“You Have The Right To Remain Silent,” Seth Said Sensually.

He moved his hands down Hannah’s arms and circled her wrists with his fingers as if he’d handcuffed her. “If you give up that right,” he continued, “then anything you say can and will be used against you.” He lifted her arms over her head and gently pinned her to the sofa beneath him.

His lips touched hers; he nipped at the corner of her mouth, then her bottom lip. His lips teased endlessly. Sensation after sensation shimmered through her, each one more exquisite than the one before.

Impossible, she thought dimly. This is simply not happening. She was certain that she would wake from this erotic dream any second. Only, she didn’t want to.

She wanted to know, wanted to feel what would happen next….

In Blackhawk’s Bed
Barbara McCauley

BARBARA MCCAULEY,

who has written more than twenty novels for Silhouette Books, lives in Southern California with her own handsome hero husband, Frank, who makes it easy to believe in and write about the magic of romance. Barbara’s stories have won and been nominated for numerous awards, including the prestigious RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America, Best Desire of the Year from Romantic Times and Best Short Contemporary from the National Reader’s Choice Awards.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

One

WELCOME TO RIDGEWATER, TEXAS. POPULATION 3,546. HOME OF THE WORLD’S LARGEST FRUITCAKE!

Seth Granger stared at the twenty-foot billboard depicting a smiling family of four standing beside a Godzilla-sized fruitcake with bright red cherries on top.

Fruitcake?

After eight years as an Albuquerque undercover cop, Seth thought he’d seen it all. He stared up at the towering depiction of fruits and nuts.

Apparently, he hadn’t.

Shaking his head, he downshifted, then slowed his Harley to the respectable speed of twenty-five. The last thing he needed was a ticket in this one-fruitcake town. After six hours on the West Texas highway in the blistering late-summer sun, what Seth needed was a full tank of gas, the biggest, juiciest cheeseburger he could find and a great big glass of ice water. By tonight, he’d be in Sweetwater where he could find a motel, then the closest bar. He’d been itching for an icy mug of Corona all day, and he could already taste the crisp, amber brew sliding down his dust-dry throat.

Throw in a pepperoni pizza, a pretty waitress, and that was about as perfect as life got.

A middle-aged woman walking a little black terrier on the side of the highway stared at him as he approached. The dog yapped and tugged on its leash, then circled the woman’s legs, nearly tripping her. Seth glanced at her as he passed. The woman glared back.

So much for small-town hospitality, he thought.

But even he had to admit he was looking a little scruffy. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his thick black hair was almost to his shoulders. He’d had to let it grow for his last assignment—infiltrating a meth-lab operation—and he hadn’t cut it yet. Top that off with a motorcycle and a pair of aviator glasses, and he looked like the front cover of Bad Ass Bikers.

The late-afternoon heat rippled in waves off the asphalt as he turned into the gas station and drew stares from the people gassing their cars. He rumbled to a stop in front of a pump and pulled his helmet off. While he filled his tank, Seth scanned the station. Everyone quickly looked away.

He wondered what the good people of Ridgewater would do if he yelled “Boo!” and started waving his arms around. Jump in their cars, most likely, and peel out of the station as if Satan himself was on their tail. The thought made him smile.

But he resisted the temptation to follow through. He had more pressing, important things to give brain space to than what the people of Ridgewater thought of him.

Like the letter in his backpack from Beddingham, Barnes and Stephens’s law office.

There’d been a mound of mail when Seth had finally come home after the fiasco of his last assignment. He hadn’t intended to read any of the tower of bills or advertising brochures that night. All he’d wanted was an ice pack for his aching hand and a bottle of José Cuervo.

But the letter had been on top of the pile, all those lawyers’ names staring at him like a neon sign, and Seth had picked it up. No doubt someone intended to sue him. Maybe a disgruntled drug dealer who hadn’t appreciated being arrested, Seth figured, or maybe that bastard in apartment 12-C who liked to beat up his wife had resented Seth’s interference a few weeks earlier. Jeez, the list could have gone on forever, he supposed and he’d dropped the letter back on the pile.

But as he’d filled a bag with ice, then poured himself a shot of tequila, he’d come back to the letter. That’s when he’d noticed the return address was Wolf River County, Texas.

