Cinderella in Overalls by Carol Grace Page B

reality.
    Josh spoke first. “You told me it was a restaurant. You didn’t tell me it was an out-of-body experience.”
    “It isn’t. I mean, it never was before. Everything was different tonight.” She looked around the empty alley. “We’ve got to go. I have to get home. Can I get my truck now?”
    “No.”
    “No? You said we’d check back later. You said your secretary was working on it.’’
    “She was, but she isn’t anymore. She’s gone home. It’s too late for you to drive home alone on that road.”
    The blood rushed to her head. “I told you I’ve driven trucks like that since...”
    “Since you were fourteen years old. I know. But not tonight. Tonight I’m driving you home.”
    She glared at him. “I suppose I ought to thank you. But I don’t feel much like it.”
    He took her firmly by the elbow. “I understand. Naturally you’re disappointed.’’
    “You could say that.”
    They walked briskly in the direction of the bank. “You’ve gotten along for eighteen months without a truck. You can wait until tomorrow.”
    “We don’t come to town until Thursday.”
    “Okay, Thursday.”
    “I should have waited for the transfer papers. I should never have left the bank without our truck. Is it our truck, or not?”
    “Not. The bank holds the papers until the loan is paid off.” He looked at his watch. “That’ll be in about ten years. Until then I have to protect the bank’s interests. I don’t want the truck going off the road in the middle of the night before you’ve even made the first payment.”
    They stopped abruptly in front of the bank, and she waited while he went to get his car from the parking lot. She paced back and forth, seething in anger. Her fingers itched to hold the steering wheel of the truck. She’d planned to drive up in front of Jacinda’s house in the morning and watch the children come running from all over the neighborhood. He didn’t trust her to get the truck back in the dark. He didn’t believe she was capable enough. But she was. She’d show him.
    Josh drove out of the lot and around the front of the bank to pick her up. He could see by the set of her shoulders how angry she was, but he didn’t care. It was better to endure her resentment than to lie awake all night wondering if she’d made it back to Palomar. He reached across to fasten her seat belt. His arm grazed the tips of her breasts. He heard the sharp intake of her breath. Suddenly he thought of the music and the vibrations from the instruments humming in the night air and the feeling of her hand in his, and he wished he hadn’t spoiled the mood. But he’d had no choice. He could tell by her icy silence that he’d convinced her that his first concern was the truck. Now if only he could convince himself of that.
    Where had he gone wrong? When had this ceased to be a business transaction and become a personal matter? Was it the first day at the farm riding behind her on the horse with the warm sun shining on her hair? No, it was before that. It was that day in the market when he stood in front of her and paid too much for the mangoes. Since the first moment he’d seen her she’d had that effect on him. Of undermining his better judgment.
    If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have made this risky loan. His dream of finding the silver mine would have remained a dream. His private dream. There was something about her that caused him to do things he had no business doing. What was it? Her earthy sensuality? Her idealism? Her relentless optimism?
    He glanced sideways at her profile. The purity of the outline of her cheek touched him somewhere deep within himself and resolutely he turned his attention back to the road ahead. From now on he would keep his dreams to himself, his loans to a minimum and his mind on his work.
    An evening like this, of music and vibrations and the nearness of Catherine, was enough to pull him off course, to distract him from his goals. He was here to do a job, to