Page 24 of Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars 2)

“I hardly think that’s necessary.”

“I’m trying to be polite about this, but you don’t seem to be catching on.” He sat up, fumbled for his wallet on the bedside table, and withdrew several bills. “Cab fare to the airport is on me,” he said as he held them out.

“Shower first, and then we’ll talk about it.” She hastily backed out of the room.

An hour and a half later, he was still trying to get rid of her. She hurried down the sidewalk to the Memphis health club, a white paper carry-out bag containing a large cup of freshly squeezed orange juice clenched in her hand. First she hadn’t been able to get him out of bed, then he’d told her he couldn’t even think about taking off until he’d had his morning workout. They’d no sooner entered the lobby of the suburban health club than he’d shoved some money in her hand and asked her to go to the restaurant around the corner and pick up some orange juice for him while he changed into his gym clothes.

As he’d disappeared into the locker room, his eyes had been guileless and his smile innocent, which made her certain he planned to ditch her while she was gone. She grew absolutely convinced of it when she saw he’d given her two hundred dollars for orange juice. As a result, she’d been forced to take drastic action.

Not surprisingly, the restaurant was several blocks farther away than he had led her to believe, and she’d hurried through the transaction as fast as she could. As she returned to the health club, she bypassed the entrance, heading instead for the parking lot in the back.

The Thunderbird sat in the shade with the hood up and Bobby Tom peering under it. She was out of breath as she rushed toward him. “Finished with your workout already?”

His head shot up so abruptly he banged it on the hood, knocking his Stetson sideways. He cursed softly and straightened his hat. “My back was a little stiff, so I decided to wait until tonight.”

His back looked perfectly fine to her, but she refrained from pointing that out, just as she withheld comment on the fact that he had obviously planned to drive away while she was gone. “Is there something wrong with the car?”

“It won’t start.”

“Let me look. I know a little bit about engines.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You?”

Ignoring him, she set the damp sack on the fender, peered under the hood, and lifted up the distributor cap.

“My goodness, you seem to have lost your rotor. Let me see. I just might—” She opened her purse. “Yes. I have one right here.”

She handed over the Thunderbird’s small rotor, along with the two screws that held on the distributor cap and her Swiss Army knife so he could refasten them. All of it had been neatly wrapped in the plastic bag she had taken from the hotel room for just this sort of emergency.

Bobby Tom stared down at it as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Make sure it’s firmly seated,” she said helpfully. “Otherwise, it could give you some problems.” Without waiting for a response, she retrieved the orange juice, hurried around to the passenger side of the car, and slid into her seat, where she busied herself studying the map.

Much too soon, the car shuddered as he slammed the hood. She heard his boots make sharp, angry clicks on the asphalt. He rested his hand on the window frame next to her and she saw that his knuckles were white. When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft and very angry.

“Nobody messes with my T-bird.”

She took a small nibble from her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Bobby Tom. I know you love this car, and I don’t blame you for being angry. It’s a wonderful car. Really. That’s why I have to be honest and tell you that I have the ability to do serious damage to it if you try any more monkey business.”

His eyebrows shot up and he stared at her in disbelief. “Are you threatening my car?”

“I’m afraid I am,” she said apologetically. “Mr. Walter Karne, God rest his sweet soul, was at Shady Acres for almost eight years before he died. Until his retirement, he’d owned an auto repair shop in Columbus, and I learned quite a bit about engines from him, including how to disable them. You see, we had a problem with a particularly officious social worker who visited Shady Acres several times a month. He kept upsetting the residents.”

“So you and Mr. Karne retaliated by sabotaging his car.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Karne was quite arthritic, which meant that I had to do the actual work.”

“And now you plan to use your special expertise to blackmail me.”

“It goes without saying the idea disturbs me a great deal. On other hand, I have a responsibility to Windmill Studios.”

Bobby Tom was beginning to look wild around the eyes. “Gracie, the only reason I don’t strangle you to death right this minute is because I know, as soon as the jury heard my story, they’d let me off, and then those sharks at the networks would turn the whole thing into a TV movie.”

“I have a job to do,” she said softly. “You really must let me do it.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. The two of us have reached the end of the line.”

Before she could stop him, he’d pulled the door open, scooped her up, and set her down in the parking lot. She gave a hiss of alarm. “Let’s talk about this!”

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