Clear and Convincing Proof Read Online Free PDF Page A

with paint.”
    His grin broadened. “Just drop it. Let it go.”
    She dropped the can and it splashed paint like a geyser. Then she climbed down the ladder as Darren held it steady.
    At the bottom, on solid ground again, she looked at him in dismay. “Oh, Lord, I’m sorry! Thank you. I think you saved my life.”
    He was spattered from his shoes up, with paint on his jeans, his shirt, arms and hands, and some even on his face. He laughed. “Maybe just your neck. You set the ladder over a hole in the ground. Got a hose?”
    She shook her head. “Come on around back. You can wash up a little bit at least. I’m Erica Castle.”
    â€œThe book lady,” he said. “I’d offer to shake hands, but it’s probably not a good idea. Darren Halvord.”
    She led the way around the mountain of trash to the back porch, where he hesitated. “I’d better leave the shoes outside,” he said. “I’ll track up your floor.”
    He took off his running shoes, then followed her into the house, where she got out towels and a washcloth and pointed him toward the bathroom. “I could wash your clothes,” she said, “but I don’t have anything you could put on.”
    â€œThey’ll keep until I get home.”
    When he returned, with a clean face, hands and arms, she held out a glass of iced tea. “It’s about all I have to offer. Or some pretty cheap wine.”
    â€œThis is good,” he said, taking the tea, then gazing about the kitchen. About five feet ten or eleven inches tall, he didn’t give the impression of being large, but his arms were corded with muscles and his shoulders were very broad. She had thought his eyes were black, but now saw that they were dark blue, with pale lashes, pale eyebrows. His hair was straight, cut short, probably a dark blond, sun-bleached. Laugh lines at his eyes looked as if they had been drawn with white ink on a russet background.
    â€œHow did you just happen to come by in the nick of time?” she asked, moving to the table to sit down. He sat opposite her and sipped the tea.
    â€œI always come this way or a block or two over. My place is behind that mall on Coburg, four blocks from here. I didn’t know you lived in this house. I thought it was vacant, going to ruin.”
    â€œWell, it was going to ruin, that’s for sure. I inherited it from my grandmother.”
    She talked about the shape the house had been in when she arrived, about teaching in Cleveland, the trip out. He was easy to talk to, and, she realized, she had been starved for male company. That was a surprise; she had been so tired by bedtime day after day that her thoughts of men had been rare, easily ignored. The few times she thought of Ron, her former fiancé, she had felt only satisfaction of being done with him, done with that endless, go-nowhere engagement. After the first date or two, there had never been any excitement in that relationship. She had never felt the least bit threatened or exhilarated, but rather an unexamined acceptance of her role in his life, one of accommodation to his twice-a-week need for sex. They had been engaged for six years.
    â€œAfter I start teaching in the fall,” she said, “fixing up the house will go faster. I’ll hire someone to help out, repair or replace the roof, do a number of things.”
    â€œWill you rent out the apartment? It is a separate apartment, isn’t it? I noticed the outside stairs.”
    â€œIt is. That’s way down on my list of things to get to. I haven’t even started on it yet.”
    â€œCan I have a look at the upstairs?” he asked then. “See, I have a three-room apartment over by the mall, and the traffic’s getting worse and worse. I suspect that the owner of the building will sell out to a developer for a big box store or something in the coming year. I’ll be house hunting then.”
    â€œIt might be