“Okay, You Win,”
Amelia Said Breathlessly.

Tyler nearly forgot to breathe.

“I win?”

Amelia glared. “You know what I mean! Don’t play coy with me at this late date, mister.” She leaned forward to make her point.

He stood up. Their faces were mere inches apart, their breath caressing each other’s cheeks.

“When?” he asked.

“The sooner, the better. Then maybe you’ll get this out of your system and I can get back to work.”

Tyler’s voice stopped her cold. “I have a small problem. I don’t know your last name…or where you live.”

Oh, God! “Umm…it’s Champion. And don’t bother picking me up. Just meet me here around nine.” She hesitated, then went on. “It’s that or nothing. I have two jobs. It’s impossible to come earlier.”

“I’ll take it,” he said softly.

And I’ll take you. Anywhere…on any terms.

Dear Reader,

In honor of International Women’s Day, March 8, celebrate romance, love and the accomplishments of women all over the world by reading six passionate, powerful and provocative new titles from Silhouette Desire.

New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala leads the Desire lineup with Amber by Night (#1495). A shy librarian uses her alter ego to win her lover’s heart in a sizzling love story by this beloved MIRA and Intimate Moments author. Next, a pretend affair turns to true passion when a Barone heroine takes on the competition, in Sleeping with Her Rival (#1496) by Sheri WhiteFeather, the third title of the compelling DYNASTIES: THE BARONES saga.

A single mom shares a heated kiss with a stranger on New Year’s Eve and soon after reencounters him at work, in Renegade Millionaire (1497) by Kristi Gold. Mail-Order Prince in Her Bed (#1498) by Kathryn Jensen features an Italian nobleman who teaches an American ingenue the language of love, while a city girl and a rancher get together with the help of her elderly aunt, in The Cowboy Claims His Lady (#1499) by Meagan McKinney, the latest MATCHED IN MONTANA title. And a contractor searching for his secret son finds love in the arms of the boy’s adoptive mother, in Tangled Sheets, Tangled Lies (#1500) by brand-new author Julie Hogan, debuting in the Desire line.

Delight in all six of these sexy Silhouette Desire titles this month…and every month.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Amber by Night
Sharon Sala

MILLS & BOON

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SHARON SALA

is a child of the country. As a farmer’s daughter, she found her vivid imagination made solitude a thing to cherish. During her adult life, she learned to survive by taking things one day at a time. An inveterate dreamer, she yearned to share the stories her imagination created. For Sharon, her dreams have come true, and she claims one of her greatest joys is when her stories become tools for healing.

Chris and Mabel Shero were my maternal grandparents, but all of their grandchildren called them Grampy and Grand. They were two of the kindest and most caring people I ever knew, and they adored each other. Every time I think of soul mates, I think of them.

Grand was always full of quotes and sayings, so besides teaching me how to bake bread, she was constantly filling my head with things she thought I needed to know. One of the earliest homilies that I can remember was her quoting, “Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” Of course I wanted an explanation, and in her most forthright manner, she pared that down to fit my limited vocabulary by telling me that lies grow faster than weeds and are harder to get rid of. Since one of my chores was weeding our vegetable garden, I immediately understood.

So, because this story starts with the telling of a lie, I thought it fitting to give credit to two of the people who taught me the meaning of truth.

To Christopher and Mabel Shero.

Always my touchstones.

Forever my loves.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

One

The back alley between Fourth Street and Beauregard Boulevard was not the best place in Tulip, Georgia to break down, but worn u-joints were not a model of consideration. And, considering the fact that it was nearly sundown and the only thing stirring in Tulip at this time of evening was air, Tyler Savage was in a bit of a fix.

He lay flat on his back beneath his pickup truck, cursing the fading light and his bad luck all in the same disgusted breath. And, because he was so focused on finding and stopping the flow of oil dripping from somewhere up above his head, he didn’t hear the sound of running footsteps coming down the alley until they were almost upon him.

Instinctively, he turned to look and got a fairly good view of a woman running down the alley. From where he was lying, he couldn’t see much above her neck, but he got a real good look at the gray sweatsuit she was wearing. It was nondescript, but that was where ordinary ended. She had exceedingly long legs, a trim figure and a bosom that was bouncing enticingly as she ran.

Out of appreciation…and partly out of habit…he whistled and then grinned when she broke her stride. But before he could drag himself out from beneath the truck and procure an introduction, a large dollop of oil took the opportunity to fall. It landed directly on the bridge of Tyler’s nose before splattering equally in both directions and blinding him to everything but the quick sting of oil filming across his vision.

“Son of a…”

He grabbed for a rag, but not in time to stop the damage. With another muttered curse, he came out from under the truck, wiping at his eyes with the rag and both hands. By the time he could see, she was nowhere in sight. In disgust, he kicked a rear tire with the toe of his boot and started walking in the direction of Raymond Earl Showalter’s house. Raymond Earl owned the only garage in town and, in his single days, had been a good running buddy of Tyler’s.

As Tyler walked, he kept trying to think who in the world that woman could have been. To his knowledge, none of the females in Tulip were much prone to physical fitness to prolong their youthful appearances. They seemed more inclined to the old southern way of life of getting married while they were still in the bud. It was only after several years of wedded bliss and all the babies they intended to bear, that a goodly portion of them saw it as their just due to bloom to full figure. And to the ladies’ credit, none of the husbands Tyler knew seemed upset with the deal.

So, if he hadn’t imagined what he’d just seen, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t lost his instincts for the opposite sex, there was a new girl in town. But who in the world was she?

While Tyler was eliciting Raymond Earl’s aid, Amelia Beauchamp was hunkered down in the front seat of Raelene Stringer’s old car and praying for all she was worth as Raelene sped out of town.

The near-confrontation in the alley had been a close call, Amelia’s first since starting her charade. The fact that she’d almost been caught wasn’t nearly as frightening as who’d nearly caught her.

Tyler Savage, of all people! Her heart was still pounding as she finally straightened up in the seat and began putting on her makeup and fixing her hair. She yanked down the sun visor and then grimaced. You sissy, she thought, and then relaxed as her hands flew about a task that was now familiar. The fact that her heart was racing and her eyes were glitter bright was entirely due to that man. Tyler Dean Savage was Tulip’s resident rake. That he was also single and constantly on the make did nothing to help her equilibrium.

Amelia had had a thing for Tyler Savage for more years than she cared to remember. Unfortunately, Tyler wouldn’t have given Amelia the time of day. She glared at herself in the mirror and sighed. But Amber…that was another story. If only, she thought, she dared be one and the same.

