She's No Angel. Leslie Kelly

made it strange that they were both now alone, and had been for many years. He didn’t doubt his grandfather would have liked to fall in love one more time, and he suspected Roderick would have, as well. They’d spent so long raising Mike and his brothers, though, they seemed to have let those dreams slip away. Now that the two old bachelors had taken up residence in Trouble, Pennsylvania, the odds of them meeting the kind of women they’d met in the capitals of Europe were slim to none. So they were apparently stuck with each other for life.

      “I know Grandpa would welcome you right up at the table, pal, but old Roddy’s pretty particular.” Reaching over his shoulder, he scratched the animal’s scruffy head. “He won’t like cooking for a dog, not even one as superior as you.”

      Besides, even if he did, Mutt didn’t handle table food well and Mike would spend the night cleaning up after a sick pet.

      That cinched it.

      So, doing a quick turnaround, he headed back to Trouble, hoping the small grocery store carried the right brand. For a mutt, Mutt was pretty finicky.

      For some reason, his foot lifted off the gas pedal and he slowed down when he passed the old house where he’d dropped Jennifer off a few minutes before. He’d seen no sign of her.

      That was good. Great. Perfect. So why, he wondered, had he been holding his breath, half hoping to see her yelling curses up at the window? Alone. Stranded.

      In need of rescue again?

      The idea was stupid and he kicked himself over it as he ran his errand. Why one hour in the company of a woman would have him wishing he’d have to come to her aid again, he honestly didn’t know. Talk about selfish.

      Hell, maybe his brothers were right and he did have some kind of protector fixation. One more reason to stay away from women right now. All women. Especially the brunette who’d been filling his head since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

      Arriving at the store, he parked out front, then tied Mutt up to a pole by the door. Fortunately, the store was tiny and he could see him from inside. Even more fortunately, they carried the right brand, if not the same flavor of food.

      He was heading back to Mortimer’s Folly, as his brother Morgan liked to call the ugly old white elephant their grandfather lived in, when he saw something that made him wonder if he was some kind of jinx. Or just the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. Because ahead of him, parked on the opposite shoulder of the two-lane road, was a car. And standing beside it was a very frustrated-looking woman.

      It was all he could do not to let Jennifer see his amusement when he did a quick U-turn and pulled in behind her. Getting out, he called, “Problem?”

      She glared at him through her bangs, which had fallen into her eyes. “I ran out of gas.”

      “Good. I was afraid the old ladies had ditched you again.”

      Shifting her gaze away as he reached her side, she admitted, “They used up all my gas and I didn’t even notice it.”

      “You know, I have to admit, someday I’d like to see those two aunts of yours for myself.”

      “You can come to their funerals. They’ll be next week. Ivy would definitely want an open casket.”

      “Still feeling murderous?”

      “You have no idea.”

      Oh, he felt pretty sure he had some. Dangerous or not, the woman was cute as hell when she was mad. “I think you need to be a little more on guard with those two.”

      That full, sexy mouth of hers pulled tight. “No kidding.” She gazed longingly at his Jeep. “I don’t suppose you have a spare gallon or two?”

      “No,” he admitted, “but there’s a gas station a quarter mile away. Let’s go.”

      She hesitated for a moment, staring at him with those big, incredible eyes. She looked tired and annoyed still, but also wore that hint of vulnerability he’d seen before. She’d obviously had a very long day and looked about at the end of her rope.

      Mike reached out and took her arm, giving her some physical support. And maybe some of the emotional kind, too. Not even realizing he owned such a gentle tone, he murmured, “On second thought, you’ve been through enough today. Why don’t you wait in your car, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

      She nodded slowly, not pulling away. A tremulous smile curved her mouth up. Not her usual smile of snarkiness or mischief, but one of relief, of gratitude. “You know, it’s not going to do my reputation any good if people find out a nice, considerate guy came to my rescue not once but twice today.”

      Ha. As if anyone would recognize him as a nice, considerate guy. Seemed they were both suddenly acting out of character. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

      Opening her car door, she got in. “Fair enough. Thank you.”

      She didn’t say anything else as he walked away, nor much when he came back ten minutes later with a small gas can. Though he offered to follow her to the station after he’d put some gas in the tank, she insisted she’d be fine.

      He didn’t press it. Whatever moment of weakness she’d allowed him to see earlier, it was under control now. She was staunch and resolute, appreciative, but also once again very self-confident. So accepting her final thank you and knowing there was nothing more for him to do, Mike got in his Jeep and drove away from her for the second time that day.

      JENNIFER DIDN’T LIKE THE END of anything. Whether it was one of her books that she was having a great time writing or a visit from her parents or simply the joy of the holiday season, she hated reaching The End.

      She especially hated watching people leave. Particularly people she’d just met—sexy people—who she’d like to get to know better. Like him.

      But it obviously wasn’t to be. Like before, he’d played the hero and ridden away on his Jeep Wrangler steed. Big, strong, silent. As she watched Mike Taylor’s taillights disappear into her history again, she felt like a saloon girl watching the handsome lawman ride away in some cheesy western.

      Pathetic. She was thinking like one of the women who wrote to her talking about how wonderful her own handsome hero had been before he’d turned into a cheating toad.

      This latest incident was simply the crap-flavored icing on her mud pie of a day. One for the to-forget books.

      After filling up her tank at Trouble’s one and only gas station—paying prices that would make an oil baron blush—she headed downtown. Her mood had slipped from mostly gray and cloudy to nearly black and stormy. A big part of her wanted to just keep driving, straight back to New York. She had a book to finish—her third—with a hefty check waiting at the end of it.

      But she had a feeling that if she left, she would never be able to make herself return to Trouble and see her aunts again.

      While that appealed to her on one level, on another, she knew that, as twisted as they were, she’d miss them. Miss their stubbornness and their independence, their caustic natures and the aura of mystery that had always surrounded them.

      No. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until they’d hashed things out, face-to-face.

      But first things first. She steered the car toward the local store. Once inside, Jen ignored the shelves full of expired canned goods for a nickel to scout the first-aid area for bandages and antiseptic to clean her blisters. She managed to find a tube of stuff that didn’t look as if it had been produced during the Carter administration. Adding a toothbrush to her cart, she paid for her things just as the store closed at six.

      Six o’clock on a Friday night and the town was closing up shop. Rolling up its sidewalks. The one stoplight in the main square had already stopped changing from red to green and turned into a flat, blinking yellow beacon that screamed, “You’re in the middle of nowhere! Get out while you still can!”

      “Unbelievable,” she muttered, glancing across the