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panties, and hot steamy sex, but I'm here to tell you, it isn't going to happen.
    "I'm not saying don't buy the car for her; it's your fault hers was sprayed with bullets to begin with. I know Jamie's got a thing for vintage Mustangs and that she needs transportation, but she's a proud woman and she might take it the wrong way."
    "The two of you can think what you want, but my intentions are honorable. Have the guy deliver the car to the newspaper office and tell him to give the keys to Jamie's assistant, Vera Bankhead."
    "You just better hope Miss Bankhead doesn't get the wrong impression. Jamie's like a daughter to her. And don't forget, that woman carries a gun."

Chapter Two
    Jamie awoke to someone pounding on her door. She was stark naked, having washed her underwear in the bathroom sink before she'd climbed into bed and fallen into an exhausted sleep. It had not occurred to her to grab her suitcase from Max's car before she'd slammed out.
    Just one more thing, she thought.
    Coming off the bed, she dragged the sheet with her. Her eyes were gritty, her blond hair standing out to there, and she just remembered she didn't have a toothbrush. "Who is it?" She thought her voice sounded like a frog giving birth.
    "Mavis. Checkout was fifteen minutes ago. I have to clean your room."
    "It's not even noon!" Jamie said.
    "Not my problem."
    Jamie leaned her head against the door. This was not a good sign. Here she was, tired, no clothes or car, and she was about to get thrown out of a second-rate motel. It was starting out to be a really sucky morning. Finally, she raised her head, and, keeping the chain in place, she cracked the door. The sun hit her between the eyes. "I'm requesting a late checkout," Jamie said.
    "I'll have to charge you for another night."
    Jamie just looked at Mavis. She wore pink sponge curlers beneath a gauzy scarf, and her rouge stood out on her pasty skin, two perfectly round circles that looked as though they'd been pressed on with an ink stamp. She was enjoying herself, Jamie decided.
    Mavis tapped one foot impatiently.
    "It'll take me a minute to get dressed," Jamie told her. She closed the door and hurried to the coffeepot. She dropped the filter into the top, added water, and stepped inside the bathroom. Her panties were still damp. "Oh, great," she muttered, thinking it was just another sign that her morning wasn't going to be all that great.
    She slipped them on anyway, threw on her jeans and top, and filled a thick paper cup with coffee. She was still sipping it when she stepped out her door a few minutes later. She found Mavis waiting with a maid's cart.
    "Is there a taxi service in this town?" Jamie asked.
    Mavis looked her up and down. "Are those the same clothes you had on last night?"
    "Yes, but I washed my underwear," Jamie blurted before she had time to think. She sighed. "Yes, they are. Why?"
    "Are you in trouble with the law?"
    "Not yet."
    Mavis gave her a long look. "Dixie Cab Service. Phone calls are a dollar."
    Jamie fished a dollar bill from her purse, hurried back into the room, and grabbed the telephone book. She dialed the number for a taxi just as Mavis turned on the vacuum cleaner.
    * * * * *
    "This is it," the cabdriver announced a half hour later as he pulled into the parking lot of Bud's Used Cars. Jamie paid him and climbed from the battered cab.
    She made her way toward a small construction trailer where a sign read:
Bad Credit? No Problem.
She opened the trailer door and was hit with a blast of cold air blowing from a sputtering window unit. Jamie found a man sitting at his desk, holding a cigar in one hand and sipping coffee from a chipped mug with the words
Do Me
in his other.
    He stood so fast he almost spilled his coffee. "Good morning, miss," he said. "I'm Bud Herzog. What can I do for you this fine day?"
    "I need a car. Something cheap but reliable."
    "Well then, you've come to the right place. Matter of fact, I got several good, clean cars coming in day after