“You tempt me, Janice.

“The way your lips curl into a smile, with your quiet confidence, your gentle way with your children. I have no right to give in to that temptation. No right at all.”

“And if I gave you that right?”

Unable to help himself, Logan touched her cheek with his fingertips. “That would be a gift I couldn’t accept no matter how much I might want to. Not now.”

“You mean because Ray hasn’t been dead long—”

“You’re vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Janice exhaled a tiny sigh. “You seem to think I’ll do something rash, as if being widowed is to be let out of a bottle, sure I’ll do something foolish.”

“Would you?”

“With you? Very possibly.”

Dear Reader,

Every month Harlequin American Romance brings you four powerful men, and four admirable women who know what they want—and go all out to get it. Check out this month’s sparkling selection of love stories, which you won’t be able to resist.

First, our AMERICAN BABY promotion continues with Kara Lennox’s Baby by the Book. In this heartwarming story, a sexy bachelor comes to the rescue when a pretty single mother goes into labor. The more time he spends with mother and child, the more he finds himself wanting the role of dad….

Also available this month is Between Honor and Duty by Charlotte Maclay, the latest installment in her MEN OF STATION SIX series. Will a firefighter’s determination to care for his friend’s widow and adorable brood spark a vow to love, honor and cherish? Next, JUST FOR KIDS, Mary Anne Wilson’s miniseries continues with an office romance between The C.E.O. & the Secret Heiress. And in Born of the Bluegrass by Darlene Scalera, a woman is reunited with the man she never stopped loving—the father of her secret child.

Enjoy this month’s offerings, and be sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance!

Wishing you happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Between Honor and Duty

Charlotte Maclay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Charlotte Maclay can’t resist a happy ending. That’s why she’s had such fun writing more than twenty titles for Harlequin American Romance and Harlequin Duets, plus several Silhouette Romance books, as well. Particularly well known for her volunteer efforts in her hometown of Torrance, California, Charlotte says her philosophy is that you should make a difference in your community. She and her husband have two married daughters and two grandchildren, whom they are occasionally allowed to baby-sit. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached at: P.O. Box 505, Torrance, CA 90501.

Books by Charlotte Maclay

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

474—THE VILLAIN’S LADY

488—A GHOSTLY AFFAIR

503—ELUSIVE TREASURE

532—MICHAEL’S MAGIC

537—THE KIDNAPPED BRIDE

566—HOW TO MARRY A MILLIONAIRE

585—THE COWBOY & THE BELLY DANCER

620—THE BEWITCHING BACHELOR

643—WANTED: A DAD TO BRAG ABOUT

657—THE LITTLEST ANGEL

684—STEALING SAMANTHA

709—CATCHING A DADDY

728—A LITTLE BIT PREGNANT

743—THE HOG-TIED GROOM

766—DADDY’S LITTLE COWGIRL

788—DEPUTY DADDY

806—A DADDY FOR BECKY

821—THE RIGHT COWBOY’S BED*

825—IN A COWBOY’S EMBRACE*

886—BOLD AND BRAVE-HEARTED**

890—WITH VALOR AND DEVOTION**

894—BETWEEN HONOR AND DUTY**

WHO’S WHO AT FIRESTATION SIX

Logan Strong—This dedicated firefighter finds it takes more courage to follow his heart than to enter a burning building.

Janice Gainer—If she takes a second chance on love, will she betray the past?

Kevin Gainer—Since the death of his father, Janice’s nine-year-old son has become the man of the house…and he takes his job as “protector” very seriously.

Maddie Gainer—Kevin’s six-year-old sister considers her big brother to be a hero like her dad.

Harlan Gray—The dedicated fire chief will go to the wall for his men; the only thing he can’t do is escape a pursuing councilwoman.

Councilwoman Evie Anderson—Has her eye on the most eligible widower in town, Chief Gray.

Emma Jean Witowsky—The dispatcher has an uncanny way of predicting the future—especially when it comes to matters of the heart.

Tommy Tonka—An adolescent genius in all things mechanical, but he needs help from his firefighter friends when it comes to girls.

Mack Buttons—The station mascot, a five-year-old chocolate dalmatian who loves kids, people and the men of Station Six.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One

He couldn’t stay away any longer.

It had been a month since the warehouse fire that had cost Ray Gainer his life. Now Logan Strong was en route to his widow’s house in a tract of homes on the outskirts of Paseo del Real in central California. He’d never be able to tell her or her kids the truth about what had happened that day. He wasn’t going to destroy the heroic legacy Ray had left behind when death had claimed the city’s firefighter.

But Logan owed Janice Gainer something. And Ray’s kids, too. If he’d acted on his instincts that morning, Ray never would have died. Janice wouldn’t be a widow, the kids would have a father.

The truth twisted in Logan’s gut. He’d vowed to bury the knowledge of what had happened that morning six feet under the ground along with Ray’s remains. Being a firefighter meant you were part of a closed fraternity. You didn’t blow the whistle on a brother, particularly when your brother’s own stupidity had let the red devil claim his life.

Maybe, if he handled it right, Logan could help Janice’s transition from wife to widow with the least pain for all concerned. Despite what had happened, he owed Ray that much. It didn’t matter that Logan had trouble looking the men of Station Six in the eye these days, afraid he’d give the truth away.

He’d never forget that he shouldn’t have allowed Ray to go up on the warehouse roof in the first place, or forgive himself. That was his failing—not listening to his own instincts.

He parked his Mustang at the curb in front of a two-story stucco house with a Spanish tile, fire-resistant roof. Like most of the houses on the curving street, there was a three-car garage, a postage-stamp lawn and a wide entry.

In this case, there was also a woman on the porch wrestling with an oversize, metal-framed screen door.

Logan smiled to himself as he got out of the car. Janice was no shy, retiring female, but he hadn’t pictured her as a handyman, either. She did, however, look fit in a pair of shorts and a tank top, her skin a golden tan.

At mid afternoon, the late-August sun baked down on the neighborhood, drying out the lawns and softening the tar strip between the asphalt of the street and the concrete gutter. He walked up the driveway and onto the walkway to the house just as Janice swore under her breath.

“Could you use some help?” he asked mildly.

She whirled, still balancing the screen door with her shoulder. Both her smile and her surprise were genuine.

“Logan! Oh, my gosh! I didn’t hear you drive up.”

Firefighters and their families socialized frequently, although Janice wasn’t always part of the group. Logan was secretly pleased at her instant recognition and her warm smile.

He reached for the pre-fab screen door, which included hinges and a latch, and held it up. “Looks like you were otherwise occupied.”

“Tell me about it.” Using her forearm, she swiped at the sweat on her forehead. Her dark hair glistened with the same perspiration, the natural curl frizzing around her face in a sable outline that emphasized its heart shape. “I’ve been telling Ray for years we needed a screen door to let the west breeze in on hot days and to keep out the flies. He finally bought the door a year ago but he never—” She stopped abruptly, then shrugged. “I decided if I was going to get my screen door, I’d have to do it myself.”

Logan pulled the door away from her. It was fairly heavy since the bottom half was ionized metal, only the top half a screen. “I’ll do it.”

She studied him a moment, her ginger-brown eyes assessing him. He saw lines of fatigue around her eyes, a sense of being overwhelmed in their depths, and none of the sparkle that had drawn him in during their prior encounters, despite her marital status. The urge to restore her optimistic spirit rose with the speed of a flame racing up a gasoline-drenched wall, and he forced himself to remember she’d been recently widowed. And why.

Slowly, she shook her head. “I’m trying to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

“Great. Think of me as a hired hand. My price is a cool glass of lemonade or a beer, whatever you’ve got.”

Relinquishing her hold on the door, she stepped back. “I really hate it that I don’t know how to do certain chores around the house. Ray always said he’d take care of things, forget my honey-do list was about two miles long. He didn’t like the idea of me doing a man’s job.”

“So let me get this door installed and you can check off one of the honey-do’s.”

“Guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Resting the screen against the doorjamb, Logan examined the contents of the tool caddie on the porch. It looked as if Ray had amassed everything he needed. “Have you got the screws?”

