AS HER TRUCK RACED along the highway, Katie glanced over at Jorlan. He had barely spoken a word to her since they’d left Vortex. His entire demeanor screamed “no touch” right now. She knew he was disappointed. She knew he needed time to face the reality of a prolonged stay, but as he was fond of telling her, time was their enemy.

      There had to be something she could do to cheer him up.

      They soon crossed into Dallas. Twenty minutes later, she eased her truck into the winding driveway of the Victorian. Jorlan loved physical labor, so what better way to keep his mind busy than to put him to work?

      Katie placed the truck in Park. Her eyes narrowed. An old, rusty and unfamiliar Dodge Dart was parked in front of the house.

      Curiosity tugged the corners of her lips downward. If the car didn’t belong to one of her brothers, to whom did it belong?

      “Who is here?” Jorlan asked. Each word portrayed a hint of the dark emotions swirling inside him.

      “I don’t know.” There was no one inside the car, and she saw no one loitering on the lawn. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

      She found the Dart’s owner perched on the porch. Frances, the waitress from the café, jumped to her feet. Another woman—Heather, Katie realized—stood beside her, looking as bored and contemptuous as ever, her arms wrapped around her middle, as if the humid heat didn’t touch her.

      “What’s going on?” Katie asked Frances.

      The waitress twined her hands together and gazed nervously down at her fingers. “Did you mean what you said about wanting me to work for you?”

      Katie didn’t hesitate with her answer. “Absolutely.” She didn’t like to acquire help from big businesses, or even temp agencies; she preferred working with people she knew, people who needed the money.

      Frances blinked up and smiled, a smile so bright it illuminated her entire face, eradicating wrinkles and making her glow with youthful exuberance. “Then I accept. I can’t thank you enough for this, Katie. Really. I owe you a big fat one.”

      “Yeah,” Heather said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Thanks a bunch.”

      Katie’s gaze slid to the girl. Recalling her move on Jorlan, Katie scowled. Heather glared.

      Frances uttered a discreet cough. “Uh, Katie? May I talk with you in private?”

      “I don’t need you to—” Heather began, but Frances cut her off with a muttered, “Shut up.” Then, “Please, Katie.”

      Curiosity rising, Katie nodded. “Yes, of course.” But she hated leaving Jorlan and Heather alone together. No matter that Jorlan was free to do what—and who—he wanted, Katie now admitted that she considered him her property. Maybe she should get him a sign that read Owned By Katie—Beware and hang it around his neck. Some women, though, would consider such a sign an aphrodisiac and give chase. So, she’d just have to brand Jorlan another way. A hickey, perhaps?

      As she strode with Frances to the side of the house, dodging rain puddles along the way, Katie imagined Jorlan’s body and all the places susceptible to a hickey. She slowly grinned. Her lascivious thoughts ground to a halt, however, the moment she and Frances reached the side of the house.

      “Heather is my daughter,” the waitress blurted.

      Shock reverberating through her, Katie stood frozen. “Your daughter? But that’s impossible.”

      “I’m afraid not,” came the sighed reply. “She’s really, truly mine.”

      Katie massaged the base of her neck. She was trying to digest the information, but had trouble meshing the image of the teasing Frances and the mean-spirited, over-sexed Heather. “I was in the café almost every morning for three weeks and so was she, but the two of you ignored each other.”

      “She’s had a really tough life.” Frances shifted from one foot to the other. “Her father, my ex, was a bad, bad man. He did things to her, and I didn’t know about it until too late. When she turned twelve, she ran away from home. I didn’t hear from her until about a year ago. She doesn’t like me much, but she’s been staying with me, and we’re short on cash. And I—I thought,” she stammered, “I’d hoped if you hired me, you might want to hire her. I swear on my ex’s grave, may he forever burn in hell, that I can get us both here right after my shift at the café. And we’ll work seven days a week if you need us.”

      Most of the animosity Katie felt toward Heather drained away as quickly as if a plug in a tub of water had been pulled. Her imagination filled in the gaps Frances’s explanation left out, and the end result wasn’t pretty. Her heart ached for the little girl Heather had been. “Why does she dislike me?”

      Frances’s lips compressed. “She’s never spoken of it, but I can guess. You’ve got everything she’s always wanted. You’re successful and you’ve got a man that loves you.”

      “Jorlan doesn’t—”

      Frances cut her off with a self-disgusted snort. “She hates my guts, too, if that helps. If you don’t want her around, I’ll understand. But, if it’s okay, I’d still like the job.”

      Katie was probably going to regret this, but she said, “It’s yours, Frances. And Heather, too.”

      Another glorious smile lit the waitress’s face. “Really? You mean it?”

      “You can start tomorrow.”

      “Oh, Katie, thank you! Heather’s real good with flowers and such, and I’m a real fast learner. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

      They discussed what time Frances and Heather should arrive, what sort of things they would be doing, and how much money they would earn.

      “I can never thank you enough, doll.” Frances’s hands shook with the force of her delight. “I swear you won’t regret this.”

      I hope not, Katie thought as they walked back to the porch.

      Jorlan and Heather were chuckling over something Heather had said. The girl was standing too close to him. Way too close for Katie’s peace of mind, and she felt a twinge of regret for her impulsiveness already. Frances ran to the couple and threw her arms around her daughter. “We got the job,” she sang happily. “You and me both.” Laughing, she twirled them around.

      Heather abruptly pulled away. She acknowledged the news with a half smile.

      “There are ten rules I forgot to mention,” Katie said. “Well, they’re safety tips, really.” She threw Jorlan a do-not-talk glare. “There will be no adjusting them.” When she had everyone’s undivided attention, she began. “Number one, do not attempt to fix anything without checking with me first.”

      Two female heads nodded in unison. Jorlan crossed his arms over his chest, and she just knew he was waiting for her to say please. “Number two, always make sure a room is properly ventilated before you begin working. Numbers three through ten, Jorlan is off-limits.”

      “Jorlan?” Heather’s nose crinkled. “I thought he was Hunter Rains, the self-help guy.”

      “You thought wrong. His name is Jorlan, and he’s mine.”

      Frances stared over at Jorlan with horror. “You