Preview Dealer's Choice, Chpt 1, entry #7

Keeping one hand firmly on the doorframe, she lifted her chin. "Who are you and what do you want?" Words and tone designed to put herself in charge from the start.

He looked her up and down just as blatantly as she had him, a pencil-thin mustache drawing attention to the curve of his mouth. "Your parents home?"

The drawl told her at least being a Yankee wasn't one of his failings, but Southerner or no, the abbreviated question was rude. Plus, he failed to remove his hat. Clearly, he was no gentleman. "My parents are dead, sir, and I am mistress here, so I repeat: What is it you want?"

"Is this the Cooper place?"

"It is. And you are?"

"You related to a Wendall Cooper?"

"He's my brother." She angled herself behind the door to stop the chilled air sneaking up under her skirts . . . and to keep the pistol hidden. "Now please provide your name."