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“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.