for all I know,” she blurted.

“The sheriff will vouch for me,” Nick countered.

“You can ask him for a character reference when we report your car stolen.”

Uncertainly, Gina studied the calm, gray depths of his eyes, unsure of what to do. All her life she’d done what was expected of her. What was conventional. Maybe it was time to do what she wanted to. To follow her feelings where they led, and to hell with caution.

Gina took a deep breath and said, “Thank you. I’ll take the job until I can get everything sorted out.”

Chapter Two

“Well, that about covers it, Ms. Tessereck. I’ll get on to the state police with a description of your car,” said the rotund little man whom Nick had introduced as Chief Mygold.

“What do you think the chances are that they’ll find it?” Gina asked him.

He sighed and ran his pudgy fingers over his balding head. “Depends,” he finally said.

“On what?” she persisted, feeling as if she was pulling teeth.

“On who took it,” he said. “If it was a couple of kids who took it to go joyriding, then they’ll abandon it as soon as they’re done, and you should have it back in a day or two. But this being a Friday night don’t argue well for that scenario.”

Nick looked from Gina’s blank expression to the chief’s mournful one and said, “Well, if she won’t ask, I will. What does it being a Friday night have to do with anything?”

“The high school’s football team is playing an away game,” the chief said.

“And all the kids who might have pulled a stunt like that are at the game?” Gina deduced.

“Yep,” Chief Mygold said.

“Which narrows the list of suspects down to whom?” Nick asked.

“Someone who stole it to convert to cash. All your stuff being in the back seat would have only made it that much more tempting. You should never leave things lying in a car in plain sight,” the chief said.

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying not to show her annoyance at his attitude that this was all her fault. First she wanted to get her car back, and then she’d tell him what she thought of his “blame the victim” policy.

“You should have left your stuff at home,” the chief belabored the point.

“Ah, but I was running away from home,” Gina said.

Nick’s eyes narrowed at her words, wondering if she meant them literally. And if so, where was this home she was running from? Or was it a person she was escaping from? Like a lover or a husband?

His eyes dropped to her left hand. It was bare. Nor could he see any sign that she might have recently worn any rings. Not that it mattered to him personally, he assured himself. He had no intention of getting emotionally involved with her. He didn’t dare. A personal relationship would demand more from him than he could give.

He was just going to take advantage of her being stranded to get his house cleaned and to get a few home-cooked meals. And to get some company. He felt a prickle of anticipation. It would be nice to have someone to talk to in the evenings.

“Now, then, Ms. Tessereck, how will I contact you if I hear anything?” Chief Mygold asked.

“She’ll be at my place,” Nick said. “She’s going to be my temporary housekeeper.”

“Um,” Gina muttered uncertainly, with a quick glance at Nick’s rugged features. “Sheriff, being a stranger in town…and while I appreciate Nick’s offer, I mean…”

“You mean you want me to assure you that you won’t wake up one morning to find yourself murdered in your bed?” Mygold broke into her convoluted sentence.

“Strictly speaking, being murdered precludes waking up,” Nick observed.

“It precludes most everything,” Gina said tartly, refusing to back down at the humor she could see in Nick’s gorgeous eyes.

“Don’t you worry about Nick here, Ms. Tessereck. I’ve known him, man and boy, and he ain’t the type to force himself on a woman.” Mygold gave a wheezy chuckle. “Beating the women off is closer to what he faces. Same as his father before him. Why I remember—”

“Spare the poor woman tales of my family tree.” Nick hastily sidetracked the sheriff before he said something about him being a doctor. Or that his great-grandfather had been in business with George Eastman of Kodak fame.

Gina relaxed slightly at the chief’s words. She’d been almost sure that Nick was as trustworthy as he looked, but it was nice to have her opinion vindicated. Nor did she particularly want to hear about Nick’s prowess with women. She wasn’t interested in the past, only the future.

“If I hear anything, I’ll give you a ring at Nick’s, Ms. Tessereck,” Mygold said.

Gina nodded, not liking the sound of that “if.”

“I’ll check back with you in the morning,” she said as Mygold walked them to the door. She was determined to make him understand that she wasn’t going to be put off with vague promises.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Mygold said cryptically as he closed the door behind them.

“What does tomorrow being Saturday have to do with anything?” Gina asked as she followed Nick down the front steps. “Does he only solve crimes during the week?”

