Sara wandered down the hall, turned the corner at the end of the corridor, and ran smack into a bare, sweaty, male chest. The impact was brief. Hard hands closed over her shoulders and steadied her before setting her away. Sara looked up. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again.

“You!” echoed through the emptiness.

Sara jumped back farther. More memories squeezed her heart. Of all the voices that she might hear, she never expected to hear Josh McKinley’s deep baritone.

“So, you’re back.” His mouth twisted on the statement. His graveled voice and daredevil blue eyes challenged her.

She wasn’t ready for this. “What are you doing here? Gloating because my father’s bedridden and can’t throw you out?”

“Not gloating, working.”

What a surprising idea. “That’s ridiculous. It’s Sunday and Carson’s Cars is closed.”

“Always was, as I recall. Guess even an old devil like your daddy needs a day of rest.”

Her eyes widened. How dare Josh try to provoke her. He’d betrayed her, run off like a coward. Never mind that she’d done her own running a few years later. “My father would never hire a McKinley, and no McKinley would want to do an honest day’s work when he could shyster widows and orphans instead.”

Josh hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the wall, his narrow hips cocked at an aggressive angle. “I don’t work for your father.”

He had no right to prop his broad shoulders against that wall. “Then you’re not working here, so get off Carson’s property.”

Damn him with his dark hair and bright eyes. He didn’t move. He gave a slow smile and looked her over, head to toe and back. “You’ve changed, Sara.”

Déjà vu skittered bumps over her skin. Time was when she would have danced naked in a cactus patch for that smile. No more. “Maybe it’s time you found out just how much I have changed.”

“Go ahead, show me.”

“I’m not a lonely, defenseless, little girl anymore.”

“You weren’t little in high school, Pipsqueak.”

She winced at the childhood nickname. He was right. She’d been a gawky five-foot-nine when she’d first fallen for Josh McKinley. She wouldn’t fall again. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have no right. No McKinley has the right to treat a Carson with anything but healthy respect and wide distance.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. You would too, if you had any sense.”

“What harm did the McKinleys ever do to you?”

Sara gasped. “Your uncle was my father’s best friend and lawyer. My mother went to Sampson McKinley for advice, and he manipulated her. He betrayed my father’s trust. He broke up my parents’ marriage just to get his hands on that cursed Cadillac you men love so much.”

Josh gave a short, dry laugh. He crossed work-hardened arms, thick with ropy muscles, over his chest. “My uncle never betrayed a friend or a client in his entire life.”

“Go ahead, keep your delusions. Because of your damned uncle, I lost my mother. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to imagine you were different, I never would have cuddled up to a McKinley snake like you.” She widened her stance and placed a fist on each hip.

His smile broadened. “Yeah, you did cuddle up to me, didn’t you, Pipsqueak?” He straightened and walked toward her.

“I was young and ignorant. I know better now.” Sara stood her ground until she could smell the scent of sawdust mixed with male musk.

“Really? Maybe we should find out for sure.”

She danced backward, out of reach. “Oh no, you don’t. You aren’t laying a hand on me.”