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“I’ve already rented one of the offices to a charming gentleman, and he’s taken the garage, too.”
“Mother, I thought you were going to wait—”
Tyler straddled the arm of the couch. “Grandma’s been going crazy. The phone’s been totally ringing off the hook about the ad in the paper.”
“It has?” Joanna had assumed it would take some weeks to rent the offices, and she hadn’t been entirely confident the oversize garage and storage shed would rent at all. If only the Forest Service hadn’t decided to vacate the property in an effort to consolidate their facilities and save money, she wouldn’t be in such a difficult financial bind.
“I have several more gentlemen coming to see the property later this week, and one is coming up from the valley this evening after work. They all wanted to wait until you were home. But this gentleman— Kristopher Slavik is his name—was anxious to move right in.”
“I hope you got his references?”
“I didn’t think that was necessary, dear. He and I hit it off right away. I’m sure he’ll be a fine tenant.”
Joanna mentally groaned. Relying on her mother’s judgment, particularly since Joanna’s father had died nearly two years ago, was like walking through a heavy fog. It was easy to lose your sense of direction.
“Maybe I’d better meet him,” Joanna said. “Did he sign a lease?”
“Yes, and he paid cash, too. First and last month, just like you said they should.”
Tyler added, “Man, he pulled out a wad of money so fat I nearly choked. He’s got to be loaded, Mom! Totally fat city!”
“A roll of one-dollar bills can look like a lot of money and not amount to a great deal,” Joanna re minded her son. Some smart operators also tried to con elderly women with scams that made them appear wealthy when they were nothing more than bums set on separating innocent victims from their money. “Do you think this Mr. Slavik would still be there now?” And if so, would he be easily evicted if he turned out to be a con artist?
“Oh, yes, dear. In fact, he said he’d be camping out in the office until he can find a house to buy nearby. I’m sure he’s anxious to meet you.”
He might not be so thrilled when Joanna called his bluff. She wasn’t about to have an aging Lothario trying to take advantage of her mother. From now on Mr. Slavik would have to deal with her.
After leaving her suitcase in the middle of the living room, Joanna headed out the front door. The heat of summer still hung in the air and dust coated the pines and oaks that formed a canopy above the street It would be another month before cool weather arrived and the leaves on the black oaks began to turn a bright yellow. The change of season would also bring the possibility of rain, she recalled grimly.
She reached the end of the block and checked traffic on the two-lane blacktop road that led into Twain Harte, then hurried across the street. Her sensible low-heel shoes clicked on the asphalt.
A single vehicle was parked beside the one-story building, an aging Oldsmobile Cutlass with one crumpled fender and a trunk so full the lid wouldn’t close. A mountain bike was tied precariously to a bike rack on the roof.
Protruding from beneath the car was a very masculine pair of denim-clad legs, the man’s running shoes as old and worn as the vehicle. Apparently the “charming” gentleman had only found one sock to wear that morning, a white athletic sock that lacked any remaining elasticity and drooped accordingly.
Joanna cleared her throat. “Mr. Slavik?”
“Be right with you. I’m checking a bearing seal that’s leaking.”
Her mother had been right about one thing. The clear baritone voice of the stranger had a warm, mellow charm to it. Or maybe all men naturally projected a certain added sense of masculinity when they worked under a car.
Slowly, Mr. Slavik edged toward her, revealing his long legs an inch or two at a time. There was a tear in one knee of his faded jeans, the denim fabric pulled tautly across his pelvis and the material covering his zipper looked worn from many uses. When a flat belly appeared, washboard muscles visible where his white T-shirt hiked up, Joanna concluded that Kristopher Slavik, Lothario or not, was in great shape. And maybe considerably younger than she had thought.
She stepped back a foot or two to give him room.
Completing his exit from under the car in an agile movement, he stood and smiled at her. A streak of grease marked the exact spot where his cheek creased into a dimple.
Definitely too young for her mother, Joanna thought, her heart suddenly doing a staccato beat. The guy was about thirty, closer to her age than her mother’s.
“Hi. You must be Joanna.” Intelligent gray eyes swept over her in an interested perusal that left her slightly breathless.
“Yes, ah…”
“Your mother told me all about you.”
Rarely speechless, Joanna tried to gather her wits. “She omitted a few details about you.” Important ones, such as that his height topped out at about six foot two and his rumpled sandy-blond hair made a woman instinctively want to smooth it.
“Really? Like what?” He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands. His fingers were long and tapered, lean like the rest of his body.
Setting her wayward thoughts aside, she said, “Mother didn’t happen to mention what business you’re in.” His examination of her grew more intense, and Joanna suddenly wished she was wearing a gunnysack instead of a low-cut, summery blouse and a formfitting skirt—professional attire appropriate for a teachers’ meeting but somehow more revealing given the way he looked at her.
