McNeil's Match Page 2

  “It was silly of me to let you get the better of me like that,” she said, her irritation dissolving into laughter.

  “Yeah, it was. I do that to people. Come on and get into the truck.” He hooked her car to the tow truck and drove with her to McNeil Motor Service where he jacked up the car and began to inspect it.

  She didn’t want to give Max an excuse to act out, as she knew he would, given a chance. His temperamental character was the first trait she’d observed in him, and she’d never had much tolerance for that in men. The mechanic who drove her to the service station slid out from under her car, stood and cleaned his hands with a cloth that hung against the nearby wall. She walked over to him.

  “How soon can I get my car?”

  A slight frown creased his brow, and his eyes projected an expression of sympathy. She took a deep breath, fearing the worst, reached toward him and gripped his forearm.

  “Please, mister. I need my car.”

  He gazed down at her, his demeanor serious, but his eyes warm and kind. “I promise you I’ll do my best, but I don’t see how you can get it before Saturday.”

  “But—”

  He interrupted her. “I’ll see that you get to your appointment okay, and as soon as your car is ready, we’ll bring it to you.”

  She could see that the man was honest. Indeed, he wore integrity the way a robin wears his feathers. “All right, but I’ve already missed my appointment.”

  “Then, I’ll see that you get home.” He beckoned to a man who was dressed in a uniform similar to his. “Take this lady home.” He looked at her. “I need your name, address, phone number and driver’s license.” She gave them to him, and he took a pad from his back trouser pocket, wrote something on it and handed her a receipt for her car.

  She stared first at the piece of paper that represented her car and then at him. Wordless. No doubt her feelings were mirrored on her face, for he smiled in an obvious attempt to comfort her.

  “Don’t worry. If I tell you you’ll have it Saturday, you’ll have it Saturday. I keep my word.” He turned from her. “Take her home, Bill, and use one of the sedans.” Then, he tipped the bill of his baseball cap and went into the office.

  The man named Bill opened the front passenger door of a Lincoln Town Car for her, reached across her and fastened her seat belt before closing the door. Hmm. Courteousness must be the hallmark of this place.

  “Who’s the mechanic who towed my car to the station?” she asked Bill a few minutes after he turned onto Route 10.

  He threw her a quizzical glance. “Mechanic? That was Sloan. Sloan McNeil. He owns McNeil Motor Service. Great guy to work with.”

  “You mean he’s the owner, and he does the same work that his mechanics do?”

  “He wouldn’t like to know you asked that question. Anyway, he’s the best mechanic among us.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I hope he has my car ready by Saturday.”

  He drove up to 2791 Corpus Christi Lane and parked. “If Sloan said you’ll get your car Saturday, that’s when you’ll get it.”

  “Thanks for the assurance, and thanks for bringing me home.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He drove off, and somehow, if didn’t worry her one bit that all she had to show for the more than thirty grand she’d spent was a piece of paper. She telephoned Max. “My car is in the shop, and I won’t have it till Saturday afternoon.”

  “What’d you do, buy a lemon?”

  Naturally he assumed that she was incompetent. “No. The seller didn’t service it properly. I’ll deal with him later.”

  “Okay. Be at the gym at nine o’clock Monday morning. If you feel like it, jog a few miles before you get there.”

  If she felt like it! “All right. See you Monday morning.”

  Lynne strolled through the living room and dining room, running her hands over the furnishings as she walked, slowly making up her mind. She entered the solarium, a large room with floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows situated to the right of the dining room, a large airy place that invited her to linger. Yes, I’m going to buy this place. It will be splendid with my choice of furnishings and the colors I love. It’s big for one person, but I like it. Besides, it won’t seem so big when I get a housekeeper...that is, if I ever do. She got up and walked to the wide center staircase. When I furnish it, it won’t look so overdone. I prefer quality and simplicity.

  Before she married, she put the bulk of her considerable tennis earnings into a retirement trust, and she was reasonably certain that Willard never forgave her for it. When he learned that he wouldn’t have access to her money, he showed her a side of himself that she preferred not to remember. “Thank God, it’s over,” she said to herself.

  Saturday morning at 11:43, she headed to the tennis court to knock some balls, and as she stopped on the front lawn to pull a dandelion weed out of the grass, her BMW rolled to a stop in front of her door. She removed her wide-brim straw hat, got up and walked to the car just as Sloan McNeil got out of the driver’s seat.

  “Hi. I didn’t expect you to bring it back yourself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, Bill said you’re the boss, so—”

  My Lord, this is a serious man, she thought, as he glued his gaze to her. “I don’t ask or expect the men who work for me to do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

  Best not to reply to that. “Thanks so much for getting it to me today.”

  “I finished it less than half an hour ago, and I don’t mind telling you that I had to put your car ahead of several. I don’t usually do that, because it isn’t fair.”

  She decided not to ask him why he did that, because she had a feeling that she didn’t want to know. But he had no compunctions about telling her. “You haven’t asked why I brought your car, but I’ll tell anyway. I wanted to see you again. You interest me.”