The grandfather clock standing guard in the darkened hallway struck an accusing two o’clock, in the morning, that is—as Amelia Beauchamp crept back into the house where she lived, shut and locked the front door and then breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Another night of secrets was behind her, and with only six hours of promised sleep beckoning her to her bed, she slipped quietly up the staircase and into her room, taking care not to step on the third step from the top. It squeaked.

The beautiful face staring back at her in the mirror over her dresser would have shocked her aunts. They would not have recognized their Amelia. She leaned forward, frowning at her reflection as she slipped dangling ruby earrings from her ears. With weariness in every movement, she brushed her rich, brown hair into a smooth, orderly fashion and coiled it into one long loose braid. Jabbing her finger into a jar of cold cream, she swiped the thick lotion roughly across her mouth and eyelids. Red lipstick and gold-flecked eye shadow came off on a handful of tissues which she then flushed down the toilet. There could be no lingering reminders of Amber in this house. This is where Amelia lived.

As she stepped out of her sweatsuit and stuffed it in the back of her closet, an owl hooted softly outside her bedroom window, the only witness to Amelia’s deceit. Grabbing a nightgown from a hook on the door, she slipped it on, savoring the familiarity of this fabric as opposed to the shiny red satin that she’d worn on the job.

No sooner had her head touched the pillow than her eyes closed. Aware that she sighed, it was the last thing she heard until morning when Aunt Wilhemina’s voice echoed loudly up the staircase.

“Ahmeelya! It’s past time to get up. You’ll be late for work.”

Amelia groaned and rolled out of bed. It was her own fault that she felt like hell, but if her plan worked, it would be worth it.

When she’d first come to live with her great-aunts, Wilhemina and Rosemary Beauchamp, she’d been a skinny, too-tall nine-year-old and they, the only living relatives that could be found after her missionary parents were killed in a Mexican earthquake.

Amelia had been used to living rather freely from country to country—from custom to custom. The culture shock she experienced when she came to live with two old-maid aunts was similar to the shock they received when she arrived. But the Beauchamps were nothing if not proper, and what was right was right. Kin was kin. Here she was. Stay she must. So they began to mold her into a smaller, younger replica of themselves and thus began the starching of Amelia Ann.

Yet in spite of their persistence, she managed to retain most of her own personality during elementary and secondary schools. She even managed to exhibit some independence during her college years in nearby Savannah. She’d kept a fairly normal social life during that time, which had even resulted in one serious suitor who’d lasted clear up to the time she introduced him to the aunts. After that, things were never the same between them.

Amelia supposed that he’d looked into the future, seen the responsibilities of not only a wife but two elderly females to look after, and bolted. She’d been mildly devastated at the time, but it had passed sooner than she would have liked. Her suitor had absconded with love, her trust in men and her virginity. It took the heart right out of her independence.

She was unaware that with the passing of time, she’d begun dressing like her aunts, acting like them and even had a future mapped out by them. And time had done her another rare favor. Her broken heart had completely healed and her trust in men in general was normal. The only thing that could never be returned was her virginity. In some small measure, she was glad. She would hate to die an old maid—and a virgin.

It was the realization of that same passing time that had prompted her secret rebellion. Amelia could see herself, twenty, thirty, even forty years down the road—in this same house—in the same town—wearing the same style of clothing—and alone. Always alone! She loved her aunts dearly, but she had no intention of ending up like them. She wanted adventure and excitement. She wanted to be able to get out of Tulip should the mood arise.

That’s why she needed the new car. On a librarian’s salary, such things were impossible. As far as the Beauchamp sisters were concerned, their old, blue Chrysler sufficed. Amelia had other ideas. She could not see the world in a 1970 Chrysler.

Aware that Aunt Witty would be shouting her name a second time if she did not hurry, she headed for the bathroom. In no time she was dressed, having chosen a sedate shirtwaist dress from her closet and ignoring the fact that beige was not her best color.

Last night’s face that she’d worn with secret delight, the one that had laughed and teased and dared to be different, was gone along with the flowing, chestnut mane of hair. In its place was staid propriety.

She brushed her hair a vigorous one hundred strokes then slid her fingers deftly through the nearly unmanageable length and soon had it wound into a thick brown crown. The only thing that adorned her face was a slathering of moisturizer and a hint of the palest, pink lipstick. She slid dark, owl-rimmed glasses over the bridge of her nose and sighed as she headed down the stairs. It was time for Miss Amelia to begin her day as librarian of Tulip, Georgia.

“Sit, girl,” Wilhemina ordered, as she laid a warmed plate at Amelia’s place and pushed a platter of fluffy biscuits in her direction.

With full intent of only having juice, Amelia pushed her plate aside. “No thanks, Aunt Witty. I’m not really hungry.”

Wilhemina Beauchamp raised an eyebrow. It was enough to persuade Amelia to reposition her plate and sit. As she reached for a biscuit, she grinned at Aunt Rosie who was dawdling over her second cup of coffee and staring blankly out of the drawing room window at the butterflies kissing the tops of the blue bachelor buttons in the garden below.

“Morning, Aunt Rosie,” she said, as she chewed.

Rosemary blinked at the intrusion into her daydreams and them smiled when she noticed her niece had come to breakfast.

Wilhemina gave Amelia’s dress and hair the once-over and then reprimanded her niece for bad manners. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she said.

“Do hush, Willy!” Rosemary muttered, patting her beloved niece on the arm as she pushed the jar of homemade peach conserve toward Amelia. “For once, let the girl eat in peace.”

“If I’ve told you once in the last eighty-odd years, I’ve told you dozens of time, my name is not Willy.”

Rosemary’s lower lip jutted. “But Amelia calls you…”

“I know what she calls me,” Wilhemina said. “When she was small, my name was such a mouthful that I allowed her to shorten it. And it’s your own fault, you know. She always thought you were calling me Witty, not Willy. Now, it’s simply too late to change. Habit is a hard thing to break.”

Amelia had had enough, both of biscuits and bickering. She pushed back her chair and blew a kiss in their general direction.

“See you all this evening,” she called, and then she was gone. Tulip Public Library was waiting.

A tiny spark of excitement kept bubbling through her thoughts as she drove to the library. She was taking the first steps toward changing her future. She didn’t look at the fact that going to work as a hostess in a nightclub was not a step, it was a leap. To her, the most difficult thing about the job was putting on that little bit of red nothing three nights a week. It left little to the imagination and too much to the human eye. But the money she was saving was enough incentive to get past the embarrassment.

She hummed to herself as she drove out of the residential area and onto Main Street. A short distance away she turned into the lot and parked beneath twin magnolias marking the spot where Cuspus Albert Marquiside had held off a band of marauding Yankees during The War.

