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yourself wouldn't be comfortable closed up in a T-bird with a hell-raiser like me.” He walked over to her rental car and leaned down to peer inside the passenger window, looking for her keys. “I'm embarrassed to tell you that I don't have the best reputation when it comes to women, Miz Gracie.”
    She trotted after him, trying very hard not to stare at the way that tight, faded denim clung to his hips as he bent forward. “You don't have enough time to drive to Telarosa. Willow is expecting us there by this evening.”
    He straightened and smiled. “You be sure to give her my regards when you see her. Now are you going to move your car?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    He dipped his head, shook it regretfully, and then, with a quick step forward, snagged the shoulder strap of Gracie's purse and slipped it off her arm.
    “Give that back right this minute!” She lunged for the clunky black bag.
    “I sure will be happy to. Just as soon as I find your car keys.” He smiled agreeably while he held the purse out of her reach and riffled through it.
    She certainly wasn't going to get into a wrestling match with him, so she used her sternest voice. “Mr. Denton, give me my purse back immediately. And of course you'll be in Telarosa by Monday. You signed a contract that—”
    “Excuse me for interrupting, Miz Gracie, when I know you're just itchin' to make your point, but I'm a little pressed for time here.” He handed her purse back without having found what he was looking for and walked toward the house.
    Once again, Gracie rushed after him. “Mr. Denton. Uh, Bobby Tom—”
    “Bruno, could you come out here for a minute?”
    Bruno emerged from the garage, a grubby rag in his hand. “You need something, B.T.?”
    “I sure do.” He turned to Gracie. “Beg pardon, Miz Snow.”
    With no more warning than that, he slipped his hands under her arms and began to frisk her.
    “Stop that!” She tried to jerk away, but Bobby Tom Denton hadn't become the best pass receiver in the NFL by letting go of moving objects, and she couldn't budge as he began to pat down her sides.
    “Easy now and we can get this over without any bloodshed.” His palms glided over her breasts.
    She sucked in her breath, too stunned to move. “Mr. Denton!”
    The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You have very nice taste in underwear, by the way. I couldn't help but notice last night.” He moved on to her waist.
    Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Stop this right now!”
    His hands came to a halt as he felt the lump in her pocket. With a grin, he pulled out the car keys.
    “Give those back!”
    “You want to move that car for me, Bruno?” He pitched the keys over, then tipped his hat to Gracie. “Nice to have met you, Miz Snow.”
    Dumbfounded, she watched him stride down the drive to the Thunderbird and climb in. She began to rush toward him only to realize that Bruno was getting into her rental car at the end of the drive.
    “Don't touch that car!” she exclaimed, immediately changing direction.
    The engines of both the Thunderbird and the rental car roared to life. As she gazed helplessly back and forth between the two automobiles—one in the drive, the other blocking the drive—she knew with an unshakable conviction that if she let Bobby Tom escape, she would never get close to him again. He had houses everywhere and an army of flunkies to protect him from people he didn't want to see. She had to stop him now, or she would have lost her chance forever.
    Her rental car, with Bruno in the driver's seat, shot forward and cleared the end of the drive.
    She whirled toward the Thunderbird. “Don't leave! We have to go to the airport!”
    “Y'all have a good life now, y'hear.” With a jaunty wave of his hand, Bobby Tom began backing out.
    In a flash she saw herself returning to Shady Acres to take the job the new owners had offered her. She smelled Ben-Gay and Lysol; she tasted overcooked green beans and mashed potatoes covered with