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company had offered as a settlement, then Perry was sunk and his client would suffer, too.

Maybe Theresa was right—maybe he should go back to ambulance-chasing instead of

trying to take on the world. After all, no good deed went unpunished.

As he approached his condo building, his mind turned away from his immediate problems

to his more immediate problem—Jane Kurtz. He wasn’t sure why the woman had gotten under

his skin. After all, he’d apologized for the harsh things he’d said about her.

Perry frowned. But instead of being angry or indignant, she’d acted as if she…deserved it.

I have a mirror. I know that I’m not…exciting. And she hadn’t been fishing for compliments—

she’d been very matter-of-fact.

Apparently the woman had grown up thinking—or being told—that she wasn’t as pretty as

other girls. He didn’t like the idea that he was one of the people who had added to the woman’s impression of herself. It shouldn’t be a big thing…but somehow it was.

When he pulled into the parking garage and rounded the corner to the guest parking area,

he glanced over to see if she’d gotten her flat fixed and did a double-take when he noticed her sprawling on her stomach next to the tire, inserting a jack under the frame, a spare tire lying nearby. He wheeled his vehicle into the closest spot and climbed out. She turned her head as he strode toward her.

“Thought you were going to call a repair service,” he said.

She looked back to her task. “I did, but they were going to charge a fortune, and it wasn’t

in my budget this month. I did this a couple of times in college.

It’s not that hard.”

Perry was listening—sort of. He was distracted by the sight of her shapely behind that was

outlined as she strained to get the jack in place. Wow, plain little Jane Kurtz was hiding some curves under those boyish clothes.

He rolled up his sleeves and lowered himself to the ground next to her. “Let me give you a

hand.”

“I can do it,” she said, sounding irritated.

She probably didn’t realize that she had a streak of grease across her nose.

“I’m sure you can,” he said easily. “But I can do it more quickly. And besides, it would

make me feel better about this whole parking situation.”

She hesitated.

“Please,” he added.

She finally gave a curt nod and scooted out to allow him access to the jack.

He situated the jack, then retreated to reach for the wrench she had lain nearby.

“I already loosened the lug nuts,” she offered.

He nodded—so she did know what she was doing. He used his foot to operate the jack,

slowly at first to make sure it was stable, then continued raising the car until the flat tire was about six inches off the ground. He used the wrench to remove the lug nuts and set them aside.

After he pulled off the tire, he examined the nail sticking out of it. “I’ll buy you a new tire.”

She stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him. “That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.”

“Look, Mr. Brewer—”

“Call me Perry.”

“P-Perry…don’t feel like you owe me something because…” She blushed furiously, then

raised her chin. “Because of what you said.”

He stood to set the ruined tire aside. “I don’t. I feel like I owe you because my guest took

your parking place. If she had parked here, I’d be doing this for her.”

“Oh.” She averted her gaze.

He placed the spare tire on the wheel, replaced the lug nuts, and lowered the car to the

ground before giving the nuts a final twist. He returned the jack and lug wrench to their storage space in the trunk and closed it, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands.

Jane stood there watching, hugging herself. “Thank you.”

He walked over to stand in front of her, noticing how her crossed arms accentuated her

breasts, which were damn impressive considering how slender she was. He dragged his gaze

upward, then lifted the corner of his handkerchief to her face.

She stiffened.

“You have a smudge,” he murmured, then wiped off the dark grease slashing across her

nose.

A nice nose, he conceded, pert and well-shaped…above a nice pink mouth that had parted

slightly, and below a pair of cornflower blue eyes that were nice, now that they weren’t swollen and red.

A hank of light brown hair had escaped from her ponytail and fell across her

eyebrow like a shiny satin ribbon. He reached up to finger it aside, and the baby fine

silkiness sent a jolt through him.

Jane pulled back, a slight frown marring her forehead. “Are we finished here?”

He dropped his hand and stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Yes. I’ll replace

your tire as soon as possible, today if I can arrange it.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said, then picked up the damaged tire and headed toward his SUV.