Sometime during the 1920s the Marquiside family had insisted on a brass marker to commemorate their illustrious ancestor’s bravery. The marker had long since turned a sickly shade of green and the family name had all but died out. Rumor had it that they’d gone north during the Great Depression of the thirties, but no one in Tulip would believe it. After all, a true southerner would rather starve to death than go live with Yankees.

Amelia grabbed her purse and her lunch and gave Cuspus Albert’s marker a friendly pat as she walked by. It was time for the day to begin.

Tyler Savage turned off Main Street and headed down Magnolia Avenue toward the post office. His suntanned hands were strong and sure as he gripped the steering wheel of his pickup truck. Thanks to Raymond Earl’s timely assistance, he was now back in business and mentally calculating the amount of fertilizer he needed to pick up when he was forced to brake sharply and then stop.

Ignoring the fact that she’d just jaywalked in the middle of a through street, Effie Dettenberg scurried in front of Tyler’s truck, glaring back only after reaching the safety of the curb. Well aware of his “bad boy” reputation and what some of the more staid members of Tulip’s society thought of him, he grinned and winked, then waved as he drove away, unaware that someone other than Effie was also watching him.

Amelia stacked the books that she’d just removed from the book drop and tried not to stare at the man behind the wheel. She knew it wasn’t proper, but Tyler Dean Savage required more than a casual glance, and she was still thanking her luck that she’d escaped last night undetected.

Still, he was six-plus feet of the most desirable hunk of man to ever come out of Tulip, Georgia. Straight black hair that was as unruly as his reputation; blue eyes that were constantly smiling, even when that sexy mouth was not. From the time she’d been old enough to notice, Tyler Savage and his bad-boy image had never been far from her dreams.

She sighed. Why are all the good-looking ones such rakes? But there was no one to answer her question, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Men like Tyler Savage didn’t notice women like Amelia Beauchamp.

She picked up the books, shifting them to a more comfortable position, and smiled at Effie Dettenberg as she gained safe footing on the sidewalk.

“Morning, Miss Effie, you’re out early.”

Effie plastered one wrinkled, bony hand across her shapeless breasts in high dismay as if she’d barely escaped the wrath of hell. “Did you see him?”

“See who, Miss Effie?”

“That Savage boy! He nearly ran me down! People like him shouldn’t be allowed to roam at will.” She cast a watery eye toward the disappearing brake lights of the red-and-white pickup truck and pursed her lips.

Amelia tried not to smile. In her opinion, that boy, who was over thirty years old, was well into prime manhood.

“Now, Miss Effie, I saw him slow down, and you know it.”

Effie Dettenberg sniffed loudly. “Well! He still shouldn’t be allowed out with his reputation and all.” She lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder, just to make sure she wasn’t being overheard. “You know what they say about those Savages!”

Amelia tried to ignore the lurch her heart took, but it was useless. Whatever they had to say about Tyler Savage was always of interest to her. “No ma’am, I can’t say as I do.”

Effie’s voice was just above a whisper. “They say that his people were smugglers. And…” she took a deep breath and readjusted her gold-rimmed eyeglasses on the bridge of her beaky nose “…they also say that those same smugglers cohorted with Indians. That accounts for that devil-black hair and those sharp cheekbones. That’s what they say.”

Amelia hid a smile behind her armful of books. “But Miss Effie, that was nearly two hundred years ago. He can’t be blamed for whatever his ancestors may or may not have done. Surely you have more Christian forgiveness in your soul than to hold that against him?”

Effie fiddled with her handbag and stared back down the street, half expecting that man to come swooping down upon them and carry them away into the swamps. Effie Dettenberg had a vivid imagination.

“Well, maybe not,” she muttered. “But there’s no denying that he’s a rounder. You mark my words, Amelia Beauchamp, stay away from men like him. He’s trouble with a capital T.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Amelia said and ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach. Unfortunately for her, he posed no threat. “Come inside the library, Miss Effie. I’ve just received one of those craft books that you like. It had the most darling crocheted shawl on the cover.”

That changed the subject and got Effie off the streets, but it was another thing altogether to get Tyler off Amelia’s mind.

The clock chimed six times in succession as Amelia fidgeted with her fork. She had less than three hours to get the aunts into bed and catch her ride to the nightclub with Raelene Stringer. Thoughtlessly scraping at the streak of chocolate left on her dessert plate, she winced as it screeched loudly into the silence of the room. The aunts would have a fit if they knew she was not only working in the same establishment with Tulip’s “loose woman,” but that she was riding back and forth to work with her, as well.

Wilhemina frowned. “Amelia, don’t scrape your plate! Surely I’ve taught you better manners than that!”

“Yes, ma’am,” she muttered, and sighed as her fork clattered against the Spode.

A frown wrinkled the tissue-thin skin on Rosemary’s forehead. “Oh pooh, Willy, you fuss too much. It’s not good for the digestion. I read where people actually got ulcers from unpleasant meals.”

Wilhemina gasped. “My meals are never unpleasant!”

“I didn’t say your cooking was…I simply meant that sometimes you can be…”

Amelia interrupted, anxious that a sisterly squabble not break out now and slow down their evening ritual. She was on a tight enough schedule as it was. “Never mind, you two.”

The sisters glared at each other as Amelia jumped to her feet and began gathering the dirty china from the table. “I’ll do dishes. Why don’t you retire to the parlor and turn on the television. It’s nearly time for your favorite show.”

Rosemary’s rosebud mouth puckered with anticipation, wrinkling the faded blush of her complexion. She clapped her hands and patted her Gibson-girl hairdo back into a semblance of order. “Goody! I just love the ‘Wheel.’ Maybe someday I’ll go to California and be on the show. That Pat Sajak has the nicest smile. He reminds me of…”

Wilhemina frowned. “Don’t be absurd! That show is next to gambling and we don’t gamble. And…” She fixed her younger sister with a pointed stare. “California is a long way off. We’d have to fly…and we don’t fly.”

“Of course we don’t,” Rosemary muttered, as she exited the dining room. “Only birds fly. I swear, Willy. I think you’re getting senile. I read the other day where…”

Her sister’s jaw jutted dangerously. “I’m not senile…and you read too much.”

Amelia sighed. Casting another nervous glance at the clock, she began stacking dishes with a vengeance as the sisters disappeared into the living room.

A couple of hours later, she was fidgeting in her chair and trying not to watch the clock, wondering if they were ever going to go into their rooms. To her relief, Aunt Witty appeared at the head of the stairs wearing a bathrobe wrapped around her tall, spare frame like a faded blue pencil with wrinkles. A long gray braid hung over her shoulder and down across her flat chest, nearly lost in the garment’s loose folds.