“Oh, yes.” Janice pulled a packet of screws from her back pocket and handed it to Logan. He was a quiet, serious man, one of her favorite people to talk with at firefighter get-togethers. A gentle spirit in a powerful body, she’d always thought.

Today he was wearing faded beige Dockers and a cotton sport shirt that tugged across his wide shoulders and tucked in at a narrow waist. His sandy-brown hair was trimmed to a medium length and combed back, lying neatly on his well-shaped head. Unlike some of the firefighters Janice knew, Logan always looked pulled together, even on his days off.

She’d often wondered why such a tall, good-looking firefighter wasn’t married, but she’d never thought it was her business to ask. Certainly Ray wouldn’t have been pleased if she’d expressed any particular interest in another man.

She watched as Logan measured where the hinges would go and marked the screw holes with a pencil. He appeared comfortable in the role of carpenter, going about the task with a minimum of wasted effort. She’d always thought of him as unflappable, both personally and on the job. A good firefighter.

“So how’s it going?” he asked as he picked up a drill and slid in a bit, tightening it in place.

“Some days are better than others.” The first week after Ray’s death had been a total blur, her children distraught, relatives coming in from out of town, neighbors helping out, firefighters and their wives trying to lend a hand.

She still felt numb, not so much with grief, although that was part of it, but with the frightening array of decisions she’d had to make. Ray hadn’t been real good about keeping her in the loop.

“My biggest problem right now is getting the insurance money. Chief Gray says the state is always slow. Since Ray was only in the department six years, what little pension I get barely covers the grocery bill.”

Lowering the drill, Logan looked at her, his gaze both sympathetic and intense. His eyes were hazel with touches of green and gold, she mused, realizing this was the first time she’d noticed that detail.

“There’s a widows’ and orphans’ fund that can help out in an emergency.”

“We’ll be all right. I filed the papers a couple of weeks ago for the life insurance we’ve been paying for since Kevin was born. I had to wait for copies of the, ah—” she stumbled over the word and swallowed hard, still unable to totally accept the fact that Ray was dead “—death certificate before I could do that.”

To her amazement, he tenderly cupped her face with his hand, using his thumb to wipe away a tear she hadn’t known she’d shed. His gentleness nearly undid her. She was striving so hard to survive on her own, she didn’t dare let herself fall apart. She might never be able to pull herself together again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, a lump of determination lodging in her throat. “I didn’t use to spring leaks like that at the drop of a hat.”

“You were very brave at the funeral. Ray would have been proud of you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I know I thought you were pretty terrific. The kids, too.”

She closed her hand around his wrist, holding on for a moment as though she could draw from his inner strength. “If I never hear bagpipes playing a funeral dirge again, it’ll be just fine with me.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Someday I’ll play a Scottish jig for you on the pipes. That will lift your spirits.”

“You play that awful, squealing instrument?” she gasped.

He laughed out loud, a deep baritone that rumbled through his chest. “In my family, criticizing pipe playing is sacrilegious. My brother Derek and I are fourth-generation firefighters and about tenth-generation pipers. But I admit it’s probably an acquired taste.”

“I’ll agree with that.” She found herself smiling back at him, her first real smile in, well, a month. Having Logan around was like a dose of chin-up medicine. “I’ll go stir up some lemonade. The kids are down the block swimming in a neighbor’s pool, but they’ll be back soon and probably ready for something cool to drink.”

“Then I’d better get busy so I can earn my keep.”

Logan waited until she’d gone into the house, then slowly exhaled. What the hell had made him touch her? Her skin was so damn soft, so warm. He’d known it would be, which is why he shouldn’t have come within arm’s reach of Janice, the widow of a man whose life he might have saved if he’d acted more wisely.

His hand shook as he lifted the drill and drove the bit into the doorjamb. Wood shavings curled back around the quarter-inch hole. Thank goodness his pants were loose enough that the telltale bulge behind his zipper hadn’t been obvious. Talk about lousy timing. He didn’t dare let his feelings for Janice get out of hand. Right now, what she needed was a friend, not some lust-crazed firefighter with an overactive libido.

Within minutes, Janice reappeared, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and four plastic cups.

“My gracious! You’ve already got the door hung.”

He opened the door for her so she could carry the tray outside. “It wasn’t that hard. I’ve still got to hook up the spring, though, so the door will close by itself, and then install the latch plate.”

“You’re a miracle worker, Logan. That door’s been gathering dust in the garage ever since I coerced Ray into buying it.”

“Half the battle is getting started on a project. The rest is easy.”

Setting the tray on the top step, she poured a glass of lemonade and handed it to Logan. Ice cubes rattled as he took a big swallow.

“In Ray’s defense, he was working awfully hard on his second job. It took most of his free time, but he wanted to build up our nest egg for the kids’ college money. You know how expensive an education can be these days.”

Logan’s eyebrows lifted. “His second job?”

“You know, the sales thing he was doing. He had to do a lot of travelling.”

That was news to Logan. Except that…on the morning of the fatal fire, Ray had arrived at the station late, not for the first time in recent memory. He’d been hungover and had complained about lack of sleep plus a long drive from Las Vegas back to Paseo. Grousing around, he’d been in no shape to fight a wastebasket fire, much less a three-alarm blaze in an abandoned warehouse.

“I don’t think Ray mentioned his job to me,” Logan admitted. “He probably told the other guys, though.”

She poured herself some lemonade. “I don’t know. You fellows seem to spend all your time talking about your heroic deeds with a fire hose, like you’re trying to impress each other.”

“It’s called one up-manship. An old tradition among firefighters.”

“It goes along with playing bagpipes, I assume.”

“Only a guy who’s really tough can get away with wearing a kilt.”

Her smile reached her eyes, making them glisten with good humor. “You gotta be tough and have great legs.”

“I have it on good authority my knees are knobby.”

Her gaze skimmed down his legs, and to his amazement, Logan felt the heat of a blush creep up his neck.

“I don’t think so,” she said softly. “It seems to me at department picnics, the wives have rated your legs right up there with the best of ’em.”

“Terrific,” he groaned as the heat reached his cheeks. “I always wondered what you women were giggling about when we men were giving it our all on the baseball diamond.”

“Now you know.”

He already knew more than he wanted to—that Janice had a great sense of humor and that he was more attracted to her than he cared to admit, even to himself. While she was married, he hadn’t had any trouble keeping his distance. He ought to feel the same way about a newly widowed woman—she was off limits. But he was having trouble remembering that.

Fortunately, the arrival of the mail carrier saved him from making a fool of himself.

“Afternoon, Ms. Gainer. Another load of junk mail for your recycling pile.” The young black woman, wearing navy-blue uniform shorts and a light blue shirt, handed over a thick fold of mail. “Hope you all are doing okay these days.”

“We’re fine, Alice. Thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been praying for you and your children. Your husband was a hero, Ms. Gainer. The whole town says so. It’s an honor to know you.”

Nodding, Janice looked embarrassed by the young woman’s praise. She glanced down and began to sort through the mail as the carrier went striding back down the walkway.

“You okay?” Logan asked.

She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hardest when people…she meant well enough, but a dead hero isn’t what I had in mind for a husband.”

Logan understood that. Worse, he was the one person who knew Ray hadn’t been a hero that day. He’d been an arrogant, hard-headed fool who hadn’t listened to Logan’s warning that the roof was about to collapse.

She lifted an envelope from the pile and ripped it open. “At last, the insurance company. This has got to be the check.” Unfolding a white sheet of stationery, she read it over, then sat down heavily on the top step of the porch. “This can’t be right,” she murmured. The color had fled her cheeks, and her trembling hand caused the letter to flutter. “It can’t be.”

Logan squatted down beside her. “What is it?”

“They say—” she shook her head “—they’re claiming the insurance policy lapsed more than a year ago because of lack of payment. But Ray—” She looked up at Logan with disbelief in her eyes. “Ray knew how important that money would be if something happened to him. I was supposed to pay off the mortgage with it. The children, me, that was our protection. Then the death benefit from the state would see us through for several years, till I could get a decent job. We’d talked about it. He knew we’d need the house paid off.”

Logan slipped the letter from her hand and read it quickly. “Maybe it’s a mistake. If you can find the canceled check, they’ll have to pay you the benefits. This is a reputable company. They’ll meet their obligations.”

