Tempting Janey. Mary Baxter Lynn

quick inventory, then called the janitorial supervisor to clean up the mess. That done, he grabbed his briefcase, flicked off the lights and left the building.

      First thing tomorrow morning, he would turn into a not-so-nice Santa. He would make a list and check it twice.

      Dillon steered his utility vehicle through the gates of his hundred-acre horse farm. But instead of making a hairpin right turn that would take him to where his sister and brother-in-law lived, he braked and shoved the gearshift into Park.

      While the engine purred, he stared into the darkness. At the moment he was lucky. The late-August clouds had drifted away from the nearly full moon, giving it carte blanche to shine for all it was worth.

      Dillon took advantage of that treat. To the left, he could see the cabin that sat atop the hill. One day he planned to remodel it so that he could live there. He could envision its homey coziness, with smoke snaking out of the chimney from a wood-burning fireplace on a cold day, and a dog—the Heinz-57 variety—sitting beside him.

      The only thing missing from that picture was a woman.

      Muttering an expletive, he focused his gaze on the shack, over which towered several huge oak and pine trees that kept it shaded all year long. Beyond, but not visible to him now, was an acre of cleared land. From there, a narrow gravel road wound through the dense thicket like a tunnel. Occasional clearings offered glimpses of the nice-size pond below, which had been filled with catfish. Any time he wanted fresh fish, he just had to cast a line.

      Dillon continued to pat himself on the back that he’d had the foresight three years ago to buy the land when it was offered. Despite the hefty bank note he would be paying off for a long time to come, he didn’t regret it.

      This place was his lifeline. Without it, he didn’t know what he would have done. Probably have sunk into the depths of despair and been content to wallow there.

      Grimacing, he refused to let his mind wander down that forbidden path. He had too much ahead to look forward to. His horse farm had the potential to begin paying off soon, now that his prized piece of horseflesh was almost ready to be bred. And he was starting a new school year that held a lot of promise.

      For a second, Dillon’s mind reverted back to the incident in the lab. He grimaced again but refused to let himself dwell on that, either. The school problem he could correct; the past he couldn’t.

      Suddenly he realized he’d been lollygagging far too long. His sister, Allie, was probably ready to skin him alive. She believed in punctuality, no matter what. Nothing wrong with that, he reminded himself.

      Thinking of his sister, a legal secretary for an affluent attorney, made him smile. That smile remained intact as he parked in front of the modest three-bedroom home on his property, a home he’d generously lent to Allie and her husband, Mike, who worked as his foreman.

      His smile widened as the porch light flipped on and Allie opened the door. “It’s about time, brother dear,” she called out, a hand braced on one hip.

      Dillon stepped out of his truck and heard the comfortable crunch of leaves and pine bark under his feet. He inhaled, positive he could smell fall in the air, then said, “Hey, sis.”

      “Don’t you ‘hey, sis’ me. You’re late.”

      “I can explain,” Dillon said, walking onto the porch. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her next to him.

      A smile flirted with her lips. “I’ve heard that before.”

      “Ah, give me a break, will ya?”

      “I’ll have to think about that.”

      They parted as they walked into the cheerfully lighted living-dining room combination, where the smell of freshly baked bread permeated the air.

      “Before I hear your excuse, how about a hunk of banana-nut?”

      “Ah, my favorite,” Dillon exclaimed.

      “I shouldn’t let you have any,” Allie said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

      Dillon merely grinned, knowing that her threat was empty. She loved for him and everyone else to compliment her cooking, especially her bread. She was known for that specialty all over town.

      But then, Allie was known for a lot. She lived to entertain. She enjoyed people, and they enjoyed her. At thirty-eight, two years his junior, her face was still relatively unlined, although she had prematurely gray hair that she didn’t bother to color.

      Like him, she was tall and rawboned. Yet her height and build didn’t make her less attractive. Her vibrant blue eyes and ready smile made for a charming combination.

      He loved her dearly and couldn’t imagine his life without her, since he had no other family. Their parents had died in a freak auto accident a long time ago. Since then, they had stuck together.

      That was why those dark circles under her eyes and that pinched look around her mouth, visible in the light, gave him cause for concern.

      “Are you okay?” he asked.

      She made light of his inquiry. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

      “You tell me,” he said, not quite ready to let her off the hook.

      “I might be coming down with the same virus that struck the office.”

      “As long as that’s all it is.”

      “Stop nagging,” she chastised in a light tone. “You’re worse than some old woman. A lot worse than Mike, and he’s bad enough.”

      Dillon laughed. “All right, you win. For now. So where’s that bread?”

      “Have you had dinner?” she asked, facing him from in front of the cabinet.

      “Nope, but I’m not hungry—except for a huge piece of that bread.”

      “I’ll be glad to heat you a plate of peas and corn bread.”

      Dillon eased down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Thanks, but I’ll pass tonight. Just the bread, ma’am.”

      A few minutes later, he was rubbing his stomach and grinning at his sister, who was staring at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

      “Well?” she asked.

      He reached for his cup of decaf and took a sip. “Well what?”

      “Jerk,” she muttered.

      He laughed out loud. “All right, it was the best yet. But then, you know that.”

      “It’s nice to hear it, anyway.”

      “By the way, where’s Mike?”

      Allie made a face. “It’s Wednesday, remember? He’s playing poker with his buddies.” She paused and gave him a pointed look. “I wish you had someone to hang out with.”

      “I’ve been at the school,” Dillon said, intentionally ignoring her last provocative statement.

      “Why am I not surprised?”

      Dillon told her about the break-in.

      “Did it ever occur to you that you could’ve gotten hurt?” Her tone was incredulous.

      “That was the least of my worries. I just wanted to catch the little shits.”

      She let out a deep sigh. “I wish you worked as hard on perfecting your personal life as you do on that school.”

      “Now, Allie, don’t start,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.

      She went on as if he hadn’t said a word. “Are you still seeing Patricia Sims?”

      Dillon curbed his impatience, but barely. “Actually, I’m taking her out Saturday evening. It’s her birthday.”

      “Well glory hallelujah.”

      “But