“Guess you could call me an inventor,” he drawled.
“Oh? What is it you invent?”
“Whatever comes to mind.”
“That doesn’t sound very lucrative.”
“It can be if you invent the right thing.”
“Yes, well…Mr. Slavik—”
“Please call me Kris.”
She ignored his request. “You’ve signed a lease that says you’ll pay the rent the fifteenth of every month. My mother neglected to get your bank ref erence, names of former landlords, that sort of thing. If you don’t mind—”
“I think I’ll invent a dual mountain bike.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know, a bike two people can ride at the same time.”
“Hasn’t someone already invented that? It’s called a tandem bike.”
“This will be different. A two seater to ride on mountain trails—side by side.” His lips slid into another grin. “Maybe you’ll come for a test ride with me. After I get it invented, of course.”
She struggled with the unsettling feeling he was flirting with her, a rare occurrence in her rather humdrum life. “Is there a big market for that sort of bike?”
He gave an unconcerned shrug. “Guess I won’t know until I invent it.”
That struck Joanna as a dicey way to run a business. But as long as the man could pay his rent, she supposed it was none of her concern.
“Perhaps if you’d give me the name of your bank,” she suggested. “Wherever you have your checking account?”
Two nicely arched brows lowered into a frown. “I’m sort of in between accounts right now.”
Suspiciously, she wondered if that was because he was overdrawn. Given his appearance, that was a likely possibility. Waves of sun-striped hair curled at his nape, looking less like a cultural statement than a result of simply forgetting to show up at the barber shop. Or not having the money to spend on personal grooming.
“Then the name of your most recent landlord would be helpful,” she persisted.
He gave that request more thought than it should warrant under normal circumstances. “Actually, I don’t recall I’ve ever had a landlord. Until now. I think I’m going to like it.”
“Look, Mr. Slavik—”
“Kris, with a K.”
“I have a substantial mortgage on this property and I depend on the rents to make my payments. I really must insist—”
“How about I give you a year’s worth of rent? Then you won’t have to worry about all that paperwork.” He dug into his pocket, retrieving the roll of bills Tyler had seen.
“You’re going to pay me in cash?”
“Sure. It’s not counterfeit.”
Maybe not, but the only people she had heard about who dealt in that much cash were drug dealers. Or bank robbers.
Joanna’s eyes widened as he flipped open the roll and began counting out hundred-dollar bills. Good grief, Tyler had been right. The man was totally loaded!
He handed the money to her. “How’s that?” he asked pleasantly.
“Ah, fine, I guess.” It didn’t make any sense to turn down a bird-in-hand worth several thousand dollars in the hope of finding some other tenant with more traditional banking arrangements.
“Good. I’m glad that’s all settled. So how would you like to go out to dinner tonight?”
Joanna did a double take. That was the fastest move any man had ever made on her. “I think not, Mr. Slavik. We’ll just keep our relationship a business one, if you don’t mind.”
“Funny, that’s not the idea I got from your ad.”
“What ad?”
“The one you ran to rent this place.”
An odd feeling of uneasiness prickled along her spine. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“It was a real interesting ad. One hundred percent accurate, too.” Sliding two fingers into his pocket, he pulled out a bit of paper torn from a newspaper. “I really appreciate truth in advertising.”
Curiosity warred with apprehension as he handed her the scrap of paper, still warm from the heat of his body. With dawning understanding, she read the advertisement, which listed her telephone number as the contact:
Attractive, intelligent, marriageable woman with adorable 10-year-old son has office and garage space available to rent. Reasonable rates. Only bachelors need apply.
Her head snapped up; color heated her cheeks. “I didn’t do this. I mean, that’s not the ad…” Joanna lost all sense of composure. Her professional persona crumbled and she babbled, “My mother—she must have…Sometimes she’s—I told her…”
Kristopher Slavik simply grinned at her, that soft, seductive smile that creased his cheek and brought a devilish sparkle to his eyes, doing something wild and impossible to her insides. “So what do you say? How about dinner?”
“No!” In lieu of eating anything, Joanna Greer was going to string up her mother by her conniving, matchmaking thumbs.
Chapter Two (#ulink_3f01338b-b1c8-55de-a303-ef0648e9b110)
He judged that the natural sway of Joanna’s long hair would be the equivalent of a fifteen-degree pendulum swinging across her slender shoulders. But she was embarrassed now, and in her hurried retreat across the street, her silken curls bounced as if they were spring-loaded.