He froze.

Wolf River?

He’d tossed back the drink in his hand, then reached for the envelope and ripped it open.

And now, standing here in this Ridgewater, Texas, gas station, Seth remembered every word of that letter. But no words more clearly than the second paragraph, third line…

…Rand Zacharias Blackhawk and Elizabeth Marie Blackhawk, son and daughter of Jonathan and Norah Blackhawk of Wolf River County, Texas, were not killed in the car accident that claimed the lives of their parents…

There’d been more, of course. The name of the lawyer to call at the office, a phone number, something about an estate, though from what little Seth remembered of his childhood, the small ranch his parents had owned certainly couldn’t have been worth much.

But Seth didn’t give a damn about that, anyway. All he could think about was the fact that Rand and Lizzie hadn’t died.

That they were alive.

Alive.

His first thought was that it was a mistake, a huge mistake. Or even worse, some kind of sick joke. But no one knew anything about his past. No one knew that for the first seven years of his life, until he’d been adopted by Ben and Susan Granger, Seth’s last name had been Blackhawk. Seth himself barely remembered.

Seth stared at the numbers flashing by on the gas pump. He’d only been seven then. Rand, his older brother, had been nine. Elizabeth—Lizzie, they’d all called her—she’d just turned two.

The letter had felt like a two-by-four slamming against his chest. The air had literally been sucked from his lungs. To find out, after twenty-three years, that the brother and sister he’d thought had died were still alive, was absolutely and completely staggering.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d sat there in the dark, on the edge of the sofa in his apartment, and stared at that letter. But when the light had begun to seep through the dusty blinds in his living room, Seth had finally dialed the lawyer’s office and left a message. Then he’d sat back down, with the phone in his lap, and waited.

It was true. The lawyer confirmed it when he’d finally called back. Rand and Lizzie hadn’t died. Rand had been found, but they were still looking for Lizzie, somewhere back east, or in the south.

Can he come to Wolf River? the lawyer had asked.

Could he come?

Hell, yes, he’d come, Seth had told the lawyer.

His heart racing, his hand shaking, Seth had hung up the phone, still sat there staring at the receiver for a full fifteen minutes. After that, he’d slept for the next sixteen hours straight.

The fact that he’d been suspended from the force for six weeks had made it easy to throw a few clothes and necessities into a bag and head out. It wasn’t as if he had anything to keep him in Albuquerque. No wife. No kids. No commitments.

Which was exactly the way he’d wanted it. He’d tried living with Julie, his last girlfriend, but the life of an undercover cop was hardly what anyone would consider a stable relationship. He never knew when he’d be home, or even if he’d be home. He’d warned Julie about his lifestyle, but she’d sworn she understood and could adjust to his erratic schedules.

So she’d cheerfully moved in, adding those little feminine touches around the apartment: sunflower coasters, a hand-knitted throw on the sofa, scented candles in the bathroom. Framed photos of the two of them everywhere.

But after six months, with more than half that time spent alone, Julie’s understanding had been stretched like a rubber band. When she finally snapped, she’d moved out in a dramatic display—a ritualistic burning of every photo of the two of them together, the pictures all tossed into a metal trash can that she’d placed in the middle of his living room. For good measure she’d thrown in the knitted throw, too, which had created so much smoke the fire department had shown up, along with a patrol car.

For weeks after that, he’d been the brunt of countless jokes at the station. A key chain fire extinguisher, smoke detectors, a fireman’s hat.

No more live-ins, he’d firmly decided after all that. He didn’t want that kind of complication in his life, and he wasn’t so foolish as not to know that once a woman invaded a man’s space, she immediately started thinking rings and weddings and babies. All those things were fine for a nine-to-five kind of guy, but he simply didn’t fit that profile.

He’d seen the agony on his adopted mother’s face the night his father’s best friends from the force had knocked on the front door, their faces solemn and heads bowed. Al Mott and Bob Davis had been Uncle Al and Uncle Bob to Seth for the past ten years. After the funeral, they’d both told Seth not to join the department. Go to college and be an accountant or an architect, they’d said. Seth’s mother cried the day he’d joined the Albuquerque Police Department, but she’d hugged him and given her blessing.

