Free One Magic Night by Shirley Larson Page A

moment.  The soft rustle of the corn leaves turned faintly mocking.
    Goaded by the need to forget Ty Rundell's voice, she tramped into the corn and seized the nearest stalk just below the tassel, showering seeds over her hand and down her arm. She ignored their tickling brush and swung at the bottom of the stalk. With one quick slice, she separated stalk from root with speedy efficiency and tossed it to the ground.
    "Remind me never to accost you in a dark alley if you’ve got a knife in your hand."
    The voice that had been in her head was in her ears. She started in surprise and whirled around. Ty stood a foot away, his black hair catching the gleam of the sun.  He had shed his jacket and changed clothes. He wore jeans that would have rivaled Deke's for longevity and a white shirt open at the throat with the cuffs rolled back.  He looked amused, relaxed, and far from the man she had left on the landing only moments ago. Why hadn't she heard his approach? And how had he known exactly where to find her?
    Her eyes flickered past him to the sporty white Trans Am parked just behind her car. It was Eve's. Her friend had not only loaned Ty her car, she had directed him straight to Stan Fielding, no doubt.
    "She said she owed you one. She said you'd know what she meant. I have a hunch you do." He gave her a lazy, considering glance that flickered down the length of the corn knife.  "Are you going to use that on me?" He took a step forward.
    The feeling of unreality vanished. "Don't be ridiculous."
    "Would it offend your feminist sensibilities if I offered to help?"  He nodded at the corn.
    She hesitated, vacillating. Common sense told her he wasn't going to go away, and she'd be much more comfortable if he was cutting the corn rather than watching her do it. "As long as you're here, you may as well make yourself useful."
    He seemed mildly surprised, the amused smile still curving his lips as he stepped forward. She let the knife dangle down and offered it to him handle up.
    His fingers closed over hers momentarily before he lifted the knife away, reminding her that those same warm male fingers had clasped her in the cool early morning and pulled her close.
    A lithe movement turned him toward the corn, and with a supple grace, he bent and slashed the stalk, catching it as it fell. He cut down another, the slight whistle of air against blade followed by the crack of steel against stalk. The play of his muscles under the white shirt was disturbing, but not any more so than the stance of his legs, slightly spread to give him balance as he swung, or the press of his firm, rounded buttocks against the well-worn denim as he leaned over to pick up each stalk and toss it on the growing pile.
    When he had done several, he turned to her. "Were you planning to have me fell the rest of the field?"
    She dropped her gaze to the heaped pile, her cheeks flushed. She'd forgotten to count. "No, that should be enough."
    In one smooth motion, he handed her the knife, scooped up the mound of stalks, and began to walk in front of her toward the fence line, his hips moving easily, a muscular grace and strength obvious in every step he took. She hesitated for a moment and then fell in behind him, trying desperately to look away from that lithe male figure.
    At the fence line he stopped and waited. She understood his unspoken request and walked around him to press the fence down with her foot. Even with his burden of corn, he swung over the low barrier easily. At the car he said, "Where do you want these?"
    "In my trunk. Just a minute, I have to unlock it." She dug in the pocket of her jeans and found the key, conscious that her action had tautened the denim across her hips and that he watched with evident male enjoyment as she took the key out and bent to unlock the car.
    The corn did not fit into the trunk, of course, but Ty bent his dark head and ducked under the lid to readjust the mound so that just the tassels protruded. He straightened. Tiny bits