Sultry

Lindsay could picture Mary Jane’s petite features scrunched in a frown while the wheels were turning inside her head.

“So?”

“So I’ll tell you about it another day, over lunch.”

“That’s a dirty trick to play on me.”

“Well, it’ll get you out of that office for a little while, anyway.”

“I’m out today.”

“Only because it’s Saturday,” Lindsay pointed out. “And the day’s not over yet.”

“Boy, have you got my number.”

“Just like you’ve got mine.”

M.J. laughed. “So are you going to the shelter?”

“Maybe this afternoon.”

“Any news from there?”

“No,” Lindsay said. “But then, I haven’t called Rita.”

Rita Thomas, director of the women’s shelter, was another person Lindsay adored and could identify with, the main reason being that they had both suffered great heartaches in their lives.

Even though Lindsay hadn’t been associated with the shelter all that long, her newest charity project had quickly turned into one she was quite passionate about.

“Call me when you’re ready to share the big secret.”

“Actually, my news involves the shelter.”

“That’s great, especially if it keeps you out of the shrink’s office.”

“So far, so good,” Lindsay said.

“Well, I’ve certainly seen a difference in you since you took the shelter under your wing.”

“We’ll see if it pans out.”

“My, but you sound mysterious.”

“Well, you’ll just have to put your curiosity in cold storage for a while longer.”

“Whatever. Meanwhile, get rid of that prick Peter.”

Lindsay’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am. Talk to you later.”

The instant she placed the receiver back in its cradle, her smile fled. She wished Mary Jane hadn’t mentioned Peter again. The thought of him could ruin her day.

She got up and stretched. When Mary Jane called, she had just finished dressing in leggings, a long shirt and her running shoes. Now she was ready to hit the outdoors. Losing sleep had definitely put a damper on her body and her spirits. However, a trek outdoors would remedy that. It would also serve as a morale booster for when she approached Cooper later with her idea—something she didn’t have to put off, since he was definitely on the mend.

Still, it wasn’t a discussion she was looking forward to.

A few minutes later, Lindsay strolled through the kitchen. “Morning, Dolly.”

“Mornin’, child. Want some breakfast?”

Lindsay kissed her on the cheek. “Not until after I exercise.”

Dolly snorted, her black eyes looking Lindsay up and down. “That’s the last thing you should be doing. You need some meat on those scrawny bones.”

“Don’t start. Exercise keeps me sane.”

Dolly merely sniffed this time, but kept her silence.

“So where’s Daddy? Has he been down?”

“Hours ago, or so it seems. He’s having coffee with some of his men friends.”

“That’s a good sign.”

Dolly positioned her hands on her hips. “You should worry more about yourself than him, you know?”

“I know.”

Lindsay smiled, walked out the door, and immediately wavered. For a late June morning it was hot and muggy, a rarity. The eighties was the norm. She shuddered to think what the remainder of the summer would bring. She considered returning to her room and putting on shorts. But she didn’t. It wouldn’t hurt her to perspire; if nothing else, it would clean out her pores.

Suddenly Mitch Rawlins came to mind, and her good mood instantly disappeared. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he ever broke a sweat. Somehow, she doubted it. After all, he had a crew to do the manual labor.

That was why, when she rounded the corner of the big house and saw him in the flesh, she pulled up short, barely able to keep her mouth from flying open.

She was shocked enough at having come upon him unexpectedly, but the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt made matters worse. And droplets of sweat were flying off him as he dug a shovel into the rich earth.

She stood mute and swallowed hard. What to do? For some inexplicable reason, she wanted to turn and run. Yet she wanted to stay put, too. The latter won out, especially when he stopped what he was doing and faced her.

“Mornin’,” he said in a low, mocking tone, though he was looking at her with something akin to a fluid passion that seemed to link them.

“Hi,” Lindsay responded in a breathless voice, while her eyes—half wild, half afraid—stared greedily at him.

Was her face red? Probably. She couldn’t stop staring, totally captivated by his six-foot-plus frame, her gaze homing in on that bare chest matted with dark crisp hair that curled its way down to his navel, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.

And though she had no intention of taking her gaze any farther, she did, then jerked her eyes upward again, warmth climbing into her cheeks.

Heat boiled inside her suddenly, and her insides felt scalded. Jerking her gaze away from him, she schooled her features to show none of the turmoil raging inside her.

“You’re Lindsay Newman,” he said in a low, easy-sounding voice.