“But what if Ray didn’t make the payments? What if he forgot? What will I do?” Her expression shifted, disbelief replaced by fear, deepening her eyes to a dark brown and sheening them with tears. “What in heaven’s name will I do? I’ve already got bills to pay. The funeral home. The fee for the plot. Dear God—”

“You’re not going to panic, that’s the first thing.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, stroking lightly. The funeral service had been huge, with every member of Paseo del Real’s fire department present while neighboring towns had covered in case an emergency occurred. Representatives from half the fire departments in the state and many from across the country had shown up. Police had been out in full force, so had many members of the community. Through it all, Janice had been a chin-up trouper. Her kids, too, considering their ages. Now she was falling apart. Logan was glad he was here to catch some of the pieces. “Then you’re going to go through your bank records. Chances are good you’ll find this is all a mistake. Meanwhile, the emergency fund will tide you over with whatever you and the kids need in order to get by.”

Her body shuddered beneath his hand. Vulnerable. Needing support. He tried not to think about how much he’d like to be the one she needed. Knowing what he did, he couldn’t be that man. Not for the long haul.

“I’ve been trying to sort through the records, but it’s like a maze. He had a half-dozen checking accounts. Some of them are closed, the others don’t show any balance at all. And I had no idea how many credit cards we had. It’s as though someone was handing them out like candy, and Ray accepted every offer that came his way.”

“Look, I don’t mean to butt in, but if you want me to, I’ll help you check through the records. Maybe together we can straighten this out.” Although he had the niggling feeling that whatever they found out wouldn’t be good news for Janice. Closed accounts and too many credit cards were a bad sign.

“I’ve been such a fool.” Her voice caught. “On all those talk shows, they warn you that a wife ought to know what’s going on financially. But Ray didn’t—” She fingered a grocery store flyer that had been delivered with the letter. “He didn’t think I was the smartest fish in the pond. He said he’d take care of everything.”

Resisting the urge to bunch his hands into fists, Logan wrapped his arm around her. Her hair smelled of a floral scent, like wild blossoms on a spring hillside. Fresh and invigorating. Elemental. So feminine it made him ache for her.

Damn it! She deserved better than to have been kept in the dark about the family finances. She deserved more than to be told she was dumb. She deserved somebody who would value her as the incredible woman that she was.

“Don’t throw in the towel yet, Jan. There’s still the state benefits, and the city provides something.”

She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I know. It’s just that—”

From across the street, two children came running, Janice’s son Kevin in the lead with five-year-old Maddie bringing up the rear.

“What are you doing to my mom?” Kevin demanded.

Janice broke away from Logan as though she’d been goosed. “Kevin, you remember Logan Strong, he rode on the ladder truck with your father.”

Kevin glared at Logan as if he’d committed some mortal sin—something that wasn’t ever going to happen, Logan reminded himself. At least not between him and Janice.

“Hey, Kevin,” he said. “How’s it going?”

The nine-year-old eyed him suspiciously. “My dad was a hero.”

“Yep,” Logan agreed. “That’s what they say.”

The chip on the boy’s shoulder was about ten feet high. “I’m gonna be a hero, too.”

“Good for you, son. I’m sure—”

“I’m not your son!”

Properly chastised, Logan agreed. “You’re right. But if you were, I’d be darn proud of you.”

The boy did a double take. “You would?”

“Sure. You take care of your mom, and your little sister, too. That’s pretty impressive for a nine-year-old kid.”

The youngster lifted his shoulders in a shrug that wasn’t all that uncaring. “I’ll do better when I’m grown up.”

Logan suppressed a smile. “I’m sure you will.”

Arriving at full speed, Maddie lunged into her mother’s lap. “Kevin cheated. He got a head start on me.”

Automatically, Janice stroked her daughter’s crop of dark, flyaway hair. “Look what Mr. Strong did for us. He hung the screen door.”

“My dad was gonna do that.” Curious, Kevin opened the screen. “He’s real good at stuff like this.”

“He had some nice tools,” Logan said. “The door still needs a spring and a latch. You could help me with the rest of the job.”

The boy glanced at his mother for guidance.

Maddie popped to her feet. “I’ll help you.”

Before Logan could respond, Janice said, “If you let these two minxes help, it’ll be another year before the job’s finished.”

“It shouldn’t take too long. We just have to install a screw eye, fix the latch plate and we’ll be all set.”

Janice looked at him skeptically. “You haven’t been around children much, have you?”

“I’ve got a couple of nephews but they live in Merced.”

“Well…” Smiling, she rose to her feet, the mail still in her hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Two hours later, Logan discovered he should have listened to Janice’s warning. The kids had argued over every step, little sister insisting she was big enough to use a drill, big brother insisting she wasn’t, and Logan scared one or the other of them would ram the drill right through his palm while he was guiding their small hands. That didn’t begin to cover his concerns about them using a chisel and hammer.

Finally he sent them both into the house to announce that the job was finished, and he put the tools away.

Janice appeared on the other side of the screen door. She’d changed into a clean pair of shorts and it looked like she’d done something with her hair, the natural curl softer now. More touchable.

“You must have the patience of a saint.”

“If I do, it’s the only thing saintly about me.” Certainly his thoughts were anything but holy when it came to Janice.

“We’re having tacos and refried beans for dinner. It’s not much in the way of a thank-you, but will you stay?”

“I probably ought to get going,” he hedged.

“I was hoping after dinner, when the kids are in bed and we can get a little quiet around here, you’d help me make sense of Ray’s record-keeping. But if you have something to do—”

“No. Nothing important.” He only had an empty house to go home to, no one waiting for him on the porch that overlooked the small fishing lake in the foothills of the coastal range, an hour’s drive from Paseo del Real. His hideaway, his family called it. That wasn’t far from the truth.

JANICE COULD BARELY remember the last time she’d served a man his dinner. Not that tacos and beans at the kitchen table qualified as anything special. But with Ray’s shift work, and then his second job, he’d been little more than a shadow member of the family, the most obvious sign he’d been home a new heap of dirty clothes in the hamper.

How long had she been living like that, more housekeeper than wife? And why, she wondered with a pang of guilt, was her grief colored with an edge of relief that Ray was gone?

Setting aside her troubling thoughts, she served up four plates and carried them to the table.

“You want that beer now?” she asked.

“I’ll have a beer,” Kevin piped up.

She punched him affectionately on his shoulder. “Milk or lemonade, big guy?”

“Lemonade,” he conceded.

“Lemonade is fine by me, too,” Logan assured her, winking at her son.

Kevin started eating right away, but Janice noticed Logan waited until she was seated and had picked up her fork. She’d let Kevin’s manners slip recently. Without Ray around, it had been easier to let things slide.

Her throat tightened, and she laid her fork down. Whatever chance they might have had to get their marriage back on track was gone now. Forever.

“You okay?” Logan asked from across the table.

Lifting her head, she met his gaze. He had the most sympathetic eyes, a penetrating way of looking at her as though he understood her pain. Her loneliness.

The guilt that she hadn’t been a better wife. Regret that she couldn’t mourn as deeply as others expected her to.

“I’m fine.” She forked some beans into her mouth and forced herself to swallow. “Ray used to rave about your clam linguini and said you were the best cook on C-shift. I guess tacos are pretty simple fare—”

“They’re perfect. Just what a man needs after hanging a screen door. Isn’t that right, Kevin?”

The boy looked up, startled. “Yeah. Mom’s tacos are the best.”

With a smile, Janice basked in her son’s compliment. Oddly, she felt like a houseplant that had been denied water for too long and at last someone had noticed. She drank in the refreshing nourishment Logan had made possible along with his praise. Then she felt foolish for making such a big deal out of something so insignificant.

“I help my mommy make cookies sometimes,” Maddie said around a mouth full of taco.

“I bet you’re good at it, too,” Logan responded.

Kevin scraped the last of his beans from his plate. “Chief Gray gave Dad a Medal of Honor postumlous.”

“Posthumously,” Janice supplied.

