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this aw-shucks journalist do if he discovered that she had played a prominent role in that juicy scandal?
    Right now he gazed down at her with concern. “Ssssh,” he crooned suddenly. Rucker reached out and smoothed a strand of her hair away from the autumn breeze. “Whatever it was, don’t let it make you skittish around me.” He touched her cheek in a brief, light caress then let his hand drop to his side. His unexpected gentleness in the aftermath of her sarcasm hada horrible effect on her control, and she looked away, brushing at her eyes with quick, embarrassed motions.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m really sorry for being such a creep. When I was competing in pageants I had a lot of bad experiences with people who wanted to take advantage of me. Especially reporters. I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Please don’t take this out on my town.”
    He exhaled in dismay. “I’m not Rucker the Hun. I like small towns. I like the human interest stories I find in small towns. I want to write about this place. About Dewey and Lula Belle … and you. About the good things you do.”
    Dinah felt queasiness fighting for control of her stomach, and she took a moment to subdue it. She had to convince Rucker not to write about her. If his national column drew attention, if other reporters took an interest in an ex-beauty queen turned mayor, it would be disastrous.
    “I’m not special,” she murmured to Rucker. “I’m just trying to do what I think is right. I don’t always succeed.”
    “You’re very special. People look up to you. Lula Belle said so. You’ve earned a lot of affection and respect here.”
    She studied him in speechless consideration, her breath short. “It’s nice that you think so,” she told him.
    “Will you put up with me for a few days? I just want to put your town on the map and make you a celebrity. Is that so bad?” He grinned.
    Dinah swallowed hard. He sincerely wanted her company, and she sincerely needed his. She had to learn more about him if she was going to sidetrack his determination to publicize her life. She had to learn more about him, period.
    She cleared her throat. “All right. How would you like to come to the VFW’s monthly get-together? It’s tonight, and I have to make a speech. The people are terrific, but the food’s really horrible—canned spaghetti and hard garlic bread.”
    “When I was in college I lived on canned spaghetti,” he said happily. “I love canned food. No fuss, no mess, no dishes. My china pattern is called ‘Corrugated.’ ”
    Despite her fears she chuckled. “The veterans will insist that you use a plate.”
    “I’ll manage. Sounds like fun.”
    “Well, they’ll be thrilled to have you there.” She paused, gazing up at him with intrigue that she tried desperately to hide. It was wrong to feel so excited about this turn of events. It was wrong to feel so excited about this dangerous visitor. “You went to college?”
    He grinned. “Auburn University, the South’s finest. Took me seven years to get a degree in journalism, but then, when you’re as good-lookin’ as I am, you don’t need brains.”
    “No, just humility. Seven years to get a bachelor’s degree?” She’d gotten hers in three, and her master’s degree in one.
    “Well, for two and a-half years of that, I was in the Army.”
    “You were drafted?”
    “Nope. I joined.”
    “No brains at all, I’d say.”
    “I believe in duty.”
    She started to laugh then saw that he was serious. Surprise and pride swelled inside her chest. “You have strong beliefs,” Dinah said. “I admire that.”
    He couldn’t bear to let the conversation turn solemn for long. Rucker gave her a rakish salute. “I believe in motherhood, patriotism, and fried chicken, but not necessarily in that order.” He paused. “I also believe in puttin’ women on a pedestal.”
    “Hmmmm. So you can look up their skirts.”
    Startled, he stared at her for a moment. Then a