Read Heartbreak, Tennessee for Free Online Page B

acrid stench of perspiration and cigar smoke and chewing tobacco filled the
room. Pete McBaine would be on his ancient, cracked-leather stool, smoking and
glaring at his workers if no customers were around.
    He never glared at her , of course. Not even as he...
    Amber shook her head
and opened her eyes, gulping deeply as she fought to regain her composure. The
air she breathed was clean, the scents that mixed were honest and not
unpleasant. The men who stared, she reminded herself, were just reacting to an
unfamiliar face, a woman, no less, probably not a frequent sight even for one
of the largest boat dealerships in Tennessee.
    It really was amazing,
what Mac had accomplished. In the big light-filled showroom, sleek powerboats
gleamed, their curvy lines enticing even to Amber, who knew very little about
boats. In fact, the last time she’d been out on the water was years ago with
Mac. Signs advertising Mercury outboards hung high above the gleaming floor,
and the smell of new chrome and fiberglass mixed with the buzz of customers.
    And even the original
building, which housed the repair shop, was completely transformed. Racks and
racks of tools gleamed above well-organized workspaces. Bright lighting
supplemented the sunlight filtering through new windows. Motors in various
stages of disassembly lay with their innards exposed as men worked over them,
and strains of music could be heard over the sounds of activity.
    It was a far cry from
what she remembered. But on the other hand, Amber would have been surprised at
anything less. Mac had always been fiercely committed to everything he did.
    Then she spotted him,
observing her quietly from his post at a workbench, dressed in a pair of jeans
faded to a soft pale blue, a yellow polo-collared shirt straining against his
powerful biceps. A rush of pleasure went through her to see the familiar
profile, the long limbs that had the grace of a dancer’s, no matter what he was
doing.
    Mac had always been
able to make something as mundane as bending to pick a penny off the sidewalk
look like an artist’s study, an effort to capture the beauty of the human form.
He was unconscious of it, and she had never found words to tell him—but
it was one of the things she’d loved most about him.
    To find his natural
grace preserved after all these years pleased her, and she returned his frank
gaze, adding a smile. She notched her chin up, squared her shoulders, and took
a step toward Mac, ignoring everyone else in the room. None of them, she was
sure, could tell she’d been briefly unnerved to find everything so changed.
    Except, perhaps, Mac,
who knew her better than anyone. Better than she would ever allow anyone else
to know her again.
    As he walked toward her,
the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a slight grin, she found her body
responding. A small spark ignited deep inside, sending a pulse along her
nerves, which were suddenly hypersensitive to the slight draft in the room. It
riffled the hair on the backs of her forearms, and brushed her long skirt
against her calves.
    Her pulse quickened,
and she became aware of another sensation, long absent—desire, wending
its way through her system, setting her body aflame as easily as a pile of dry
kindling takes to a match. Ignoring the stern admonishment from her brain, her
arms longed to wrap around his wide, hard torso, bringing her cheek in contact
with his firm, stubbly jaw, as she had a thousand times before.
    Desperate to douse the
unwelcome fire in her body, she focused on his shoes, well-worn canvas sneakers
meeting the frayed hems of his jeans, and a laugh escaped her lips before she
had time to think.
    “Mac!” she said, “I
swear, that could be the same pair of shoes you used to wear when this was your
Dad’s place.”
    Then she clapped her
hand over her mouth, crestfallen. In one little sentence, she’d broken all the
rules she’d set for herself: she was going to avoid the past like the deadly
threat it was, and