Free Star Bright by Catherine Anderson Page A

and pain of betrayal in her eyes. For a few hours, he’d talked himself into thinking her innocence was all an act, but no man with good sense could look at her and hold to that judgment. She was everything he’d perceived her to be during the job interview—young, uncertain, and more than a little skittish. She put him in mind of a pretty little filly he’d once purchased at auction that had been mistreated so badly it had taken her weeks to accept his touch. Befriending her had required more patience than Parker had known he had.
    “I have no respect for men who beat women,” he continued. “Or animals, for that matter. My father raised me better. If you’re runnin’ from someone like that, I don’t care what your real name is. I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t care if you really have an undergraduate degree in accountin’. I’ll keep you on the payroll, trustin’ in your ability to do the job. All I’ll ask of you is an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”
    She still stood there as if her boots had been glued to the floor.
    Parker had only one more bullet to fire. “I won’t rat you out, if that’s your worry. I swear it.”
    Still trembling from head to toe, she struggled to speak, her slender throat working as if she were trying to swallow a golf ball. “I’m sorry about the falsehoods on my application. I don’t usually lie. Maybe that’s why I’m not very good at it. But now I just need to go.”
    Parker didn’t have it in him to block her way any longer. Intimidating women wasn’t high on his list of favorite things to do. As he stepped aside to let her pass, he pitched his voice low and said, “I don’t know where you’ve been in your life, Anna. I don’t know what’s happened to you. But I can guarantee you one thing: You can trust me. The job will be waitin’ for you if you change your mind. The next employer who checks out your references may not be as understandin’. You need to think about that.”
    She flashed him a look that nearly broke his heart, one filled with a hopeless yearning to trust that had been battered so badly it had lost its power to sway her. “Thanks.”
    It was all she said before she grabbed the doorknob, gave it a frantic twist, and rushed from the office. Parker didn’t go after her. He had already frightened her enough.
    Silence filled the room after she left. He recalled his entrance a few minutes earlier. He’d been mad enough to chew nails and spit out screws. Was it any wonder she’d been afraid he meant to strike her when he reached for the paperweight? Damn it. He wished he could give himself a swift kick in the ass.
    She’d sought sanctuary here, and he’d driven her away with his penchant for the truth and only the truth. Sometimes people had no choice but to lie.
    Parker stepped over to the window to watch her race to her rusted-out excuse for an automobile. When he glanced beneath the undercarriage, he saw a dark splotch, undeniable evidence that the Mazda was leaking oil. Shit. He felt like such a jerk. The three hundred bucks that he had advanced her yesterday would be gone in a blink if that car broke down.
    Almost as if he’d spoken the thought out loud, she stopped before getting into the vehicle. After hesitating for a moment, she set her purse on the hood, fished deep, and came up with her wallet. No, damn it, no. But sure as rain was wet, she retraced her steps to the personnel door.
    When Parker lost sight of her again, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He hadn’t felt this ashamed of himself in years. When she knocked lightly, he swallowed hard, turned, and said, “Come in.”
    The door eased open. She stood on the threshold, looking like an impoverished waif in the grab-bag clothing and battered riding boots. She held a wad of money in one fist, her wallet in the other. “I forgot,” she pushed out. “I can’t accept an advance on wages that I won’t ever earn.”
    Parker’s eyes