.
thinking about riding that train again.”
Jace sent his perceptive little brother a firm look. “My interest in Abbie starts and ends with the project. All I’m looking for is a warm body to handle some publicity and contact last year’s sponsors for donations. She’s pretty, well-spoken and strong. She’ll get us some money. Now, can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” Ty replied, sampling his own coffee. “You pick the topic. But we both know your pat answers about her warm body are major crapola. You’re interested again.”
“Ty?” Jace said coolly.
“Yeah?”
“Eat your sandwich.”
An hour later, Jace walked Ty to his truck, then crossed the snow-covered gravel to his workshop and let himself inside. He flicked on the lights and the small electric space heater, then went to his workbench to finish sanding the drawer fronts on the small chest he was building for Betty. Okay, so Ty hadn’t been too far off the mark. Part of him was interested again. But it was only his nocturnal caveman part—the part that wouldn’t sleep again tonight. As for anything beyond that… He wasn’t the same guy who’d let her use him back then.
Sex with him had been the quickest way to send a message to Morgan, and she’d done it. Jace slipped on his earmuffs and safety glasses and plugged in the sander. That night had been all about Abbie’s emancipation. And he’d been the gullible fool who’d made it happen.
The clerk behind the counter motioned that one of the workstations had opened up, and Danny smiled at the too thin, fiftyish woman sitting across from him in the busy mall’s Sweet Bytes Internet Café. Soft pop music played over the low conversation coming from the dozen or so tables. “You’re up, Miss Murphy. Time to surf the information superhighway.”
Smiling broadly, Janice Murphy retrieved her cane from the floor and winced as she got to her feet, a few biscotti crumbs falling from her cheap navy pantsuit. “Time to collect my e-mails, anyway,” she replied.
Just then, the half-dressed brunette who’d been giving Danny the eye since she got there passed by, banging into the older woman and knocking the cane from her hand.
Shooting her a murderous look, Danny leapt up from the tiny table where they’d been sipping mocha lattes, then steadied his new friend and returned her cane. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “Someone should teach that girl some manners.”
“It’s all right, Anthony,” the graying woman replied, using Danny’s new name. “It’s crowded in here. I’m sure she didn’t realize what she did.”
Danny doubted that. The harlot—that’s what his holier-than-thou father called women who looked like that—was too interested in showing off her boobs and spandex to care about anyone else. Too interested in teasing every guy in the place with a free show so she could steal their cash later.
Miss Murphy tried to put a dollar down on the table, but Danny stopped her. “Uh-uh,” he said, giving it back. “You let me share your table. I’ll get the tip.”
Smiling again, she tucked the bill back into her pocket. But then her pale eyes filled with sympathy. “Anthony, I’d love to let you go ahead of me. I know you’re eager to get busy. But I’m afraid I’ll already have a dark walk to the bus stop.”
“Don’t even suggest it,” Danny replied. Las Vegas was teeming with people who could prey on a woman alone. Men, too, he thought, glancing across the room again at the lipsticked and eye-shadowed harlot. This time, she intercepted his look and waved coyly. Dozens of tinkling silver trinkets waggled to him from her charm bracelet, and Danny wondered if they were like the notches on a gunslinger’s gun. One charm for every man she’d bedded.
Danny brought his gaze back to the angel goodness in Miss Murphy’s eyes. “Don’t worry about me. Another workstation will open up soon, and I’ll find her.” He hid the quick tickle of excitement in his belly and dropped his voice forlornly. “I’ll find her if it’s the last thing I do.”
She squeezed his arm. “I’ll pray that you do, Anthony. I was young and in love once, too.”
Taking his seat again, he watched her cane her way to the open station.
It was eight o’clock on Wednesday night, and as Danny finished his latte, he caught sight of his reflection in the café’s etched glass wall. He looked good. Different. Besides the black dye job and amber glasses, sunless tanning lotion had darkened his skin to a shade more in line with his new name, and the eyebrow pencil had darkened his brows and deepened the creases beside his mouth.
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