First Comes Love. Elizabeth Bevarly

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      He nodded, putting aside—for now, at least—his concern over her strange behavior. “I found a truck tire,” he told her as he went to retrieve it from out back. “It’ll be a good size for the garden you want to make.”

      Within minutes he had the big tire loaded in her trunk for her, and Tess was climbing into her car and waving goodbye. Boy, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough, he thought. He winced as she squealed her tires pulling out into the street.

      “Man,” Finn said when Will returned, “what’s up with her?”

      Will shook his head. “Got me. But there’s something going on, that’s for sure.”

      Finn sighed philosophically. “Well, whatever it is, it’ll come out soon enough. Tessie never could keep a secret to save her life.”

      Will tipped his head toward the car he had been working on when Tess arrived. “Put on some coveralls and get under the car with me for a minute. I need your opinion on something.”

      Within seconds—and without coveralls— Finn was rolling himself under the chassis from the side opposite Will, heedless of the dirt and grime that were already decorating his designer dress shirt and tie. Will shook his head in wonder at his friend’s carelessness, but he figured Finn would just buy himself some new duds to replace the old ones, if they got dirty. And, hey, it wasn’t like the guy couldn’t afford it.

      “What’s up?” he asked.

      For long moments the two men pondered a complex mechanical dilemma, until the arrival of two red high heels—complete with shapely calves—appeared on the other side of the car.

      A feminine voice called out, “Hel-lo-o-o-o-o? Will, are you here?”

      Yeesh! Abigail Torrance, Will thought. Probably with another casserole. Just what he needed. His freezer was already overflowing with Abigail’s…creations. God, he hated casseroles.

      “Go ahead,” Finn said softly with a devilish smile, wresting the wrench from Will’s fingers. “I’ll take care of this. I know how you feel about Abigail.”

      Damn the man. The last thing Will needed was some woman underfoot. Still, Abigail—along with her trucking fleet—was one of his best clients, so he couldn’t very well offend her by telling her to shove off, could he?

      With a resigned sigh he pushed himself out from under the car and stood. Even though he knew it wouldn’t do much good, he wiped his grease-stained hands on a grease-stained rag, then raked them both through his black hair. Akin to nothing, it occurred to him that he was long overdue for a haircut.

      “Abigail,” he said with a forced smile when he saw her. “What a surprise. And is that a casserole you’re holding?”

      She smiled in reply, turning her head in a purposeful way that Will knew was completed in order to show off the faint dimple in one cheek. She really was kind of pretty, he thought, and he had always preferred brunettes. But for some reason Abigail just didn’t rev his motor—so to speak. Then again, few women did.

      It wasn’t that Will wasn’t interested in the fairer sex—on the contrary, his…masculine drive…was probably a bit more, uh…more masculine…than that of a lot of men. But there were other things in life that took precedence. He just wasn’t ready to settle down.

      “You’ll love it,” Abigail told him coyly. “Tuna noodle surprise.”

      Will forced another smile. “Did I ever tell you that was my favorite? I love the surprise part. Not many women would think to include watermelon.”

      She batted her eyelashes. Actually batted them. Incredible. Then she purred, “Uh-huh. You did tell me it was your favorite.”

      “Wow,” Will remarked dryly. “And you remembered. Imagine that.”

      She extended the large, rectangular container toward him. “Just heat it up at three hundred and seventy-five degrees for forty-five minutes, and it will be ready.” She smiled again, more suggestively this time. “There’s plenty there for two, you know.”

      Will nodded. “Great. You’ve got me covered for tonight and tomorrow night both. Thanks, Abigail. You’re swell.”

      He tried not to choke on that last part, and hoped his dubious gratitude was convincing. He must have been at least marginally successful, because although she pouted at his rejection of her more-than-obvious offer, she quickly recovered and smiled again.

      “Have you heard the latest news?” she asked.

      Oh, boy. Gossip. Gee, Will just lived for that. “Um, no, Abigail, can’t say that I have.” He turned quickly toward the office with the pretext of taking the casserole in there, hoping the sight of his back would let her know just how anxious he was to hear whatever choice item she might have—namely, not anxious at all.

      But Abigail, as usual, didn’t take the hint. “It’s about Tess Monahan,” she said, nearly breathless with excitement.

      Will spun around, his gaze inevitably drawn to the trouser-clad legs sticking out from beneath the ’Vette. The trouser-clad legs that belonged to Tess Monahan’s oldest brother. The trouser-clad legs that Abigail obviously hadn’t seen.

      “Uh, Abigail?” Will began, hoping to cut her off.

      Although he didn’t for a moment think there could be anything shocking or controversial about Tess—hey, after all, it was Tess—he didn’t think it prudent for Abigail to be gossiping about her in front of one of her brothers. It just wasn’t polite. And Finn, like all of his brothers, had just a bit of a quick temper, not to mention a protective streak a mile wide, when it came to his kid sister. None of the Monahan boys would much appreciate Tess’s being talked about. Even if the talk was harmless. Which Will was sure this would be.

      Because, hey, after all…it was Tess.

      He opened his mouth to announce Finn’s presence, but Abigail, evidently much too excited to be put off any longer, blurted out her big news before he had the chance. And boy, oh, boy, what news it was.

      “Tess Monahan has been knocked up!” she cried almost gleefully.

      “What?!”

      Will was surprised to discover that the outraged exclamation erupted not from the man beneath the ’Vette, but from his own mouth. And as if that weren’t bad enough, to punctuate his utter and complete shock, he dropped the casserole—tuna, noodle and surprise—onto the cement floor with a resounding crash.

      Abigail, too, was taken aback by his response—literally. She took one giant step backward, as if she feared Will was going to bolt right over her on his way to—

      To do what? he wondered. Right this egregious wrong? Beat the hell out of whoever was responsible for Tess’s condition? Break the jaw of whoever had started this stupid rumor in the first place? Even if it were true, what the hell business was it of his if Tess Monahan had gotten herself—

      Knocked up?

      Tess?

      No way.

      He spared a quick glance at Finn’s legs, which СКАЧАТЬ