“Amelia, aren’t you coming up?” she called down. “It’s nearly eight-thirty.”

The aunts were firm believers in the early to bed, early to rise philosophy and never veered from their routine. Amelia bit her lower lip. She hated lying, but she hated being afoot worse. She was going to buy that new car or know the reason why.

“No, Aunt Witty, not yet. I want to finish this book first. I’m at a really good part and don’t want to stop.”

Wilhemina frowned. She didn’t have to look to know that Amelia was probably reading another romance. They were her favorites.

“You’ve got to quit reading that trash. It will only confuse you. I recommend Little Women. It was always a favorite of mine and quite wholesome, you know.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll remember that.”

Aunt Witty’s door went shut just as Amelia looked up at the clock. She had less than thirty minutes to meet Raelene Stringer.

With a sigh, she marked her place and tucked the book down between the cushions, then dashed to the downstairs closet. She pulled out a small overnight bag and a pair of running shoes. Everything she needed for her job was inside. With one last glance up the darkened stairwell, she turned out the lights and quietly locked the front door behind her.

The streets were nearly empty. Amelia breathed a constant prayer that she would not have to explain her strange mode of dress and behavior, and headed for the corner two blocks over.

The dark gray sweatsuit she was wearing blended into the evening shadows as she jogged to her destination. It was Thursday night and nearly time for Amber Champion to clock in at The Old South outside of Savannah. To her everlasting appreciation, Raelene was waiting for her at the corner of Fifth Street and Delaney.

She giggled as Amelia slid into the passenger seat. “Ooowee, honey, I didn’t think you were coming,” then she turned on the headlights and put the car in gear. The engine rattled and knocked, a sure sign of something in need of repair.

Once Amelia had gotten the job at The Old South, her excitement had fizzled when she’d realized that getting to work was going to be a problem. Bus service between Tulip and Savannah was sporadic.

Raelene had taken one look at the tall, leggy woman coming out of the boss’s office and nearly swallowed her gum. The town librarian had been the last person she would have expected to walk into a place like The Old South.

The club was a hopping nightspot. Many of the men had a way of assuming that just because a woman worked at a place like this, that she was available for more than serving drinks. Of course, Raelene never minded their assumptions. She met some of her favorite men this way. But she recognized Amelia. And she’d never let on when Amelia had been introduced to her as Amber Champion. She simply cocked an eyebrow, shifted her chewing gum to the other side of her jaw, and offered Amber a ride. That a friendship of sorts had formed still surprised them both.

Amelia winced as the car belched smoke before smoothing out into its regular gait. Just what she needed. If Raelene’s car blew up on Tulip’s main street, it would be all over. She was supposed to be safely inside the house immersed in a book of romance.

To her relief, the car seemed to settle, and it was time for Amber to make her appearance. She pulled down the sun visor, adjusting the small mirror on the back, and then began sorting through her bag for makeup and trading eyeglasses for contact lenses.

Raelene eyed Amelia’s chestnut curls enviously. “Girl, I don’t know why you hide your pretty face behind those glasses. I tried to get my hair that color once and it came out as brassy as that bedstead in the display window at Murphy’s Furniture. And those eyes of yours! Lord have mercy, you oughta wear contact lenses all the time. Not everyone has eyes like yours. I don’t think I ever knew anyone who had blue-green eyes.”

“My daddy did,” Amelia said, pausing for a moment to let Raelene maneuver across the old bridge outside of town. It was difficult enough to put on makeup between bumps in the road. That planked bridge was impossible. “And I wear glasses because they are easier. Aunt Witty says they make me look professional.”

Raelene rolled her eyes. “Shoot, they just hide those pretty eyes and add about ten years to your age is all. If you have to wear them, you oughta get you some real stylish ones. I saw a picture…”

Amelia smiled and let Raelene talk. It didn’t matter what she said because Raelene didn’t expect an answer. Before she knew it, they had arrived.

Cars were already beginning to fill the parking lot. It would be a busy night. “We’re here,” Raelene said, as she turned off the highway.

Amelia began stuffing things back into her bag and gave her hair one last fluff. “We’d better hurry. Tony will have a fit if we’re late tonight.”

They jumped out of the car on the run.

“So, Tyler, what do you think? If you contract next year’s peanut crop to me, you’re bound to come out ahead. Regardless of how the price fluctuates at harvest, you’re guaranteed a substantial profit.”

Tyler grinned. Seth Hastings was a whiz at the commodity markets. And the fact that his father owned one of the larger mills in the area didn’t hurt his standing, either.

“Yes, Seth, I suppose I might make a real killing, unless my crop fails and I have to go somewhere and buy someone else’s whole damned harvest just to fulfill my contract to you.”

Seth Hastings looked over his steepled fingertips to the man sitting on the other side of his desk. “Now, Tyler, you know that’s not going to happen. You’re one of the best farmers in the state. You haven’t had a failed crop since you started wearing pants with zippers.”

“I’ve come too damned close too many times to take anything for granted and you know it,” Tyler argued. And then he leaned back in his chair and cocked one long leg across his knee. “But, I’m going to take a chance. I’ve got a hunch about the government pay base this year and it doesn’t feel good. If we don’t get someone in office up in Washington that understands farmers and makes some changes in the agriculture program, we’re all going to be out on our ears and that’s a fact.”

“All right.” Seth grinned and clapped his hands. “This calls for a celebration! And I know just the place. Ever been to The Old South?”

Tyler glanced down at his watch, calculating the time he knew that they’d spend at some club against the time he had to drive home to his farm outside of Tulip, and decided that he deserved a break.

“No, but I have a feeling I’m about to be taken there.”

“Like Sherman took Atlanta,” Seth said.

Tyler grinned. “You better not say that too loud around here.”

Seth laughed. “Come on reb, let’s go have us a party.”

“Lead on, Yankee,” Tyler retorted. “I’m due some R and R.”

Amelia glowed beneath the subdued lighting like a fire-cracker on the Fourth of July. Her tall, shapely body was neatly encased in shiny red satin and spandex. Lorna, the lifeguard at Tulip’s public swimming pool had a suit just like it, only it didn’t sport a black net bustle that bounced back and forth as she walked and her legs weren’t nearly as long or encased in black fishnet hose like “Amber’s”.

Trying to ignore the slick touch of a man’s hands on the back of her thigh as she scooted between the tables of customers, she looked down and glared. “I’ll be right with you, sir.”

He leered back. “I’ll be waiting.”

