Amazing Love. Mae Nunn

dropped the hazardous taco into the open sack and mouthed “I’m sorry.” The sincerity of the silent apology showed in her caramel-brown eyes but the small smirk that wriggled at the corners of her mouth said otherwise. She ducked her head too late to hide the smile.

      “I’ll just clean up back here and be on my way.” Claire bent to gather her belongings.

      “Not so fast,” he snapped.

      Her head popped up at the insistent tone in his voice.

      He masked his thoughts with a blank face and inclined his head in the direction the boys were heading.

      “It’s time for me to repay your kindness.” He stressed the last word, a warning of what was to come.

      Her eyebrows rose in question.

      “Chad, go to the booth and cue the lady’s music,” Luke called out.

      She glanced at her wristwatch, any excuse to break contact with those demanding green eyes. “It’s getting late and you have other commitments.”

      “And miss the opportunity to collaborate? Not on your life.” Refusing to take “no” for an answer, he stepped aside and motioned for her to precede him up the aisle.

      Two hours later, Claire sat before the computer in her southwest Houston townhome. Surrounded by her menagerie of foster pets, she arched her back and yawned as she waited for the final search engine to work its powerful magic.

      Buck squirmed and buried his nose beneath her arm. She’d long since mastered the art of typing with the abused dachshund in her lap. R.C. perched nearby, dangling his long tail over the arm of Claire’s favorite chair. The red tabby cat would find himself relegated to the garage if he sharpened his claws on the leather recliner again.

      Aptly named for his three-legged status, Tripod dozed on the rug beside her, his sides rising and falling in conjunction with his noisy breathing. The Airedale’s costly asthma was the primary reason he was still without a permanent home.

      With one hand Claire snuggled Buck closer and with the other she reached to trail her fingers across Tripod’s wiry head. He opened adoring eyes, sighed his gratitude and drifted back into doggie dreamland. She understood the contentment these abandoned animals felt in the sanctuary of her home.

      Two weeks after Claire’s thirteenth birthday, Dean Savage dealt his family a staggering blow. He was moving to L.A. to pursue his dream of being an actor. Alone.

      To Claire’s astonishment Mary Savage didn’t plead with her husband to stay. Instead she sought comfort in her Bible as Claire’s father packed, muttering under his breath about women and their religious nonsense. The next day he was gone, leaving Claire and her mother with nothing more than the roof over their heads.

      The computer beeped to signal its work was complete.

      She scanned the results of her search on Praise Productions, disappointed to find no home page, odd for a growing business. There were numerous brief blurbs in relation to churches Praise Productions had worked with in the recent past. All glowing reports, nothing of concern. She should be relieved instead of feeling like she’d come up empty-handed, just as she had for the search under Luke’s name, yielding only pages of genealogy listings.

      She looped the gold chain around her index finger and cupped the diamond cross in her hand. The grudging respect and strange attraction she felt for the man with the lazy smile conflicted with her need to protect her Abundant Harvest family.

      The guy had some unique qualities but he was running stealth for a reason. Tomorrow Claire would go over his contract with a fine-tooth comb. She might even call her Texas Ranger friend, Daniel Stabler, for a background check. If Luke Dawson was hiding something, she’d pull the plug on the deal faster than you could say Savage Cycles of Houston.