had died of a heart attack. It seemed that Martha had had a congenital heart condition and had run away from home several times in the past. From what the authorities had been able to piece together, after a heated argument with her overly protective mother, at the age of sixteen Martha had gone to the attic to hide out when she’d suffered a fatal heart attack. Since that part of the house was never used, Martha’s body had gone undiscovered for three years.
Jasmine sighed and glanced around. There weren’t too many cars traveling by and those who’d passed hadn’t slowed down to offer help. Thinking she would save time getting home, she had decided to use the two-lane stretch of road instead of the interstate to avoid rush-hour traffic. Now she didn’t like the thought of being stranded.
Maybe if she took a look at the tools she had in the trunk, she might recall how to change a tire. She went to the back of her car and began pulling out her jack and spare tire.
When she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up, she nervously glanced over her shoulder. She was alone on a practically deserted stretch of highway. Releasing the jack from her hand she gripped her key chain that also held her pepper spray.
Ready to take aim if she had to, she turned quickly and exhaled a deep sigh of relief when she saw it was Wesley. She didn’t think she could be happier to see him.
“Need help?”
She shook her head. “Yes, please. I’ve got a flat tire. Do you know how to change one?”
He grinned. “Of course. If you need transportation for another interview, you can take my car and I’ll take care of things here and bring your car to you later.”
She glanced at his elegant silver-gray Mercedes and thought his offer was more than generous. “No, I’m all through for today and was on my way home. I tried calling road service but my cell-phone battery is low.”
“No problem. I’ll take over from here. If you’d like, you can go sit in my car and turn on the air conditioner. It’s getting pretty hot out here.” He couldn’t help noticing how her blouse had become damp and was beginning to stick to her perfectly shaped breasts. Today she was wearing a pair of slacks so he couldn’t see the gorgeous legs he’d thought about so often.
“No, I’m fine. Besides, I need to watch what you’re doing so I can learn what to do the next time.”
He met her gaze as he moved toward her trunk. “I hope there’s not a next time.” He meant it. He didn’t like the idea of her being stranded on an isolated stretch of road with a flat tire. He would have come by sooner had he not been talking with Harold and Miranda Danforth.
He’d considered them his unofficial adoptive parents for the past fourteen years. Miranda had been scolding him about looking too thin and not eating enough. He had decided to use the two-lane highway instead of the interstate due to rush-hour traffic and was glad that he had. He didn’t want to think how long Jasmine might have been stranded had he not come by.
“I hope there’s not a next time, too, but I still want to watch,” she said moving out of his way when he pulled out the jack and spare tire.
A few moments later she regretted watching Wesley. She barely paid any attention to what he was doing. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. She couldn’t help noticing his powerful arms and broad shoulders and the way his slacks stretched tight across his muscular thighs as he removed the flat tire.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he was done. “That about does it, but you should get this tire fixed sometime tomorrow.”
“I will and thanks for your help. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” he said, placing the flat tire in her trunk. “Just make sure you get this repaired tomorrow.”
Jasmine nodded, then remembered she’d been planning to cook spaghetti for dinner. Wesley was used to eating the microwave kind and she wondered if he would appreciate eating the real thing for once. She made a quick decision to find out.
“I’m cooking spaghetti tonight. I know how much you like it and wondered if you’d like to join me?”
“For dinner?” he asked, raising a brow as he closed down the trunk.
“Yes, for dinner. Nothing fancy, just spaghetti and a salad.”
Wesley paused. He could think of no reason why he shouldn’t join her for dinner other than the one nagging him. He didn’t want spaghetti and a salad—he wanted her.
“Yes, I’d like to join you for dinner. Thanks for the invitation.”
“Thanks for your help just now. Do you want to follow me home?”
He glanced down at himself. He looked rumpled and felt sweaty. “I’d like to go home, shower and change first.”
“All right and I’ll go on home and start dinner.” A smile spread across her lips before she opened her car door.
“I’ll follow you.”
She lifted a brow. “Why? You fixed my tire.”
“Yes, but I still want to make sure you get home safely. On rare occasions, spares have been known to go flat, too.”
She nodded. “Should I expect you at my place in an hour or so?”
The smile she gave him had hit him right in the groin. “Yes, that would be the right time.”
He began walking back to his car as she started the engine to her vehicle thinking that that shower he intended to take needed to be a cold one.
Wesley smelled the delicious aroma of spaghetti sauce the moment he walked into Jasmine’s home.
“I hope you’re hungry since I made a huge pot,” Jasmine said, closing the door behind him.
She tried to ignore how good he looked in a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt. She recalled the first time she had seen him in jeans—that night he had appeared out of the darkness while she’d been going through his trash. And then, like now, she thought he looked utterly sexy.
“I’ve never known spaghetti to go to waste while I’m around,” Wesley said in an amused voice, breaking into her thoughts.
Jasmine couldn’t help but smile. “Good. You can come straight to the kitchen where I have everything set up. I thought it would be nice to sit on my screened-in patio. Although I don’t have a view of the Savannah River like you do, I have a view of a lake that I think is rather nice.”
“I’m sure it is.” His smile widened when he walked into her kitchen. It was almost as large as his but definitely better equipped. He liked the way she had things set up, including the way several pots hung from a pot rack.
“You can wash your hands in that bathroom across the hall while I get things ready on the patio.”
The cold shower hadn’t done him any good, Wesley thought as he went into the bathroom to wash his hands. He couldn’t get over how good she looked in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Like him, she had decided to dress comfortably for dinner. And yet the casual outfit still managed to turn him on.
When
