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climbed back in the Explorer and re-entered the interstate traffic. Three hours later they drove into St. Louis. With the help of a map and cellular phone, John found an auto repair store within two minutes of the mall.
    Clarisse watched Vivian disappear into the shopping center’s main entrance.
    “Are you going to hop up front?” John peered around the front seat. “Or did you need some help with that ankle of yours?”
    “I—No.”
    Clarisse left the back and slid into the front. Shifting in her seat, she glanced through her lashes to John’s jean-clad legs. Her gaze slid up his body to where his large hands curled around the steering wheel. He took up most of the front with his bulk. Oh, hell. She didn’t like this one bit.
    “Ready?”
    She met John’s raised brow and forced her lips into a smile. “Yes.”
    This was the first time she’d be alone with him for longer than a few minutes. She ignored the fluttering of her stomach. There was no reason to be nervous. What could possibly happen in a couple of hours?

CHAPTER FOUR
    They pulled into an auto repair shop. John held open the front door for her, and she slipped past, accidentally brushing against his chest. The clean, masculine scent of his aftershave drifted to her. She shivered. What was she doing? She should have gone with Vivian. At least then she wouldn’t have to deal with John and the maelstrom of feelings he instigated.
    A mechanic stood behind the counter, hugging a telephone receiver between his shoulder and ear. After a few minutes he hung up.
    “I need my tire—”
    “One sec.” The mechanic interrupted John, picking up the phone, then transferring the call to the garage.
    John began again, annoyance lacing his words. “I need my right front tire replaced.”
    The mechanic popped his gum loudly. “That’s going to take over an hour.”
    “What do you mean ‘over an hour’?” John shifted impatiently on his feet.
    “We’re backed up. That’s the best I can do.”
    Clarisse glanced over at the empty waiting room. Odd. The place didn’t look backed up.
    “Fine,” John clipped out. “Go ahead. It’s the red Ford Explorer.” He surrendered his keys and turned from the counter in disgust.
    “That’s a bit excessive.” Her mind screamed in protest at the thought of spending over an hour in his company.
    “I’m not going to argue, but it’s the best we’re going to do. The place is a reputable company. I guess we’ll just have to relax and wait.”
    They walked into the waiting room. Clarisse plucked a Glamour magazine wedged between Popular Mechanics and Fishing . She recognized the model on the cover.
    Clarisse sat on a green plastic chair, one of many lining both sides of the room, while John remained standing by the vending machines.
    “Did you want a drink?”
    “Ah, sure. A diet soda.”
    The machine rumbled and coughed out two cans. As John hunkered down and retrieved both, the jeans strained across his buttocks and thighs. He stood and turned. Quickly, Clarisse looked down at the magazine in her lap and tried to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.
    “Here.” A diet, cherry cola came into view. She grasped the can. His fingers, hot and alive, brushed hers.
    “Thanks.”
    She flipped the tab. Soda exploded from the can, spraying the front of her shirt, neck and hair. Spluttering, she stumbled to her feet and dropped the magazine, almost overbalancing her chair.
    “Here, look out!” John grasped her arm before she slipped on the floor, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You smell like cherries.”
    “That’s right, go ahead and laugh.” Her mouth twitched with amusement. “You don’t have sticky soda all over you.” She wiped her cheek and mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh. It’s everywhere!”
    John grabbed a couple of paper towels from a dispenser in the corner of the room and started brushing the soda from her neck. He dabbed at the hollow above her collarbone and lowered to the