“He doesn’t solve crimes anytime,” Nick said with what Gina thought was heartless cheerfulness. “If your car gets found, it’ll be the state police who do it.”

Gina grimaced, not feeling any better about having her suspicions about Mygold’s incompetence confirmed. “If he can’t solve crimes, then why is he the sheriff?” she asked in exasperation.

“Because he’s the local undertaker.” Nick unlocked the passenger door of his battered pickup. “You will note that I locked my door?”

“I did, too, for all the good it did me. Besides, who in his right mind would steal this…thing? They’d be afraid it would break down before they made their getaway.”

“Don’t malign the wheels that are providing your transportation. I’ve had Old Octavius since I was sixteen.”

And he hadn’t been able to afford to replace it yet? Gina wondered as she climbed onto the front seat, being careful to avoid the rip in the upholstery. If he was that short of cash, how could he afford to pay a housekeeper’s salary? Even a temporary one like hers. But on the other hand, if he didn’t have the money to pay for one, why had he offered her the job?

Could he have felt sorry for her? The appalling thought made her feel faintly ill. No! She refused to even consider the idea. She might not have much in the line of sex appeal for men, but neither had she ever noticed that they pitied her. Mostly they ignored her.

It was probably just as he’d said. He’d seen a chance to have someone take care of the household chores while his arm was in a cast, and he’d grabbed it.

She studied him in the dim light from the truck’s dashboard, wondering exactly what he did for a living. He’d said he was a technician, but that could mean anything.

Her eyes lingered on his left hand where it gripped the steering wheel. His fingers were long and powerful-looking with neatly trimmed nails that were immaculately clean. There were no little cuts and scrapes that one would expect on a man who earned his living working with his hands. Although, since she had no idea how long it had been since he’d broken his arm, any abrasions could have healed. Maybe his employer had laid him off when he’d broken his arm. She had no idea what the labor laws regarding accidents were. That could be why he was so reticent about his work. He might be embarrassed about being unemployed.

Gina rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to ache from stress. It had been a long day even before the crowning finale of getting her car stolen.

“You okay?” Nick shot her a quick glance.

“Just confused. Tell me, why would being the undertaker make Mygold the sheriff?”

“Small town, not too many deaths, so he has the time. And he could use the extra money.”

“Oh.” Gina considered the words. “Isn’t there a potential conflict of interest there?”

“Only if Mygold had a very Machiavellian turn of mind, and believe me, his mind only turns on his dinner and his bowling average. You must not be familiar with small towns?” Nick slipped the question in.

“No.”

Nick waited, but she made no attempt to elaborate on the single word. Was it because she didn’t want to talk about her past or because she was a naturally reticent woman? Just because he’d never run across one before didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

It figured, he thought in frustration. Usually he couldn’t get a woman to shut up. But let him find one who promised to be interesting, and he couldn’t get the first personal fact out of her.

“Where do you live?” Gina asked as they left the village behind.

“About a mile outside of town. It’s a vacation cottage my great-grandfather built, and my parents gave it to me.”

“Oh?” Gina let her voice rise questioningly. Nick Balfour sounded like an educated man. And he had excellent manners when he cared to use them. She flushed slightly as she remembered how he’d rescued her from that guy in the bar. He clearly hadn’t wanted to be bothered, but he’d done it anyway.

But he also gave her the impression that he didn’t suffer fools gladly. That attitude might not go over well in a work environment. Every office she’d worked in during the past four years had had at least one pompous fool in a position of authority, so it made sense that a factory would be the same. Had Nick run afoul of someone like that?

To her disappointment, Nick didn’t add any facts, and Gina pressed her lips together to hold back the personal questions she wanted to ask. It’s none of your business, she told herself. Just because she was intensely curious about him didn’t mean she had any right to keep prying into something he obviously didn’t want to talk about.

Gina jerked upright as she suddenly realized something.

“What’s the matter?” Nick hastily scanned the road for suicidal wildlife.

“I haven’t got any clothes,” she blurted out.

Nick’s fingers involuntarily tightened around the steering wheel as the most incredible image of Gina lying naked in his bed suddenly filled his mind. He took a deep breath, hastily banished the intoxicating image, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I don’t know why I didn’t remember till now, but all my clothes were in the car. All I have is what I’m wearing. I haven’t even got a nightgown.”

