A Taste of Paradise. Patricia Thayer

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      Tori Sheridan jumped and her eyes widened at the sight of the large figure standing outside her car. Panic surged through her. “Go away,” she cried, looking away from the broad-shouldered silhouette outlined by the sun.

      “Ma’am, you can’t park here,” he called out. “It’s dangerous. Do you need help?”

      Tori had been on the road for three days and in that time she’d had plenty of men who were more than willing to help her. If she’d been smart, she would have sold her Corvette and bought a sensible sedan. But she loved her car.

      “If you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling the police.”

      “Then you’ll get me,” he said. “I’m Sheriff Nathan Hunter.”

      Tori looked again and recognized the tan-colored uniform; then the badge caught the sunlight. She reached over to roll down the window. “Oh, Sheriff, I’m sorry. A woman can’t be too careful.”

      “Well, sleeping along the side of the highway isn’t exactly safe, not to mention being against the law. Would you please step out of the car, ma’am? And bring your license, registration and proof of insurance.”

      Tori’s nervousness didn’t diminish with the officer’s attitude. Surely her father hadn’t alerted the authorities. No, J.C. couldn’t have known where she’d gone. Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Deciding not to irritate the sheriff any more, Tori quickly opened the glove compartment and took out the required papers. She grabbed her purse, opened the door and climbed out just as a car sped by. The blaring sound of the horn pierced the silence, and Tori felt the officer’s strong grip as he jerked her away from the asphalt.

      “You okay?” he asked her as he helped her to the other side of the car.

      She nodded, and glanced up the road. “Shouldn’t you go after that car?”

      “Why? He wasn’t speeding. You’re the one parked on the side of the highway.”

      The desert sun beat down on her. It was going to be another scorcher. “Are you going to give me a ticket?”

      He glared at her. “Do you deserve one?”

      “No. I hadn’t planned to spend the night here, Sheriff.” She handed him the papers, then dug through her purse, found her wallet and tried to hand it to him.

      “Take your license out, please,” he asked. Never taking off his sunglasses, he examined her insurance card and registration, then did the same with her license. “You’re a long way from home, Miss Sheridan.”

      “I guess I am.” Why did she feel she’d done something wrong?

      “What brings you to Arizona? Vacation or business?”

      How about running away from home? “Would you believe I just got in my car and started driving?”

      The sheriff glanced at her Corvette, then turned back to her. His mouth twitched as if fighting a grin. “Oh, I believe it. If I had a car like this…” He paused, then sobered. “You’ll need a tow truck.”

      “I figured that.” She sighed. “I thought it was over-heating, but the car suddenly had no power when I stepped on the gas. I had to pull off the road. I was hoping that once it cooled down I could drive it again.”

      “I think it’s more than just an overheated engine,” he said and motioned for her to follow him to the back of the car.

      Tori watched the well-built sheriff remove his sunglasses and she finally got a good look at his face. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he had rugged good looks and piercing, silver-gray eyes. His dark hair was cut short under his wide-brimmed hat. When he looked at her, that intense gaze locked with hers, mesmerizing her.

      Finally, he was the one who turned away. “This seems to be your problem.” He pointed to the ground behind the car. “See the trail of oil?”

      “Please don’t tell me it’s the transmission.” She didn’t have much money left.

      “I’m not a mechanic, but I know a few things about cars.” He paused. “It looks like your rear end.”

      She didn’t want to sound ignorant, but she was when it came to cars. Her father’s mechanic had always handled the maintenance. But now Tori’s money situation gave her no choice but to ask, “Is that bad?”

      “It can be complicated,” the sheriff volunteered. “You need to have a mechanic look at it. This car is too special to take any chances with. You’re a long way from home. Is there anyone you want me to call?”

      “No!” The last thing she wanted was to go crawling back to her father. She was twenty-nine and it was time to handle things on her own. “There isn’t anyone.”

      “How about we have your car towed into town then?”

      It appeared that Tori didn’t have any other options. She didn’t have the money for car repairs, or much of anything else. There was less than a hundred dollars in her purse. And if she didn’t want J.C. to know where she’d gone, that was all there was going to be for a while. He was looking for her, she had no doubt. No one ran out on J. C. Sheridan without paying the consequences.

      There had been dozens of cell phone messages from her father since that night she’d left town. He’d called so often she’d finally tossed her phone out the window after crossing the Arizona state line. Now, she was finally on her own.

      Tori looked up at the sheriff. “I have AAA, but I could use some advice on where to take my car.” She would have to use the corporate credit card for the repairs. Something she’d managed to avoid since leaving San Francisco.

      “Ernie’s Auto Repairs is good and he’s reasonable.”

      “Where is Ernie located?”

      “Haven,” he told her. “It’s a small town just about ten miles off this highway.” Then he smiled, showing off straight white teeth. Something stirred in Tori’s stomach.

      “Don’t worry, the people there are honest. Of course, you will draw some attention.” The playful glint in the sheriff’s silver eyes made her feel as if he were talking about her. “You have what every red-blooded man wants. A classic ’66 Corvette.”

      “Hey, Sam, how about a couple of iced teas?” Nate called as he walked Tori Sheridan through the doors of the Good Time Café. He escorted her to the counter because that’s where he usually sat most mornings for breakfast. She eased down onto a stool and he slipped onto the one next to her, unable to ignore her soft floral scent.

      It was between the breakfast and lunch crowds, and the place was deserted. But his friend, Sam Price, looked a little frazzled as he hustled out of the kitchen.

      “I’ll be there in a second.”

      A stocky man, dressed in a uniform of white pants and a T-shirt with an apron tied low around his waist came into view. He set two glasses of tea in front of his only customers. “Oh, man, what a morning.”

      “I take it you haven’t found a waitress,” Nate said, knowing Sam had been СКАЧАТЬ