“Anyway, you wanna see it? Mom lets me keep it in my room but I can’t take it to school ’cause I might lose it. I’ve got the flag they put over his casket, too. They told me it used to fly at the White House where the president lives.”

“Logan may not be—”

“Sure, I’d like to see it. After we finish dinner, okay?”

Kevin beamed his pleasure, and Janice’s heart squeezed tight. Her son needed a man to show interest in him. Since Ray’s death, the boy had been more angry than sad. In a few short hours, Logan had turned Kevin’s sullen expression into one of anticipation. He’d make a wonderful father.

Janice started at that thought. Ray had been gone only a month and she was already betraying him by comparing her husband to another man. She couldn’t do that.

Ray’s children needed to honor their father’s memory. She needed to help them do that by being loyal to his memory, too.

Acknowledging her attraction to another man, even to herself, would risk undermining the needs of her children. For Janice, her children had to come first. Not a fanciful relationship with a gentle giant who was only trying to be kind to her.

Chapter Two

Glancing around the cluttered office, Logan shook his head. After the kids had finally gone to bed, he and Janice had spent several hours going through financial records.

“I’ve got to say, Ray wasn’t the most organized man I’ve ever seen,” Logan commented, in what had to be the world’s biggest understatement.

Janice sat cross-legged in the middle of the room, the picture of dejection. Checkbooks and bank statements surrounded her, credit-card reports piled at her side.

She sighed. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

Logan hunkered down beside her, wishing he could find something encouraging to say. “We sure haven’t found any sign Ray paid the insurance premium in the past couple of years.”

“If we were in such terrible financial trouble that we couldn’t afford it, why didn’t he tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“For that matter, how did it happen? I mean, when we bought the house it was well within our budget. I’ve hardly been extravagant with my spending, and except for Ray’s convertible, neither was he.”

While sifting through the credit-card statements, Logan had noted Ray was only paying the minimum amount each month, which meant the interest was building up. And there were a hell of a lot of charges from Las Vegas—hotels, restaurants, expensive items. Some pretty fancy meals locally, too. None of the charges looked like the bills any salesman Logan knew would run up.

An uneasy feeling crept up his spine. He was damn curious about Ray’s sales job, assuming he actually had been moonlighting and not indulging in activities a wife wouldn’t want to hear about. Ray had been closed-mouthed, kind of standoffish. He hadn’t socialized much with the guys on their days off, which Logan had taken to mean he was busy with his family. Now he wasn’t so sure. He sure as hell hadn’t heard a hint about Ray holding down a second job.

Dropping her head into her hands, Janice groaned, “What am I going to do?”

“Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Tentatively, Logan stroked her hair in a gesture much like she’d used with her daughter, except he wasn’t feeling at all parental. Her husband might have screwed up, but Logan was sure the state benefits would tide her over, at least for the near term. “I want you to come down to the station tomorrow and talk to Chief Gray. He’s a good man and cares about his troops. He’ll make sure you get what’s coming to you.”

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “I didn’t want to ask for extra help. Ray wouldn’t have wanted me to—”

“Ray would want you and the kids to be taken care of.”

“Then why did he forget to pay—”

“I don’t know, Jan.” He had the troubling feeling there was more to her husband’s neglect than met the eye. “At this point, it doesn’t matter. What you need to do is deal with one problem at a time. Paying the bills is the first problem. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

Gathering herself, she leaned back against the desk leg and wrapped her arms around her midsection. “Why aren’t you married?”

Her question caught him off guard. He didn’t often mention that part of his past. “I was. Briefly. It got so that my wife hated the sound of a siren. She couldn’t stand the thought of the fire chief pulling up in our driveway in his red car to announce I’d been killed in a fire. I guess you can understand that.”

Visibly, Janice shuddered. “A firefighter’s wife’s worst nightmare. I knew when I saw Chief Gray—” She glanced away. The pain was so visible on her face, in her every gesture, Logan knew she’d never put herself at risk like that again. Or her children.

He didn’t blame her. Despite the fact his mother and his sister-in-law managed to survive knowing that any given day could be their husband’s last, he understood why his wife hadn’t been able to handle that reality. And he hadn’t been willing to give up the career that was a family tradition.

Since then, he’d vowed never to subject another woman to the same possibility. Certainly not a woman who’d already lost one husband to the job. That would be the worst form of cruelty.

Janice scooped up the bank statements and stacked them neatly. “Someone very wise once said there was no sense crying over spilled milk. The kids and I sure could have used that insurance money, but if this is the worst that happens as a result of Ray’s death, we’ll get by.”

“I think my mother used to say things like that.”

“Mine, too. My dad just yelled at us kids whether we spilled anything or not.” She smiled at him and started to get up.

Instinctively Logan reached for her elbow. “You’ve got brothers and sisters?”

“Three brothers and two sisters, all of them in Missouri. That’s where I met Ray, while he was in the air force. He convinced me to drop out of college and come west with him. Truth to tell, it didn’t take much urging. I couldn’t see much of a future for myself in the small town where I grew up.”

“And I suppose you were in love.”

Frowning, she picked up some more papers, sorted them and put them in a manila folder. “A man in uniform is hard for a girl to resist.”

Logan noted her hesitation, the odd way she’d phrased her response, and wondered about it. Not that Janice’s relationship with her husband was any of his business. His role was that of a concerned friend. Nothing more.

He glanced at his watch, suddenly realizing the hour had grown late. “Guess I’d better get going. I’m on duty tomorrow.”

She walked him toward the front of the house. “Thanks for hanging the screen door. I can’t tell you how many years I’ve wanted one of those.”

“No problem. Let me know if there are any other chores you need doing. I’m pretty handy with a screwdriver.”

“Well, there is that ten-page list in the kitchen that I was telling you about, if you’re really interested.”

He laughed. “I’ll drop by next week and see what I can do. Meanwhile, thanks for dinner.”

“You’re more than welcome. I really do appreciate your help.” She extended her hand.

For a heartbeat, Logan hesitated, then took her hand in his. Her skin was too soft to wield a hammer, her fingers too delicate to twist a screwdriver. Instead, her hand was made for caressing a man’s flesh, soothing him after a long day. Arousing him.

Abruptly releasing her hand, he cleared his throat. “You’ll come by to talk to the chief tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She gazed into his eyes as though she had felt the same frisson of sexual awareness. “I’m determined to get my life together and not depend on anyone else, but I can’t let my pride stand in the way of taking care of my children. For now, I’ll have to ask for help.”

“There’s no sin in that, Janice. You’ll always be a part of the firefighter family, and we take care of our own.”

It was just a damn shame he felt something a lot more potent than brotherly affection for her.

JANICE PARKED her minivan behind Station Six in the employee lot, and the kids scrambled out. The main fire station in Paseo del Real stood three stories tall with living quarters on the top two floors and administrative offices at street level. The open bay of the main building housed two fire engines, a paramedic unit and the ladder truck her husband used to ride. A training tower occupied the far corner of the property.

Before she could warn Kevin not to, he hopped on the heavy wrought-iron gate that led to a back patio area and swung it for all he was worth. If she hadn’t known better, Janice would have sworn her son was part monkey. He’d swing from anything that held still long enough for him to climb on. To his father’s dismay, more times than not.

“I wanna swing, too,” Maddie complained.

“You’re too little,” Kevin countered.

“Uh-uh!” The five-year-old grabbed onto one of the bars, only to discover she had to run to keep up with her brother.

“Whoa, you two!” Janice snared Maddie’s arm before the child took a tumble. “Let’s try not to break our necks, okay? I’ve got to see Chief Gray, and I’d just as soon you two stayed in one piece till I do.” Under the circumstances, she’d also prefer not to run up any medical bills because her children were overly energetic.

“But Mommy—” Maddie whined.

Fortunately Buttons, a chocolate dalmatian who was the station mascot, arrived to save the day.

“Buttons!” Forgetting all about swinging on the gate with her brother, Maddie raced to greet her canine buddy. The dog lapped at her face with his long tongue, and she giggled.

Her heart squeezing on a rush of love, Janice smiled at her daughter. Ray had never wanted the children to have a dog or even a cat. He’d claimed a pet would be too much work for him, although it was clear Janice would have carried most of the responsibility for an animal. Maybe now that he was gone—

She abruptly halted the thought as a guilty sense of betrayal washed over her. She shouldn’t be thinking about the good things that might happen because Ray had died a heroic death. Right now, she simply needed to concentrate on the survival of her family.

