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twinge of her old impish nature.
    He chuckled softly. “That tongue cuts like a knife, doesn’t it?” He took a slow breath and tapped her gently on the cheek. “You’ll survive, Claire. You were never a shrinking violet. But if you need help, I hope you’ll come to me. Will was my friend. So are you. I don’t like to think of you being alone and friendless, especially when the house is sold.”
    She looked vaguely panicked, and John understood why at once.
    â€œI won’t own anything, really, will I?” she asked suddenly. “Uncle Will mentioned that he’d just taken out another loan…”
    â€œSo he did. The bank will have to foreclose on the houseand sell it. You’ll get anything over the amount necessary to pay off your uncle’s debts, but frankly I doubt there’ll be much left. The motorcar will have to go, too.”
    â€œI won’t sell it,” she said through her teeth.
    â€œAnd I say you will.”
    â€œYou have no right to tell me anything. You’re neither my banker nor my friend!”
    He only smiled. “I’m your friend, Claire—whether you like to admit it or not. Mr. Calverson won’t act in your interest.”
    â€œAnd you will? Against your employer?”
    â€œOf course, if it becomes necessary,” he said surprisingly.
    She dropped her gaze to his expensive tie. He sounded very protective. He’d always been protective of her. She’d never quite understood why. “I won’t sell the motorcar, all the same.”
    â€œWhat will you do with it?”
    â€œDrive it, of course,” she said. Her eyes lit up. She lifted them to his. “John, I shan’t have to sell it! I can hire it out to businessmen, with myself as the driver! I will start a business!”
    He looked as if she’d hit him in the head. “You’re a woman,” he pointed out.
    â€œYes.”
    He took an exasperated breath. “You can hardly expect me to condone such a harebrained scheme.”
    She drew herself up to her full height. It didn’t do any good. He still towered over her. “I’ll do as I please,” sheinformed him. “I have to make a living for myself. I have no means of support.”
    He studied her curiously. Several things were becoming clear to him, foremost among them that he was about to land himself in one hell of a scandal because of Diane. Her husband was very suspicious—and if what Claire had told him was accurate, he was being gossiped about. He couldn’t afford to let one blemish attach itself to Diane’s good name.
    His eyes narrowed. Claire wasn’t at all bad to look at. She was spunky, and she had a devilish sense of humor. She had a kind heart, and even passable manners, and most of the time she delighted him. He had a soft spot for her that he’d never had for any other woman. Besides all that, she worshiped him. “You could marry me,” he suggested wickedly. “Then you’d have a husband to look after your interests as well as a roof over your head.”
    She felt the ground go out from under her feet. It was the oddest sensation, as if she weren’t touching the floor at all. “Why should you want to marry me?”
    â€œIt would solve both our problems, wouldn’t it?” he drawled mockingly. “You get the husband of your dreams,” he said, smiling at her blush, “and I get a respite from gossip that could ruin Diane’s good name.”
    Diane’s good name, she noticed, not his own. He was still putting the woman above his own reputation. And the unkind remark about her infatuation for him hurt. She hated having him know how she felt.
    â€œMarry you?” she replied haughtily. “I’d sooner eat an arsenic casserole with deadly nightshade sauce!”
    He only smiled. “The offer stands. But I’ll let you come to me when you’ve discovered that it’s