The Soldier's Promise. Patricia Potter

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t need that. Not now. “I don’t seem to have the same effect on you,” he said wryly.

      “No,” she said. “Takes more than a scowl, although you have a good one. Do you practice it?”

      He ignored the question and asked one of his own. “What does frighten you, then?”

      “Not a Weedwacker. I approve. This place has been an eyesore.”

      He walked to the cabin’s back door and placed the scythe against it. He didn’t need this new...distraction. He had a full day’s work ahead. He had an appointment with the only vet in miles. He also intended to buy more tools and paint. Maybe he would get some fishing gear, as well. Once the barbecue pit was cleaned he could grill fish on it. He was growing tired of cold cuts from the cooler.

      “You didn’t say why you’re here,” he said. It annoyed him that he sounded boorish. But then he’d never been good at conversation. Surprisingly, the mischief didn’t leave her eyes. “No,” she agreed, “I didn’t.”

      He liked the fact she wasn’t intimidated. He couldn’t say she was a beauty, not in the classical sense. Her features were not that regular. The wide hazel eyes went with a pug nose and high cheekbones. Her hair, the color of rich mahogany, fell to just below her shoulders. It was held back from her face by a clasp. Simple, but on her it looked good. His gaze fell lower. She wore a sky-blue sleeveless vest over a short-sleeve white cotton blouse and dark blue slacks. Neat. Practical in the heat, and yet they complemented her body. Which was fine, too. Real fine. Not reed thin like too many women these days. There were curves in all the right places. He suspected she had great legs under those slacks.

      The worn briefcase she carried didn’t quite go with the rest of her. An insurance saleswoman? That would be the ultimate joke. “You another member of the welcome wagon, then?” he said, sarcasm coloring the question. Sarcasm was his armor these days.

      “No,” she said.

      “God, I hope you’re not with the government.”

      “Hate to disappoint you, but actually I am.” She thrust out her hand. “Eve Douglas. I have the dubious honor of being mayor.”

      He was stunned for a moment. Then he shrugged, brushed his right hand against his jeans to shed some of the dirt and sweat and took her outstretched one. If she didn’t care about getting dirty...

      A mistake. Her hand was slender in his large one, yet he felt calluses on her palm. That surprised him. So did the strength in her fingers. He found himself holding them longer than necessary as the very air around them seemed to spark with electricity.

      He didn’t like—or trust—the hot awareness he felt, the instantaneous attraction blazing between them. Or was it all on his part?

      He didn’t think so. Not with that startled, puzzled look in her eyes. He released his hold quickly, the warmth from her hand flowing up his arm. Their gazes met.

      He was intrigued. She was holding her ground. He imagined he looked his worst, and his worst could be formidable as hell, or so he’d been told. But it didn’t seem to faze her.

      He waited, not speaking. A form of hostile intimidation, a psychologist told him when Josh perfected it during unwanted sessions at the hospital. Now it was for an entirely different reason.

      She finally broke the silence. Her voice sounded stilted, unsteady, and he realized she was as shaken as he. “Merry, the city clerk, told me you had been in and wanted a copy of your property survey. She felt bad she didn’t have time to find it then, so I said I would bring it over this morning. Save you a trip back into town. I also want to welcome you.”

      “Do you welcome every new resident this way?”

      “Eventually. It’s why I’m mayor. That and the hard truth that no one else wanted the job.”

      She said it wryly, and he found himself liking her. Combine that with the heat still lingering in his belly and he knew he was in trouble. He recalled how she introduced herself. Not as Mayor Eve Douglas, but simply as Eve Douglas who happened to be mayor. It said something about her that the title was of lesser importance than who she was.

      He was only too aware of her eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled. He tried to ignore them. “I had a visit yesterday from a lady. I think I frightened her. Didn’t mean to. She woke me up and scared the hell out of my dog, and I was a bit aggravated. Perhaps in the role of mayor, you can suggest that I came here for a little solitude.”

      “People in Covenant Falls are friendly. We like to think it’s a plus, but obviously you don’t,” she said. “I’ll try to put out the word that you’re the hermit type and value your privacy.” She said it without judgment and added with that quick, infectious smile, “Can’t promise it’ll work.”

      Concentrate, Josh. She was too damned disarming. He glanced down at her hands. She had a ring on her finger.

      But it had been a damned long time since...

      Down, boy.

      He jerked back to the moment. “Mrs. Douglas,” he replied. “You said you brought my property survey. And the building permit?”

      She looked startled and for a fleeting second he wondered whether she’d felt the same awareness that was galloping through his body. Then she gave him a more cautious smile. “The survey was easy. There’s a small problem with the building permit.”

      She met his gaze directly, and he noted that she was tall, only four inches or so shorter than his own just over six-foot-three height. Perfect height to kiss without contorting himself. A wisp of wind caught her hair and turned a curl loose. He found himself longing to tuck it back in. To feel that smooth skin and see whether her hair was as silky as it looked.

      She sure as hell wasn’t like any mayor he’d ever seen.

      “And the building permit?” he asked, trying to divert the thoughts. Mind over matter. Or body.

      “The city clerk said you didn’t bring a copy of the deed, and she checked with the county. The property is listed as belonging to David Hannity.”

      “Dave Hannity is dead,” he said, barely keeping his voice steady. Even after nearly eight months, the words hurt like hell. “He left the cabin to me. An attorney in the county seat—Laine Mabry—just settled probate. The deed should have been transferred by now. I’ll check with him.”

      “Good. Once we have a copy of the deed, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

      He expected her to leave then, but she didn’t, and he was surprised he really didn’t want her to go. She challenged him. Intrigued him. He really had been too long without a woman.

      Her gaze rested for a moment on the scar on his face. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to ask more questions. Still, she refrained, and that interested him, too, as did the way she stood her ground despite his scowl and lack of manners.

      “The survey?” he prompted, silently cursing himself.

      She lifted the briefcase and steadied it on the brick barbecue pit. She opened it and fished out a large piece of rolled draft paper.

      Their hands touched, and he felt a surge of electricity streak through СКАЧАТЬ