Man In A Million. Muriel Jensen

upset than a cigarette,” he said, putting a hand on her waist to steady her as the ambulance made a turn. “Here we are. The nurse can call your sister for you.”

      “No,” she said as he tightened the belt that held her to the gurney. “I don’t want to bother her.”

      He grinned. “You can’t take a cab home when you’re released now, can you? You’re the only service in town.”

      That was a problem she hadn’t considered. “I’ll get home,” she said. Then the ambulance doors opened, and in a sudden hubbub of activity, she was hauled out of the ambulance and into the emergency room.

      It took several hours to determine that she was fine. No bones broken, no muscles pulled, no impact injury to her head or stomach.

      The only other good thing to come out of that morning was that the officer told her she wouldn’t be charged with reckless driving. Her insurance agent had appeared, assessed the damage to the cab and the other woman’s car, and assured her that she was covered. She thanked heaven for life in a small town.

      She was released shortly after two in the afternoon. She was trying to decide who she could call to take her home when she noticed Randy walking into the ER in civilian clothes—a pair of snug jeans and a Maple Hill Marathon T-shirt stretched over muscular shoulders and tucked in at the flat waist of his jeans.

      She felt a powerful jolt of physical awareness.

      He strode toward her, intercepting her as she headed for the public telephone.

      “You’re looking good,” he said with a smile and a somewhat clinical scan of her body from head to toe. “How do you feel?”

      She nodded, embarrassed at the memory that she’d cried all over him. “Fine. I’m fine. I’m…going home. Are you still working?”

      “No. I asked Julie to let me know when you were released.”

      “Julie?” she asked.

      He pointed to the nurse who’d assisted the doctor.

      Julie looked up from a computer screen as he said her name and winked at him.

      He took Paris’s arm and led her toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”

      “I thought your shift didn’t end until four.”

      “That’s right. But I got somebody to cover my last two hours so I could take you home and show you what you’re missing by not going out with me.”

      She rolled her eyes at him, knowing she should refuse but feeling very halfhearted about it.

      He put an arm around her shoulders and continued toward the door. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said in a cavalier voice. “You’re vulnerable, I’m charming, and I’m going to choose this moment to demonstrate my sexual prowess and make you incapable of resisting me. Am I right?”

      She had to smile. “Not even close. I would never be incapable of resisting you.”

      He pushed the doors open and they stepped out into the warm and breezy mid-September afternoon. He challenged her with a look. “Well, that sounded pretty confident. Is that why you’re afraid to date me? You don’t want to be wrong about that?”

      “I’m not afraid to date you,” she corrected him, following as he pointed to a dark green LeBaron and led the way. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the Berkshire Cab sign on the driver’s door. “What…?” she gasped.

      He caught her arm and drew her toward the car.

      “I had your car towed to the body shop but salvaged the magnetic sign. You said you needed something else to drive while yours was laid up.”

      “But whose…?”

      “It’s mine.” He opened the passenger-side door and urged her inside. It had beige leather upholstery and had apparently just been vacuumed out. She could smell carpet freshener. “I have an old pickup I can use until you get the cab back.”

      He walked around the car, slid behind the wheel, then grinned at her as he started the motor. It purred with a strong, healthy sound. While she continued to stare at him, openmouthed, he reached a long arm into the back seat and handed her a white oblong box tied with a gold ribbon. Gold lettering on the lid of the box said it was a pound of Fanny Farmer chocolates.

      She didn’t even have a gasp left.

      “Come on, now,” he said with a smile into her eyes. “Tell me you’re not just a little bit in love with me.”

      She knew the admission would upset everything, particularly her determination to keep her distance. But there were too many lies in her life to add another one.

      “Maybe just a little,” she conceded, returning the smile.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “BUT IT MAY BE ONLY temporary,” Paris qualified quickly, slipping the ribbon off, then removing the lid. “Chocolate’s only a temporary gratification, you know.” Then she sighed and he felt her turn to look at him as he left the hospital parking lot and headed for the road that would take them to the lake. A sudden quiet filled the car.

      “Although, the thoughtfulness of lending me your car,” she said in a slightly husky voice, “inspires a very permanent gratitude. I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

      He glanced at her, discovered that she looked worried about it, and didn’t want that. “It’s not a hardship,” he said. “I assure you.”

      “But it’s very sweet, all the same.”

      That wasn’t entirely true, but he wasn’t about to admit to that. He’d keep his ulterior motives to himself.

      “Thank you,” he accepted modestly. “So, you aren’t as immune to my charms as you thought you were.”

      “Apparently not,” she whispered.

      “What was that?” he teased, holding a hand to his ear.

      “Apparently not!” she repeated in a louder tone. “Do you want a piece of chocolate?”

      “Please.”

      “Nut or soft center?”

      “Surprise me.”

      He held his right hand out and she placed a peanut cluster in it.

      “Enjoy that,” she said, “because I’m not sharing any more.” She selected a chocolate, bit it in half and made a soft sound of pleasure. “Oohh.” There was a moment’s silence while she finished the morsel, then she seemed to suffer eater’s remorse.

      She hit his arm with the box lid, then covered the chocolates. “This is going to set me back five or six pounds, at least!” she complained. “I’ll never fit into the red dress, and Prue’s going to be filled with recriminations! I mean, we’re just starting to get along, and this is one thing I can do for her, though I’d rather be shaved bald than walk down a runway in front of hundreds of people! And she’s going to be furious with me because I’m going to look lumpy in her clothes! It’s going to be like high school all over again!”

      “What about high school?”

      “We hated each other,” she said, reaching over the seat to put the chocolates in the back. The action brought them into fairly close contact as she braced her hand on his shoulder to reach the back seat. He felt the softness of her breast against his arm and caught a whiff of jasmine.

      Her eyes met his, just inches away, and he forgot completely about the road ahead.

      She sat back quickly.

      He was grateful that the road was straight, and that there was nothing in front of him.

      “She was beautiful and I was…more cerebral. I hated her because every boy who came to our home noticed