Exception to the Rule. Doranna Durgin

of their own.

      Kimmer Reed had her thumb, and the uncanny knack of choosing a safe ride. She carried her life in a ratty little bag and clung to a battered Instamatic camera and the memory of a mother who exhorted her to escape. She needed work, and a town that would leave her alone. She needed a life.

      Kimmer poked herself. She literally poked herself, jamming a finger into toned stomach muscle. “Stop that,” she said out loud, braking at one of the few lights in the town. Obediently, the thoughts receded. She’d had years of practice at chasing them away, and the first flush of them, triggered by this little town so much like Munroville, retreated quickly.

      Too bad they hadn’t brought her an image of a younger Garage Boy while they were at it; she could have used that information.

      She drove through to the other edge of town—a journey of only a few moments—and to the Millstream Motel. Garage Boy had actually sized her up just about right—Hunter had chosen the Millstream for Bonnie Miller, too. Of course, it was only one block away from the B&B where Rio had booked himself and Carolyne—that, too, had something to do with the choice.

      The Millstream came complete with an old millstone by the office door and a sign that announced Bath And Shower! as part of the amenities. Kimmer hoped she wouldn’t have to pay extra for such luxuries. She hoped, too, that the room interiors wouldn’t reflect the color sense of the exterior, which came as close to Pepto-Bismol-pink as she’d ever seen in a building. Before she even checked in, she left the Taurus in the parking lot and headed out on foot, camera in hand. Carolyne and her cousin hadn’t passed her on the road, and that meant she had a chance—her only chance—to assess the B&B before they arrived. She’d take pictures, identify her best spots to lurk, and find the security vulnerabilities of the establishment.

      No doubt Rio would do much the same as soon as he arrived. She needed to be gone by then. They’d see each other again, certainly…but not while Kimmer was casing his hidey-hole. That wouldn’t go over well at all.

      On the other hand, it would be a chance to see him in action again. Assess him. Take his measure. Or just plain get an eyeful.

      Kimmer, halfway to Angelina’s Bed and Breakfast, stopped short. Closed her eyes. Took a breath. Rio Carlsen is a playing piece, she told herself. An object. A tool.

      No amount of personable smiling could change that. No silly bowing. And certainly no glimpses at how much he cared for his cousin, and how he protected her.

      Get to work, Chimera. Just…get to work.