That had been ten years ago. Two years as a rookie, then straight to undercover. There were days, too many of late, that Seth thought Al and Bob had been right. Pushing a pencil and sitting in a cushy office chair was sounding more appealing all the time.

Especially after this last job, he thought with a sigh.

When the gas pump clicked off, Seth topped the Harley’s tank with another shot from the nozzle, tugged his helmet back on, then climbed back on his motorcycle. At the pump on the other side of the island, a gray-haired woman filling her white Taurus with gas stared at him. Seth slipped his sunglasses down and winked at her. Appalled, the woman quickly turned away.

Smiling to himself, Seth roared out of the gas station, knowing full well that every eye in the place was watching him leave.

He’d be out of this town and back on the road within the hour, he told himself. If he was lucky, sooner.

Tall elm trees and old Victorian homes lined the main road into town. Several of the houses had business signs out front: an antique shop, a law office, a doctor. On the lower left corner of every sign was the painted picture of a fruitcake. Seth shook his head at the absurdity of it, thankful he didn’t live here. He couldn’t imagine telling people he was from the land of giant fruitcakes.

Correction, fruit cake.

He was nearly at the end of the shady street when he spotted a child inside the white picket fence surrounding the large front yard of one of the homes. The child, a little girl with shiny blond curls, stood under an elm tree, waving her arms frantically. Seth slowed his motorcycle, then felt his heart stop at the sight of another little girl in the tree, dangling in midair ten feet off the ground, her bright blue pants obviously caught on the branch. A look of sheer terror on her face, the child’s eyes were squeezed tightly closed.

There were times when a person didn’t think, they simply acted.

Seth jumped the curb and crashed through the picket fence. His bike went down on the wet grass as he leapt off, yanking his helmet off as he rushed the tree, then scrambled up the main trunk to the branch where the little girl still held on.

“Hang on, honey,” Seth yelled to the youngster.

Eyes wide, the child turned her head toward him as he climbed out on the tree branch. The little girl dropped down another three inches as her pants ripped.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

“Be still,” Seth told the child. “Don’t even breathe.”

The child obeyed, but kept her eyes on him as he made his way across the branch.

“Maddie!”

Seth ignored the sound of a woman’s scream from the ground below. Inching his way out toward the child, he reached down and grabbed her by her waist.

“I’ve got you,” Seth reassured the child as he yanked her up. The woman who’d screamed, a blonde with a mass of wild curls on top of her head, stood in the V of the tree trunk, her arms outstretched as she reached for the child. Seth sat on the branch, then handed the little girl over to the woman.

“Mommy!” the child threw her arms around her mother’s neck.

Seth let loose the breath he’d been holding. That had been close, he thought with a sigh of relief. Too close. That little girl could have been seriously—

The branch underneath him cracked loudly.

Uh-oh.

Seth did his best to scramble backward, but the branch cracked again and went down, taking him along. The ground rushed up to meet him and everything went black.

Hannah Michaels watched in horror as the man and the tree branch crashed and fell to the ground. With Maddie still clutching her neck, Hannah slid down the tree trunk and rushed to kneel beside the unconscious man. He lay on his back, absolutely still, his long legs sprawled, his arms spread wide. She wasn’t even certain he was breathing.

Oh dear Lord, Hannah thought frantically. They’d killed him.

She pressed a hand to his chest, felt the heavy thud of his heart. A wave of relief washed over her. Thank God. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. He was alive.

“Madeline Nicole,” Hannah said sternly as she unwrapped her daughter’s arms from her neck. “You stand beside your sister and don’t move one inch. Do you understand me?”

Lip quivering, Maddie joined Missy, who stood several feet away, her eyes wide and fearful. The twins clasped hands and leaned into each other.

“Hannah Michaels, what in tarnation is going on over there?” Mrs. Peterson, Hannah’s next-door neighbor called out from her front porch. “Is that a motorcycle on your front lawn?”

“Could you please call Dr. Lansky over here?” Hannah said over her shoulder. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“An emergency?” Mrs. Peterson craned her neck. “What kind of emergency?”

“Please, Mrs. Peterson,” Hannah said more firmly. “Someone’s been hurt.”

“Hurt? Dear me, I better call right away then. Though it is Tuesday. He might be at the clinic, or he might have taken that grandson of his fishing over at Brightman Lake. He does that sometimes and—”

“Mrs. Peterson, please.”