Hank Smyth, the engineer who drove the ladder truck, waved at her from across the way. “Hey, Janice, how’s it going?”

She waved back. “One day at a time.”

A moment later, another firefighter had come out to greet her. And then another. Before long, she was surrounded by well-wishers. As Logan had said, firefighters were a family and they hadn’t disowned her yet.

“Look,” she said, “I’ve got to go talk to the chief.”

“We’ll watch the kids,” Hank volunteered.

“I’m in charge of Maddie,” Greg Turrick announced, swooping the child into the air and making her scream in delight. As was his custom, he burst into a country-western song about her being the love of his life, which turned Maddie’s screams into giggles.

“You got ’em, gentlemen. But be careful. They’re my life now.”

The smiles she got in return let Janice know the men were grieving, too, and doing what they could for her.

Blinking away a fresh crop of tears, she turned toward the entrance to the offices. Damn it! If she didn’t stop “leaking” soon, she’d have to start taping tissues to her cheeks.

She’d barely started down the hallway to the chief’s office when Emma Jean Witkowsky stepped out of the door marked Dispatch. The jingle of silver bracelets accompanied her steps, her dark hair bouncing in rhythm.

“Oh, Janice, honey, I’m so glad to see you.” Emma Jean gave her a quick hug. “I’ve been reading my crystal ball and the news is wonderful. Absolutely wonderful!”

“Is that anything like a network bulletin interrupting regular programming?” In spite of her troubles, Janice couldn’t help teasing the fire station’s resident gypsy-psychic who, according to informed sources, got more of her predictions wrong than right.

“No, of course not.” Emma Jean laughed. “It’s just that your future looks rosy.” She frowned. “Of course, it’s a new ball I’m using, and I’ve only been taking crystal-ball-reading classes for a couple of months. It’s a correspondence course. So, to make sure everything’s going to be okay, maybe I ought to read your palm—”

Janice brushed a kiss to Emma Jean’s cheek. “I’m sure my future is in good hands. Thanks for caring.” It was the next couple of months Janice was worried about, not the long-term future. She had to believe that somehow everything would work out. A crystal ball wouldn’t help her. She’d have to do it herself.

A few steps down the hallway, she discovered Logan waiting for her outside the chief’s door. In his dark-blue uniform with its sharply creased pants and wrinkle-free shirt, he looked stunning, a perfect model for Firefighters Monthly. She swallowed hard at the thought.

“I heard you were here,” he said in a low, intimate voice. “You look nice.”

A flush crept up her neck. She’d worn a simple skirt, a summery blouse and sandals. It wasn’t exactly a professional outfit—and certainly not suitable if someone had expected to see her in deep mourning—but she’d wanted to make an upbeat impression on Chief Gray. Which was silly, since he already knew her. Still, she was inordinately pleased with Logan’s compliment.

“You look pretty good yourself, fireman,” she teased.

“They tell me I clean up okay.”

Amen to that. Logan Strong always drew one of the top bids at the annual Bachelor Auction to benefit the burn unit at the local hospital. If he weren’t such a kind, sympathetic man who obviously felt some responsibility to help the widow of a man he’d worked with, Janice wouldn’t be spending much time with Logan. She’d simply be grateful for whatever help he offered. Beyond that, she’d have to keep her imagination in check.

No way had he felt the same sense of intimacy, of forbidden sexual excitement, that she had last night when they’d said goodbye. To even consider that possibility was to deceive herself.

Hadn’t Ray made it clear she wasn’t the hottest thing between the covers? There was no reason to suspect Logan would ever be attracted to her.

Besides, her loyalty belonged to her husband. It was far too soon even to be considering a relationship with any other man.

“The chief’s waiting,” Logan said when she didn’t speak. “I just wanted to say hello and wish you luck.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“If you’re still here at lunch, there’s plenty for you and the kids. You could stick around.”

“Kevin and Maddie would like that.” Both children had idolized their father and his career, the few visits they’d made to the fire station highlights in their young lives. Janice wouldn’t deny them that joy now that their father was gone.

LEAVING JANICE at the chief’s office, Logan walked upstairs and sat down alone at one end of the picnic-style dining table. The crew of Engine 61 had kitchen duty. Usually, a couple of times a week, whoever was stuck with the cooking would pay Logan a little extra to handle the task—pocket change. But not today. For the past month he’d turned down all their offers. Since the warehouse fire that had killed Ray, his heart hadn’t been in eating, much less cooking.

Or much of anything else, he realized. Unable to look them in the eye, he’d kept his distance from his fellow firefighters. In his own mind, he deserved to be ostracized from the brotherhood for not having taken the steps that would have saved Ray’s life.

Even during physical training this morning when the men of Station Six had jogged around a six-mile course at the local park and then done calisthenics, he’d lingered at the back of the pack. Keeping his distance. Acting like an arsonist afraid of being caught.

The same thing would happen this afternoon when they had a white-board training session on handling hazardous materials scheduled. Even if there were empty chairs, he’d stand at the back of the room.

Because if he got too close to these men who knew him so well, they’d see the truth about what had happened that morning. Logan would be the one to destroy the memory of a firefighter and make the medal his son showed off so proudly no more meaningful than a piece of scrap metal.

He couldn’t do that. In the brotherhood of firefighters, loyalty demanded that he keep his mouth shut and his damning knowledge to himself.

Over the loudspeaker, Mike Gables announced lunch was ready and men began to wander into the dining area for a menu of make-your-own sandwiches, apples, cookies and potato chips. Pretty simple fare.

Logan decided he’d wait for Janice and her children.

Getting up from the table, he wandered to the window overlooking the back of the station. Maddie was playing chase-the-dog’s-tail with Buttons; Kevin was hanging out with Tommy Tonka on Big Red, the 1930s-vintage fire engine the teenager was helping firefighters to restore. If all went well, the shiny rebuilt engine would lead the Founder’s Day parade in the fall. That was assuming they could find a new transmission or remake the old one.

He smiled as he saw Janice come out of the station. A breeze caught her skirt, molding it against her slender legs as she said something to her kids. A moment later, they all headed back inside. They’d be coming upstairs soon.

Silently he acknowledged he’d been unduly impatient to see her today. She might not be beautiful in the classic sense, but her genuine smile and the way her light-brown eyes lit up when she laughed had always tugged at something elemental within him. A reaction he needed to continue suppressing.

He met Janice and the kids at the top of the stairs.

“We get to eat lunch here with the firemens,” Maddie announced, as excited as most youngsters would be about a trip to McDonalds.

With mock formality, he bowed them into the dining room. “Step right up to the counter, ladies and gentlemen. All the ham and cheese sandwiches you can eat.”

Maddie giggled, Kevin swaggered ahead of his sister and Janice bestowed one of her heart-stopping smiles on Logan. He tried to remember she smiled at everyone that way and simply be glad he’d done something to boost her spirits.

Helping the trio get their lunches organized, Logan served himself last, then sat down at a table opposite Janice.

“How’d it go with the chief?” he asked.

“He’ll get me a check within two days, so the monkey is off my back for the moment.”

“Are we getting a monkey, Mommy?” Maddie asked around a mouthful of sandwich, mustard creasing the corners of her lips.

“No, honey. That’s just an expression.”

“Can we get a dog instead? One just like Buttons? I love him soooo much.”

From down the table, Mike Gables said, “My son’s dog Suzie is expecting, and we think Buttons could be the daddy. We’re looking for good homes for the—”

With a laugh, Janice held up her hand to halt Mike’s offer. “Why don’t we wait on that for a while?”

Formerly the most studly bachelor in the Paseo del Real fire department, Mike had recently married and settled into family life with an adopted six-year-old son and the boy’s former social worker. The youngster’s ragamuffin dog had been part of the package, a shaggy female of indiscriminate breed. Questionable morals, too, Logan thought with a grin.

“But Mommy, I’d love Buttons’ babies to pieces.”