And if there were anyplace around here open at this time of night, he’d turn around and buy her a nightgown himself, Nick thought. A satin one. A pale rose satin nightgown with ecru lace around a bodice cut low enough to offer tantalizing glimpses of her breasts. And a midthigh slit up the side so that he could catch glimpses of her long legs as she moved.

“Is there any place I could buy something to wear?” Gina asked with a hopeless look around the wooded area he was driving through.

“Nothing closer than Vinton, which is twenty miles away. Except for the convenience store, all the local shops are geared to the tourist trade, and they close at five. I’ll take you to Vinton first thing tomorrow and buy you some clothes.”

“You can take me, but I’ll buy my own,” she said firmly. “My credit card was in my purse so I still have it.”

“Consider it an advance on your salary,” Nick said.

That certainly sounded as if he could afford to pay her, she thought. Or was it a case of him doing without something in order to come up with her salary? She instinctively rejected the idea.

“About this job…”

“You can’t weasel out now,” he said, suddenly afraid that she might have changed her mind.

“I’m not trying to ‘weasel’ out of anything! I was simply going to say that I would prefer a trade to a salary.”

“A trade?” he asked cautiously.

“I’ll do some housekeeping chores in exchange for room and board for a few days.”

Nick gritted his teeth in frustration. He hadn’t even gotten her home yet, and she was already making plans to cut out as soon as she could. Where was she in such a hurry to get to? Or was it that she was in a hurry to get to someone?

He felt a sharp twist of some emotion that he refused to analyze.

“When I said temporary, I meant weeks, not days. Why don’t you give the job a two-week try?” he said. “Unless someone’s expecting you somewhere?”

“It’s not that. I just don’t want to tie myself down.” In case he turned out to have zero interest in her as a person, she thought. In that case she sure didn’t want to hang around and be constantly reminded of what she couldn’t have.

“I would think your lack of transportation, to say nothing of lack of money, would do that more effectively than a job. A job gives you freedom to make choices. If you didn’t like being a data-entry clerk, what does interest you?” He decided the question wouldn’t seem unreasonable from someone offering her a job.

“Teaching,” she said promptly. “I had almost three years of my teaching degree finished before I had to quit to help out at home when my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. He died thirteen months later. That was two and a half years ago.” Her voice broke on the painful memories.

Nick reached across and gently brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek in a gesture of sympathy that unexpectedly made her want to cry.

She took a deep breath to steady her voice and continued, “He left me enough money to finish my degree. I’m enrolled at the University of Illinois for the winter semester, which starts in January. In the meantime I’m determined to do a Robert Frost.”

“‘The road less traveled,”’ Nick quoted, wondering why she hadn’t used her father’s legacy to go back to school immediately after his death instead of taking a job that by her own admission she’d hated. There was something else there that she didn’t want to talk about. And for the moment he had no choice but to respect her silence.

“That’s right.” Gina blinked in surprise that he’d understood the reference. Not many people she knew were acquainted with Frost’s work.

“How about if you try the job for two weeks?” he offered.

Gina thought it over a moment and then said, “All right. Two weeks.”

“And after that, we can negotiate a longer stay.”

“I really am just passing through,” Gina said, feeling she was warning herself as much as him.

“So pass through at a walk. That way you can get a good look at the scenery.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, it’s certainly worth looking at,” Gina latched on to the impersonal subject gratefully.

Nick, feeling he’d won a victory by her agreement to stay two weeks, was perfectly willing to let her change the subject.

Ten minutes later he turned off the road, pulling onto a blacktop driveway. For a moment, a huge clapboard house was illuminated in the headlights before he cut the engine, plunging them into total darkness.

Gina blinked. “If that’s a cottage, what do you call a house?” And more important, how was one person supposed to clean something that big? she wondered.

“My great-grandfather built it as a summer house, and summer houses are always called cottages by the locals no matter how big they are,” Nick explained.

She glanced around in the stygian blackness and shivered at the house’s isolation.

“This looks like a stage in a science fiction movie,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find an alien lurking in the corners.”

“I would,” he said dryly. “Any being smart enough to build interstellar spaceships would be far too smart to have anything to do with mankind.”

“Good point,” she admitted.

