Sleeping Beauty Read Free Page A

that someone had painted pink. I was in junior high, and my mother used to ask Darcy to pick me up after school. I was convinced my mother hated me. It was bad enough to have my big sister picking me up, but that car..."
    He shuddered at the memory. "How macho can a guy be if he's forced to ride in a pink Volvo?"
    "It must have been very traumatic!" Anne smiled, the last trace of fear evaporating. It just wasn't possible to be afraid of a man whose sister had driven a pink Volvo named Morris. And there was that smile. And the way his eyes laughed even when he wasn't smiling.
    No buck teeth, no crossed eyes and, since he was looking at her with unmistakable male appreciation, it seemed unlikely that he was gay. In fact, there wasn't a flaw in sight, she decided, catching back an appreciative sigh. Early to mid-thirties, with a lean, rangy body, blue, blue eyes, nearly black hair, strong, angular jaw and a mouth that looked as if it smiled more than it frowned. The man was practically a poster boy for tall, dark and handsome.
    "I never have been able to figure out what it is about Bugs that makes people so crazy about them." Looking at Anne's car, he shook his head at the phenomenon. "A friend of mine got one for his sixteenth birthday. No air-conditioning, the heater was a joke, and when it came to hills, passengers were required to get out and push. But he loved that car. I wouldn't be surprised if he had it bronzed and keeps it on the mantel next to his kids' baby shoes."
    She chuckled but, at the same time, reached out to pat the car's fender reassuringly. "Lucy has heart,'' she told him.
    He nodded, that smile flickering in his eyes again. "Seth used to get that same look when he talked about his car." He slid his hands into his pockets and let the smile reach his mouth. ''Personally, I think it's the ugly puppy syndrome. You gotta love the car because you figure no one else will."
    Anne's smile took on a sheepish edge. ''They were going to strip her for parts."
    He laughed. "So you bought her to save her from a wrecking yard?"
    "More or less." She stroked her hand over the fender, and Neill tried not to think about having those slender fingers on his skin.
    You've definitely been spending too much time alone, Devlin.
    "Are you working for David?" Anne asked shyly. Later, she would be amazed at the easy way they were talking. She'd never been the kind of person who struck up casual conversations with strangers, yet here she was chatting with the best-looking stranger to cross her path in all her twenty-five years.
    He shook his head. "My bike gave a death rattle a few miles out of town.'' He nodded toward the red and silver motorcycle sitting just inside the garage. "I lucked out and caught a ride into town. Otherwise, I'd still be lost somewhere in the cornfields. For a minute there, I was pretty sure Rod Serling was going to pop up and start intoning some moral lesson."
    Her soft gurgle of laughter had Neill smiling. A cola, some cookies and a little conversation with a pretty woman—yeah, life was definitely on the upswing.
    "I'm sure David will be able to fix your bike," she said.
    "You should be careful about making promises I may not be able to keep." David Freeman's voice preceded him as he stepped into the garage. He was a short, stocky man with medium brown hair and ordinary features made memorable by unexpectedly pale blue eyes. Neill had liked him on sight and liked him even more when the mechanic had immediately recognized the Indian motorcycle for what it was. He'd pointed Neill in the direction of the soft drink machine and promised to take a look at the bike as soon as he finished the tune-up he was in the midst of.
    "How's it going, Anne?"
    "Good. Or it will be if you've got Lucy back in working order."
    Anne, Neill thought. The name had an old-fashioned femininity that suited her. It didn't take much imagination to picture her in a long dress with a ruffled bonnet framing her face. Not that he didn't much