Stifling the urge to dump her tray of drinks in his lap, she continued to the next table.

Seth looked up and then whistled softly as he and Tyler were being seated in a darkened corner of the club. “Ooowee.”

Tyler followed his friend’s gaze and started to laugh when he saw the woman in red…her long, long legs…and that damned bobbing bustle…and forgot to take his next breath. He watched her neatly take command of an unruly situation, take a patron’s order and dodge grasping hands without misplacing that smile on her face.

To his dismay, the room began to sway, and he grabbed hold of the table to settle his world. It would be hell if he fell on his face before he ever learned her name. He went from interest to lust so quickly he caught himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He hadn’t been this hard this fast since his sixteenth birthday when Kissy Beth Syler had skinny-dipped in front of him just for kicks. And then he grinned to himself, remembering that she wasn’t the only one who’d gotten her kicks that day. He’d had a soft spot for farm ponds ever since. It was a memorable way to celebrate one’s arrival into manhood.

“That’s one fine-looking lady,” Seth murmured.

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. Fine didn’t begin to describe his opinion.

And then Seth’s grin widened as he nudged Tyler’s leg beneath the table with the toe of his shoe. “Hey great, she’s coming this way. It looks like we lucked out tonight, my friend. We’re sitting at one of her tables.”

“What’ll you gentlemen have?”

Amelia stood with pen poised above paper, staring at a point just to the left of the men’s shoulders. She never actually looked them in the eye. It was her way of retaining what she considered anonymity. But she need not have bothered. She was as far removed from Amelia Beauchamp’s persona as diamonds were from coal.

The man with his back to the wall mumbled something totally unintelligible, forcing Amelia to look up. Her heart thumped wildly as sweat broke out on the back of her neck.

Their gazes locked. Tyler looked up into eyes so green they looked wet and then he blinked. No, maybe they were blue. He could swear he saw sky. He watched her turn pale beneath the layer of makeup she was wearing. A glimpse of pearly white teeth slipped down across her lower lip and Tyler frowned as he watched the pressure increasing. If she wanted her lip bit, he’d be glad to oblige.

Amelia groaned. Oh my God. I knew that this might happen! Now what in the world am I going to do? If he goes back to Tulip and tells, I’m ruined! Why him? And why now?

Here he was, the man of her dreams sitting less than a foot away, and she had to fight the urge to run. At this point, the band swung into a loud jazzy number that made hearing nearly impossible. She leaned forward.

“Excuse me, sir, but I didn’t hear your order. What did you say you wanted?”

As she leaned, both men got a better than average look at a tightly encased bust threatening to spill from strapless red spandex.

The room took another tilt as Tyler realized he had the strangest urge to lay this woman down beneath their table and peel that red stuff off of her a little bit at a… To his dismay, he verbalized his thoughts.

“Want? I want you!” Oh, good God. What did I say? “Uh…I mean, I want you to excuse me. Seth, you order. I’ve got to…I need to…where’s the…?”

Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t recognize her. “First door on your left down the hall,” she said, and then waited to get their order as Tyler strode away from the table.

Tyler leaned over the sink, splashing his face with cool water, although it wasn’t the part of his anatomy that needed cooling off. He stared blankly at the water droplets running down his face and absently blotted them with a handful of paper towels.

“What in hell just happened to me?”

But his reflection didn’t answer. From the looks of it, his reflection was just as scared as he was. This didn’t look good, but that woman surely did. He tossed the towels into the trash and headed out the door.

Seth shoved a tall glass of cola in front of Tyler. “Are you all right? I didn’t think you needed anything alcoholic. You looked like you were getting sick.”

He shrugged, unwilling to admit how she’d rattled him. “I’m okay. I don’t know what…”

Something lacy and black caught the corner of his eye. Perfume wafted across his nostrils. Even in this din, even through the smoke, he smelled her coming.

Amelia walked up behind him and set a small dish of peanuts on the table to go with their drinks.

When her arm came across his line of vision, he jumped as if he’d been shot.

Already nervous at being in such close proximity to a walking disaster, Amelia leaned down once more, shouting to be heard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tyler stared, once again lost in those blue-green eyes and that cloud of chestnut curls drifting around her face. If she bit her lip again he was in serious trouble.

“That’s all right, miss…?” Seth Hastings waited with a smile on his face, expecting her to fill in the blanks with her name. She obliged.

“My name is Amber,” she answered. “Will there be anything else?”

Her name is Amber! Tyler grabbed her arm. “Yes.”

She waited, and then waited some more as his fingers tightened around her wrist. She began to panic again. What if he was beginning to…? And then he shouted in her ear.

“Bring me some nuts.”

Seth’s grin widened perceptibly, which did not help Tyler’s unraveling composure.

Amelia looked at him as if he’d grown horns and carefully pushed the dish toward him that she’d just placed on the table.

He looked down at the salty, brown nuts and reluctantly let go of her wrist.

“Oh…uh, thanks.”

Seth rolled his eyes. This was getting better by the minute.

“Will there be anything else?” Amelia asked. She was almost afraid to wait for the answer.

“If there is, we’ll yell,” Seth said. “And thanks…Amber. You’re a doll.”

Tyler frowned. He didn’t think he liked the fact that Seth just paid the woman a compliment. He grabbed his cola and downed it in one gulp, watching that bobbing bustle over the rim of his glass as Amber walked away.

Seth grinned. “Old girlfriend?”

“I wish,” Tyler muttered, and then grinned back at his friend’s owlish leer. “Just shut the hell up, Seth. I haven’t signed that contract yet. If you keep this up, I still may not.”

Seth pursed his lips into a comical expression of propriety and calmly lifted the bowl of nuts from the table.

“Here you go, Tyler, have a peanut.”

Two

It was almost closing time, and without doubt, the evening had been the longest of Amelia’s life. The relief of knowing that Tyler Savage hadn’t recognized her had left her weak and shaken. It was her first close call since she’d started living a double life.

She fidgeted with the top of her suit as she gathered up her gear. With one last tug at its too-snug fit, she emptied her tips onto the bar and began to count. At least one good thing was coming out of this deceit. Her car fund was growing. At the other end of the bar, Raelene was performing a similar routine while employees began to clean up.

And then a voice in Amelia’s ear made her jump. Her suit slipped a notch as she whirled around. Openmouthed, she clutched her suit with one hand and a wad of bills with the other as Tyler Savage leaned forward and poked a dollar bill lightly into the crevasse between her breasts.

“You dropped this,” he explained, with an obliging grin.

Amelia gasped, and yanked it out with a flourish. “Thank you,” she muttered, and spun around, anxious that he not see her so closely, face-to-face.

