One Good Turn Read Online Free

ashtray on the table at his side, a gesture that implied he’d grown up in classy surroundings where people knew how to avoid leaving water stains on the furniture. But of course he’d grown up in classy surroundings; he was wearing a Ralph Lauren shirt and no socks.
    Still, Jenny found it easier to envision him on a scrappy wood-hulled sailboat than in a mansion. He’d looked decidedly uncomfortable in the majestic wing-back chair.
    As soon as he stood she suffered her own keen discomfort. He was nearly a foot taller than her. Ordinarily she didn’t mind her petite size, but now she did.
    He gave no indication that the drastic difference in their heights bothered him. With a wave of his hand he invited her to precede him out of the living room.
    A cluster of people stood in the front hall, arguing politics. Excusing herself repeatedly, Jenny inched through the crowd to the door and outside. This was something, she thought grimly: she was leaving a party with a gorgeous guy who towered at least ten inches above her and who had drunk some amount of beer, and she didn’t even know his name. One of these days, she concluded with a rueful sigh, her trusting nature was going to get her in trouble.
    But she couldn’t bear the possibility that the world had no room in it for trust. Let people like Sybil be cynical. Jenny was an optimist. She was certain she had nothing to fear from this handsome stranger.
    She waited until he had joined her on the brick front porch and the door had swung shut, cutting them off from the spirited debate in the front hall. Then she turned to him. “What’s your name?” she asked.
    He opened his mouth and then closed it, as if he actually had to mull over whether or not to answer what she considered a very reasonable question. If he decided not to, she would go right back inside, elbow her way through the front-hall debate, head downstairs to the basement and dance herself into a sweat with a nice, uncomplicated man whose eyes weren’t sending out an SOS.
    “Lucas Benning,” he said.
    Lucas Benning. She rolled his name around in her mind and decided she liked it. He’d won himself a reprieve. “Should we take a walk?” she asked.
    He shrugged and stepped off the porch. She joined him on the sidewalk and they began a leisurely stroll toward O Street. The block was picturesque, lined with charming town houses, leafy trees and decorative street lamps that cast pools of golden light onto the cobblestone road. The sky stretched rich and blue overhead, not quite dark enough to reveal the stars. The evening air was like velvet, thick and soft and warm.
    Digging her hands into the pockets of her skirt, Jenny glanced up at Lucas and smiled tentatively. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?” she asked.
    He stumbled to a halt and gaped at her. Then he broke into a laugh, another low, throaty chuckle that had the same unfortunately arousing effect on her as his last laugh. “You really are a busybody, aren’t you.”
    She wished there was some way to explain that Lucas himself brought out the busybody in her. She didn’t make a habit of interrogating strangers at parties. But the minute she’d seen the odd, desperate look in his eyes she’d felt an inexplicable compulsion to rescue him.
    “Look,” she said self-consciously, “if you want me to leave you alone, just say the word and I’ll disappear.”
    He studied her for a several seconds. Behind him a car bumped along the cobblestones; across the street a trio of youths whizzed down the sidewalk on skateboards. “What’s the word?” he asked.
    All right. He wanted her to leave. She’d tried and failed. Not everybody wanted to be rescued. “The word is ‘Go,’” she told him.
    He scrutinized her for another long moment. “I’ll have to be careful so it doesn’t slip out accidentally,” he said. His lips skewed into a cockeyed smile and Jenny steeled herself against the unnerving surge of warmth it stirred inside