Baby at his Door. Katherine Garbera
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her. A strong jaw and sun and laugh lines that radiated outward from his eyes.
A real man. A shiver of awareness spread through her body and pooled at her center. She’d bet her last hundred-dollar bill that he had the kind of muscles you couldn’t get with weekly trips to the fitness center. Stop it, she warned herself.
She’d never been on her own, and the prospect was daunting. For a moment she wanted to return to the familiar, her prestigious name and large bank account. But she also wanted the chance to prove to herself that she was more than a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m Evan Powell. Please call me Evan,” he said.
“Thank you, Evan.”
“You’re welcome….”
He wanted to know her name. Come on girl, think. The safest name would be her own. She’d use her middle name, which was what her closest friends called her anyway. She’d give her father’s name for the last name. “Lydia Martin.”
“Lydia,” he repeated her name as if savoring the feel of it on his tongue.
He closed the door. She watched him walk around the truck and sucked in a few deep breaths before he returned. The cab smelled warm and masculine. Like his aftershave, she realized as he climbed behind the wheel.
He started the truck and the twang of country guitar filled it. He reached out to turn down the volume and she watched his hands. Twice he’d held her arm. She wondered what his touch would feel like in a different context and not on her arm. Her nipples tightened against her lacy bra.
“Are you visiting around these parts?” he asked.
Glad for the distraction from her thoughts, she said, “No, I’m just passing through. I was heading to Deerfield Beach to stay with my aunt.”
They’d reached the end of his driveway. “Which way?”
“Left.”
Her BMW was still wrapped around a telephone pole, and the wreck looked a lot worse in the harsh light cast by his 4X4 truck. “I’m surprised you were able to walk away.”
“The air bag and seat belt saved my life,” she said and knew it was true.
Amazing she’d survived, she thought as she stared at the twisted pile of metal. She felt as if she’d been given another chance at life, and she decided to make the most of it. If she wanted to marry for love she’d have to find a man worthy of her love—and find out if she was worthy of his love. The ideas she’d been playing with earlier solidified, and she knew a sense of purpose for the first time in her life. And that purpose was going to take her in the opposite direction to where her life had been heading.
The police, ambulance and wrecker all arrived while she watched from the cab of Evan’s truck. She felt a little like a fairy-tale princess who’d just been awakened from a long sleep. Only this princess would travel a harder road to find her knight in shining armor and live happily ever after.
Two
It was bad enough Evan was attracted to a tourist he was sworn to protect and serve but to discover one of his cows had caused the accident was a fitting end to the night. Lydia, who’d yet to produce an ID, didn’t want to press charges. But Evan knew he’d have to cover the car repair and probably a couple of nights’ motel stay.
Though the EMT who examined her feared she might have a concussion, she refused to go to the hospital and stay overnight. Evan knew he couldn’t dump her in a motel.
“She can stay with me tonight,” he volunteered.
The EMT gave him instructions to wake her every two hours and ask her a few questions.
“I don’t want to be an imposition,” Lydia said after the EMT had left.
“You won’t be. I take in boarders in the summer.”
“Really, I’ll be fine in a motel.”
“It’s either my place or the hospital, sweetheart.”
“Listen here, Sheriff. I don’t take orders from anyone.”
“I’m not giving you an order. I’m making a decision for you. You are too impaired due to your injury to decide on your own.”
She glared at him. He’d love to see her rested and at her full fighting strength. “I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Then I’d love to have you as my guest.”
“You’re not going to offer to show me your stick are you?”
Evan laughed. “No, not yet.”
He spared a few minutes to radio his foreman to come get the cow back inside the fence. Then have his men repair the broken section. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman he could spar with verbally. Most of the hometown girls never stood up to him. He caught up with Lydia arguing with the tow-truck driver, Boz Stillman.
“Listen, lady. It’s going to take weeks—two, maybe three, to repair your car. Why don’t you just let me take it to the junkyard and have your insurance carrier reimburse you?” Boz demanded.
“The car is still in working condition. I don’t want it totaled,” Lydia said.
“Do you have insurance?” Evan asked. Her insistence about repairing her car told him she might not be covered. He glanced toward the car and found Boz’s helper unloading a fortune’s worth of designer luggage from the trunk.
“No,” she said, quietly.
“Boz, tow the car in and make the repairs to it.”
“Um…Evan, may I speak with you for a minute?” Lydia asked. Her voice was soft and sweet, not a bit at odds with the woman who’d clung to him when his dogs had been licking her.
“Sure. Give us a minute, Boz.”
Boz walked away mumbling about women with more looks than sense. Lydia shifted her weight from foot to foot and stared off at the red-and-blue flashing lights of the squad car.
“What did you want to discuss?”
“This is kind of hard to say,” Lydia hedged.
“Spit it out,” he said, unable to believe she had trouble saying what was on her mind.
“I don’t have any money right now.”
“Don’t you have credit cards?” She seemed like the type who’d have a wallet full of gold cards.
“No. I don’t like to use them,” she said, staring at the ground.
“Let me pay for the repairs. It’s the least I can do since my cow caused the accident.”
“No. You’re already paying me back by letting me stay at your house tonight. Maybe I can find a job and earn some cash to pay for the repairs. This car looks like it’s going to take some time to fix.”
“I’ll pay Boz for the repairs when he’s finished and then you can send me a check from your relative’s house when you get there.”
“My aunt is out of town. I’m house-sitting for her.”
Of course, he thought. Because he’d been thinking that he could spar with her and enjoy the tinges of arousal racing through his veins until she left, it looked like she was going to have to stay.
“What’s your career?”
“I don’t have one. I do a lot of work with charities.”
Great, no marketable skills. He sighed. She appealed to him, he should be getting farther away from her, but instead…
“I have some filing that needs to be done at the office. You can work for me until your car is ready. I’ll