Free Stranger in Camelot by Deborah Smith Page B

come in handy, someday.”
    John studied his oddly bandaged thumb in silence.The desire coursing through his blood dismayed him. Wearing a strip of Agnes Hamilton’s cotton underwear around his thumb shouldn’t be the most erotic thing he’d ever had happen to him, considering the inventive women he’d known. He shouldn’t be tingling as if she’d just stroked him all over and asked him to lie down in the tall grass with her.
    “It’s a wonderful job, Agnes,” he said finally.
    “You don’t look happy. Is it too tight?”
    “No, it’s fine. Thank you.” He stepped back and scooped up the hammer he’d dropped. “We better get back to work.” She looked bewildered and a little hurt by his change of mood. “Hey, it’s not every day that I share my—Never mind. That wasn’t going to come out the way I meant it.”
    “Let’s get on with fixing this fence.”
    “Sure.”
    Looking subdued and thoughtful, she retrieved her gloves from the ground. John watched her in worried silence. Suddenly, his plans were not nearly as simple or as selfish as he wanted them to be.
    Aggie and John rocked in the ancient rocking chairs, whose joints creaked from many pleasant years of use, and drank iced tea from quart-sized plastic cups she’d collected at fast-food restaurants. Nothing fancy, nothing threatening. She was happy having a few mindless, pleasant moments with John before she had to make a decision about him.
    But he wouldn’t give her the luxury. “I’ll have to be going, if I’m to find another campground.”
    She laced her hands around the cartoon characters dancing on her tall cup. “You know it’s not that simple,” she muttered.
    “Agnes?” When she lifted her head and looked at him defensively, she found regret in his eyes. “I’ll be blunt,then. I hope you’ll change your mind and let me stay. There are a dozen sights I want to see in this part of Florida, and I can see them alone, while you’re working.” He paused, intense emotions flickering in his eyes as his gaze held hers. A quiver ran through her. “And I’ll take any of your free time you can give me.”
    She set her cup on the floor and, feeling shaky, moved to the porch railing across from him. Leaning against it, she untied her sweaty bandanna, pulled it off, and ran a distracted hand through her tangled, damp hair. “I wish I had time to do all the tourist things with you. I’d love to. It’d be the kind of fun I haven’t had in years. But I don’t have the time, and I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you stay here.”
    “Tell me what your days are like. Not unusual days, like this, but the ordinary ones.”
    “Remember? I said I write a few articles for one of the neighborhood newspapers?”
    “Yes. I’m impressed.”
    “I’m no professional reporter. It’s simple writing, but I’m good at it. I interview local people, take a few photos, then write the articles. I get ten bucks a story from the Matanzas Bay Weekly News. ” She smiled at the name and watched amusement gleam in his eyes too. “Tomorrow I’ll be interviewing a man who builds model trains.” She brightened suddenly. “John! Would you like to go with me when I see him? You can ask him questions that I’d never think of!”
    “Model trains?” His blank look was puzzling. It disappeared before she could study it. He smiled quickly. “Yes, I’d love to help you. You see? You needn’t take time off to entertain me. I’m not a guest, I’m a friend.”
    “A temporary friend,” she corrected somberly. “Who’ll be going back to England in a few weeks.”
    “Agnes, live in the present!”
    “That’s funny, coming from a man who loves medieval history.”
    He bounded to his feet more quickly and gracefully than such a large man should, startling her. Plunking his cup on the porch rail, he grasped her hands warmly. His skin was burnished from the afternoon in the sun, and he smelled pleasantly earthy. His walnut-dark hair shagged over his