In Harm's Way by Lyn Stone Page A

card. “I do most of my buying online these days.”
    Well, that explained everything. Mitch experienced a little pang of pity for her. What in the world could make a woman give up shopping? The females in his family lived for it. Their daily Wal-Mart expeditions were a social experience.
    Lord, this was worse than he’d thought.
    He got no complaints when he took her to Brown’s Restaurant, a buffet place near his parents’ house.
    The first thing she did was hit the ladies’ room and change her clothes. When she emerged wearing the inexpensive yellow pullover and long skinny jeans that looked as if she’d been poured in them, she still looked like a million bucks. Yep, Robin Andrews wore clothes well. Even discount stuff looked pricey when she put it on. He wished he could stop thinking about those little lacy numbers she’d picked out to go under the rest.
    â€œHey, look at you!” he said as she rejoined him at the table. “Feel better?”
    Her smile was pure delight. “I do. But I’m starving!”
    At the buffet she piled a plate high with fruit, cottage cheese and dry toast. So much for his idea that women like her ate light.
    He watched as she wolfed down a sizable breakfast in half the time it took him to eat his.
    Then she polished off her juice and a cup of black coffee. “I never eat this much,” she explained as if she’d done something wrong, “but I was so hungry.”
    He smiled and motioned the waitress to refill their cups.
    â€œI suppose it’s show time,” she said, and picked up her spoon. With a determined look on her face, she drove it directly toward his plate, scooped up a spoonful and stuffed it in her mouth.
    Mitch watched with great interest as she chewed, her expression changing with every movement of her jaw. Finally she swallowed, took another sip of coffee and sighed with pleasure. “It…rather, they aren’t that bad, actually. Taste very like potatoes.”
    Mitch deadpanned. “That’s because they are.”
    No grits, no shopping in stores and not even any hash browns in her life? Did the poor girl live in a New York cave?
    Â 
    Robin had to admit she liked Mitch Winton. His Southern drawl wound around her senses and made her want to relax and forget the real reason she was stuck in Nashville. The accent had irritated her at first, but then she had been upset, not herself and scared of what he might do.
    Also, the mixed signals he sent had confused her. Great concern for her comfort did not compute with obvious suspicion. Now, of course, she realized he was concerned out of a natural courtesy. And he’d explained why he had to consider her a suspect. Mitch was up-front about it all, she had to give him that.
    His teasing her was just a thing he did naturally, without any thought at all, she suspected. It wasn’t even flirting. If he had planned to hit on her, he would have done it already.
    Mitch was different from any man she had ever known, thank God. That alone was reason enough to like him.
    â€œâ€¦so Susie spent a whole hour in the corner while Mama recovered from the frog in the lunch box. I was the angel of the family.”
    â€œWhy do I doubt that?” Robin asked, laughing at his family anecdote. “You put the frog there, didn’t you?”
    â€œMe? Now that’s a sexist assumption if I ever heard one. Susie handled her own frogs. It was worms she couldn’t stand. But that’s a whole other story.”
    She appreciated what he was doing, trying to get her to lighten up. It had worked, too. Robin hadn’t looked behind them for a car following or worried about anything else for a good five minutes or so. The cadence of his voice and the flash of humor in his eyes when he glanced over at her put her more at ease than she had been with a man since James left New York.
    Mitch pulled the Bronco into the double driveway of a modest ranch-style house