Hold on Tight Read Free Page A

smug. “I’m sure you know all about me.”
    “Oh, yes. I’d say you’re exceedingly simple to understand.”
    He chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling. “I’m not simpleminded, if that’s what you mean. And I’m really sorry for disruptin’ everything tonight. And I’m really glad to meet you.” He held out a hand. “Pals?”
    Dinah squinted at his hand, trying to figure out his motives. Was he looking for the story that had never been revealed six years ago? By the way, Mayor, why did you run out on the Miss America shindig? Why does somebody like you give up glamour and fame for life in Quietville, USA? She took his hand slowly, exhaling as the calloused, hard grip closed around her fingers and sank gently into her palm.
    “Don’t let go,” he whispered. Dinah’s gaze shot to his face. He leaned forward, his grip tightening, his expression serious. “Don’t pull away. It’s hot, but it won’t burn.”
    She swallowed with great difficulty and glanced over to make certain Alfred wasn’t watching this bizarre scene. “I know something was going on between us in the meeting,” she told Rucker frankly. “It gets lonely here, but I want you to understand that I’m not easily—”
    “Tell me about yourself,” he ordered in a low, cajoling voice. “I’m just gonna sit here and hold your hand, and you tell me whatever you think I ought to know.”
    “Why?” she demanded.
    “Because I want to see what kind of woman lurks behind those smart blue eyes. A woman with a man friend somewhere in town?”
    “No.” His fingertips were drawing blunt lines of fire inside her palm. She tested his determination by gently trying to pull back. His forefinger pressed sensuously into the soft center of her hand, urging her to be still, to relax. Dinah swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably on the old vinyl seat, her whole body warm. All right, I’ll just … just humor him, she decided.
    “Someone special anywhere?” he asked.
    “No. You?”
    “No man friends,” he said drolly. “I ain’t that kind of boy.”
    “You know what I—”
    “Ex-wife. Found her in New York, left her in New York. Divorced four years ago. Back then I wrote the obits. I got work in Birmingham, took up writin’ a column, and I got famous for reasons I can’t begin to understand. Along with the fame I got a lot more than a normal share of female attention.”
    “Still getting it?” she asked, then realized how the question sounded. Pure amusement lit his eyes as she shook her head wearily. “Mr. McClure, I retract that—”
    “I don’t like singles bars, I’m not a cradle robber, and I turn up my nose at aggressive, independent women, so that leaves me sittin’ at home alone a lot. Call me Rucker.”
    “Call you a saint, if one is to believe that sweet little story about your love life. By the way, ‘aggressive’ and ‘independent’ describe me … Rucker.”
    “Nah, you’ve got potential,” he informed her. “Now look, I’m not gonna play games here. You and me, we were communicatin’ like live wires for a while there tonight. I’m lookin’ into your eyes and thinkin’ about old-fashioned romance—”
    “And a docile, dependent woman. How would you describe your ideal victim?”
    He grinned slyly. His fingers curled and uncurled inside her hand, their intent even more intimate. “Oh, she always has dinner ready for me, she loves all the sports I love, she just lives to give me massages, she fetches and totes whenever my friends come over to play poker, she likes to mow the lawn …”
    Dinah laughed helplessly, enjoying his blarney. “When I tell you about myself, you’ll see that I don’t fit that mold at all.” Her traitorous fingers wanted to caress the top of his broad, lightly haired hand. She forced them to remain obedient.
    “You’ve got potential,” he insisted again, his eyes deadly serious under their teasing veneer. Dinah rested her chin in her free hand and studied him. “So