Hot & Bothered by Susan Andersen Page B

talk her out of it? It wasn’t as if it would take all that much—he knew damn well she was scared to death of being rejected. And with good reason, if half the stuff she’d told him about her mother was true. So, hey, discouraging her would probably be doing her a big ol’ favor in the long run.
    Just thinking of her, huh? What a guy. He shifted uneasily and looked at her face, alive and shining with hope. Slanting rays of the setting sun picked out the feathery thickness of her eyelashes, highlighted the clear honey-brown of her eyes. He’d never realized it before, but if she ever got enough to eat and wasn’t wracked by the worry that was part and parcel of being homeless, she’d probably be pretty—or at least she’d have the potential to be when she was a little older. “So.” Rolling his shoulders, he cleared his throat. “You need some change, or what?”
    â€œNah.” But her obvious pleasure in his offer made her smile grow even wider. “I’ll call collect.”
    He tried not to cringe. She’d attempted calling collect the other day and her mother had refused to accept the charges—she’d just flat-out said “no” and hung up. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he followed P.J. to the nearest phone booth, then stood back far enough to afford her a measure of privacy while she placed the call. But watching her from the corner of his eye, he saw the exact moment all hope drained from her expression and realized her mother must have refused this call, too.
    She dragged herself over to him a moment later and he could barely stand it. All her bounce was gone and her face was pinched and almost old-looking. “Here.” He thrust a handful of change at her. “You said money was tight at your house. Maybe she just couldn’t afford to accept a collect call.”
    Tears swam in the eyes she raised to his. “She told the operator to tell me to stop calling. Said that I’d made my bed and could just l-l-lie in it.” Her face crumpled.
    â€œAw, fuck.” He reached out to give her shoulder a sympathetic pat, but she jerked away.
    â€œWell, the hell with her!” she snarled as if he wasn’t even there. “Who needs the old bag, anyway?” But the tears overflowed, streaming down her cheeks.
    Jared looked away to show the same respect for her feelings that she’d offered when he’d blubbered. And when she whirled around and stalked off toward the 16th Street Mall, dashing tears from her eyes with jerky movements, he trailed a short distance behind, his stomach churning in miserable empathy.
    They were nearly to 16th Street when a newer model silver Toyota pulled over to the curb close to P.J. and slowed down to keep pace with her. A dark tinted window silently rolled down and Jared watched the driver lean over to eye her as he drove slowly alongside.
    Still about fifty feet away and not liking the looks of this situation at all, he picked up his pace. Jeez, this was what they needed. When it rained, it just fricking poured, didn’t it? One measly half block and they would’ve been safely on the Mall, a strip of seventeen or eighteen blocks that was closed to all traffic except the free trolley. But that half block might as well have been a hundred miles.
    â€œHey, little girl,” the man said, eyeing P.J. up and down, his gaze lingering on her flat chest. “What are you, honey, about ten?”
    P.J. stopped and stared at the man in the car. “Is that what you’d like me to be?”
    He licked his lips and nodded.
    â€œThen, yes, sir, I’m ten.” She stuck her index finger in her mouth and reached up with her free hand to twirl a dark brown curl with her fingers. “But just barely,” she added. “My birthday was last week.”
    His eyes went avid. “You wanna make twenty bucks?”
    â€œNo.” She waited a few beats, then said,