“Excuse me, miss.” A stocky police officer dressed in a tan uniform had come out of the café and strolled over to her. The town sheriff, she decided. He was chewing on a toothpick and his thumbs were tucked in his belt buckle, which hung low under his protruding belly. “I don’t suppose you happen to own that cute little Cruiser just there, do you?” He pointed at her car, about twenty feet away.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

His nod was slow and deliberate. The toothpick was smoothly transferred to the other side of his mouth. “I was afraid of that. Best I can tell, it’s parked illegally.”

“It most certainly is not,” Sherry protested as the three of them reached the car. The slot was clearly marked and she’d pulled in between two other vehicles.

“See how your left rear tire is over the yellow line?” the sheriff asked, pointing.

“I suppose that carries a heavy fine?” Good grief, she thought. Before long some cowpoke was going to suggest they get a rope and hang her from the nearest tree. In that case she’d be okay, since she hadn’t seen anything but brush for the last hundred miles.

“There isn’t a fine for illegally parking your car,” he said, grinning lazily. “But jaywalking does carry a hefty one, and I saw you cross that street with my very own eyes.”

“There wasn’t a crosswalk,” she said.

“Sure there is,” he said, still grinning. “It’s down the street a bit, but it’s there. I painted it myself no more’n ten years ago.”

“You’re going to fine me, then,” she said, reaching into her bag for her wallet. “Great. I’ll pay you and be done with it.” After that she was going to head straight for the freeway, and when she got to Houston, she’d reconsider this job offer.

“There isn’t any fine.”

“But you just said there was!” Actually, Sherry was relieved. Her cash was running low and she doubted the sheriff would accept a check.

“No fine, but the jail term—”

“Jail term!” she exploded.

“Now, Billy Bob,” the mayor said, placing himself between the two of them, “you don’t really intend to put our doc’s helper in jail, do you?”

Billy Bob rubbed his hand across the underside of his jaw as if needing to contemplate such a monumental decision.

“You’d give Pepper a bad name,” the mayor went on, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“You staying in Pepper, miss?” the officer asked.

Sherry’s gaze connected with Mayor Bowie’s. “It appears I don’t have much choice, do I?”

The minute she had access to a phone, Sherry vowed, she was going to call her friend’s husband, Rowdy Cassidy. Rowdy, the owner of one of the largest computer software companies in the world, had a large legal staff. He’d be able to pull a few strings for her. By the end of the day, these folks in Pepper would be facing so many lawsuits, they’d throw a parade when she left town.