Love

wouldn’t trust you if you were the last man on earth.”
“I wonder why, since to the best of my recollection I’ve never had occasion to lie to you.”
“You’re worse than a liar. You’re scum. You’re evil.”
Her voice rose with each charge, which seemed to fascinate the rapidly growing crowd of onlookers. The words cut far more than the flying fists. Hallorans were rarely humiliated in public. Jason could just imagine how the gossips would enjoy the news, which he had no doubt would spread like wildfire by evening. It would probably make the Sunday papers as well. The faint amusement and exhilaration he’d felt vanished, replaced by a sense of growing outrage. Who the hell was this woman and where did she get off calling him scum? he wondered indignantly.
To his growing fury, it sounded as if she was just getting started. In fact, she might have gone on berating him, but Jason decided enough was enough. He ended the tirade by clamping a hand over her mouth and nudging her firmly across the room and into the booth. She gasped as her knees buckled, but she sat. Just to be sure she stayed until he could wrestle some answers from her, Jason wedged himself in beside her.
“Start talking,” he commanded in a low voice.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Amazing. Not more than sixty seconds ago, you couldn’t shut up.” He rubbed his aching jaw and wished for the first time in his life for a little anonymity. Too many people seemed as interested as he was in her answers. She disappointed them all by remaining stonily silent.
Jason had plenty of experience in social graces, but this situation defied the conventions. To the best of his recollection no one had ever defined the etiquette for chit-chat following an unprovoked attack by a woman he’d never seen before in his life. It she’d been a man, he could have slugged her back and felt avenged. As it was, he felt a little like Perry Mason stuck with a reluctant witness.
“Dammit, you owe me an explanation,” he said, sensing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they were wasted.
“I owe you nothing.” The spark of fury in her eyes hadn’t dimmed a bit.
Jason sighed. Something told him right then and there to send her packing, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it without satisfying his curiosity. “Okay, let’s try this another way. How about a drink?”
“Not from you.” Patches of color on her cheeks emphasized her indignation.
“Fine. You can pay for it.”
“With what? Sammy gave you every dime I had saved.”
Jason stared at her, startled by the depth of her anger and the unwarranted accusation behind it. Despite his own conviction that it was time to cut his losses, he was undeniably intrigued by the puzzle she represented. The women he knew did not enjoy scenes, much less creating them. This woman appeared totally unfazed by the stir she’d caused. If anything, she was itching for another round, still righteous in her fury. At least in that they had something in common—he was charged up enough to do a full bout with her.
“Who the devil is Sammy and why would you think he gave me your money?”
Apparently startled by his blank response, she studied him thoughtfully, then shook her head. “Nice act. You’re really good. For a minute there, I almost believed you.”
The sarcasm had a nasty sting to it. Even considering the source—a wacko woman he’d never met before in his life—Jason was offended by the attack on his honor. “I’m not acting, dammit. I’m losing patience. Who is this Sammy?”
She shot him a look of pure disgust. “I told you I’m not buying it. You know perfectly well who Sammy is.”
With a sense that he was in over his head for the very first time in his smooth, well-ordered life, Jason tried a little deductive reasoning. “Is Sammy your husband?”
She shook her head.
The response cheered him in a way that probably didn’t bear close examination. “You’re too young to have a son who’s stealing cash from the cookie jar,” he decided.
“I’m not as young as I look.”
“Sorry. Of course not. You’re probably ancient—maybe even twenty-five.”
“Twenty-three.”
“Like I said, ancient. So what’s the story with Sammy?”
She huddled in the corner of the booth, as far from him as it was possible to get in the confined space. Her expression settled into a mutinous glare. Whatever her problem with him was, apparently she hadn’t thought much beyond beating the daylights out of him.
“Hungry?” Jason inquired politely, hoping to catch her off guard by trying a different tack. She ignored him.
“No problem,” he said then. “I’ve got all afternoon.” To prove it he settled more comfortably in the booth and took a sip of his drink.
Her eyes widened at that. “You can’t keep me here all afternoon.”
“Oh, but I can,” he said mildly. “You can talk to me or you can talk to the police. I’d say we have enough witnesses to make an assault charge stick.”
“I’ll swear you were coming on to me.”
“I was coming over to you. There’s a big difference.”
“Where’d you get your law degree? In jail?”
“No law degree. No jail.”
There was a faint glint of curiosity in her eyes before she banked it and fell silent again.
“I’m waiting,” he reminded her.
“Sammy’s my brother,” she said finally. “He’s only sixteen, which makes what you did particularly reprehensible.”
It was a start, but the woman definitely had an attitude. She clearly intended to be stingy with her information. “So your sixteen-year-old brother stole your money?” he prodded.
“Every cent I’d saved for the past three months,” she confirmed wearily. Her fingers swept through her hair, leaving more spikes.
Jason was filled with the sudden and astonishing urge to find this Sammy and pummel some sense into him. “Haven’t you ever heard of banks?” he asked instead, astounded by the notion of someone leaving large amounts of cash lying around the house.
She gave him a scathing look. “It was in