In The Stranger's Arms. Pamela Toth

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      “I was walking back from the market, and the strap on my grocery bag broke,” Dolly interjected as he reached into his car, a luxury model beneath the road dust. “The oranges rolled right into the street, but he pulled over and chased every one of them down for me.”

      He held out the damaged bag to Pauline, who managed to take it without touching him again.

      Dolly patted his bronzed forearm. “Where are you staying?” she asked him. “I’ll bake you some nice banana bread. You aren’t allergic to nuts, are you?” She glanced at Pauline. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for putting such a helpful person in the hospital.”

      “You don’t have to do that,” he protested, hooking one thumb into his wide leather belt. “I was actually on my way here when I stopped.”

      “Here to this house?” Dolly asked. “Well, isn’t that nice.”

      He must have spread the tarp earlier, Pauline realized, wondering how he’d transported a ladder. Perhaps he had a truck, too.

      “Let me show you the apartment above the garage,” she said, reaching into her purse for her keys. “I keep the door locked.”

      His thick brows shot upward. “Did Wallingford call you already?” he asked. “That was quick.”

      Perplexed, Pauline hesitated. “Kenton Wallingford?” If Wade was connected with that no-good scam artist, she wasn’t sure she wanted to have anything to do with him.

      Wallingford had a reputation for get-rich-quick schemes that inevitably failed, taking other people’s money in the process. “I don’t know how you heard about me,” she added, “but if you think the two of you can go around undercutting Steve Lindstrom’s prices, you’re sadly mistaken.”

      Wade held up his hands, palms outward as though to ward off a blow. “Whoa, hold on,” he exclaimed. “I don’t know about any damage and I have no idea who Steve might be—unless he’s trying to rent the apartment from you, too.”

      “Rent it!” she echoed, shaking her head in confusion. “Why would Steve want to rent from me when he’s got a perfectly nice house of his own? If you aren’t here to repair the damages to my garage, why are you here?”

      Dolly’s bemused gaze shifted back and forth between them as though she were watching a tennis match on the telly, as she called it.

      Wade narrowed his gaze. “My only connection to that slimy scum-sucking weasel, Wallingford, is that after he took my deposit money and then broke the lease I had with him, he said you might have a vacancy over your garage.”

      “What a wonderful idea,” Dolly exclaimed, clapping her hands. “That apartment has just been sitting empty.”

      “I’ll take it,” he replied, smoothing his hand over his close-cropped hair. “It’s been a long day and I’m so dam—darned tired that I’m about to pass out.”

      “You poor man,” Dolly exclaimed with an imploring glance at Pauline. “We just have to let him stay.”

      His fatigue was obvious and his situation unfortunate, but Pauline had no choice but to turn him down.

      “A tree limb fell on the garage roof during the storm last night,” she explained. “The apartment has a lot of water damage from the rain, especially the bathroom.”

      “How long will the repairs take?” he persisted.

      The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of reaction through Pauline, like some low-level jolt of electricity. Ever since he had first climbed out of his car, she had been trying to ignore the tug of attraction. If Dolly sensed it, she would hound them both.

      “Steve hasn’t given me a schedule yet.” Pauline wished Wade would give up and go away so she could breathe normally.

      “Ah, him again.” Wade included Dolly in his half-hearted grin. “Wallingford warned me that every motel in town would be full because of some festival this weekend. Any suggestions of somewhere I could find a bed for tonight?”

      None Pauline was about to voice out loud.

      “Why don’t you rent him a room in the house?” Dolly suggested. “The master suite is empty.”

      “I’ll take anything,” Wade said quickly. “And I’ll be happy to provide references if you’d like.”

      “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Dolly replied breezily. “We know you’re trustworthy.”

      And we know that how? Pauline wondered. Just because he’d picked up a few oranges and hadn’t kept one for himself? “I don’t think—” she protested.

      “And you should give him a discount for that awful bedroom wallpaper,” Dolly added firmly. “It’s enough to give a monk nightmares.”

      Pauline liked the old-fashioned floral print, and Mr. Garrett didn’t look like any monk she’d ever seen, but Dolly was on a roll.

      “The suite does have a private bathroom with a claw-foot tub,” she told Wade, “and a nice little sitting area that gets the morning sun. There’s even a lovely desk and a matching chair, should you need a place to work.”

      “Sounds perfect.” He looked at Pauline expectantly. “I’ll risk the wallpaper. How much would you like up front?”

      “I can’t rent you the room,” Pauline said firmly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t take male boarders.”

      “You’re kidding!” His smile disappeared abruptly. Without it, his thoughts were hard to guess, hidden behind his laser-sharp gaze. What if he was a lawyer contemplating a sexual discrimination case against her?

      “Oh, Pauline, surely we owe him something,” Dolly chided in her best retired-teachers tone. “You could bend the rules this once.”

      * * *

      “Rules?” Wade echoed as suspicions began to form in his overtired brain.

      Wow, he had to hand it to old Mrs. Langley, who had fooled him completely. Despite her glasses, she must have the vision of an eagle to have spotted his California plates and dropped her grocery bag before he’d driven past her. Who would have thought the narrow, bumpy side street along the top of the bluff would be such a fertile hunting ground for desperate tourists in search of lodgings and con artists in search of victims?

      Her granddaughter, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as good an actress. Her intentions were obvious—to express initial reluctance in order to wring as much rent money from him as possible.

      He was about to ask whether Wallingford was also in on their scheme when a huge yawn overtook him. He swayed on his feet. By the time he’d managed to clamp his jaw shut, he realized that he didn’t care what the room cost or how ugly its wallpaper was. If he didn’t get horizontal soon, he’d fall asleep where he stood.

      “But you’ll make an exception for me, right?” He took out his wallet. “How much?”

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