“Yes, dear, I know.” Janice smoothed her hand over her daughter’s hair. “Eat your lunch now, honey. We’ll talk about getting a dog later.”

Kevin shoved his empty plate aside. “I’m all done, Mom. Can I go down the fire pole now?”

“You certainly may not! You know your father never allowed you to do that.”

“But, gee—”

Logan swallowed a chuckle. The pole that firefighters slid down to the fire engines when an alarm sounded was like a magnet to kids. During school field trips, a man was stationed at the doorway to make sure a youngster didn’t take an unauthorized ride down the pole—or inadvertently fall into the three-story-deep hole that surrounded it. But the children of firefighters generally sneaked a slide at least once as they were growing up. Kevin was plenty old enough to give it a try—but not when his mother was telling him no.

Coaxing Maddie to take a couple more bites of sandwich, Janice finished her own meal, then announced it was time for her to go. “I’ve got to take the children shopping for shoes. School starts next week.”

“I’m going to be in kenner-garden,” Maddie said proudly.

Logan smiled at her. “I bet you’ll be the smartest kid in the class, too.”

“I already know my letters and I can write my own name.”

“Good for you, sprite.” Collecting the empty plates before Janice could, Logan said, “Hang on a sec while I dump the trash. I’ll walk you downstairs.”

She waited, although the children didn’t. Kevin, wearing thick-soled, designer running shoes, the laces untied, thundered down the stairs with Maddie fast on his heels.

Janice followed more sedately, her hips moving with a natural grace. “I don’t know how my mother survived raising six kids. Those two wear me out.”

“You’re doing fine. They’re great kids.”

At the first-floor landing, she turned to look up at him. “Actually, my mother once told me that after three children, it becomes a crowd and they all entertain each other. I thought of us kids as a mob scene, but we did have some good times together.”

“Did you want more children?” Before the words were out, Logan knew he should have bitten his tongue. “I’m sorry. Under the circumstances, that was a really thoughtless question.”

“No, it wasn’t.” She shrugged. “I did want more children. Being a mother is one of the few things I do really well. But Ray wasn’t all that happy about Kevin—we hadn’t been married long—and then when I got pregnant with Maddie…” She let the thought dangle.

Logan frowned at that. He’d like to have kids of his own, but without a wife that wasn’t likely to happen, and he couldn’t imagine a man not being thrilled by any child that was his. “I’d say if Maddie hadn’t come along, then both you and Ray would have missed out on something special.”

Her wistful smile nearly undid him. “I know,” she said softly. “I told him that the day Maddie was born.”

As they stepped through the doorway into the bay area, her gaze scanned past the parked fire engine to spot her children. Kevin was back to the restored fire truck, turning it into a jungle gym. Maddie was nowhere in sight.

“Maddie!” Janice called. “It’s time to go.”

“Maybe she’s already out at your car,” Logan suggested.

“More likely she’s discussing puppies with Buttons.” She cupped her hands and shouted for Maddie again.

This time the child appeared from around the back of the fire station, Buttons faithfully at her side. The guilty look on the little girl’s face was as obvious as if someone had painted a big letter G on her forehead.

“What have you been up to?” her mother asked.

Maddie hung her head. “Nuthin’.”

“And what are you hiding behind your back?”

Slowly, the child extended her hand. “A pencil.”

Logan stepped forward to retrieve the item. It wasn’t a pencil but rather a thick purple felt pen like the ones the department used for white-board sessions. Harmless, he thought, until he examined Buttons more closely.

“Janice, I think you’d better come take a look at this.”

Cocking her head to the side, she scrutinized Buttons. “Oh, Maddie, what have you done?”

The child puffed out her lower lip. “I liked Buttons’ spots and I thought he’d look nice with more spots.”

“Purple spots?” Janice choked out, barely able to contain her laughter.

Logan was in the same fix. His stomach muscles ached from holding back a howl of his own.

The fire tone shattered the lighthearted moment. Over the loudspeaker the distorted voice of Emma Jean, the dispatcher, announced, “Engines 61 and 62, Ladder 67. Structure fire, Broadway and Twenty-fifth—”

Before the directions were finished, Logan had turned away. But the quick touch of Janice’s hand on his arm, as soft as a butterfly landing, halted him. He glanced back, seeing the echo of fear in her soft, brown eyes.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I always am.”

Turning again, he raced to the ladder truck, stepping into his heavy, fire-resistant bunker pants that he’d earlier stacked on the floor beside the truck, and he slipped his feet into his boots. He pulled his suspenders up in one fluid motion before reaching for his heavy turnout jacket. At the same time, he swung into the backward-facing seat where his helmet was waiting. The truck vibrated as the engineer started the motor and the smell of exhaust fumes filled the bay.

Seconds later, they were speeding out of the fire station behind the two fire engines, heading north on Paseo Boulevard, sirens screaming.

Logan kept his eyes on Janice’s stricken face until the truck rounded the corner.

The vow he’d made never to make a woman dread the sound of a siren was a good one.

Still, he couldn’t help wishing someday a woman like Janice Gainer would be waiting for him when he got off a shift, to rejoice in his safe return.

Chapter Three

The second day of school and already Janice missed her children. It had been bad enough when Kevin had gone off to kindergarten, but then she’d had Maddie to keep her company. Now the silent house mocked the maternal trauma of sending her youngest child to school.

They were both growing up so fast.

She went into the laundry room to take the clothes out of the dryer only to discover the barricade of towels she’d arranged around the bottom of the washing machine had sprung a leak. A puddle of water spread out across the vinyl no-wax floor.

“Oh, damn,” she muttered. Ray was supposed to have fixed the plumbing months ago. She couldn’t go on indefinitely trying to mop up the mess. Eventually the flooring underneath would get wet and rot. She’d have to call a plumber.

The doorbell rang, and she rolled her eyes. Who on earth—

In a peevish mood, she marched to the front of the house, peered through the peep hole in the door, and suddenly her heart felt lighter. Forget her vow to become independent, to stand on her own two feet. She hadn’t felt this giddy since her high-school days when her prom date showed up, and it wasn’t entirely because she needed a handyman around the house.

Opening the door, she resisted the urge to hug Logan Strong. Barely. “You, sir, are an answer to a woman’s prayers.”

A wicked smile slanted his lips, and he arched his brows. “I am?”

“Absolutely. Assuming you know anything about plumbing and you’re here to work on my honey-do list.” Or take her out to dance the whole night through.

He laughed, that warm chuckle that seemed to rumble through his chest and skitter along her flesh like a tropical mist. “Darn, and here I thought you had something else in mind.”

Janice flushed. At some very conscious level, she had been thinking of something else—something forbidden—but she didn’t want to admit that, certainly not to Logan. “I’m sorry. I mean, you said you might come back to…”

“I meant to come a couple of days ago, but I was studying for the engineers’ exam that’s coming up soon.”

“Then you really don’t have to—”

“Fixing busted plumbing is one of my all-time favorite things to do.”

“It is?” She looked at him incredulously.

“Sure. It falls on my list of favorites somewhere between cleaning out backed-up sewers and crawling through an attic crawl space on a blistering hot summer day.”

Delight fluttered in her midsection at his teasing tone. When was the last time she’d actually had fun with a man? So long ago she couldn’t remember.

“Do you suppose there’s a way I could clone you? Renting you out to distraught housewives would solve all my financial problems.”

With a welcoming smile, she opened the door and he stepped inside. Although he wasn’t a giant, he was tall enough that she suspected he’d played high-school basketball. And he was lean, like a runner, with great shoulders and well-defined biceps apparent beneath the stencilled T-shirt he wore, a souvenir of a recent 10K run in Paseo. Today he was wearing khaki shorts. His knees weren’t at all knobby, she noted. Instead, his muscular legs were worth writing home about.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

A vivid imagination on her part. Or maybe she was suffering from an extended case of celibacy. Since Maddie’s birth, she hadn’t been much interested in sex. To her relief—and occasional dismay—Ray hadn’t pressed her. Now one look at Logan and that’s all she could think about—hot, sweaty bodies. His and hers. Tangled sheets. An explosion of—

What she needed to think about was the swimming pool the plumbing had created in the laundry room.

