act, then spirit them away into slavery or worse. If such a story got around, Jo-Jo would be finished for the season, maybe for good.
That Flannery!
What could have gotten into the child? Kate brooded as she trudged around to the kitchen entrance, intending to speak with Floss. Flannery was usually so obedient. Why on earth would she—
Oof!
The collision with Jeff Parrish was a solid blow, as if she’d run headlong into a brick wall. Kate reeled backward, the physical shock triggering an unexpected rush of tears. After this ghastly afternoon, all she wanted was to find Flannery, pile the clown things into the Jeep, and drive home. The last thing she needed was another encounter with this irritating man!
“Would you like to try that maneuver again? I don’t think I’ve quite gotten the hang of it.” He was standing on the kitchen stoop, making no move to let her pass.
Kate’s defiant gaze measured his muscular frame, moving upward to a square, suntanned face with a nose that would have looked more at home on a prizefighter than the architect she’d been told he was. It was not a glamorous face, not even a handsome face in the usual sense—but he did have unsettling gray eyes. A closer look confirmed that they were the same color as his daughter’s—except that Ellen’s eyes were like stormy sea clouds. Jeff Parrish’s eyes were the cold steel gray of bridge girders.
Kate realized she was staring at him. She groped for a clever remark and came up empty except for the emotions that threatened to bubble over and disgrace her on the spot.
“Oh, get out of my way!” she muttered, starting to edge around him. “I haven’t got time for this!”
Only then did she notice his shirt—a soft polo, obviously expensive, its color an immaculate ice blue against his golden skin—
Immaculate, except for the big, ugly makeup smear in front, where her face had slammed into his chest.
“Oh!” She noticed it the same time he did. “I’m sorry— no, sorry doesn’t say it! I’m mortified! I’ll pay to have it cleaned—”
“Cleaned?” He craned his neck, examining the spot. “No, wait! This could have possibilities! Maybe we could add a stencil saying ‘I Bumped Into Jo-Jo the Clown.’ You know, sort of like those old Tammi Faye shirts that were hot sellers a few years back. Think what great publicity it would be for you, Jo-Jo.”
“My name isn’t Jo-Jo.” Kate popped off the rubber nose and jammed it irritably into her pocket. “It’s Kathryn. Kate. Kate Valera.”
“I Bumped Into Kate Valera. No, I’m sorry. It doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”
“Are you always this sarcastic?”
“Only when it suits me.” The barest hint of a spark flashed in his eyes, only to vanish when he spoke again. “If you’re looking for your daughter, she’s not in the kitchen.”
“I know. Your mother seems to think that Flannery has spirited your Ellen away and is holding her for ransom in some murky cave! I came by the house to see what I could learn from Floss. Then I’m going to look for the girls. So if you’ve still got work to do—”
“I’ve already spoken with Floss. From what she told me, I’d say our two young fugitives have gone to the beach. I was just on my way to look for them. If that chip on your shoulder isn’t weighing you down too much, you’re welcome to come with me.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “Chip on my shoulder…” she sputtered. “Of all the—”
“That’s what I said.” He steered her away from the house with a firm grip on her upper arm. “Now, stop arguing and come along. We’ve got a couple of lost daughters to find!”
“So how long have you been, uh, clowning around?” Jeff realized the question was inane as soon as he’d asked it. First sarcasm, now lame wordplays. Thank goodness he wasn’t trying to impress this lady.
“Doing Jo-Jo, you mean?” She had a cute nose without that silly rubber ball. Small and pert—and was that a tiny freckle on the end, where the paint had rubbed off? He found himself itching for a closer look.
“Uh-huh. I saw your juggling act from the window. Pretty impressive.”
“My grandfather taught me how to juggle when I was ten.” She marched along beside him, picking up each clumsy shoe and putting it down flat to keep from stumbling in the long sea grass. “As for the rest of the act, about five years ago, I sent off for a video course in clowning. After a few months’ practice, I made the costume, bought the wig and makeup, and voilà! Jo-Jo was born!”
She paused to work her way around a thick clump of sedge. Jeff slowed his pace to wait for her, savoring the uneasy truce that had settled between them. Whatever she might look like under that clown getup, she struck him as a plucky little woman, smart and down to earth. And sexy, he conceded—which was damned strange, considering he’d never seen her face, let alone her figure.
“Jo-Jo’s been a good sideline,” she continued, “at least in the summer. If you count church fund-raisers and passing out cheese dip samples at Piggly Wiggly, I do two or three appearances a week. But I lied to you about one thing earlier this afternoon.”
“About my being smug, arrogant and self-satisfied?”
“Hardly.” Her eyes flashed danger.
Jeff faked an indifferent shrug. “All right. I’m waiting to hear your confession.”
“I lied about the money I earn as Jo-Jo. It doesn’t go to pay bills. I put every cent of it into my daughter’s college fund.”
“And you lied about that—for shame! What could have possessed you?” He studied the stubborn outline of her profile, thinking it was extraordinary of her, going through this idiot clown charade for her child’s future. He would have liked to tell her so, but something held him back. This woman was proud, he sensed—too proud to welcome such a compliment.
“It just came out,” she said. “But I don’t like lying. Not even to you.”
“Oh, thanks a lot” Jeff struck up the side of the first dune, feeling the sea wind like the stroke of cool fingers in his hair. From beyond the crest, he could hear the roll and hiss of the incoming tide. Silently he prayed that two venturesome little girls would have the sense to stay back from the waves.
“What do you do the rest of the year?” he asked, shifting the conversation back to neutral ground.
“The rest of the year, I batten down my house against the nor’easters and mostly hole up in my pottery studio,” she answered. “What gave you the idea the girls went to the beach? Was it something Floss told you?”
“Right—careful!” Jeff grabbed her elbow to steady her on the sandy slope. Her arm felt lean and strong. He liked touching her. “It struck me as a bit strange,” he said, “but Floss claimed she overheard