“Amber…?”

Her heart skipped a beat as his deep, sexy drawl lingered in her ears.

“What?” she muttered, and began stuffing money into her bag. She had to get away from him and she had to do it now. This situation was making her nervous.

“Would you go out with me sometime? Maybe to dinner…a movie…or dancing, wherever you wanted. You name it.”

He waited anxiously for her answer, remembering the hour he’d spent after Seth had gone home just watching her wait tables. For some strange reason, she didn’t seem as if she was a stranger, although he knew for a fact that he’d never seen her before tonight.

While he waited for an answer, Amelia went into a panic.

Oh my Lord! He’s just asked me out on a date! What do I do? All these years he’s ignored my existence and now he decides to notice me? Now when I can’t do a darned thing about it? It’s not fair! And then it dawned on her that he hadn’t really asked her out, he’d asked Amber. It was a frustrating and sobering thought.

Of course, had Amelia been honest with herself, she would have admitted that her own personal appearance had nothing to do with Amber’s. As Amelia she’d done nothing to attract his, or any other man’s attention. It wasn’t entirely Tyler Savage’s fault that he didn’t know Amelia Beauchamp existed. But as Amber, she didn’t have to do anything to attract attention. Her pretty face and that shiny red suit were enough enticement for any man with the inclination.

“We don’t know each other,” she muttered, as she stuffed the last of her tips away. “I don’t think that a date would be proper.”

Tyler couldn’t believe what he’d heard. He’d expected any number of answers, but a concern about propriety had not been one of them. In his experience, propriety and barmaids had little in common.

He leaned forward, just shy of touching her again. “We’d get to know each other a whole lot better if you’d agree to go out with me.”

Amelia groaned. His voice was as compelling as the man himself. She closed her eyes and then shuddered. There was no way on God’s earth that she could go out with him. He might suspect, and if he did, she was ruined. With a dejected sigh, she looked up.

“Thanks all the same,” she said softly, “but I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

Tyler died in her eyes and was resurrected by the smile on her lips. Her mouth was moving. He knew it because he could feel her breath against his face, but focusing on her words was impossible. And then she started to walk away.

“Does this mean no?”

Another soft smile slid into place in spite of her intention to remain aloof. “It means just what I said, mister. It’s not a good idea.” In fact, you have no idea how dangerous it would be.

“My name is Tyler…Tyler Savage. And I’m real good at changing people’s minds.”

At that, he reached out and gently tucked a stray curl back in place that had been teasing at the corner of her eye.

Amelia held her breath as his finger stroked against her temple. She was afraid he wouldn’t stop with a touch and afraid that she wouldn’t have the guts to say no again.

Tyler ached to hold her. The lost, almost vulnerable look that kept appearing and disappearing on her face was nearly his undoing. As aloof as she seemed, he sensed insecurity and fear were the true reasons for her behavior.

“Okay, you win…this time. But I’ll be back, and I’ll need a better excuse than the one you used tonight. Okay?”

Amelia let out a pent-up sigh as she watched him walk away. “Well, I never,” she muttered, and then realized that was just what was wrong with her. Or at least she hadn’t for a long time. If she had…at least recently…she wouldn’t be so hesitant to take the man up on an offer she’d been praying would come.

“Ooh, honey,” Raelene muttered. “Why did you let that one get away? You know what they say about him, don’t you?”

“Him, who?” Amelia had to play it safe and pretend that they’d just met. It wouldn’t do to admit that she’d spent the better part of the past eight years of her life transposing Tyler’s face onto the heroes in her romance books.

Raelene stared. This woman floored her. She’d never understand what was going on inside that head. She knew good and well who Amber really was. She also knew that “Amber” had to know who Tyler Savage was. He’d lived in Tulip his entire life. Nevertheless, this wasn’t her game to play. So instead of arguing the issue, she shrugged and pointed.

“Him…Tyler Savage. He’s one hunk of man and if the stories about him are true, one hot lover, too.”

Amelia groaned and wished she was physically able to kick herself in the rear. It boggled the mind that she’d turned him and his reputation down. Her shoulders drooped as she stared at the empty doorway through which he’d disappeared.

“Oh, I’ve heard all of that, but so what if it’s true? He wouldn’t be interested in me.” For the first time since her and Raelene’s relationship had begun, Amelia as good as admitted she was a fraud. She met Raelene’s knowing gaze. “Not the real me, anyway.”

Raelene grinned. “There’s more to the real you than I think you’re willing to admit.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and her hips wiggled in unison as if they were somehow connected.

Amelia laughed at her friend’s honesty while being secretly disgusted with herself for not being as sincere. She was desperate to go out with Tyler despite the fact that he might recognize her. She also knew that it wasn’t fear of being recognized that kept her from accepting him. It was fear of what she’d lose if she did. He was the kind of man who took women’s hearts and then kept them.

Raelene patted her on the arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s call it a night.”

A short while later, a stray dog barked at Raelene’s car as it entered Tulip. It belched to a stop two blocks over from the Beauchamp residence.

Amelia winced. “Thanks for the ride, and I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Raelene yawned and then grinned wearily. “Honey, it’s already tomorrow.”

“How true,” Amelia said, and then bolted from the car, trading the sidewalks for the darker, less obvious alleyways, as she headed for home.

In no time, she’d entered the house, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as she locked the front door behind her. Once again, another night of deception had passed undetected.

Yet her conscience would not let her forget that tonight, for just a moment, she’d thought the charade was over. Because of it, a man whom she’d dreamed of for years had asked her out and she’d had to say no.

But, he didn’t ask me, Amelia fumed. He asked that damned Amber.

She didn’t even wonder about the futility of being envious of her own self. She was too frustrated and weary. And she thought she might be coming down with something. There was a strange ache hanging around her heart.

Tyler pulled a clump of peanuts from the ground, searching the underside of the leaves for signs of leaf spot. He pinched at the small, immature nuts hanging like little ornaments on the ends of the plant roots, checking constantly for nematodes as well as the size of the kernel inside the soft shell, hoping that he didn’t find more pops than nuts.

He’d paid to have the crops sprayed just last week and crop dusters didn’t come cheap. He looked up at the clear blue sky and the tufts of gathering cumulus clouds, shading his eyes beneath the brim of his cap and searching the far horizon for the impending signs of rain that the weatherman had promised earlier this morning.

He began to walk the rows, oblivious to the irrigation system in operation. His long legs moved in rhythm to the pulsing jets of water spraying his body and the crops. He was concerned with the tiny, dark green clumps of peanut plants aligning themselves in perfect unending order down the fields.

