His Summer Bride. Joanna Neil

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?” Gina asked as she followed Nick down the front steps. “Does he only solve crimes during the week?”

      “He doesn’t solve crimes anytime,” Nick said with what Gina thought was heartless cheerfulness. “If your car gets found, it’ll be the state police who do it.”

      Gina grimaced, not feeling any better about having her suspicions about Mygold’s incompetence confirmed. “If he can’t solve crimes, then why is he the sheriff?” she asked in exasperation.

      “Because he’s the local undertaker.” Nick unlocked the passenger door of his battered pickup. “You will note that I locked my door?”

      “I did, too, for all the good it did me. Besides, who in his right mind would steal this…thing? They’d be afraid it would break down before they made their getaway.”

      “Don’t malign the wheels that are providing your transportation. I’ve had Old Octavius since I was sixteen.”

      And he hadn’t been able to afford to replace it yet? Gina wondered as she climbed onto the front seat, being careful to avoid the rip in the upholstery. If he was that short of cash, how could he afford to pay a housekeeper’s salary? Even a temporary one like hers. But on the other hand, if he didn’t have the money to pay for one, why had he offered her the job?

      Could he have felt sorry for her? The appalling thought made her feel faintly ill. No! She refused to even consider the idea. She might not have much in the line of sex appeal for men, but neither had she ever noticed that they pitied her. Mostly they ignored her.

      It was probably just as he’d said. He’d seen a chance to have someone take care of the household chores while his arm was in a cast, and he’d grabbed it.

      She studied him in the dim light from the truck’s dashboard, wondering exactly what he did for a living. He’d said he was a technician, but that could mean anything.

      Her eyes lingered on his left hand where it gripped the steering wheel. His fingers were long and powerful-looking with neatly trimmed nails that were immaculately clean. There were no little cuts and scrapes that one would expect on a man who earned his living working with his hands. Although, since she had no idea how long it had been since he’d broken his arm, any abrasions could have healed. Maybe his employer had laid him off when he’d broken his arm. She had no idea what the labor laws regarding accidents were. That could be why he was so reticent about his work. He might be embarrassed about being unemployed.

      Gina rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to ache from stress. It had been a long day even before the crowning finale of getting her car stolen.

      “You okay?” Nick shot her a quick glance.

      “Just confused. Tell me, why would being the undertaker make Mygold the sheriff?”

      “Small town, not too many deaths, so he has the time. And he could use the extra money.”

      “Oh.” Gina considered the words. “Isn’t there a potential conflict of interest there?”

      “Only if Mygold had a very Machiavellian turn of mind, and believe me, his mind only turns on his dinner and his bowling average. You must not be familiar with small towns?” Nick slipped the question in.

      “No.”

      Nick waited, but she made no attempt to elaborate on the single word. Was it because she didn’t want to talk about her past or because she was a naturally reticent woman? Just because he’d never run across one before didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

      It figured, he thought in frustration. Usually he couldn’t get a woman to shut up. But let him find one who promised to be interesting, and he couldn’t get the first personal fact out of her.

      “Where do you live?” Gina asked as they left the village behind.

      “About a mile outside of town. It’s a vacation cottage my great-grandfather built, and my parents gave it to me.”

      “Oh?” Gina let her voice rise questioningly. Nick Balfour sounded like an educated man. And he had excellent manners when he cared to use them. She flushed slightly as she remembered how he’d rescued her from that guy in the bar. He clearly hadn’t wanted to be bothered, but he’d done it anyway.

      But he also gave her the impression that he didn’t suffer fools gladly. That attitude might not go over well in a work environment. Every office she’d worked in during the past four years had had at least one pompous fool in a position of authority, so it made sense that a factory would be the same. Had Nick run afoul of someone like that?

      To her disappointment, Nick didn’t add any facts, and Gina pressed her lips together to hold back the personal questions she wanted to ask. It’s none of your business, she told herself. Just because she was intensely curious about him didn’t mean she had any right to keep prying into something he obviously didn’t want to talk about.

      Gina jerked upright as she suddenly realized something.

      “What’s the matter?” Nick hastily scanned the road for suicidal wildlife.

      “I haven’t got any clothes,” she blurted out.

      Nick’s fingers involuntarily tightened around the steering wheel as the most incredible image of Gina