She felt her jaw drop clear to her collar as she regarded the man before her. His head and face were covered with snarled blue-black hair. His eyes were just as black; his look hard, flat, and emotionless. It was the sort of face one expected to find on Wanted posters, the sort of face that prompted decent folks to lock their doors at night before they went to bed.
So this was her carpenter. No wonder he couldn’t keep a job.
“Well, it’s about time you got here,” she said, her voice as crisp as fried salt pork. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be put off by that beard. She took in his clothes, the blue sweat-stained work shirt and shamefully tight jeans. He looked tough, lean, and sinewy, and probably could do the work if he stayed sober. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”
“You have?” Kane was clearly surprised. He couldn’t imagine how she’d learned he was getting out.
“Yes,” she replied, noting he didn’t look the least bit remorseful for being so late. Didn’t he want the job, for heaven’s sake? “I suppose an apology is out of the question,” she said.
Kane’s mind went blank. “You can apologize if you want, but I certainly don’t expect it.”
Her irritation flared. “I wasn’t talking about me apologizing to you,” she said tightly.
His bafflement quickly turned to annoyance. She had obviously called the prison, although he couldn’t imagine why. She had never once tried to contact him by phone. “Why should I apologize?” he asked. “I came as quickly as I could. Hell, I don’t even have to be here.”
“Oh, is that right?” she quipped, staring straight into his lethal black eyes. She paused. “You think I’m desperate, don’t you?”
He was growing more confused. “Come again?”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” She fidgeted with the buttons on her blouse. “You think I need you so badly that I’ll put up with this sort of behavior.”
Kane was truly at a loss as he studied the woman before him and wondered where in the hell the conversation was going. “I don’t think you’re desperate,” he said, at the same time wondering if she expected him to court her in return for all those letters. She was clearly not his type. Her skirt and blouse were too prim and proper; her hairstyle—slicked back into a bun—too severe. Her glasses were downright ugly and made her face appear misshapen. “I don’t want to appear rude, Miss Abercrombie, but I’m not looking to get romantically involved with anyone right now. I’m just looking to make a fresh start.”
“What?” Mel’s head spun. What in blazes was he talking about? Did he think she was making a pass at him? Was he insane? She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“Look, I don’t want us to get off to a bad beginning. I’m not sure I would have made it this past year without your letters.” It wasn’t easy for him to be so honest, but she had done much for his morale these twelve months; he owed her.
Mel was at a loss. He wasn’t making sense. “Letters? What letters? Who are you?”
“Kane Stoddard.”
She froze as realization swept through her with the force of a tidal wave. “Kane Stoddard? From Leavenworth Prison?” He nodded, and she thought she detected a small smile, but it was hard to tell with the beard.
“But how can that be?” she asked herself out loud. The Kane Stoddard she knew was a convicted killer, serving life without parole. How had he gotten out? The answer came to her with lightning-quick clarity. She knew of only one way a prisoner could get out that fast.
Kane watched the color drain from her face. He had expected her to be surprised, but she looked as if she’d just received the scare of her life. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She knew she ought to do something, but what? Dial 911? Race outside and flag down the first motorist who came along? She tried to move, but her feet felt as though they’d been set in cement.
An escaped convict in Hardeeville? Was it possible?
Kane watched, transfixed, as Melanie Abercrombie’s eyes glazed over, and then rolled back in her head like dice in a card game. She swayed, and he reached for her. He wasn’t fast enough. She collapsed and fell against a box of drain cleaner with the grace and finesse of a hundred-pound gunny sack of Vidalia onions.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
Excerpt: The Devil and Miss Goodie Two-Shoes
Welcome to Temptation: A Romantic Comedy Page 15