“Watch your step.” Nick used the irregular footing of the path as an excuse to give in to his growing compulsion to touch her.

Gina swallowed uneasily as his fingers closed around the bare skin of her upper arm. His touch made her feel both excited and safe at the same time, which made no sense. The excitement she could understand. Nick Balfour was a very exciting man. Especially given her limited experience. It was the feeling of security his touch brought that confused her. She knew full well that security didn’t come from outside. It came from within. Not only that, but she didn’t know this man. Not really. So why did she find his touch so reassuring?

Confused, she watched as Nick unlocked his front door. Maybe her whole reaction to him was nothing more than a temporary aberration? Maybe tomorrow morning she’d wake up, take one look at him in the cold, hard light of day and wonder what on earth she had ever seen in him. Other than the fact that he was ruggedly handsome, tall and well built. Very well built.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Nick’s voice broke into her thoughts. He flipped a switch just inside the door, and light flooded the entrance hall, momentarily blinding her.

Blinking to clear her vision, she followed Nick through the archway to the right into what appeared to be the living room, and looked around curiously.

About twenty by thirty, it was painted a depressing, mud color and was filled with comfortable-looking, stuffed furniture that had clearly seen better days. Early Salvation Army, she labeled the room’s decor, wondering how well paid Nick was when he was working. Or was it simply that this was what he was used to and he hadn’t noticed the general air of shabbiness? It was possible. She remembered a few of her girlfriends complaining about their husbands’ refusal to part with old, worn-out chairs because they were comfortable.

Between the pair of French doors on the opposite wall, there was a table with a large television on it. Beside it was a VCR and an elaborate stereo system. On the floor underneath were stacks of videos, DVDs and CDs.

Surreptitiously, Gina studied Nick as he tossed the truck’s keys on the dusty surface of the end table beside the door. Somehow, the house didn’t quite mesh with her initial impression of him. But she wasn’t quite sure why, and she was much too tired to try to figure it out at the moment.

“You can see why I need a housekeeper,” Nick offered into the growing silence.

Yes, she could certainly see that, she thought ruefully.

“Upstairs there are eight bedrooms and a bath. I sleep in one and use another as a study. There’s also a bedroom and bath downstairs off the kitchen. You can have it.”

Gina blinked. Eight bedrooms and one bathroom? That must have caused a few problems in the mornings.

“Come on. I’ll show you where your room is,” Nick said.

Gina followed him through the archway to the side of the living room and into a huge kitchen.

“The kitchen’s kind of…” Nick waved his arm around the room.

Gina winced. It certainly was. The room reminded her of the before pictures of a renovated, inner-city house she’d seen featured in the Sunday papers a few weeks ago.

“My mother threatened to gut this room and completely remodel it, but my dad refused to hear of it,” Nick confided. “He used to say that, if it was good enough for his father, it was good enough for him.”

“Your mother has my heartfelt sympathy,” Gina said.

“Oh, she took care of the problem,” he said. “When they retired and moved to Florida, she gave the house to me, and I don’t mind. I mean, Dad was right in a way. My great-grandmother used to prepare meals here with no trouble.”

“Your great-grandmother also didn’t have penicillin,” she shot back. “That doesn’t mean she was better off.”

“Does that mean you don’t like it?” Nick glanced around, and Gina’s heart constricted at his uncertain expression. Poor man, he probably couldn’t afford to even replace the World War II–era appliances, let alone remodel the whole room. It was hardly kind for her to make him feel bad about it.

“It’ll do just fine for the short time I’ll be here.” I hope, she added mentally with a jaundiced look at the ancient gas stove.

“Where is my room?” she asked. “And may I borrow a pair of your pajamas?”

Nick felt his entire body clench at the thought of her intense femininity actually inside his clothes.

Down, Balfour. You give her even a clue as to what you’re thinking, and she’ll be out of here so fast you won’t even see her go.

“Sorry, I don’t use pajamas,” he said. “How about a T-shirt instead?”

Gina swallowed at the captivating thought of his body sprawled out on his bed wearing nothing at all.

“That’s fine.” Her voice sounded odd to her, and she rushed on, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “I think I’ll go to bed now. I know it isn’t all that late, but I’ve been driving since six this morning, and traveling always makes me tired.”

Gina winced as her breathless babble echoed in her ears.

