a potential husband who could afford to indulge their tastes for luxury, or they launched into a recital of medical symptoms—either their own or someone else’s.
He didn’t want either of those reactions from Gina. He wanted her to see him as a man, without the accompanying baggage of his profession confusing the issue.
Gina watched as his face hardened into a reserved mask, wondering what had caused it. Her question? Had it embarrassed him? Could he have a humdrum, gonowhere type of job and think she might look down on him because of it?
“I’m a technician,” Nick finally said, remembering what one of his more acerbic professors had once said about surgeons. “And I have to have complete mobility in my right hand to work. So for the time being, I’m just marking time while my bone knits. Speaking of jobs, are you on vacation?” he slipped the question in.
“No, I was a data-entry clerk in Chicago. I got fed up with the same old routine and decided I wanted a change. I’d always wanted to see New England in the fall, so here I am,” Gina said.
There was more to her leaving her job than that, Nick decided as he watched the shadows darken her eyes. Something or someone had hurt her very badly to send her running this far.
“Think of my offer as a chance to see the fall foliage up close and in depth.” Nick carefully kept his voice casual. He didn’t want to scare her off with too many questions. For some reason it was becoming increasingly important to him that she stay.
“But I don’t really know you. You could be an ax murderer for all I know,” she blurted.
“The sheriff will vouch for me,” Nick countered.
“You can ask him for a character reference when we report your car stolen.”
Uncertainly, Gina studied the calm, gray depths of his eyes, unsure of what to do. All her life she’d done what was expected of her. What was conventional. Maybe it was time to do what she wanted to. To follow her feelings where they led, and to hell with caution.
Gina took a deep breath and said, “Thank you. I’ll take the job until I can get everything sorted out.”
Chapter Two
“Well, that about covers it, Ms. Tessereck. I’ll get on to the state police with a description of your car,” said the rotund little man whom Nick had introduced as Chief Mygold.
“What do you think the chances are that they’ll find it?” Gina asked him.
He sighed and ran his pudgy fingers over his balding head. “Depends,” he finally said.
“On what?” she persisted, feeling as if she was pulling teeth.
“On who took it,” he said. “If it was a couple of kids who took it to go joyriding, then they’ll abandon it as soon as they’re done, and you should have it back in a day or two. But this being a Friday night don’t argue well for that scenario.”
Nick looked from Gina’s blank expression to the chief’s mournful one and said, “Well, if she won’t ask, I will. What does it being a Friday night have to do with anything?”
“The high school’s football team is playing an away game,” the chief said.
“And all the kids who might have pulled a stunt like that are at the game?” Gina deduced.
“Yep,” Chief Mygold said.
“Which narrows the list of suspects down to whom?” Nick asked.
“Someone who stole it to convert to cash. All your stuff being in the back seat would have only made it that much more tempting. You should never leave things lying in a car in plain sight,” the chief said.
“Sorry,” she muttered, trying not to show her annoyance at his attitude that this was all her fault. First she wanted to get her car back, and then she’d tell him what she thought of his “blame the victim” policy.
“You should have left your stuff at home,” the chief belabored the point.
“Ah, but I was running away from home,” Gina said.
Nick’s eyes narrowed at her words, wondering if she meant them literally. And if so, where was this home she was running from? Or was it a person she was escaping from? Like a lover or a husband?
His eyes dropped to her left hand. It was bare. Nor could he see any sign that she might have recently worn any rings. Not that it mattered to him personally, he assured himself. He had no intention of getting emotionally involved with her. He didn’t dare. A personal relationship would demand more from him than he could give.
He was just going to take advantage of her being stranded to get his house cleaned and to get a few home-cooked meals. And to get some company. He felt a prickle of anticipation. It would be nice to have someone to talk to in the evenings.
“Now, then, Ms. Tessereck, how will I contact you if I hear anything?” Chief Mygold asked.
“She’ll be at my place,” Nick said. “She’s going to be my temporary housekeeper.”
“Um,” Gina muttered uncertainly, with a quick glance at Nick’s rugged features. “Sheriff, being a stranger in town…and while I appreciate Nick’s offer, I mean…”
“You mean you want me to assure you that you won’t wake up one morning to find yourself murdered in your bed?” Mygold broke into her convoluted sentence.
“Strictly speaking, being murdered precludes waking up,” Nick observed.
“It precludes most everything,” Gina said tartly, refusing to back down at the humor she could see in Nick’s gorgeous eyes.
“Don’t you worry about Nick here, Ms. Tessereck. I’ve known him, man and boy, and he ain’t the type to force himself on a woman.” Mygold gave a wheezy chuckle. “Beating the women off is closer to what he faces. Same as his father before him. Why I remember—”
“Spare the poor woman tales of my family tree.” Nick hastily sidetracked the sheriff before he said something about him being a doctor. Or that his great-grandfather had been in business with George Eastman of Kodak fame.
Gina relaxed slightly at the chief’s words. She’d been almost sure that Nick was as trustworthy as he looked, but it was nice to have her opinion vindicated. Nor did she particularly want to hear about Nick’s prowess with women. She wasn’t interested in the past, only the future.
“If I hear anything, I’ll give you a ring at Nick’s, Ms. Tessereck,” Mygold said.
Gina nodded, not liking the sound of that “if.”
“I’ll check back with you in the morning,” she said as Mygold walked them to the door. She was determined to make him understand that she wasn’t going to be put off with vague promises.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Mygold said cryptically as he closed the door behind them.
“What does tomorrow being Saturday have to do with anything?”
