Free Forever Spring by Joan Hohl

tone. He didn’t notice her deepening frown as he turned to the sink to wash his dusty hands.
    Karen mulled over his words as she filled two plates with the steaming food and carried them to the table. “Will you bring the toast?” she asked, indicating the breadbasket on the countertop with a distracted motion of her head.
    “Certainly.” Eyeing her narrowly, Paul picked up the linen-covered basket and strolled to the table. “What’s the problem?” He raised one brow as he sat down opposite her.
    “I’m not sure I understand,” she confessed, frowning at the stream of coffee she was pouring into his cup.
    “Understand what?” Paul asked, his knife poised over the sausage nestled next to the home-fried potatoes on his plate.
    Karen finished filling her own cup with the aromatic coffee before glancing up at him. “I’m not sure I understand exactly how I’ve insulted your intelligence.”
    “Oh.” Enlightenment brought a tiny smile to his lips. “It’s quite basic, really.” Paul’s shoulders moved in a half shrug. “Any person with a modicum of intelligence can perform almost any task. All that’s required is a willingness to do the work and application of common sense.” He smiled. “And although I’ll readily admit that my life’s work was not of the physical variety, I do consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, and fastening shutter hinges hardly requires all that much brain- or muscle-power.” He smiled slightly. “Now do you understand?”
    “Oh, yes, I understand now.” Karen didn’t return his smile. Inside she was simmering. What a condescending son of a— Fortunately, Paul interrupted her thoughts before she blurted them aloud.
    “Since I was only teasing to begin with, it’s really unimportant, anyway.”
    Karen blinked. “You were teasing?”
    “Yes, of course.” Paul smiled wryly. “Karen, I face myself in a mirror every day. I know exactly how I look.”
    “Look?” she repeated blankly, so confused she forgot her feeling of awkwardness. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
    “I’m a banker, and I look it,” he said, his voice flat with self-knowledge. He raised one hand for her inspection; it was not the hand of a day laborer. The fingernails were short, blunt and clean, as was the entire hand. Karen couldn’t detect a hint of callus on his palm. “Hardly the hand of a man accustomed to hard physical work, is it?”
    “No.” Karen frowned. “So what?” She had never been enthralled by dirty fingernails and rough calluses.
    “So I fully understood your skepticism concerning my capabilities with a hammer, let alone a ladder.” Paul’s gentle smile contradicted the savage knife thrust he made into the innocent sausage.
    “ItMothers you!” she exclaimed, astounded by the realization.
    “It never did before, but lately, yes, it bothers me.”
    “Why?” Karen stared at him, her breakfast forgotten. Her eyes revealing the confusion she felt, she slowly lowered her gaze to the upper half of his body. Though slender, Paul was by no stretch of the imagination spare. His chest and shoulders were not those of a professional athlete but were broad enough to draw admiring glances. He was muscular without appearing overdeveloped. Mr. America he wasn’t, and thank heaven for that, Karen thought, smiling as she lifted her gaze to his slightly narrowed eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” she declared in a tone of utter conviction.
    “Thank you.” A flush tinted the taut skin over Paul’s high cheekbones. “But if that’s true, why were you so amazed to discover me repairing the shutters?” His dark eyes gleamed challengingly.
    “You didn’t answer my question about why the way you look bothers you,” Karen said evasively.
    Paul slanted an arch look at her. “Ladies first,” he insisted in a teasing tone.
    Suddenly impatient with the discussion, Karen swept his torso with a cool, calculating glance. “Okay, I’ll confess,” she