“Perry,” she called out from behind him.

He turned.

“How did you do? On your case, I mean.”

An involuntary smile curved his mouth—of all the women in his life, only Theresa ever

asked about his cases, and that was strictly business. “I won’t know until next week, but I have a good feeling about this one.”

A shy smile lifted her mouth.

“But if you’d keep your fingers crossed for me,” he said with a grin, “I’d appreciate it.”

* * *

the man had surprised her would be an understatement. He’d been…nice. And he looked…sexy.

Feeling as if she’d just been sprinkled with stardust, she stood rooted to the spot as he climbed into the SUV, waved, and drove off in the opposite direction.

Then she banged her palm against her forehead. Idiot. It was all part of his schtick…his

game…his strategy to get back in her good graces. She frowned and jammed her hands on her

hips. Perry Brewer was the kind of man who wanted women to adore him…and she was sure

there were plenty who did. But she wasn’t going to fall for Nasty Boy’s oozing charm.

Resolving to be immune to his smoke-and-mirrors magnetism, she climbed into her car and

drove back to the office, stopping at a drive-through to pick up a sandwich. Her thoughts

wandered to Liza because they often went out for lunch together, or picked up carry-out to take back to the office and have lunch with Eve. Now Liza was gone and Eve was far too busy to stop and enjoy an unhurried meal.

Facing an afternoon of staff meetings, Jane parked her car and reexamined the dent in her

door. She’d have to weigh the cost of having it fixed herself versus turning it in on her insurance and paying the deductible. She sighed and headed into the station, again wondering what the

show’s progress would mean for her…for all of them. More money, hopefully, although Eve was

clearly the talent and the windfall would rightfully fall her way.

Jane smirked. She’d settle for enough extra cash to take that long, daring weekend to

another horizon that she’d dreamed about during this morning’s show.

Bette Valentine had certainly hit a nerve. Too bad Jane wasn’t in a position to do anything

about it. She went into the makeup room and turned up the monitor that played the cable’s

fledgling noon news program, then unwrapped her soggy club sandwich.

“And here are the Lot O’Bucks lottery numbers that were released just moments ago.

Officials report one winning ticket for the thirty-eight-million-dollar prize, so pay attention.” The anchor read off the six numbers and Jane repeated the familiar numbers in her head as she

chewed.

Then she realized the six numbers were familiar because they were the six numbers she

and four coworkers played twice a quarter. Her particular number, one of the two original

numbers she had pooled with Eve and Liza, was “1.”

The loneliest number.

The most unimaginative.

But today, the first of six winning numbers.

Jane swallowed and pushed to her feet slowly, her lunch forgotten. She reached for her

purse and frantically fished through her wallet for the lottery ticket that she’d purchased for them. With her heart galloping in her chest, she confirmed the date and the numbers one by one to the numbers scrolling across the television screen.

The hand holding the ticket began to shake.

They’d won.

She was…a millionaire.

Feeling faint, Jane walked, then jogged to Eve’s office, where Eve and her personal

assistant were poring over stacks of paper and eating take-out.

Jane rapped on the glass door. Eve looked up, then smiled and gestured for her to come in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jane said, stepping inside.

“No, it’s fine,” Eve said, reaching to snag a French fry from a box. “What’s up?”

Jane glanced at Eve’s personal assistant. “Uh…I need to talk to Eve alone, please.”

Eve frowned, then asked for her assistant to give them some privacy.

As soon as the door closed, Eve sat forward. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jane said, suddenly nervous all over again. She uncurled her hand to reveal the

lottery ticket.

Eve reached for her purse. “Is it time to pitch in again for a ticket?”

“Eve…we won.”

Her friend was still rummaging in her purse, half listening. “Hmm?”

“We. Won.”

Eve’s head snapped up. “What do you mean we won? We won…the lottery?”

Jane nodded solemnly, feeling like she was about to come out of her skin.

Then Eve laughed. “What did we match—two numbers? Enough for a free play?”

