Free First Impressions by Nora Roberts

expression of disgust. “It’s a wonder someone hasn’t broken a leg on this thing.”
    “No one uses it much.” Shane shrugged as she worked her way expertly around the uncertain boards. “Gran always used the back door. So does anyone who comes to visit.”
    “Your boyfriend didn’t.”
    Shane shot him a dry look. “Cy wouldn’t use the back door, and he’s not my boyfriend. What do you think I should do about it?”
    “I thought you’d already done it,” he returned, and pocketed his rule. “And very well.”
    Shane eyed him a moment, then laughed. “No, not about Cy, about the porch.”
    “Tear the damn thing down.”
    “Oh.” Gingerly, Shane sat on the top step. “All of it? I was hoping to replace the worst boards, and—”
    “The whole thing’s going to collapse if three people stand on it at the same time,” Vance cut in, frowning at the sagging wood. “I can’t understand how anyone could let something get into this condition.”
    “All right, don’t get riled up,” she advised as she held out a mug of tea. “How much do you think it’ll cost me?”
    Vance calculated a moment, then named a price. He saw the flicker of dismay before Shane sighed.
    “Okay.” It killed her last hope of holding on to her grandmother’s dining room set. “If it has to be done. I suppose it’s first priority. The weather might turn cold anytime.” She managed a halfhearted smile. “I wouldn’t want my first customer to fall through the porch and sue me.”
    “Shane.” Vance stood in front of her. As she sat on the top step, their faces were almost level. Her look was direct and open, yet still he hesitated before speaking. “How much do you have? Money,” he added bluntly when she gave him a blank look.
    She drew her brows together at the question. “Enough to get by,” she said, then made a sound of annoyance as he continued to stare at her. “Barely,” she admitted. “But it’ll hold until my business makes a few dollars. I’ve got so much budgeted for the house, so much for buying stock. Gran left me a nest egg, and I had my own savings.”
    Vance hesitated again. He had promised himself not to become involved, yet he was being drawn in every time he saw her. “I hate to sound like your boyfriend,” he began.
    “Then don’t,” Shane said quickly. “And he’s not.”
    “All right.” Vance frowned down at his mug. It was one thing to take on a job as a lark, and another to take money from a woman who was obviously counting her pennies. He sipped, trying to find a reasonable way out of his hourly wage. “Shane, about my salary—”
    “Oh, Vance, I can’t make it any more right now.” Distress flew into her eyes. “Later, after I’ve gotten started . . .”
    “No.” Embarrassed and annoyed, he put a hand on hers to stop her. “No, I wasn’t going to ask you to raise it.”
    “But—” Shane stopped. Realization filled her eyes. Tears followed it. Swiftly, she set down the mug and rose. Shaking her head, she descended the stairs. “No, no, that’s very kind of you,” she managed as she walked away from him. “I—I appreciate it, really, but it’s not necessary. I didn’t mean to make it sound as though—” Breaking off, she stared at the surrounding mountains. For a moment there was only the sound of the creek bubbling on its way behind them.
    Cursing himself, Vance went to her. After a brief hesitation, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Shane, listen—”
    “No, please.” Swiftly, she turned to face him. Though the tears hadn’t brimmed over, her eyes still swam with them. When she lifted her hands to his forearms, he found her fingers surprisingly strong. “It’s very kind of you to offer.”
    “No, it’s not,” Vance snapped. Frustration, guilt and something more ran through him. He resented all of it. “Damn it, Shane, you don’t understand. The money isn’t—”
    “I understand you’re a very sweet man,” she interrupted. Vance felt