No Plans for Love Read Free Page A

gonna have the name, I'm gonna have the game. Elena broke up with me because I paid too much attention to Sherry."
    "Go change your clothes and help with the milking so I can make supper."
    After Mark went to the house, Frank came through the milking parlor. He smacked Jan on the behind as he passed. "If you women worked as much as you talk, we'd get done quicker."
    "Watch where you put your hands, Mr. Blakely," Jan said.
    He turned and grinned at her. "My hands have been in much more intimate places than your ass, Mrs. Blakely. Mark's home. Go make supper. That tuna sandwich and salad you gave me for dinner wasn't enough."
    Sherry put a little extra effort into her work, hoping they wouldn't see how she was blushing. Their sexual banter made her feel uncomfortable though they were husband and wife. When Mark came to the barn dressed in a tee shirt and jeans, she kept her distance from him. He was no longer off limits and she wasn't sure how that made her feel.
    It was already dark when Frank took her home after a supper of chili and cornbread. When she had the door unlocked, she waved to thank him. Inside all was dark but she knew where her flashlight was.
    Sitting on her pillow by candlelight, she played her guitar and munched potato chips until the bag was empty. She could pick up another bag when she took her application in to the dollar store the next day. Potato chips were her comfort food. She went to bed early because she knew that Frank or Mark would be calling to wake her up in the morning.
    Despite the discomfort of the hard floor, she went to sleep quickly. She was awakened so suddenly that she sat right up in bed, her heart pounding. She grabbed her flashlight and looked at her watch. It was nearly one thirty. She sat there listening until she heard it again. Someone was trying to get in the door in the den.
    She got up unsure of what to do. Then she heard the scrape of a footstep on the brick patio. Pointing her flashlight at the floor, she went to look out the kitchen window. Someone was out there with a small flashlight and he went straight to the back door to the breezeway but she had locked the storm door. He shone his light around until he saw the egg-shaped stone.
    She grabbed the phone and dialed the Blakely's number. It took three rings before Jan's sleepy voice answered.
    "This is Sherry. Someone's trying to break in. He just smashed the window in the storm door to the breezeway." Her voice became panicky. "He's inside. He must have a key."
    "Go hide in the bathroom and lock the door," Jan ordered. "I'll wake Frank and Mark and call the cops." Jan shook her husband by his shoulder. "Frank! Frank, wake up!".
    "Leave me alone," he mumbled.
    "Frank! Sherry just called. She said someone is trying to break in."
    That brought him out of bed in a hurry. "Wake Mark. Tell him to move it. Then call the cops." He headed for the door no more than he had his pants and sneakers on.
    Jan ran back the hall to her stepson's bedroom to pound on his door. He answered immediately. "I'm up. I heard you trying to wake Dad."
    "I've got to go call the cops."
    He came out of his room pulling on a dark blue tee shirt. "Call Sherry back. Maybe the phone ringing will scare the intruder away."
    He ran down the steps and out the front door. Frank already had the truck turned around. He leaned over to open the passenger-side door. "If you're coming with me, move it." He had the truck going out the lane before Mark had the door shut.
    As he pulled into Sherry's driveway, the headlights reflected from the breezeway windows, but they could see the light of the flashlight the intruder carried as he came out the kitchen door.
    Mark was out of the truck before it was stopped and ran full tilt around the house. A dark figure ran across the patio. "Hold it right there!" Mark shouted.
    The flashlight went out and the man took off across the backyard and between the garden fences to the fields beyond. Mark raced after him. Mark always thought