Jane wet her lips. “Eve, we got all six numbers. We won.”

She finally had Eve’s attention. Her friend’s eyes widened. “Is this a joke?”

“No.”

Eve grabbed the ticket and turned to her computer to log on to the lottery’s Web site. With

hurried movements, she clicked until she found the day’s winning numbers, then cross-checked

them against the ticket. “Omigod,” she murmured.

“What’s the payout?”

Jane hesitated, almost afraid to utter the words. “Thirty…eight…million.”

Eve gasped and covered her mouth. “But there must be other winning tickets, it can’t be

that much.”

“The announcer said there was only one winning ticket.”

Eve stood. “But that means…” Her mouth fell open, then her face erupted in a stunned

grin. “Jane…we’re rich!”

They fell into each other’s arms, squealing and jumping up and down. Jane felt as if she

were going to fly apart.

“We have to let Nicole know!” Eve exclaimed. “And Zach, and Cole!”

Jane nodded excitedly. Nicole Reavis was their segment-story producer who had taken

Liza’s position and had asked to get in on the collective lottery ticket.

Zach Haas, a favorite cameraman, had also asked to join them, and Cole Crawford, the

show’s supervising producer, the man who had “discovered” Eve, was their fifth cohort.

All of their lives would be forever changed, she realized as Eve grabbed her phone and

began dialing. Jane’s thoughts jumped to Liza—playing the lottery had been something the three of them had done for fun. And now that the unthinkable had happened, Liza was missing out…

* * *

Perry a sheet of paper. “She’s pretty, but she doesn’t look like your type.”

“She isn’t,” Perry agreed, studying a copy of the picture from her driver’s license. She

looked awkward and camera-shy. Then he frowned and looked up.

“What’s my type?”

Theresa shrugged. “You know—flashy…interchangeable.”

Her response rankled, although he conceded that there was a sameness about Kayla and

Cindi and Kendra and Victoria. And Denise and Cassandra and Fiona. “Hey, Ms.

Kurtz works on that show you like, Just Between Us,” he said.

“Really? Yeah, today’s show was great—unleashing your inner wild child.” She batted her

eyelashes and touched a hand to her graying hair. “Think I’m too old for that?”

“Never.”

She laughed, then squinted. “How did you get grease on your shirt?”

“I had to buy Ms. Kurtz a new tire,” he said, scanning the paper.

“Oh. The plot thickens. Is Ms. Kurtz needy?”

“No, but she’s on a budget, and since I indirectly caused her to have a flat tire and a dent in her car, I figured it was the least I could do.” He walked toward his office, ignoring the sting of Theresa’s curiosity burning a hole in his back. He dropped into his chair and surveyed the profile on his prim little neighbor.

Jane Kurtz, age thirty-one, birthplace Columbus, Georgia, an only child, born to William

and Maria Kurtz, both deceased. He glanced at their birthdates and realized they had been older when Jane was born. She was probably raised in a sheltered environment…and now she was

alone.

Perry bit down on his tongue. He couldn’t imagine that feeling—his parents were alive and

healthy, he had two brothers and two sisters, plus a herd of nieces and nephews. Jane Kurtz

would be swallowed whole by his family.

Not that she would ever meet his family, he reminded himself.

There was no college degree listed, so either she hadn’t attended or hadn’t finished.

Employed with Cable One Communications for three years, registered owner of a beige 1997

Honda Civic, no police record, no traffic violations, not even a parking ticket.

His mouth curled into a smirk—her lawfulness didn’t surprise him. Jane Kurtz was the

kind of woman who would never think of removing the “Do Not Remove” tag from a mattress,

who probably always washed her hair twice because the shampoo bottle said so.

His thoughts skipped to the silkiness of her hair as he’d swept it back from her face. What

would it feel like to sink both hands into the depths of that honey-colored hair? Would those cornflower blue eyes turn dark if she were aroused? And had that pink mouth of hers ever been thoroughly kissed?