Four-Karat Fiancee. Sharon Swan

that was all she would say on the subject of her father’s death, the details of which she had no intention of discussing with him, or anyone else in Jester. The town’s longtime residents already had memories of Sherman Bradley, and one of them was hardly flattering. They didn’t need to know everything.

      As if he had no trouble recalling that less-than-flattering episode in her family’s history, Dev said, “So after your father, ah, left Jester, he went to Minnesota?”

      “You mean after he ran off with Rita Winslow, his attractive young co-worker at the savings and loan,” she corrected, deciding to be candid about what they both knew was the blunt truth of the matter. “Yes, they apparently chose to put some distance between themselves and this town.” In the process, they’d left her and probably most everyone in Jester in a state of shock, Amanda remembered. Up until a few days after her fifteenth birthday, her always dapperly dressed father had been a well-respected accountant, one many considered the image of the ideal family man. Then, just like that, he was gone.

      In the months that followed, her mother had filed for a divorce on the grounds of desertion, and five years later Mary Bradley had quietly passed away after a short illness with only her daughter, who’d made a hasty trip back from college, at her side.

      “Eventually,” Amanda said, forging on with her story, “my father and Rita Winslow were married, and years later when she found herself a widow, Rita returned to Pine Run, where she was born and raised, even though she had no family left in the area.” Just twenty miles away, Amanda reflected, but she’d had no idea that the larger town southwest of Jester had once again become home to her father’s second wife.

      “With Rita,” she continued, “came the children she and my father had brought into the world. A girl who’s now seven years old, two boys now five and four, and another girl, only a baby really, who’s eighteen months old.”

      Dev stretched out his long legs and stacked one booted foot over the other. “Sounds as though they waited a while to have kids.”

      Amanda nodded, acknowledging the truth of that. After all, fifteen years had passed since Sherman Bradley had disappeared in the middle of the night with his suitcases packed and a brief note left behind to say he wasn’t coming back.

      “And then,” she said, “they had four children in fairly rapid succession.”

      “Children you referred to earlier as orphans,” he reminded her, “which has to mean that their mother is gone, too.”

      “I’m afraid so.” She released a quiet breath. “After Rita returned to Pine Run, she took a job in a local lawyer’s office. When that same lawyer phoned to tell me about my father and the children, he also said that Rita had been killed in an automobile accident over a month ago. As her employer, he’d volunteered to go through her papers to help settle her estate, and that was when he discovered a copy of my parents’ final divorce decree, which my father must have obtained at some point from the district court. Along with it were some small school photos of me he’d apparently taken with him. They were bound together with an old newspaper article in the Pine Run Plain Talker mentioning that Amanda Bradley, a Jester resident, had been one of the winners in a spelling contest.”

      “And that’s how the lawyer found you.” He shook his head. “He’d never have found me if he’d had to rely on my winning any spelling contests.”

      Which, Dev thought as Amanda only met that rueful remark with silence, had a lot less to do with intelligence than the fact that there had been a time when he’d seldom applied the brains he had. He’d been too busy raising hell on a regular basis. But that had all changed.

      “I take it,” he said, “that you’re going to Pine Run to see the kids.”

      Her gaze didn’t waver. “Yes, but beyond just seeing them, there’s a hearing scheduled at the offices of Child and Family Services next Tuesday, and I plan on doing my best to convince the authorities to place the children in my care.”

      Well, she had guts to even consider taking on that kind of responsibility. He couldn’t deny that. “Think you’ll be successful?”

      Her sudden sigh was long and heartfelt. “I wish I could say so with any certainty, but it may turn out to be an uphill battle if I can’t convince the authorities that I have enough resources to make it the most appealing solution.”

      Resources. At least a part of that, Dev figured, had to translate to money, which he now had the ability to supply with little trouble. Of course, that also applied to several other people who’d shared in the lottery. Then again, even though Amanda could count at least a few of those newly wealthy as her friends, she wouldn’t be asking anyone for anything, not unless her back was flat against the wall. He’d be willing to bet on that as a sure thing, because past experience had already gone a long way to show she could be as mule-headed as anybody he’d ever met. If he was right, the last thing she’d do was ask for financial help.

      But that wouldn’t be necessary in his case. Given that she had something he wanted, they could make a fair trade.

      It was so damn simple…if he could talk her into it.

      “If finances are a problem,” he said, keeping his tone mild, “we can solve it here and now. I’m ready to make you a decent enough offer for the bookstore property that you could open another one somewhere else in town and probably still have a healthy profit left over.”

      Her chin went up. An automatic response? Dev wondered. Either that or his reviving a sore subject had teed her off all over again. Noting that the color had returned to her face, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her stalk over the door, wrench it open and firmly suggest he waste no time in leaving. But she didn’t.

      All at once it seemed far too quiet as seconds ticked by. At last, Amanda broke the silence. “I’ll…think about letting you make me that offer.”

      Dev resisted the urge to heave a gusty sigh. Maybe, just maybe, he told himself, he would finally be able to put an end, once and for all, to the continual friction between them. “All right,” he said in the most businesslike tone he could muster, “you can let me know what you decide.”

      With that, he got up. “I’ll take off now.” He strode to the chair, retrieved his hat and settled it on his head.

      Amanda stood as he pulled on his jacket. “I probably won’t have an answer for you until after the hearing on Tuesday. And I’m not,” she added candidly, “at all sure what it will be.”

      If she was telling him not to get his hopes up, Dev knew it was too late. Not that he considered the whole thing anywhere near a done deal, but she’d agreed to think about it, and right now he was counting himself lucky for that much.

      “I’ll drop by the bookstore after you get back from Pine Run,” he told her.

      She arched a wry eyebrow. “Well, that will be a definite switch. You haven’t exactly been one of my best customers.”

      “You haven’t been one of mine, either,” he reminded her with a wry look of his own as he started to turn toward the door. Then his denim-clad thigh brushed against an edge of the shoulder bag resting on the end table and toppled it over. He dropped down to grab it before it hit the floor.

      “I’ll take it,” Amanda said, stepping forward.

      He straightened and absently handed the bag over, his attention already captured by the book that had been exposed, one featuring a bold cover he now had no trouble making out. “Midnight Passions,” he murmured, reading the title. He glanced at Amanda. “I usually favor the newspaper when it comes to keeping up on things, but I’ve got to admit that your choice in reading material seems…interesting.”

      Ignoring that dry comment, she tossed her purse on the chair and stepped past him to head for the door. Although she didn’t wrench it open, she didn’t linger over it, either.

      “Good night,” she told him, oh-so-politely.

      “Good