Beneath the soil, a bountiful harvest was growing, feeding itself from the rich nutrients in the Georgia loam. And yet for the first time in his life, he felt no satisfaction in the knowledge that he was standing on money in the ground. All he could think about was sundown. And a nightclub outside of Savannah called The Old South. And a woman called Amber.

“Hey, boss,” a man yelled. “You want us to shut this down?”

Tyler looked up in surprise. For a moment, he’d actually forgotten where he was. He waved to the man in charge of the irrigation crew.

“May as well,” he said, looking up at the sky with a practiced eye. The building thunderheads were a promising sign of rain. “Give it a rest. Weatherman said rain tonight and if it comes a good one, maybe we won’t have to water the fields for a while.”

“You’re the boss,” Elmer said. And did as he was told.

“Some boss,” Tyler mumbled to himself. “I’m not even in charge of my good sense. Damn stupid that I’m trying to run this farm, too.”

“What did you say?” Elmer asked.

“Oh, hell, Elmer,” Tyler laughed. “Ignore me. I’m just talking to myself.”

Elmer laughed. “Yeah, farming will do that to you. I’ll tell you what’s wrong with you, though. You need to get you a woman.”

When Tyler grinned, Elmer held up his hands in surrender. “Not that kind of woman, Ty. You need one to come home to. You’re past thirty years old and still unmarried. Dammit man, we need to get you out of circulation. I got a daughter who giggles every time you drive by. I’d hate like hell to have to whip your ass when she turns twenty-one. You need to get yourself involved.”

An image of a tall, voluptuous woman in tight red spandex flashed before his eyes. The last thing he was interested in was one of Elmer Tolliver’s moony-eyed daughters. Tyler was already involved. He just had to find a way to convince Amber to participate.

Raelene gasped and then nudged Amelia sharply beneath the ribs. “Ohmigod! Would you look at that? He’s back! You’re gonna have to break down and put that man out of his misery, girl. What is it now…four…five times he’s been back?”

Amelia sighed, trying to ignore the way her heart raced and her stomach tied itself into little knots every time that man entered the room.

“Six,” Amelia muttered. “And wouldn’t you know it. He’s at one of my tables again.”

Raelene laughed. “Well hell, honey. Why do you think he comes here? It can’t be for the company. He sits at that table by himself all night and watches you walk. That’s why he’s here.” She laughed again at her own wit as she fluffed Amelia’s bustle. “So go on out there and give him something to remember.”

Amelia glared at her friend and tried not to wiggle as she walked across the floor to take his order. But it was impossible to stop the motion where her body was concerned. What didn’t sway, bounced. “What’ll it be?” she asked. Pen poised above her order pad.

“You know what I want,” he said softly. “But in the meantime, you can bring me a soda.”

“You could get a soda at any corner quick stop.”

“Yeah, but the service isn’t near as pretty. Hank’s missing two teeth, and his overalls don’t fit nearly as well as your outfit. I’m a bit prejudiced toward short…skintight…black net…shiny red…”

Amelia made a beeline for the bar.

Listening to him flirt was getting to be a bit painful. His voice pulled at secret places inside her belly. His eyes taunted her body to react in the most embarrassing of manners. He was wearing her down and they both knew it.

She slammed her tray onto the bar and almost shouted out her orders. The bartender actually forgot to make a wisecrack as he hurried to complete her requests. Amelia leaned her forehead onto the palm of her hand and closed her eyes with regret.

“Sorry,” she said, as he set the drinks onto her tray. “It’s been a long week.”

He nodded and smiled.

Amelia lifted her tray and then turned, staring through the dimly lit room to the table in the back. “That does it! He’s driving me crazy. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to put a stop to this…. Now!”

She sailed across the floor, tray held high, dodging hands and sharp remarks as she quickly served the tables their drinks, saving Tyler’s order for last.

“Here’s your cola,” she said shortly. “And you win!”

He nearly forgot to breathe.

“I win?”

Amelia glared. “You know what I mean! Don’t play coy with me at this late date, mister.” She leaned forward to make her point.

He shoved his drink aside and stood up. Their faces were mere inches apart, their breaths caressing each other’s cheeks.

“When?”

She rolled her eyes and slammed her tray against her breasts, unconsciously using it as a shield between them.

“The sooner the better. Then maybe you’ll get this out of your system and I can get back to work.” But how I’ll get you out of my system later is my problem, she thought.

“How about tomorrow night?”

Amelia thought for a moment and then nodded. She started to walk away when his voice stopped her cold.

“Amber?”

She turned.

“I have a small problem.”

She waited for him to continue.

“I don’t know your last name…or where you live.”

Oh God! “Umm…it’s Champion. And don’t bother picking me up. Just meet me here around nine.”

“So late?” Tyler was hoping for more.

“It’s that or nothing. I have two jobs. It’s impossible to come earlier.”

“I’ll take it,” he said softly. And I’ll take you. Anywhere…on any terms.

“Fine then,” Amelia muttered. “I have to get back to work now.”

His hands cupped her shoulders, lingering on the bare curves before running lightly down to the bend of her elbows. He grasped her gently and shook her to get her attention.

“You won’t be sorry, Amber.”

I already am, she thought. And then she smiled. She’d been sorry half her lifetime. What was the matter with her? She’d wanted a change in her life. Dating Tyler Savage was a fine place to start. She comforted herself by thinking if he hadn’t recognized her by now, he wasn’t going to.

Tyler wondered about the odd little smile that flitted seductively around her lips before disappearing into those wide blue-green eyes. His pulse accelerated as he watched her walk away, lost in the bustle bouncing in rhythm to her long-legged stride. He had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be the best night of his life. If everything went the way he hoped, it might also be the beginning of the rest of it, too.

“Ahmeelya!”

Amelia flew down the front stairs, gasping as she dashed into the dining room. “Yes, Aunt Witty?”

“Don’t run. Don’t shout. Breakfast is ready. And you’re already late.”

Wilhemina shoved a warm plate in front of her niece and frowned, running a practiced eye over Amelia’s pale pink shirtwaist, frowning even more as she noticed that it picked up too much color from her cheeks. A woman couldn’t be flashy. It wasn’t ladylike to call attention to one’s self.

Rosemary poured herself another cup of coffee and slipped into the chair beside her niece. “My, but you’re looking pretty this morning, dear. You remind me of myself when I was a girl. I had more beaus than you could shake a stick at. Why, I remember the time…”

“Hush, Rosemary,” Wilhemina said sharply. “You’ll give the girl ideas.”

Amelia hid a smile. She was twenty-nine years old, not nine. And as for ideas, Tyler Savage had already put more into her head than she could cope with.