“The washing machine.” Her breath caught in her throat, making her voice sound husky. Hardly an appropriate reaction when discussing a home appliance. “The connection has sprung a leak. Ray was supposed to—”

“Show me.”

Mentally chastising herself for mentioning her late husband in a critical way, she led Logan to the laundry room off the kitchen. She told herself if Ray hadn’t been so busy with his second job, he would have fixed the plumbing. But deep inside she knew that was a lie. He’d never been good around the house. She’d had to beg to get a new garbage disposal installed. The paint was peeling on the outside of the house, but Ray had never been interested in sprucing up the place. Only the garden, with rosebushes and beds of annuals, looked nice. That had been her own doing. She’d sunk a shovel into the dirt herself, added mulch and whatever else it took to make flowers bloom. Ray hadn’t seemed to notice.

Just as he’d stopped noticing her.

Logan leaned over the back of the washing machine. “You’re right. Looks like the hose has developed a split and the clamps are corroded. I’ll need some parts from the hardware store.”

“I can pay—”

“No, I’ll take care of it. It’s the least I can do.”

His odd tone sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “Why is it the least you can do?”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “I was on the roof with Ray when he fell. I owe him…and I owe you.”

Janice’s stomach knotted on that news. She hadn’t asked the details about Ray’s death, hadn’t wanted to know. And didn’t want Logan here out of obligation. But she did want him here. His presence pervaded the house with a new energy, a force that was more than simply filling the silence that had been troubling her. He radiated strength of character. Competence. And a subtle sexual power she couldn’t remember experiencing before.

The uncomfortable knot tightened in her midsection, and she couldn’t find the words to respond to his comment. Instead, she said, “I have to go pick up Maddie from kindergarten in a couple of minutes.”

He shoved aside the pile of towels she’d used as a dam. “Leave this Johnstown flood to me. Once I get the parts, it won’t take long to fix.”

She met his gaze, his eyes a deeper hazel than usual, almost brown, and unreadable. Or at least she didn’t want to translate the message she saw there for fear she’d be wrong and make a fool of herself.

“It won’t take me long to pick up Maddie. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. The tools are in the garage if you need them.” Janice fled. She’d never thought of herself as a coward. But she couldn’t describe her flight in any other terms.

At some very basic level, Logan frightened her. Or more accurately, her reaction to Logan scared the bejeebers out of her. She’d never felt this way about any man, including Ray, with hot and cold shivers racing across her skin, the confusion that should be limited to inexperienced adolescents. She’d been a married woman for almost ten years. Such nonsense, so many raging hormones, should have been well behind her.

Minivans didn’t usually burn rubber. But Janice wheeled out of the driveway so fast the tires squealed. Within two blocks she slowed, realizing she’d never be able to outrun her own wayward thoughts.

Junipero Serra Elementary School was a relatively new one, a sprawling one-story complex with two big play yards. Because of population growth, however, the school district had added four trailers for additional classrooms and there was talk of developing a new school on the north side of Paseo del Real to take the pressure off existing facilities. Taxpayers weren’t thrilled with the idea.

Janice parked the van and walked toward the separate building that housed two classes of kindergartners. Smiling, she acknowledged other mothers who’d come to pick up their children, some of them pushing strollers or holding the hand of a toddler. Regret slid through Janice’s chest at the thought she’d never have another baby to hold in her arms. Thank God Maddie had come along despite Ray’s insistence that one child was enough.

The adjacent play yard for the kindergarten children had one corner blocked off with a yellow tape where a three-foot-deep construction pit had been dug to install a new piece of play equipment. Vaguely, Janice wondered if that bit of construction wouldn’t have been better and more safely accomplished during the summer vacation. A yellow tape, like those used around crime scenes, hardly seemed strong enough to keep out curious children.

Like a cork on a bottle of champagne popping, the classroom door flew open and a stream of five-year-olds burst free. Maddie was in the middle of the swarm. She made a beeline for Janice and flung herself into her mother’s arms.

“Mommy!” she sobbed.

Kneeling, Janice caught her daughter. “What is it, sweetheart? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and tears tracked down her cheeks.

“Then what—”

“Hello, Mrs. Gainer.”

Seeking an explanation for her daughter’s distress, Janice looked up at Miss Sebastian, the kindergarten teacher. Her youthful complexion and pert ponytail made her look as if she should still be in high school, not a second-year teacher.

“I told the students this morning about Daddies’ Day in our classroom next week. I like to involve their fathers as much as I can in the children’s education. I’m afraid that’s what upset Maddie.”

Janice drew a painful breath.

“My daddy’s dead.” Sobbing, Maddie mashed her face against Janice’s shoulder.

“I tried to explain that grandfathers or uncles would be welcome, or any man who is special in their lives.”

Standing, Janice lifted Maddie, and the child hooked her legs around Janice’s waist. Her heart was breaking for her daughter. She hadn’t realized Maddie’s grief was still so raw. She was such a happy child, but now it was obvious the wound had only healed on the surface. Down deep, she was still hurting. Janice should have realized a month wouldn’t be nearly long enough for her children to adjust to such a drastic change in their lives.

“I’m afraid our family is all in Missouri,” Janice explained.

“Quite a few of the children don’t have a father at home, or their father works at a job where he can’t get off. Maddie won’t be the only child without someone here that day. I’m sorry.” Despite her youthful appearance, Miss Sebastian looked sincerely apologetic. “It had slipped my mind that you’d lost your husband so recently.”

“We’ll work out something. Maybe she can bring his picture—”

“No! I want my daddy!”

Pursing her lips, Janice hugged her daughter more tightly and fought her own tears. “Let’s talk about this at home, honey. Okay? Logan Strong is there fixing our washing machine.”

Maddie sniffled. “’Kay.”

Janice gave the teacher a weak smile. “She’ll be all right.”

“I am sorry—”

Nodding, she carried Maddie out to the van. No doubt this would be just one of a long list of adjustments she and the children would have to make over the coming months and years. But they were strong. All three of them. They’d come through this just fine. Janice would see to that.

BY THE TIME Logan returned from the hardware store, Janice’s van was back in the driveway. He parked out front and walked to the side entrance, carrying the supplies he’d purchased to repair the washing-machine hose.

The house showed lots of signs of deferred maintenance—peeling paint, bubbling stucco where water had seeped up from the ground, a swing out back with a broken chain. No doubt Janice’s honey-do list could keep him busy for years.

A chance to see her smile or hear her laugh would keep him coming back even longer if he allowed that to happen. Which he wouldn’t. Helping her transition to single mother was his only goal. Plus easing his own sense of guilt for not having acted to save Ray’s life, he admitted.

He rapped on the door before stepping inside.

“Did you get everything you needed?” Janice stood at the kitchen counter making a sandwich.

“Yep.” He held up the four-foot-long rubber hose he’d purchased. The necessary clamps were in a small sack he carried.

Maddie sat at the kitchen table, her chin propped on her elbows. She looked as though she’d had a really hard day at school.

“You want a sandwich before you start?” Janice asked. “I can give you a choice of peanut butter or tuna salad.”

“I’m having peanut butter and jelly,” Maddie said with a minimum of enthusiasm.

“Why don’t I work on the washer first? It won’t take me long.”

He went about the business of pulling the washer away from the wall so he could disconnect the old hose. Within minutes he sensed Maddie standing behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s up, sprite?”

“Nuthin’,” she said glumly. “How come you call me sprite?”

“Because I think you’re cute and bubbly.”

She watched silently as he pulled off the old hose and connected the new one. As he attached the first clamp and started to tighten it with a screwdriver, he felt vaguely pleased she was interested in what he was doing. He remembered watching his father—

“Would you be my daddy?”

His head snapped up, nearly giving him a whiplash, and the screwdriver slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. “What did you say?”

“I want you to be my daddy.” She stood there with big brown eyes, as serious as an old woman.

“I think your mom might have something say about that.”

“Say about what?” Janice asked, returning to the kitchen from wherever she’d been.

“Logan’s going to be my daddy.”

His gaze collided with Janice’s. Her cheeks were turning as pink as his felt. “I don’t know where she got—”

“Maddie, honey, I don’t think Logan wants to—”

“But it’s only for one day!”

