In Harm's Way by Lyn Stone

waiting.”
    â€œWould you rather stay here? I could call Susan, have her bring the computer over. We don’t have to go out.” Maybe that would be best, anyway. She looked sort of shaky.
    Her shoulders straightened and she took one last look out the sidelight. “No, let’s do it. Let’s go.”
    â€œAtta girl!” Mitch said, giving her a gentle pat on the back.
    She immediately arched to escape his touch, then glanced over her shoulder with a wary expression. Well, he should have known better. She had let him hold her hand, brush the hair off her face and guide her through doorways with his hand at her back before. But that was when she had really been terrified and probably in shock. It didn’t count.
    Obviously, Robin Andrews was not much of a toucher and liked her space uninvaded, thank you very much. Someone must have made her overly cautious and suspicious at some time in her life. Understandable. She said she’d once been a model like it was a dirty word. Now she chose to work in isolation, on a computer, designing Web pages.
    He’d bet money she never even met her clients in person. Her choice of occupation told him something about her rightthere. She’d pretty much given up on the human race. The male half, anyway. Well, after her friend-slash-husband screwed around on her while they were married, what could you expect? Her mother didn’t sound all that terrific, either, kicking her out when she stopped making the money.
    Robin badly needed to get her mind off her troubles for a while. Maybe he could give her a few more hours to rest and regroup before they got down to brass tacks.
    He led the way out to his old Bronco and opened the door for her. At least she allowed him to do that. He slammed it shut and went around to the driver’s side and got in.
    â€œHungry?” he asked.
    â€œA little.” She flashed him a tentative smile, almost like an apology. That touched him. Maybe she didn’t really like being the ice princess, but just couldn’t help being how she was.
    â€œJudging by the way you ate last night, you’re a fruit and yogurt girl, I bet,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
    She laughed timidly. “That would be good.”
    â€œNo,” he said with a laugh, “that wouldn’t be good. That would be healthy. Grits would be good.”
    â€œI haven’t had the pleasure.”
    â€œYou never had grits? For real? Hey, unless you’re passing right on through Dixie without stopping, you have got to eat grits. It’s the law, and I am a cop!”
    â€œAll right, all right,” she said, giving in to the laugh she’d been suppressing. “I’ll try it. But I want something else to eat in case I don’t like it.”
    â€œThem,” he instructed automatically as he backed out of the driveway. “Grits are plural. You try them. ”
    She cast him a doubtful look. “We don’t even speak the same language, do we?”
    He tossed her a grin. “I’ll teach you. It’s almost as easy as Greek.”
    They stopped at the little mall with the clothing and discount shoe store he’d been thinking about. Mitch had figured she’d be in and out of there in a flash, but he was wrong. She took so much time choosing her shoes, she might as well have been in Sak’s and paying a fortune for them.
    He watched, antsy as any guy would be while waiting around in a women’s clothing store, as she selected several pullover shirts, three pairs of pants and a stack of what Grandma Dolly called unmentionables.
    In Robin’s case, these last items were skimpy little scraps of lace that Grandma would have blushed to look at. Mental images of Robin wearing what she was buying had him shifting uncomfortably as he stood waiting for her to pay.
    She took it as impatience. “Sorry, I’d forgotten how much fun shopping is,” she admitted as she plunked down her Visa