Irresistible Stranger by Jennifer Greene Page B

cell phone.
    Dangerous.
    Lily.
    Pairing those two words created an oxymoron if ever there was one. He liked her. Possibly he way more than liked her. He was downright fascinated by how powerfully and unexpectedly he was attracted toher—got a real click when they were talking. Got more than a click when they were touching.
    But she wasn’t dangerous.
    She was in danger.
    And he damned well better keep that priority on the front line.
    Â 
    By four that afternoon, Lily was blister-hot, savagely hungry, and having a terrific time. The boys, Jason and Steve, had worked with her like parts of a well-honed team. Initially, she’d sent them off with money to buy ice, cups, water. She’d scared up a card table from the business next door and set the whole thing up to work as a barrier between Griff and the bystanders. Those still curious could congregate, but they couldn’t get to him—at least not without interference, and the boys were pit-bull-protective that way.
    She had a feeling no one had trusted Jason with personal cash in…forever, because he counted back every penny of change, braced as if expecting her to accuse him of lifting a cut. When she praised both boys for helping to protect Griff, they both grew five inches—at least—and walked around with the posture of soldiers.
    It was enough to give a teacher heart palpitations. Man, it felt good to see a beaten-down kid try on some self-esteem.
    Okay, so maybe the afternoon wasn’t all peaches and cream. The sheriff insisted on taking both boys aside, grilling them on where they’d been at every hour of the night before, and whether they could prove it. Herman Conner had pointed a finger at her and said, “Honey,you and I are going to have a little talk later,” which put a mosquito in her stomach.
    That wasn’t the only icky part of the afternoon. Griff’s fire had lowered her popularity points, and it wasn’t as if she had been batting a thousand before last night. Still, being out and about was a way to talk with people. Listen. Ask questions. She discovered others who’d known her mom and dad—and others who’d worked at the mill before it closed.
    A hefty truck pulled in the back alley and started loading out what was, she assumed, Griff’s fancy equipment. A few guys hung with him for a while, scuffling the dirt, hands on hips, jawing plans and problems. By the time the truck rumbled off and Griff aimed for her, she was being confronted by three redheads.
    She’d already met Mary Belle—the buxom redhead who ran Belle Hair—at the grocery store. But this afternoon she had her two daughters with her, not that that relationship needed explaining. The teenagers looked just like their mama—lots and lots of eye makeup. Major breasts, displayed in sweetheart tees. Heaven knew what hair color they’d all been born with, but new-age red was obviously adopted as their family color of choice.
    â€œLily, sugar, I wish you’d let me do something about that hair,” Mary Belle told Lily.
    â€œI’m dying to get it cut. I just honestly haven’t had time,” Lily said, which was 95 percent true. The only holdback was a sincere worry what Mary Belle might do with a pair of scissors.
    â€œI could give you some real style, honey. Jazz youup some. You need a little more…” Mary Belle made a motion with her hands “…style, if you want to appeal to a man like Griff.”
    â€œPardon?”
    â€œIt’s all right, Lily. I hear everything in the salon. No point in trying to keep gossip from me. And bless his heart, I tried to catch him myself—when I was between husbands, anyhow. Never did work, even though I know he wanted to try.” Mary Belle cocked her head. “Anyhow—y’all give me a call in the morning, I’ll get you in, and that’s a promise. I’ll do you myself. Trained in Savannah, you know…well,