His gaze dropped to the child. “What are we talking about?”

Janice stepped forward, looping her hands over her daughter’s shoulders and pulling the child back against her, holding her snugly against her own body. “Her teacher invited the children’s fathers to a Daddies’ Day at school next week. Maddie got terribly upset she didn’t have anyone to bring.”

“Oh.” Odd how he wished Maddie’s request had been for something more permanent. “Guess that is a problem.”

“Not if you’ll be my pretend daddy.”

“Honey, Logan may have work that day, and even if he doesn’t, he may have other things he wants to do.”

Maddie’s lower lip jutted out, and her eyes filled with tears.

Janice was providing him with all the excuses he could possibly need. But Logan couldn’t turn down Maddie’s request, not with those big soulful eyes pleading with him to be her daddy, if only for a few hours. Hell, no man would be able to resist such a tempting little minx.

He worked his way out from behind the washing machine and crouched down in front of her. “What day are we talking about?”

“Miss Sebastian said Wednesday.”

Logan touched the tip of Maddie’s nose with his fingertip, leaving a greasy smudge. “Well, you tell your Miss Sebastian I’ll be there with bells on.”

Maddie’s eyes lit up and she threw her arms around him, giving him a gigantic five-year-old hug. “I knew you would ’cause firemens are special.”

A lump filled Logan’s throat, so big he could barely swallow, and a band tightened around his chest. Among all the experiences he’d miss by not marrying, the thought of never having children hurt the most. Still, it was a choice he’d had to make after his one attempt at marriage.

Concerned he might be overstepping his bounds with Maddie, he glanced at the child’s mother. Janice’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

His tension eased, and he relaxed his hug around Maddie’s small body.

Clearing her throat, Janice said, “How about you change out of your school clothes, young lady, and let Logan finish up with the washing machine. We don’t want to keep him here all day.”

As though she hadn’t been down in the dumps only moments ago, Maddie broke free of the hug, her smile radiant. “I’ll change. Then I’ll come help him. I helped him real good on the screen door.”

“You certainly did,” Logan agreed, regret gnawing through him for what couldn’t be.

Janice rolled her eyes and leaned back against the doorjamb as her daughter ran off to change clothes. The child had more resilience than she did. More nerve, too.

“I don’t want Maddie imposing herself on you, Logan.” Janice had done plenty of that herself. “In time she’ll get used to—”

“It’ll be fun visiting her kindergarten. I like kids.”

He was wonderful with them, too, she mused. “I feel guilty taking you away from your own activities. Like studying for your engineers’ exam.”

“I’ve been studying for months. I could use the break.”

“When’s the test?”

“Two more weeks.” Reaching down, he picked up the screwdriver, rolling it back and forth in his hand. He had long, tapered fingers, almost like an artist’s. Hands that had been ever so gentle with her daughter. Just as his words had been.

“I gather you’re ambitious?”

“My dad retired a year ago as a fire captain right here in Paseo. His shoes are big ones to fill, but making engineer is the next step. My brother and I are in a race to see who makes captain first.”

“Who’s ahead?”

“Derek’s on the promotion list now for engineer in Merced. I’ll have to ace both the written exam and the oral to have any chance of making the grade before he does.”

“Somehow I think you’ll do just that.” She shoved away from the doorjamb. “Here I was trying to get Maddie to stop bothering you, and now I’m the one bugging you with questions.”

“You’d never bug me, Jan,” he said softly. “Not ever.”

A tremor of pleasure rippled through her. “I think I should…that is…” She stumbled over her words, her unruly thoughts tangling with her good sense. “I’m going to go wash Ray’s car and vacuum it. I’m putting an ad in the paper and hope to sell it this weekend. We still owe quite a bit on the loan. Owning a convertible is one expense I can do without.”

“Sounds like a smart move to me. You know how to price it?”

“I checked the Blue Book.”

“Good for you.” Nodding his approval, he eased back behind the washer, crouching down out of sight.

Deliberately, Janice turned away. She wasn’t going to make a big deal out of Logan’s kindness to her daughter, or fantasize about the intriguing timbre of his voice and how it raised gooseflesh along her spine. Or even how Logan, unlike her husband, seemed to think she had enough intelligence to make a reasonable decision.

She was a recent widow. Logan obviously felt a loyalty to her late husband. That was all she had a right to expect. She shouldn’t go looking for trouble.

Backing Ray’s Chrysler convertible out of the garage, she parked it in the driveway. The car had been an extravagance in her view, but Ray had been insistent. The symptom of a mid-life crisis, she supposed. She’d given in easily enough. He worked hard and deserved a little fun. Admittedly, it was a spiffy car—fire-engine red with a glossy finish. But for her and the children, the aging minivan would do fine.

She got the hand-held Dustbuster from Ray’s workbench. With the top down, it was easy to climb in and out of the car. She started with the driver’s side, trying not to picture Ray sitting there, smiling so broadly because he’d gotten a new toy. Teasingly, he’d called the convertible his “pickin’ up chicks” car. She hadn’t been particularly amused.

She tossed the floor mats onto the grass to wash later. The Dustbuster inhaled the collection of dirt and sand easily, and she worked her way across to the passenger side. She checked the glove box, setting aside the registration and the owner’s manual, vacuumed the carpeting on that side of the car, then climbed into the back seat.

The upholstery looked virtually pristine, no wear and tear evident at all. Thinking she ought to get a fairly good price, considering the car’s condition, she ran the vacuum beneath the front seat. When she brought the vacuum back into view, a piece of purple fabric dangled from its mouth.

She switched off the power and sat up on the seat staring at the swatch of nylon material. Her stomach knotted in apprehension. Slowly she pulled the fabric free.

Thong panties!

Could there be any innocent reason for another woman’s underwear to be in the back seat of Ray’s car?

Nausea rose in her throat. Could she have been so stupid, so naive as not to know Ray was having an affair?

She got down on her hands and knees, feeling around under both front seats. Her fingers closed over a small plastic tube. A lipstick.

Mango Madness! Never in her life had she worn that shade of lipstick. It would make her look like a hooker.

Trying to breathe against the pain that speared through her chest, she closed her eyes. To her dismay, she pictured a woman who had been at Ray’s funeral service. A stranger. Long blond hair. Dark glasses. Shockingly bright orange lips.

Outrage warred with the knowledge she had failed as a wife. As a woman.

Stomach heaving, she bolted from the car, collapsing on the grass near the flower bed she had so lovingly tended. She breathed deeply, desperately trying not to be sick.

Chapter Four

Wiping his hands on a rag he’d found, Logan stepped outside. He came to an abrupt halt when he spotted Janice kneeling beside a rosebush that was in full bloom, the hot summer sun casting her sable hair with highlights of red. Something told him she hadn’t taken a break from washing the car just to smell the flowers.

“Jan? You okay?”

It was a long time before she looked up at him, her ginger-brown eyes bleak, her face as pale as death.

Grief, he realized, feeling a punch in the gut. She’d been cleaning up Ray’s car and the memories must have overwhelmed her.

He hunkered down beside her. It was all he could do not to touch her, to soothe the frown from her forehead, to pull her into his arms to comfort her. But it wasn’t his place to do that. He’d been the one to let her husband die when the tragedy could have been avoided if he’d acted promptly. He might never get past that guilt.

“Tough remembering, huh?” he asked.

To his surprise, she opened her hand that had been closed into a fist. A skimpy bit of silky stuff appeared. A pair of women’s undies, such as they were. Vibrant purple. As sexy as anything he’d ever seen.

He swallowed hard as the image of Janice wearing those thong panties leaped into his head.

“You found them in the car,” he ventured, “and the memories—”

“They’re not mine.”

His mental picture shattered, the pieces separating like a child’s cardboard puzzle tossed into the air.

“I’d never wear thongs. I’d hate them.” Her whispered words rasped with pain. “I wear bikinis. White bikinis so I don’t get a pantyline and they don’t show through.”

A new image appeared. More innocent. Even more desirable. But he knew her thoughts were going in a different direction, the evidence of infidelity.

She opened her other hand to show him a lipstick tube. “This isn’t mine, either.”

“There could be a reasonable—”

“He was having an affair.”

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