Ducking behind a conveniently tall businessman, Bree bolted for the farthest clerk as she rapidly smoothed her blouse and flicked back her hair. On the off-chance Hart should look her way, she’d make certain that the egotistical, opinionated boor saw a-how had he put it?-an efficient, self-sufficient woman. Her smile was wide awake and brilliantly capable as the young redheaded man across the counter glanced up, indicating it was her turn.

“How you doin’, miss?” The clerk had a cheeky grin and a wink for a hello. “What can I do for you?” It took several seconds for him to readjust his eyes down from her face to the piece of paper her hand was frantically waving. “Bree Penoyer, a month’s car rental, huh? Okay, sweets…”

But he returned a moment later with a boyish shrug. “You sure it’s under that name?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Can’t find a thing.”

Already paid for it, you must, she scribbled rapidly on her pad, but he’d turned to answer another customer’s question, and he didn’t see the note. He just winked again in her direction. Two customers later, she regained his attention, at least insofar as he leaned on the countertop and stared at her like a lovesick calf. “Hi again.”

Weren’t there child labor laws in this state? The kid couldn’t have been eighteen.

My car, Bree scrawled desperately.

“Maybe it was another rental agency? You want a phone?”

A phone was as useful to her as diamonds in the desert. Tears were so ridiculously close she was ashamed of herself. She never cried. Please look again, she scribbled, and sent pleading eyes to the young redhead.

“Hey, look, no problem. There’s a convention in town, and we’re booked up, but we’ll get you something.” The boy brought back a computer list, suggesting three gas guzzlers that would cost her twice as much as the one she had arranged for.