  “Oh.”

  He stepped closer, but not close enough to touch. “Is that all you have to say? In case you’re worried, I don’t always wear navy blue. In fact, I wear it so much when I’m working that I never wear it any other time.”

  She bit her lip when the words, you look great in navy blue, nearly fell out of her mouth. “Uh...you made a statement. If you had asked me a question, I’d have answered it.”

  A grin spread over his face, lighting his remarkable eyes, softening them and putting ideas into her head. “You left yourself wide open with that comment. Be careful you don’t trip yourself up.”

  “I’m not in the habit of doing that,” she said, trying without success to shift her gaze from his. The man had such a commanding presence that he almost unnerved her. So he thought she didn’t have the nerve to ask him why he brought the car himself. She’d show him. She leaned her head to one side. “Why didn’t you send my car by Bill or one of your other employees? Why did you bring it?”

  His right eyebrow shot up. “I just told you. I wanted to see you again.”

  “Yes. So you did.” Somehow, his mechanic’s uniform in no way diminished him, and she noticed that he’d taken the time to clean his hands. Beautifully tapered fingers. Powerful hands.

  His gaze swept over her. “You’re wearing a tennis outfit. Does that mean you’re Lynne Thurston, the tennis great?” Taken aback at his abrupt question, she hardly knew how to answer or whether she should. “I wondered about it yesterday when you gave me your name. Surely there aren’t two of you.”

  “I stopped playing tennis when I married, because my husband didn’t think it proper for a minister to have a professional tennis player for a wife.” He looked as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and without questioning or understanding why she did so, she hastened to add, “I divorced him about four months ago after six years of pure hell.”

  As if her words gave him new life, he
exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks, but all I feel now is joy.”

  As if he’d decided against asking another direct question, he took a different tactic. “This is a very big house for one person.”

  “I know,” she said, her face wreathed in smiles. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  He moved his head from side to side. “Seems to me you should at least have a guard dog.”

  “I’d love to have a dog, but if I start traveling again, who’ll take care of him? Anyway, all the windows and doors are wired. I’m protected.”

  He shoved his hands into his back pockets and looked into the distance. “If you decide to get a dog, I’ll be glad to look after him for you when you’re not here. You need a dog.” Suddenly he shrugged his right shoulder. “Just a thought. Say, would you play a game with me sometime?”

  She hadn’t played a game in six years, because Willard didn’t want her to practice. He’d said it was like giving up smoking; when you quit, you shouldn’t even associate with anyone who smokes lest you fall back into the habit. “I’m about as rusty as a player can be, but if you don’t mind being a guinea pig, I’d love a match with you.”

  “Didn’t you play at all while you were married?”

  She shook her head and tried not to appear sad, although remembering how she’d pleaded with Willard not to oppose the one thing she enjoyed doing depressed her. “Not once.”

  “Whew! How about tomorrow morning before it gets hot?”

  “Eight o’clock? Or maybe you’d rather sleep a bit longer.”

  “Eight’s fine. I’ve enjoyed talking with you. See you in the morning.”

  “Goodbye, Sloan, and don’t forget to send the bill. Many thanks.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  She turned, then stopped in her tracks. “Sloan, how are you getting back to the service station? Wait a minute. I’ll get my driver’s license and drive you.”

  His teeth sparkled white and his color heightened against his light olive complexion. “Thanks, Lynne. I was going to walk out to the highway and hitch a ride. You’re a gracious woman.”

  Maybe she was, and maybe she was just off her rocker. She had a goal, a tough one, and it didn’t include getting involved with a man. She got her driver’s license and pocketbook, locked the front door and headed across the lawn. He hadn’t moved.

  “Who’s going to drive?” she asked him. “You or me?” My Lord, she thought when he grinned. I don’t need to get involved, and especially not with a guy who’s got grease splashed across one pant leg and grime on his brogans. But Lord, this man is a looker.

  “It’s your car,” he said, still grinning. “I sure wouldn’t deign to tell you you couldn’t drive your own car.”

  She handed him the car keys. “Oh, yes, you would. You definitely would. If you had a mind to, you’d tell the president what he couldn’t do.”

  He closed the passenger door, went around and folded his six-foot-five-inch frame into the driver’s seat. “I’ve told him many times but, unfortunately, he didn’t hear me.”

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, and suddenly she heard him release a long sigh. “This is a perfect day for camping, swimming in a river or a lake and fishing for supper.”

  “You love the outdoors, Sloan?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s where I feel most at home.”

  “Me, too, but I’m not going to have much time to enjoy it.”

  He glanced quickly in her direction before focusing on the road ahead of him. “How’s that?”

  “I’ve given myself two years to make it to number one, and that means working hard. I’m twenty-nine, and the top players hadn’t reached puberty when I quit playing. It won’t be easy.”

  “Not one of them is as good as you were. You’ll get there.”

  That was what she needed to hear. Not even the coach she hired had said that, and her brother thought she’d lost her mind. “You really think so? Thank you. I need to hear that. My brother thinks I’m out of my mind.”