To her relief Nick didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll get you a T-shirt then. Your room is through there.” He pointed to a hallway behind her. “And sheets for your bed are in the linen closet in the bathroom.”

“Just leave the shirt on the kitchen table,” Gina told him, and then beat a hasty retreat to her room. She desperately needed some time alone to regain her normal equilibrium. Exploring life’s possibilities was a lot more nerve-racking than she would have thought.

Chapter Three

Gina rolled over and opened her sleep-fogged eyes to find herself staring at a mustard-yellow wall. She frowned slightly, trying to figure out why a motel chain would paint anything such an unappetizing shade.

Not a motel! She jackknifed up as she suddenly remembered that she was in Nick Balfour’s house. Her breath escaped in a relieved whoosh as she studied the chair she’d wedged under the knob of her bedroom door. It hadn’t moved an inch. She’d been almost certain she could trust Nick, since both the waitress and the sheriff had vouched for him, but it was still nice to know she’d been right. Particularly since her judgment of people and their motives certainly hadn’t been all that great to date.

She picked up her watch from the bedside table and checked the time.

Eight-fifteen. Was she late or early? She frowned slightly. She had no idea what kind of schedule a housekeeper normally kept. Nor, she suspected, did Nick Balfour.

Nick Balfour. Gina closed her eyes to better concentrate on the mental picture forming in her mind. She imagined that he was staring down at her with a look of intense interest on his rugged face. His dark hair was slightly rumpled as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his pale gray eyes burned with desire.

A flush washed over her body, shortening her breathing. The man should come with a consumer-warning label attached.

Not that she needed one, she assured herself. She didn’t want the complications an intimate relationship would bring. She didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with them. She had to be back in Illinois by January seventeenth. But until then she was free. Free to try to learn some of the things that her girlfriends seemed to have been born knowing.

And it was certainly past time for her to indulge in a little experimentation, she thought, as she retrieved her underwear from the radiator where she’d draped them last night after washing them out in the bathroom sink.

She could count on one hand the number of dates she’d had in the past four years. And her social life before that hadn’t exactly been anything to write home about.

A kick of excitement twisted through her at the thought of doing a little experimenting with Nick. Always provided he looked as good in the clear light of day as he had last night. She tried to dampen her expectations.

Gina winced as she slipped into her plain cotton underwear. They were cold, clammy and still slightly damp. First item on the agenda was to buy herself some clothes, she thought, mentally marking her to-do list.

She finished dressing, quietly removed the chair from in front of her door, eased it open and paused to listen. It was funereally quiet. Either Nick was normally a silent man or he was still asleep.

Not still asleep, she realized as she peered into the kitchen and saw him standing in front of the sink, staring out the window at the overgrown garden.

Compulsively, her eyes traced over the width of his shoulders, which this morning were covered by a pale blue denim shirt with the cuffs turned back. Her mouth dried as she studied the dark hair that covered his left arm, and her fingers tingled as she tried to imagine what his firmly muscled flesh would feel like beneath her exploring hands. Savoring the freedom to study him unawares, she let her gaze slowly slip over his flat hips and then down the long length of his khaki-covered legs. He was so gratifyingly tall. She could actually wear heels and not tower above him. She had a brief vision of herself in a slinky black cocktail dress and thin, strappy heels, being held in his arms as they slowly danced around a moonlit terrace.

And like every other tall man she’d ever known, he probably preferred women built like Tinkerbell, she thought ruefully.

“Good morning.” She tossed the greeting at his back.

He spun around as if startled to discover another person in the house with him.

Gina barely suppressed a wince. Instead of eagerly waiting for her to wake up, he seemed to have forgotten her existence. And to think she’d barricaded her door against him. The thought rankled. Just once she’d like a man to look at her and be consumed with good old-fashioned lust. Just once. Instead, she got a man who seemed to be desperately trying to remember where he knew her from.

Nick stared at her, caught off guard by the depth of desire that swept through him at the sight of her hovering in the doorway. His eyes lingered on the soft length of her chestnut hair, which barely brushed her shoulders. It looked shiny and silky. His palms itched to stroke it. To thread his fingers through it. To take a handful of it and to bury his face in it, and drink in the very faint floral fragrance he remembered from last night.

