In The Stranger's Arms

Mayfield Manor had been in her family for three generations before she and her younger sister had inherited it. Even though Lily had obviously abandoned the family home as well as her only living relative, Pauline felt a deep obligation to maintain it. In addition to her strong affection for the old house, she still clung to her dream of someday replacing her female boarders with a family of her own.

When she came around the corner of her street, she saw the bright-blue tarp covering the corner of the garage roof. Except for some sawdust and a few drag marks in the gravel of her driveway, all signs of the fallen limb were gone.

As soon as she emerged from her Honda with her purse and her laptop, a dusty black car with out-of-state plates pulled into the driveway behind her. Her elderly boarder, Dolly Langley, was perched in the passenger seat next to an unfamiliar man wearing sunglasses.

As Pauline waited, he got out from behind the wheel, moving with surprising stiffness for someone with such an athletic build. Nodding to Pauline, he circled the car and opened Dolly’s door. As spry as a little white-headed bird, she hopped out, holding on to his hand.

“Pauline, wait till I tell you what happened,” she chirped in the British accent that all her years on this side of the pond had failed to eradicate. “I found this nice young man on my way home from the market.”

Her satisfied smile stopped Pauline cold. Widowed a decade before, Dolly insisted that a woman of Pauline’s age could be neither happy nor complete without a man to share her life. Had Dolly brought him home for her, in the same way a cat might offer a dead mouse?

“I appreciate the endorsement,” the stranger said in a husky voice as he bowed over Dolly’s hand, “especially from a lady as lovely as you.”

Dolly’s wrinkled cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink, and she patted her tightly permed hair with her free hand while Pauline studied him with mixed wariness and curiosity. His black hair was cut short above his lean face. Even dressed as he was in a blue chambray shirt and jeans, stubble darkening his angular jaw, he would certainly be called a prize catch by most women.

Still clinging to his hand, Dolly tugged him forward, her eyes twinkling behind her trifocals. “Come and meet my landlady. She’s the one I told you about.”

Oh, Lord. Pauline’s mind reeled at the possibilities her chatty boarder could have disclosed.

Maintaining an air of quiet dignity might have been easier if Pauline’s blouse hadn’t been streaked with dust from digging through freight, if her makeup hadn’t completely worn off and her hair hadn’t been restyled by the breeze blowing through her open car windows on her drive home.

As the man slipped off his sunglasses and tucked them into his pocket, she met his gaze squarely. Without the tinted lenses, his eyes were a startling shade of silver that contrasted sharply with his dark lashes. The intensity of his expression sent a shiver of awareness through Pauline as unwelcome as it was startling.

“This is Wade Garrett, fresh from San Francisco,” Dolly said, releasing his hand. “Wade, Pauline Mayfield, my landlady.”

Despite the polite smile that transformed his expression from intimidating to innocuous, Pauline hesitated before offering her hand.

She was being silly. As a member of the Waterfront Business Association and a candidate for the Crescent Cove city council, she had learned to cloak her shyness. Even so, his firm grip sent a jolt of reaction up her arm. Before she could identify the sensation, he released her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with no indication that he, too, had felt the momentary shock.

“You, too,” she replied automatically, relieved that she could speak without stammering. “And it was kind of you to give Dolly a ride.”

“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.”