“I’ll bet you both had your share,” Amelia said diplomatically.

Her Aunt Witty’s blush came as a big surprise. Almost as much as the fact that she actually smiled.

Rosemary giggled. “Oh, Willy, do you remember Homer Ledbetter? He had the biggest crush on you when you were…”

The smile on Wilhemina’s face suddenly pursed. “Oh yes! I remember Homer well. He took Sissy Manion to the school picnic instead of me. I never did forgive him. After all, he’d promised.” Her mouth pursed unforgivingly. “Let that be a lesson to you, Amelia. You can’t trust men.”

Rosemary wasn’t to be deterred. “Pooh! Homer Ledbetter wasn’t even close to being a man. If I remember correctly, he hadn’t been out of knickers more than three or four years. Besides…everyone knew why he took Sissy. She used to let the boys…”

“Rosemary!”

Amelia grinned as she swallowed her last bite of scrambled egg, washing it down with a gulp of juice.

“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Have a nice day, okay? I’ll see you both this evening.”

“Anyway,” Rosemary continued as if there’d never been a breach in the conversation. “If you hadn’t been such a persimmon about things, he’d have asked you out again.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want him to,” Wilhemina argued.

It was the last thing Amelia heard as she made a dash for the car. The ancient Chrysler coughed twice before the motor turned. With an aging wheeze, it came to life as she put it in reverse and backed from the driveway. She could hardly wait for the day when she climbed into a car that belonged to her. One that started with the turn of a key, not on a hiccup and a prayer. And one that would get her farther than Tulip Public Library.

Tyler shifted gears as he drove into town, slowing down in accordance with the speed zone sign that used to be standing at the city limits. The sign had blown away during the last hurricane more than fifteen years ago, but the sign-post was still there. It was just understood that the 35 mph limit was still in ordinance.

The wind blew through the open windows of his truck, cooling his sweat-drenched shirt just enough to give it a sticky, clammy feel against his skin. Last night’s rain had been a welcome relief, but the day’s heat was making the weather just short of unbearable. He glanced down at his wristwatch and made a quick decision. It was already close to noon and he still hadn’t made it to the fields. A flat on one of the duals of his 4850 John Deere had changed his plans. It had taken the better part of an hour to wrestle the huge tractor tire off the axle and another ten minutes just to get it into the back of a flatbed truck.

He turned down main street and headed for the filling station, knowing that it would take some time to get the flat fixed. The least he could get out of this morning was a decent meal at Sherry’s Steak and Soup. It wasn’t gourmet fare, but it beat his own cooking all to hell.

Amelia shifted the phone to her other ear as she leaned over the library counter and turned the sign on the door to read Closed.

“No, Aunt Witty, it’s my fault, not yours. I forgot to pick up my lunch this morning. And I know you two have garden club this afternoon. I’ve already decided to go over to Sherry’s Steak and Soup and have a salad.” She rolled her eyes as her aunt began a tirade on the dangers of too much fast food and grease. “I said, I’m having a salad. And yes, I’ll watch my waist.” Although I don’t know who besides you two will care.

She grabbed for her purse as she hung up the phone, unwilling to linger over their conversation and give her aunt time to make further suggestions concerning her food.

Jenny Michaels tucked a pencil behind her ear and shifted her chewing gum to the other side of her cheek. “Hey, Tyler Dean. I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right with you.”

“Just bring me a chicken fry and the works,” he said.

“Hey, Cookie, chicken fry with all the trimmings,” she shouted from across the room.

Amelia came in the side door and slid onto a bar stool just as Jenny was about to pick up an order from the kitchen. Jenny paused and whipped her pencil out from behind her ear.

“Hey there, Amelia. I’d better take your order before the cook gets bogged down in burgers and fries. What can I get ’ya?”

“A chef salad,” she answered. “Oh! And don’t forget I want…”

Jenny grinned. “I know. You want your boiled egg quartered. No ham. Only chicken. And fat-free ranch dressing on the side.”

Amelia frowned. “Am I in that much of a rut?”

“I don’t know,” Jenny said and then winked. “Are you?”

“Just bring me my salad,” Amelia said wryly. “Save the psychiatrist’s couch attitude for someone who needs it.”

Jenny leaned forward. “Speaking of couches…there’s someone I’d like to get on one.”

Amelia turned, her eyes following the direction of Jenny’s pencil and then nearly fell off the bar stool as Tyler Savage stared at them from across the room.

Oh God! He’s here! What do I do? What if he…? “Don’t get in such a snit,” she told herself. “Remember…he doesn’t know a thing.”

Misunderstanding the pep talk Amelia had given to herself, Jenny raised her eyebrows several inches. “That’s not what I hear. I hear he knows plenty. And if I had my way, he’d be teaching some of it to me.”

Tyler shifted uncomfortably under the force of their gaze. It was blatantly obvious that he was the focus of their conversation. He knew Jenny well, but he couldn’t place the woman at the counter. She looked familiar, but she wasn’t exactly his type. Her hair was wound up in a tight little knot on top of her head. Even worse, her glasses had long since gone out of style and her makeup was nonexistent. And that dress. Lord! His mother used to wear dresses like that. If that wasn’t enough, the way she’d ordered her food all sorted out and separate seemed a little prissy. Seemed a big waste of time considering it was all going to the same place.

Jenny elbowed Amelia who quickly turned her back on Tyler’s intent gaze. “I think he noticed we were talking about him.”

“He’d have to be blind not to. You were pointing.”

Jenny shrugged as she turned in Amelia’s order and picked Tyler’s up to deliver. “Doesn’t pay to be bashful, believe me.”

Amelia buried her face in her hands, hoping that this meal would pass with no hitches. There was no way he should be able to recognize her as Amber. After all, librarians didn’t vamp, they shelved.

Tyler grinned at the waitress as his food was placed in front of him. The aroma was enticing, and so was the thought of tonight. He could hardly wait to get to Savannah and pick up Amber for their night out.

“Be needing anything else?” Jenny asked with a wink. “Anything at all?”

Tyler grinned even wider. He knew Jenny was flirting, but it was a nonthreatening type of flirt and one with which he was very accomplished. “Now if I do, Jen, you’ll be the one I’ll call.”

Jenny smiled and then hurried away.

He dug into his food with relish. Jenny was nice. But she definitely didn’t have what Amber Champion had, including long legs, a tight, skimpy red outfit and a pair of the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Or were they blue? He tried to remember, but it was no use and it didn’t really matter. After tonight he’d know a whole lot more about Amber Champion than the color of her eyes.

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