And as for what he wanted to do to the rest of her… His eyes slipped lower, lingering on the thrust of her breasts. She was eminently touchable. And even better, she was tall enough that he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck trying to kiss her. She would fit perfectly in his arms.

But not in his life, he reminded himself. He already had a very demanding mistress, medicine. He simply didn’t have the time to dance attendance on a woman.

Mentally he winced as he remembered the tantrums he’d had to endure, the one and only time he’d been stupid enough to try to balance the demands of his profession and a relationship. The vitriolic arguments and recriminations every time he’d been late had turned his life into a minefield. It was not an experience he cared to repeat. It had been a bitterly learned lesson, but at least he’d learned it.

On the other hand, the situation he found himself in now wasn’t normal, he rationalized. He had more time to fill than he knew what to do with. And Gina was someone who could help him fill it. Even if he couldn’t risk getting emotionally involved with her, they could still be friends for the short time she’d be here.

His mind immediately supplied him with an image of her lying in his bed gazing up at him with languorous eyes. He hurriedly sliced off the thought.

“Good morning,” he finally said. “There’s coffee if you’d like some.” He nodded toward the half-full pot on the gray Formica counter.

“Thank you.” She gratefully headed toward the caffeine only to be distracted by a whiff of his cologne. It was spicy and seemed to perfectly match the bright fall day outside. His scent made her think of crisp, chilled air and warm kisses in front of a blazing fire.

Determinedly she shoved the tantalizing thought to the back of her mind and, picking up the pot of coffee, poured herself a cup.

So much for her having exaggerated her attraction to him, she thought ruefully. If anything, her response to Nick was even stronger this morning than it had been last night. The question was, What was she going to do about it? Or, more accurately, What could she do about it? It was all well and good for her to decide to explore an emotional relationship with him, but to actually do it, Nick would have to cooperate. That was the sticking point.

Don’t worry about what might happen, she told herself. First, deal with what was. And heading the list of things that needed to be dealt with was her stolen car.

“Did the sheriff call?” she asked.

“No. Not that I expected him to. I doubt he gets out of bed much before ten o’clock on a weekend.”

“The joys of small-town living,” she said dryly.

“Human nature is the same no matter what the size of a town,” he said. “It’s just that the behavior is more visible in a small town because there are fewer things to get in the way of seeing it.”

“I’d sure like to know where you have to go to get away from crime if small towns aren’t safe,” she said.

“Heaven?”

Gina sighed dispiritedly. “Probably. This whole thing has sure taken the bloom off my big adventure.”

“That’s right. You said you were running away from home. Why?” He slipped the question in.

“Why what?”

“Why were you running away from home?”

“Because I’d rather be somewhere else. Didn’t you ever want to chuck it all and take off into the wild blue yonder?”

Nick frowned slightly as he considered her words. “Not really,” he finally said. “I’ve often had the impulse to chuck a few people off into the wild blue yonder, but I’ve had no desire to go there myself.”

Odd, Gina thought. She had thought he would have found living in this run-down house in the back of beyond stultifying. Day after day of doing nothing. Going nowhere. Personally, she’d be a basket case after a few months of it. So why wasn’t he longing for a change?

“You like living here?” she asked curiously.

“I’m being driven out of my mind!” His vehemence shocked her. “And I can’t go back to work until my arm is healed. And even then, I’ll have to have physical therapy to regain the dexterity in my fingers. It’ll be at least another eight weeks before I can work again. Maybe longer.”

Always provided he did regain his manual dexterity. Nick swallowed on the cold metallic taste of fear clogging his throat. If there had been nerve damage…

He shoved his long fingers through his thick black hair, and Gina found her eyes following the movement. Wondering about the texture of his hair. Fantasizing about what it would feel like if she were to touch it.

“What exactly did you break?” She stared at the imposing cast that covered his right arm from wrist to elbow.

“My radius,” he said shortly, having no intention of telling her that it wasn’t just a simple break. That the bone had been fractured into eight pieces by a bullet. Telling her that would lead to other questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer.

“I see,” Gina said slowly, wondering what he’d been doing when he’d broken his arm. Skateboarding? Skiing? Riding a motorcycle? But despite her intense curiosity, his almost palatable withdrawal discouraged any more questions. And she most emphatically didn’t want him to start thinking of her as nosy. Regretfully she changed the subject.

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