  “Don’t let that bother you. Get out there and show ’em.” He stopped the car in front of his service station, leaned against the door, rested his arm on the back of the seat and looked at her. Did she move closer to him? Something in her seemed to gravitate to him, and it wasn’t until she pulled herself back, increasing the distance between them, that she realized she hadn’t moved closer. Her gaze shifted to his face, and a gasp escaped her at the naked passion in his eyes.

  “See you tomorrow morning at eight,” he said and got out of the car before she could answer. He didn’t have to tell her that his quick exit was aimed at preventing her from breaking their date to play tennis. She slid over to the driver’s seat, waved at him, backed up and headed home. He needn’t worry; she didn’t want to break the date with him. She told herself that she needed to test her ability, to know if her ground strokes were as far off as her serve. Suddenly she couldn’t help laughing at herself. Serving a tennis ball and hitting ground strokes had nothing to do with her eagerness to keep the date with Sloan McNeil.

  * * *

  Sloan went into his office, showered, changed into a business suit, dress shirt and tie, got into his Buick and headed for town. He’d moved to San Antonio because he liked the city’s slow pace, peaceful atmosphere and tidy character. Most of the people he knew there were born and grew up somewhere else, as was the case with him. He’d had many setbacks in his life, but none deterred him from pursuing his goal, and nothing would. He meant to own and operate a string of automobile repair stations throughout Texas. He didn’t fear competition, because he gave his customers honest service of the highest quality and at reasonable cost. He turned into Route 10, slowed down and told himself that what he had to do in the next hour was not as complicated or as difficult as brain surgery.

  “I can see where I’m headed, and I don’t want to be carrying any baggage.” He parked in front of a house on Potranco Road, got out and rang the bell.

  “Oh, how nice. I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening, but I’m glad you’re here,” the tall, self-possessed woman said. “Why am I so lucky today? I’ll get us some snacks and drinks.”

  “Hello, Vickie. No. No. Don’t go to any trouble. I won’t be staying long.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, inclined her head to the side and looked at him. “Any special reason?”

  “Yes. You and I have been seeing each other occasionally, and I want you to know that, although I’ve enjoyed your company, we won’t see each other in the future.”

  “I see. Well, you couldn’t make it clearer. I admit that we haven’t had a romantic...that we aren’t lovers...but I’ve always hoped.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I’d been careful not to mislead you.”

  “Oh, you have been, but these things have a habit of going their own way. Who is she?”

  Just like her to cut to the chase. “I’ve met someone, but nothing has happened. Not a single thing.”

  “Then, why—”

  He interrupted her. “Because I know where it’s headed, and I believe in keeping my house in order.”

  Her smile wavered slightly. “You’ve always been a straight shooter, Sloan, and I wish you nothing but happiness. I hope she knows how lucky she is.”

  “Thank you for the compliment. Goodbye.” She extended her hand, and he shook it. A first-class woman. He hoped she found the man she needed. He’d been planning to break that tie for some time, for he knew that they could become a habit with each other and fall into the trap that said he’d taken up so much of her time, he should marry her. Relieved that their talk had been without bitterness, he decided to go home, swim for a while, have a local restaurant deliver his dinner, eat and go to bed. He did not intend to miss his date with Lynne Thurston, and he was not going to let her
beat him.

  * * *

  After having tossed in bed most of the night, Lynne crawled out of bed at six-thirty and stumbled into the bathroom. Her shower refreshed her, and she dressed in a white tennis dress, white socks and pink sneakers, went downstairs and made coffee.

  “The least I can do is offer him a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice,” she said aloud. As hungry as she was, she didn’t dare eat the pancakes and sausage that had been her favorite breakfast in the days when she played tennis at least four hours every day and didn’t have to worry about gaining weight. Maybe she’d have that for breakfast Monday.

  At eight o’clock, a tan-colored Buick LeSabre stopped in front of her house, and Sloan McNeil got out of it, walked up to her front door and rang the bell. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be wearing a white, collared T-shirt, white shorts, white socks and white sneakers. She gaped at him until he laughed.

  “Hi. Like what you see?”

  “Yes, indeed. I had to make certain that it’s you. Want a cup of coffee?”

  “I already had two cups, but I’ll have a glass of orange juice if you have any. I’ll be starving after the match. If you don’t mind, we could drive over to Laredo and get some breakfast.”

  “Good idea,” she said, still reeling from the shock of seeing him in that tennis outfit. My Lord, what a body, and what a pair of legs!

  After he drank the juice, she went to the hall closet, selected a racket and looked at him. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be. Let’s go. Are we playing on the clay court or the hard court? I prefer the hard court.”

  “I’ll be equally bad on both,” she said. “You want to serve first?”

  He braced his hips with his knuckles. “Oh, no, you don’t, miss. We’re tossing for this.” He showed her a quarter. “Heads I win, tails you lose.”

  “Oka— What did you say? I heard that. I may be groggy, but I’m not asleep.”

  He favored her with a grin. “Just testing.”