One More Knight

suddenly she’d felt his body, solid against hers, and his hands, strong and sure on her arms. Then for a moment, just a moment, as his masculine heat and smell had enveloped her, she’d felt a flash of warmth and comfort, an instant’s surcease of pain.

Then she’d made some smart-ass remark and he’d removed his hands from her arms and stepped away from her, and the moment was gone.

She thought about that moment as she sat watching the man-shape and the dog-shape playing hide-and-seek with the shadows of the woods at the edge of the parking lot. She remembered the way he smelled of warm male and clean clothes and soap and aftershave-she wasn’t up on masculine scents enough to know the name-and just enough of a hint of dog to call to mind the way he’d looked, tussling with that golden-eyed monster. The way the muscles pulled taut across his back and shoulders and rippled down his arms, bunching beneath smooth, tanned skin.

And this was Troy Starr. Mirabella’s about-to-be brother-in-law. Jimmy Joe’s big brother. Perfect…just perfect.

What, she thought, did I ever do to deserve this?

Oh, there was no doubt that he was a magnificent specimen of masculinity-broad of shoulder and narrow of hip and with pecs and abs that were, as she could personally attest, as closely akin to steel as you’d ever want human flesh to be. He had dark blue eyes with both squint lines and thick lashes, a jaw and chin Dudley Do-Right would envy and a mouth with a long upper lip that turned up at the corners, as if it enjoyed smiling. His hair, right now roughly the colour of those famous amber waves of grain, would probably have golden highlights if he ever let it grow out to a decent length. And to lend just the right touch of character and maturity to what might otherwise have been too much perfection, his hairline appeared to be receding just a bit, while his nose looked as if it had been broken, probably more than once.

In short, he was the all-American male, clean-cut and wholesome as grits, the recruitment poster boy for A Few Good Men.

And he was everything Charly despised. She’d known him ten minutes, and already she knew that he was polite to a fault, greeted people with “hey” instead of “hi,” and addressed every female over the age of consent as “ma’am.” He had a dog named Bubba that went everywhere he did-probably slept with him-and he drove an American-made 4X4 that she was certain was lacking a gun rack only because it was so new he hadn’t got around to installing it yet. He was, in short, Southern. And even if his touch did seem to have affected her like a straight shot of Tennessee bourbon, there was no way in hell she was going to let him get that close to her again. Ever.

But, oh Lordy, hadn’t it felt good.

Chapter 4

July 2, 1977

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe it! This has been just the best day. First it was kind of scary, you know, because I decided I was going to let Richie know I like him, and I was really nervous about it. I mean, what if I made a total fool of myself, right? So anyway, Kelly Grace and I were down at Dottie’s having a coke, and he and Bobby came in together. So I just sort of flirted with him-more than usual, you know-like I brushed up against him accidentally-on-purpose, so that my breast touched his arm. Oh, God, I thought I would die when that happened. It was like I got this weird, tingly feeling all over, and my skin felt all hot, and I couldn’t get my breath. Anyway, then he said he’d walk me home, and…you guessed it, he did it. He asked me to go to the Fourth of July picnic with him! Of course I said yes. But I made him wait awhile before I did-I’m not a complete dufus.

Thought for the Day: I don’t think it’s a good idea to let boys get too sure of themselves, do you?

After Bubba had taken care of business and run off some of his excess enthusiasm, Troy took him back to the truck. This time, since it was clear his new passenger wasn’t likely to enjoy having a great big ol’ pup licking and slobbering down the back of her neck, he put the dog in the cargo compartment and tied his leash to the rear door handle.

She-the passenger-didn’t have a word to say to him when he climbed into the driver’s seat and stuck the key in the ignition. Since he’d given himself a pretty good talking to, out there in the darkness, reminding himself of all the reasons why he ought to cut her a little slack, he waited a moment and then put both hands on the steering wheel and said “Okay, where to…?” He only just remembered not to add “ma’am.”

He heard her pull in a breath-sort of priming the pump-and then the words came in a rush, if still a little gruff and crusty “Hey, listen, I really do appreciate this. You coming all this way I didn’t want-didn’t expect anybody to do that. And it was nice of you to pay my bail. I want you to know I’ll pay you back.”

He kept his face deadpan. “I was countin’ on that.”

“No.” She stopped to clear her throat. “I mean I’ll pay you back right away. Now. I just have to get my purse.”

Troy had been reaching for the ignition key again; now he let go of it and turned his head to look at her. “You know where it is? From what the man said-”

“I have a pretty good idea.” She was staring straight ahead so he couldn’t see her expression, but her voice had the same hollow note he’d heard earlier on the phone when she’d said the words “Mourning Spring.”

He tapped his fingers on the wheel and waited for her to explain, telling himself he didn’t need to know any more about her business than she cared to tell him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to pry. But at the same time, he had a normal store of curiosity, which had been building up inside him for a while, and damn if he was going to sit in this parking lot all night waiting for her to clue him in. So, when it was obvious she wasn’t going to, he didn’t think it would hurt to give her a little nudge.

He looked over at her once more and said with exaggerated patience, “So, you want to go get it now.? Say the word.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, do you?” He could see the corner of her mouth turn upward, more with irony than amusement. “At this time of night? People turn in pretty early around here.”

“I noticed that.” He gave her a similar smile in return, which was wasted effort since she still wasn’t willing to look at him. He waited another moment or two, then prodded some more. “Okay, so what do you want to do? You hungry? Want to go get somethin’ to eat?” There were some eager whimpers from the back of the Cherokee at that, the words hungry and eat being of major importance in Bubba’s command of human language.

Charly’s profile tilted and took on a look of surprise. “I am kind of hungry, actually.” She glanced down at the place on her arm where her watch should have been, realized it was in the manila envelope she was holding and frowned. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Gettin’ on toward midnight”

“Jeez…all right, well-” she took a deep breath “-the only place that’s going to be open is B.B.’s, out on the highway.”

“I saw it on the way in,” Troy said, giving the key a turn. “They have food there?”

“Just the basics-hamburgers, hot dogs. Maybe steaks. At least, they used to.”

“Sounds good to me.” He put the Cherokee in gear and drove out of the lot, turning left toward the town square. He looked over at Charly. “You know this town pretty well?”

She didn’t answer that. Instead she cleared her throat and said, in a voice that was still a little rusty, “You know, you don’t need to stay here. If you need to get back-” He stopped her with a snort and a shake of his head just to politely let her know how dumb that was, but she plowed on anyway. “I mean it. It was nice of you to get me out of jail, but there’s no reason you should have to wait around while I get all this straightened out.”

Troy let a minute or two go by. Then he said, in a quiet tone not very many people ever heard and fewer cared to argue with, “Look, ma‘am. it’s late. I’m not goin’ anywhere tonight, and neither are you. Now, what I figured I’d