Leaning back against the car, Kris smiled to himself. His new landlady was a very attractive package. Each individual module—eyes that looked to be a light blue, a pert nose, full lips and determined chin—combined as though a skilled artist had had a hand in the design phase. He could see Joanna’s resemblance to her mother and her son, but she was put together with gentler, youthfully feminine curves that were quite appealing.
Odd he’d never before taken such special note of a woman. But then he was the sort of man who usually concentrated on one task at a time, often to the exclusion of all others. Until now he’d never had the inclination to find a wife and start a family of his own. It seemed like an appropriate challenge for a man who had achieved just about everything else he’d set his mind to.
The problem was, though he had learned the intricacies of computer programming by the age of twelve, he had rarely delved into the techniques required for courtship. Except for a torrid affair with a college professor, who had been more brilliant than beautiful—and considerably more experienced than he had been—his contacts with women had typically been either professional or very brief.
From the spark of independence in Joanna’s eyes and the determined lift of her chin, Kris sensed he would need a good deal of skill in a game where he barely knew the rules and had never learned to speak the language. He might not even have an aptitude, he thought with a frown. Although by age twenty he had mastered certain pleasant sexual techniques, courtesy of the professor, neither she or his parents had taught him much about love or affection.
That might leave him at a decided disadvantage with Joanna Greer.
His impulsive announcement that he was an inventor wasn’t likely to have earned him a whole lot of points, either. Although he was looking forward to their first ride together.
At the sound of tires crunching on the gravel parking lot, Kris shifted his attention to the arriving car. A sleek Porsche convertible slid to a stop beside him.
“I’m looking for Joanna Greer,” the man said as he got out of the car. Tall and well built, he looked as if he had just stepped off the pages of an upscale mens wear catalog. Not a single wrinkle marred his silk shirt, and though he drove a convertible with the top down not a hair on his head was out of place. His toothy smile was equally unbelievable.
Kris felt a sharp and unfamiliar surge of aggressiveness and instantly wanted to eliminate the competition. “She’s not around right now,” he said, feigning ignorance.
“You come here about that ad, too?”
“Could be,” he acknowledged, already plotting ways to discourage the intruder.
“Is she a real dog, or what?”
“Dog?”
“Yeah, you know. Women who run ads in newspapers to get a date are usually desperate. At least this one owns a little property. If she isn’t too bad, I figure I’ll let her support me for a while.” He shrugged as if he’d run this scam before and cared nothing about the women he had undoubtedly hurt. “Till I get bored, anyway.”
Kris’s hands clenched into fists. Normally he wasn’t a violent man, but he had to consciously suppress the urge to punch this guy’s lights out. Given the surprising amount of adrenaline surging through his veins, he didn’t think it would be all that hard to do. “Then it looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree. You wouldn’t want to hang around for more than five minutes with Ms. Greer.” Kris would see to it he didn’t last even that long.
The stranger eyed him suspiciously. “You sure you’re not trying to run me off so you can have her all to yourself?”
“Not me,” Kris lied, knowing full well the way to douse a man’s overactive testosterone was to avoid being perceived as a rival. No doubt the masculine urge to compete for a woman was an instinctive throwback to caveman days, one he had sublimated until now. “I’ve already seen her. Soon as I get an oil leak fixed under this old clunker, I’m outta here. You’re welcome to the lady, if you think she’s worth the effort.”
“Naw, I’ll take your word for it.” The stranger slid back into the car. “Maybe I’ll head on down to Bakersfield. There’s always a lot of action in the singles’ bars. I’ll find somebody to hit on.”
“Good luck.” The sleek engine purred to life and Kris waved the driver off, knowing it was the women this jerk planned to hit on who he’d rather be wishing good luck.
“Don’t you realize you have put me in an absolutely untenable position?” Face still flaming with mortification, Joanna railed at her mother, who appeared frustratingly unconcerned as she fried chicken for dinner. Sometimes Agnes carried her bizarre behavior too far. Much too far, and at Joanna’s expense.
“It seems to me the important thing is to get the property rented. I’m sure that’s what Alexander would have wanted.”
“My father would not have wanted me portrayed as a lonely old maid who has to advertise in order to meet a man.” Joanna didn’t know how she would ever be able to face Kris Slavik again, much less the next prospective renter who showed up at the property.
“Well, you certainly haven’t met very many interesting men in the usual way.” Agnes made a disparaging snort, ignoring the potatoes boiling away on the stove and in jeopardy of burning. “The last young man who asked you out seemed quite strange. Didn’t he believe in shaving?”
Joanna switched off the burner and moved the pot to a cooler spot on the stove. That episode had occurred five years ago and wasn’t worth comment. She’d dated a fellow teacher’s brother as a favor, nothing more. And Joanna had been more than happy to see the end of an incredibly boring evening spent in his company.
