Page 2 of A Man for Amanda
“I’m in a hurry,” she told him.
“I noticed.” He flipped a long finger through her hair to tuck it behind her ear. “Looked like you were on the way to a fire when you plowed into me.”
“If you’d moved,” she began, then shook her head. Arguing would take time she simply didn’t have. “Never mind.” Grabbing at packages, she rose. “Excuse me.”
“Hold on.”
He unfolded himself as she tapped her foot and waited. Disconcerted, she frowned up at him. At five feet ten inches, she was accustomed to meeting most men almost eye to eye. With this one she had several extra inches to go. “What?”
“I can give you a ride to that fire if you need it.”
Her brow arched in her frostiest look. “That won’t be necessary.”
Using a fingertip, he pushed a box back in place before it could slide out of her grip. “You look like you could use a little help.”
“I’m perfectly capable of getting where I’m going, thank you.”
He didn’t doubt it for a minute. “Then maybe you can help me.” He liked the way her hair kept falling into her eyes, and the impatient way she kept blowing it away again. “I just got into town this morning.” His gaze lazily skimmed her face. “I thought maybe you could make some suggestions about... what I should do with myself.”
At the moment, she had a pocketful of them. “Try the chamber of commerce.” She started by him, then whirled when his hand came down on her arm. “Look, buster, I don’t know how they do things back in Tucson—”
“Oklahoma City,” he corrected.
“Wherever, but around here, cops take a dim view of men who hassle women on the streets.”
“That so?”
“You bet it’s so.”
“Well then, I’ll have to watch my step since I plan to be around awhile.”
“I’ll hang out a bulletin. Now, excuse me.”
“Just one more thing.” He held up a pair of brief black panties embroidered with red roses. “I think you forgot this.”
She grabbed the bikinis, then stalked off as she balled them into her pocket.
“Nice meeting you,” he called after her, and laughed when she doubled her already hurried pace.
Twenty minutes later, Amanda gathered up her packages from the backseat of her car. Balancing some under her chin, she kicked the door closed with her foot. She’d nearly forgotten about the encounter already. There was too much on her mind. Behind her, the house rose up into the sky, its gray stones staid, its towers and peaks fanciful and its porches sagging. Next to her family, there was nothing Amanda loved more than The Towers.
She raced up the steps, avoided a rotting board, then struggled to free a hand enough to open the towering front door. “Aunt Coco!” The moment she stepped into the hall, an oversized black puppy raced down the stairs. On the third from the bottom, he tripped, rolled and went sprawling onto the gleaming chestnut floor. “Almost made it that time, Fred.”
Pleased with himself, Fred danced around Amanda’s legs as she continued to call for her aunt.
“Coming. I’m coming.” Tall and stately, Cordelia Calhoun McPike hurried in from the rear of the house. She wore peach linen slacks under a splattered white apron. “I was in the kitchen. We’re going to try my new recipe for cannelloni tonight.”
“Is C.C. home?”
“Oh, no, dear.” Coco patted the hair she’d tinted the day before to Moonlit Blonde. In an old habit, she peeked into the hall mirror to make certain the shade suited her—for the moment. “She’s down at her garage. Something about rocker arms, I think—though what rocking chairs have to do with cars and engines, I can’t say.”
“Great. Come upstairs, I want to show you what I got.”
“Looks like you bought out the shops. Here, let me help you.” Coco managed to grab two bags before Amanda dashed up the stairs.
“I had the best time.”
“But you hate to shop.”
