Man In A Million. Muriel Jensen

of their parentage. How was one expected to march into the future without understanding where one came from?

      And how had Randy Sanford guessed within sixty seconds of looking into her face that she was on a long personal search?

      She looked into dark brown eyes in an angular face, nicely shaped eyebrows raised in question, waiting for her answer. He was tall, square-shouldered and flat-stomached in the dark pants and white shirt that were the EMTs’ uniform. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing nicely shaped arms.

      For an instant, she was distracted by the impression he made of strength and solidity. He looked as though a truck could hit him and would bounce back with its hood dented, leaving him uninjured. For a woman who felt exhausted by the vagaries of life and the strain of business, the temptation to lean in his direction and test that strength was hard to resist.

      But she did. She tossed her hair and smiled flatly. It didn’t matter how solid he was, her foundation was completely gone. And she suspected that all she’d done was hurt his male pride. This wasn’t serious interest, just a knee-jerk reaction to rejection.

      “I don’t think I’ll reconsider,” she replied good-naturedly, then stuck out her hand. “No hard feelings?”

      He considered her a moment, then took her hand. “Of course not,” he said. “Nice to finally meet you.”

      “You, too.” She waved at Chilly, who’d walked away to give them privacy.

      Chilly waved back. “Sorry,” he said. “If I wasn’t married, I’d make you change your mind. And if I was Randy Sanford.”

      “Can’t be done,” she said.

      She started to walk away, but Randy caught her arm. Certain he intended to try to charm her into going out with him, she tried to draw away. Then she noticed that his eyes were focused on hers and frowning. There was a professional air in his touch as he put a hand to her chin and turned it right, then left.

      “Are you getting enough rest?” he asked.

      She was surprised by the question. She worked long hours and never slept well. But she’d pinched her cheeks and carefully brushed her hair today before coming to see him. Perversely, though she didn’t want to date him or anyone, she wanted to look her best while telling him so.

      She found herself fumbling for an answer. “I…I put in a twelve-hour day.”

      “No time for fun?”

      “No,” she said, hoping to put an end to the conversation.

      His thumb rubbed gently under her left eye. “You should make time. You’re too young for dark circles.”

      His touch was cool, and she was momentarily paralyzed by it. Solid. And tender. No time for that, either.

      She caught his muscular wrist and yanked it away from her. “You have no idea how old I am,” she said, shocked by the annoyance she felt. Probably because she’d looked in the mirror that very morning and thought she looked matronly.

      “You’re twenty-six,” he said. “You live at home with your mom and your sister, and you own the Berkshire Cab company.”

      She knew she looked astonished.

      “Addy told me.” He grinned. “Why? Did you think I’d hired detectives or done an Internet search on you?”

      While she continued to stare, wondering why Addy hadn’t told her such details about him, he went on. “You left Maple Hill for law school about four years ago, then changed your mind and came home last year. But she didn’t tell me why.” He seemed to rethink that information, then asked with sharpened interest, “Does that have anything to do with why you’re on this soul search?”

      She noticed two things simultaneously. She was still holding his wrist, which he was allowing her to do with no resistance. And she could feel his pulse under her thumb. Curiously, it seemed to be causing hers to race.

      She dropped his wrist and said with all the cool hauteur she could muster, “That’s not your concern. I have to go.”

      “Don’t fall asleep behind the wheel,” he cautioned, following her to the station wagon with its magnetic sign bearing the name of her company in bright yellow letters.

      She gave him a dismissing look as she pulled open the door. “I’m more responsible than that.”

      He held the door open for her as she slipped behind the wheel. “Exhaustion can sneak up on you,” he warned. “A dark patch of road, the hum of the motor, the warmth of—”

      “Thank you,” she said, and pulled the door closed. Without hesitation, she turned the key in the ignition and drove away.

      She groaned aloud, the sound filling the confined space inside her car. “You can’t get some men to give a darn that you’ve got a problem!” she grumbled. “And others come off all pompous and superior because they think they can read your mind and know what’s bothering you on five minutes’ acquaintance.” Equally annoying. She was going to have to talk to Addy about the amount of information she dispensed about her. In fact, she was going to have to get tough with her about this whole blind-date thing.

      Now that she’d seen Randy Sanford, she definitely didn’t want to date him. Her life was too much of a mess already to add another untidy element. Because she was sure that despite his well-groomed good looks, there was nothing relaxed and easy about him.

      “INTERESTING WOMAN.” Chilly came to stand beside Randy as he watched her car disappear down the highway.

      “Yeah,” Randy agreed, trapped in the vivid memory of her standing in front of him, pale and cool and smelling of jasmine.

      “You’re interested?”

      Randy forced himself back to reality. He’d loved Jenny and lost her to one of life’s dirty tricks. They’d been young and hopeful, with a lifetime of plans in front of them, then she was gone within four months of a brutal diagnosis. He’d been interning at a county hospital, full of new knowledge and proud of all modern medicine had to offer. But it hadn’t been enough to help Jenny.

      “No,” he said to Chilly, heading back into the ambulance bay. The shadows, he hoped, would hide the hopelessness that always overwhelmed him when he thought of her.

      “You looked interested,” Chilly persisted. “And—you know—it’s time.”

      “It’s never going to be time.” He went through the bay to the office, aware that their afternoon break was overdue. He needed caffeine. Badly. “And if I look interested, it’s only…scientific, you know? What gave her that troubled look coupled with that cool exterior?”

      Chilly followed him. “You told her she was too young for dark circles,” he reminded him. “That sounds pretty personal. I say you’re too young to give up on marriage and family.”

      “I haven’t given up,” he said, grinning at Kitty Morton, who answered the phones and did most of their paperwork. She was in her early thirties, had two little boys and an ex-husband who hadn’t paid child support since he’d walked out on her. She was blond and pretty and he was always surprised by her optimism.

      “Then, why’d you let her get away?”

      He turned the grin on his friend. “Because she expected me to try to stop her. You never get anywhere with a woman doing what she expects.”

      Kitty looked at him with a frown. “Who told you that? That’s totally false. Particularly if she’s expecting chocolates and diamonds and stuff like that. Who are we talking about, anyway?”

      “Paris, um…” Chilly began, groping for her last name.

      “O’Hara,” Randy provided. “We’re going for coffee, Kitty. Want us to bring you back something?”

      Kitty was still focused on the woman under discussion. Her eyes widened and she