Mike Riordan’s parents are out of town this week, and I don’t at all approve of them allowing him to have a party at their house while they’re away. As far as I’m concerned, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“But Mike’s brother Joe is going to be there to keep an eye on things. He’s a college man.”
Sharon wasn’t impressed. “He just finished his first year of college. That makes him barely nineteen years old. I’m sorry, but that isn’t my idea of a suitable chaperon for a houseful of teenagers. The answer is no. We can go out to eat or to a movie, if you like. Or you can invite a couple of your friends over to eat pizza and play video games.”
“All my friends are going to the party. No one’s going to want to miss it to hang out with me.”
Refusing to be swayed by his plaintive tone, Sharon responded firmly. “I doubt that everyone will be at the party. I’m sure I won’t be the only adult who’ll think this is a bad idea.”
“Just let me go for a little while, okay? If it gets too wild, I’ll call you to come get me.”
“You aren’t going to a party that isn’t adequately supervised, and there’s no use discussing it any further.”
“Fine. Great. Ruin my life.”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I’m trying to be a responsible guardian.”
“Mom would let me go if she was here.”
The operative word, Sharon thought wearily, was responsible—something their dear, ditzy mother had never been. “Well, Mom’s not here. While she’s away, I’m in charge. You’re just going to have to accept that.”
Sullen silence was his only response.
“Be thinking about what you want for dinner tonight, okay?” she suggested, her tone conciliatory. “We can go to that new Mexican place you like so much. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”
“Might as well sit at home and watch TV,” he muttered.
“If that’s your choice,” she agreed evenly. “I have to get back to work now. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
He hung up without responding.
Sharon rubbed her forehead as she hung up the phone. It was Tuesday afternoon, a slow day in her home-decor shop, and for once she was grateful for the lull. Her full-time assistant was at a doctor’s appointment, and Sharon was alone. Between her confrontations with her rebellious kid brother and the almost incessant calls from acquaintances still wanting to talk about the incident Friday night, she was ready for some time to herself.
With her back to the door of the shop, she slid the phone into its place beneath the counter, then turned to the paperwork she’d been looking over when Brad called. Her elbow bumped a thick wallpaper-sample book, which crashed to the floor at her feet. Muttering a mild curse, she knelt to pick it up, tucking it into the crook of one arm. What else could go wrong today?
She gasped when a man’s hand suddenly appeared in front of her, offering to assist her to her feet. She hadn’t heard anyone enter the shop, so it caught her completely off guard to realize she wasn’t alone. She looked up and swallowed hard when her gaze was captured and held by a pair of eyes as dark and unrevealing as polished onyx.
Sharon had never considered herself a fanciful person, but the image that came immediately to mind was that of a sleek, dangerous black cat. This intriguing man was as out of place in her little shop as he was…well, in this small, sleepy town.
No wonder everyone in Honoria had been speculating about him.
Almost involuntarily, she placed her hand in his. There was an instant shock of familiarity when his fingers closed around hers, bringing back memories of how safe she had felt when he’d pulled her out of Snake Creek.
He helped her to her feet. Her voice was a bit breathless when she said, “Thank you, Mr. Cordero.”
His left eyebrow rose half an inch. His voice was a deep growl that befitted the exotic animal she had envisioned when she saw him—the same voice that had echoed in the back of her mind since the accident Friday night. “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”
Her smile felt wry. “I’m not likely to forget our meeting anytime soon.”
His answering smile was just a slight shift at the corners of his mouth—and only added to his attractiveness, in Sharon’s opinion. She hadn’t gotten a really good look at him in the shadowy darkness Friday night, but now she could understand why so many women in town had been whispering about him. It wasn’t often they saw a man like this.
“Six feet of sex,” Leslie Anne Cantrell, the town flirt, had called him, eliciting delighted giggles from the women who’d overheard. Sharon could honestly say now that Leslie Anne hadn’t been exaggerating. Any normal woman would appreciate Mac Cordero’s thick black hair, gleaming dark eyes, taut brown skin and sleekly muscular build.
He wasn’t a man any woman was likely to forget, she mused, no matter how they met.
Realizing abruptly that she was standing there gazing up at him, her fingers still clasped in his, she pulled her hand away and stuck it in the pocket of the navy linen blazer she wore with a muted plaid shirt and khaki slacks. Though the expression in his eyes was impossible to read, she had the unnerving sensation that he could see directly into her mind as he searched her face. “You’ve suffered no ill effects from your ordeal?”
“No, I’m fine. A few colorful bruises and sore muscles, but no real injuries, thank goodness.”
“You were fortunate.”
She nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“Any word about the van that ran you off the road?”
“No. Wade—the police chief—said it seems to have disappeared. But if it’s still in the area, he’ll find it.”
“You seem confident about that.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “Wade takes his job very seriously. When someone breaks the law, he doesn’t rest until he catches them.”
“Then I hope he catches them soon.” For the first time since he’d helped her to her feet, he looked away from her face long enough to glance around her shop, Intriguing Interiors. The store was filled with rows of wallpapers and borders, shelves of order books, swatches of designer fabrics, and displays of decorator and gift items. “Nice place.”
“Thank you. I bought it almost two years ago.”
What might have been amusement glimmered for a moment in his eyes. “I know.”
She studied him curiously. “You do?”
His mouth quirked again into that sexy semi-smile, making her pulse race in a manner that both distracted and annoyed her. She made an effort to focus on their conversation rather than the effect he had on her—something she would think about and rationalize later, she promised herself.
“Ever since I helped you out of that water, everyone in this town has wanted to talk to me about the accident—and
