Free The Rocky Road to Romance by Janet Evanovich

churn and catch.
    A hood was slammed down while someone revved the disabled car engine. A thick cloud of black exhaust billowed over the tow truck and drifted back to Steve, temporarily obscuring his view. When the cloud lifted he could see the car that had caused the traffic jam pull ahead and proceed down the road without the aid of a tow truck. The car was old. It was covered with rust and had a coat-hanger antenna. The rear bumper dipped on the right side, where it had been snagged by another car eons ago. The paint was faded but probably had been maroon and yellow. There was only one car like it in Northern Virginia—possibly in the world. It belonged to Daisy.
    â€œWe have to get her out of that car,” Steve said to Bob. “It’s a health hazard. And it’s a threat to my sanity.”
    Bob looked up from the backseat.
    â€œI have a plan,” Steve told him. “I’m not going to tell you about it because it’s dastardly,and you’re obviously a dog of high moral fiber.”
    Â 
    Daisy zoomed into Steve’s driveway at seven o’clock and hit the ground running. “Sorry I’m late!” she said to Steve, adjusting the pink T-shirt she’d thrown on just five minutes earlier. A small swath of flesh was exposed between shorts and shirt, and no amount of tugging would fill in the gap. “Damn,” she said, “it must have shrunk in the dryer.”
    Steve took in the cutoff denim shorts and slightly too small shirt and thought they looked perfect. He was highly in favor of exposing Daisy’s flesh.
    â€œYou’re not late. And I needed some time to unpack a few things and organize the kitchen. Moving is hell, even when you hire a great company that’s supposed to do it all for you in one fell swoop.”
    Daisy looked at the brick colonial and smiled in approval. It was only a few years old and had been nicely landscaped. There was about a quarter of an acre, and the backyard wasfenced. If he’d had a wife and three kids, it would have been the ideal house. As it was, it seemed a tad large for a bachelor. Of course there was Bob to help fill it.
    â€œIt’s nice,” she said. “I’ve always liked a traditional colonial.”
    Steve turned to lead Daisy through the house, and she did a fast body assessment. He wore khaki shorts with a black T-shirt that showed off corded forearms and well-developed biceps. His legs had lots of muscle definition in the quads and calves. He hadn’t gotten that kind of body from sitting behind a desk all day, and she wondered how he managed to keep in such good shape. Most of the men she knew were starting to soften in the middle. Even the tennis players and spa-goers seemed to lose tone as they climbed the corporate ladder.
    The front door opened to a small foyer that felt very welcoming, with a spindle-backed bench and eighteenth-century chest set against one wall. The living room was to the left. The furniture was overstuffed and comfy-looking. Very Ralph-Lauren-looking, she thought.Brown leather and big red plaids, brass lamps, and Oriental area rugs. The dining room was to the right of the foyer. He had a formal table that seated six. The wood was dark. Mahogany, maybe. The walls were a Williamsburg print. The Realtor had been right, the print was lovely.
    Steve stopped at the kitchen and took a platter of raw hamburger patties from the refrigerator. “What can I get you to drink? Beer, wine, soda?”
    â€œSoda.”
    He gave her a root beer, a bag of chips, and two bowls of salsa to carry outside.
    â€œTwo bowls of salsa?” she asked.
    â€œOne for Bob. I hate when he dips his chips in mine.”
    The phone rang and Steve answered it in the kitchen. He hung up a few minutes later, frowning. “That was security at the station. They caught someone tinkering with the newscar. The guy pulled a gun on the guard who found him and got away.”
    â€œMy Lord, maybe the