The Hamilton Heir. Valerie Hansen

be silly, her sensible side argued. There’s nothing wrong with taking an innocent elevator ride with a man, no matter how handsome and dashing he happens to be. And there was certainly nothing wrong with Tim Hamilton’s manners. He was every bit the perfect Southern gentleman he’d always been.

      Particularly in regard to other women, she added contritely. Until today, his suave graciousness had seemed reserved for women he saw socially. Now that Dawn was the recipient of the Hamilton charm, she wasn’t sure how she ought to react. One thing was certain, however. This was going to be a very long evening.

      If she could have been positive the whole unfolding sequence of events was God’s idea, maybe meant to show Tim how to appreciate the simple things in life more, she’d have been happier with the situation. Then again, who was she to question her Heavenly Father?

      The same silly person I’ve always been, she answered honestly. Some things were just beyond human comprehension and the only times she got herself into real trouble were when she tried to second-guess the Lord and help Him out.

      That ridiculous thought made her smile. As if God wasn’t capable of doing anything He wanted whether she cooperated or not!

      When they reached the ground floor, Herman Gordon hailed them. “Night, Mr. Tim, Miss Dawn.” He bent to retrieve a picnic basket from beneath the counter that he and his wife, Louise, considered their private bailiwick. “Here’s the stuff you ordered from Betty’s, sir. It was just delivered a few minutes ago. Miss Justine brought it over.”

      Tim took the basket from him. “Thanks, Herman. Have a good evening.”

      The old man waved a clipboard. “Gotta sign out. Them’s the rules.”

      “Do it for us,” Tim called back, hurrying Dawn toward the door. “You know who we are.”

      Dawn snickered quietly. “He’s a stickler, isn’t he?”

      “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim said. “I just figured we’d better make tracks or he’d start telling us one of his long stories and you’d never get your meals delivered.” He led the way to his car. “Speaking of which, I thought we might be hungry, too, so I ordered a little dinner to go.”

      “That’s what’s in the basket?”

      “Uh-huh.” He opened the passenger door and held it for her. “I knew it wouldn’t be right to eat anything meant for delivery to your customers, so I planned ahead and ordered this when I had lunch at Betty’s today. I hope you don’t mind.”

      “No. Not at all.” He handed her the basket, closed her door and laid his suit coat neatly across the backseat before finally getting behind the wheel.

      Unsure of what he wanted her to do with the food, Dawn merely sat there on the smooth leather seat and held the basket on her lap.

      “Well, aren’t you hungry?” Tim asked.

      “Sure, but…you don’t intend for us to eat in the car, do you?”

      “Why not?”

      “Because. What if we spill something?”

      “Are you a messy eater?” There was evident humor in his tone.

      “Not usually.” She had to smile. “However, when I’m trying to keep from making a mess, it’s much harder not to. Murphy’s law, I guess.”

      “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t order spaghetti,” Tim said, laughing softly. “There are supposed to be three kinds of sandwiches in there, a couple of pickles and some cold bottles of sparkling water with lemon. Anything else was Betty’s idea.”

      “Three kinds of sandwiches?” Dawn lifted the lid and peeked into the basket. “You must be really hungry.”

      “I wasn’t sure what you liked and I wanted to cover all the bases, that’s all. We can eat what we want and toss the rest in the garbage.”

      “Not on your life! Where I come from we don’t waste food.”

      Tim started the car and pulled out onto Main Street. “Where do you come from? I didn’t notice that part of your personnel file when I reviewed it for your promotion.”

      It struck Dawn as odd that anyone would choose to read a file for background information rather than talk to the person involved. But that was typical Tim Hamilton, wasn’t it? Typical, but sad.

      “My family’s from Louisiana, down by New Orleans.” She decided to elaborate rather than have him think she was ashamed of her roots, which she wasn’t. “Dad worked on the docks. Mom used to clean houses to help out.”

      “Are you from a big family like mine?”

      “No. There are just two of us. My brother, Phillipe, and me.”

      “I see. So, what brought you to Tennessee?”

      “College. I got a wonderful scholarship to Central Tennessee University.”

      “Really? That’s where my sister Melissa used to go to school.”

      Dawn nodded. “I never could have afforded CTU if it hadn’t been for the scholarship. I was going to become an English teacher.”

      “But you didn’t finish? Why not?”

      “Phil, mostly. He had a terrible accident that left him paralyzed. Mom stays home now to take care of him and I do all I can to help them out. The medical bills were unbelievable. Still are. I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if it hadn’t been for all that. It’s why I needed a full-time job.”

      “You’re going to go back to school, aren’t you?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

      “Maybe. Probably. I haven’t decided.”

      “College is vital,” Tim said. “We were all upset when Melissa dropped out and took off.”

      “She’s the baby of the family, isn’t she?”

      “Yes. In more ways than her age.” He changed the subject with a nod toward the basket. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

      “I guess I should, since you went to all this trouble. What would you like?”

      “Considering the morning I had, I think I’d better keep both hands on the wheel, don’t you? Go ahead without me. I can grab a bite while you’re getting your meals ready or whatever it is you need to do.”

      “Okay.” Dawn lifted the hinged lid of the basket, took out the sandwich on top and bit into it. “Umm. Tuna. Delicious.”

      She chewed and swallowed, then said, “First, I have a few things I need to do at my apartment. You can eat while I’m changing into something more comfortable.” Her cheeks burned the moment she realized the possible salacious interpretation of her innocent remark. “I meant, you can eat while you wait for me in the car.”

      “Of course.”

      A sidelong glance at her companion revealed a smile he was trying to subdue. Tim was laughing at her. Oh, not out loud because he was too polite, but he was laughing, all the same. She’d have to choose her words a lot more carefully in the future. Some English major she’d turned out to be! A few minutes alone with Timothy Hamilton and her normally quick wit had fled like a dry leaf in a Tennessee tornado. Although he’d earned the behind-the-scenes nickname, Typhoon Tim, because of his habit of approaching work with the speed of a whirlwind, this was one more reason the name fit. He’d certainly blown her away with his cordiality and innate charisma.

      Dawn sighed in self-disgust and concentrated on finishing the first half of her sandwich. As she’d decided earlier, this was going to be a very, very long evening.

      They’d crossed the Cumberland via Mill Road and were approaching the downtown area of Hickory Mills when Tim broke into her contemplation with a question. “Are we getting close?”