“Oh, yes, dear. Of course, I’ll ring him right away.” The elderly woman spun on her orthopedic heels and hurried back into her house.

Hannah touched the man’s cheek, thankful that it was warm and not cold or clammy. His long, black hair fell over half his face and Hannah gently brushed it aside with her fingers. His features were sculpted, a rugged display of sharp, masculine angles that suggested to Hannah a native American heritage. A gash over his left eye oozed blood, and a lump was already swelling on his forehead. He moaned again.

“Lie still,” she whispered. “The doctor will be here in a minute.”

He answered her with another moan. His heavy eyelids fluttered, but did not open. Hannah ran her hands carefully over his shoulders, was amazed at the rock-hard feel of muscles under her fingers. His black T-shirt was torn from the collar to the arm, but she didn’t see any wounds there other than a deep scratch. She continued her exploration down his arms, praying she wouldn’t find anything broken. He seemed just as solid everywhere her hands moved: his chest, his thighs, his legs. Though every ounce of the man appeared to be solid muscle and he certainly appeared fit and in shape, she realized that didn’t mean he didn’t have internal injuries, a concussion or broken bones.

Moving back up to his face, Hannah winced at the sight of the nasty gash over his eye. She could only imagine the headache this man was going to have when he did finally wake up.

She reached into the pocket of her jeans for a tissue, realized she’d already used it earlier to wipe grape jelly off Maddie’s face. She glanced down at the pink T-shirt she had on, then took hold of the hem and leaned over the man to dab at the trail of blood sliding down his face.

Who was he? she wondered. Hannah had been born in this town and had lived here twenty-six years. She knew just about everyone in Ridgewater and the surrounding areas, but she’d never seen this man before. She glanced at his motorcycle, lying on its side in the corner of her yard. New Mexico license plates. Just another biker passing through, she supposed.

Hannah still wasn’t certain what had happened. Just a few moments ago, Missy and Maddie had been playing with their dolls on the living-room floor while Hannah had been arguing on the phone with Aunt Martha, the same argument she and her aunt had been having for the past two years.

“It’s not proper, Hannah Louise,” her aunt said every time they spoke. “A single woman raising two little girls in a backwoods Texas town. They need culture and family and a respectable upbringing.” And the demand that Hannah hated the most: “You absolutely must give up your ridiculous idea of a bed and breakfast. We’ll sell the house, then you and the girls can come live with me in Boston.”

No matter how many times Hannah had told her aunt that she and the girls were happy living in Ridgewater, in the house that had belonged first to her grandparents, then her parents, and now Aunt Martha and herself, Hannah couldn’t seem to make the woman understand. To make matters worse, after hearing the crash and Missy’s cry, Hannah had hung up the phone on her aunt.

But she’d worry about Aunt Martha later, Hannah told herself. At the moment, she had a more pressing, more important matter to deal with in the form of a very tall, two-hundred-pound-plus unconscious biker.

The man moved his head from side to side and groaned again. Hannah laid a hand on his arm and leaned closer. “Try not to move,” she said softly.

His eyes sprang open. Hannah opened her mouth to say something, but before anything could come out, the man sat abruptly, an expression of fierce anger on his face as he grabbed her roughly by the arms.

“Where’s Vinnie?” he demanded.

“Vinnie?”

“He was behind me, dammit,” the man demanded. “Where the hell is he?”

“I—I don’t know who—”

“We’re under fire, dammit,” he yelled at her. “Tell Jarris to hold back.”

Hannah placed her palms on the man’s chest and attempted to ease him back down on the grass, but she might as well have had her hands on a brick wall. His fingers dug painfully into her arms.

“I’ll tell Jarris.” She softened her voice. “You just lie back.”

He stared at her with dark, narrowed eyes, but Hannah knew that he really didn’t see her. Wherever he was at the moment, it was far away from here. And it certainly wasn’t a pleasant place, either.

He blinked at her, and Hannah watched the haze clear in his eyes. “What the—” He looked down where her hands were planted firmly on his chest, then back up at her. “Who are you?”

“Hannah Michaels,” she said evenly, though her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. “Now would you please be still until the doctor gets here?”

She pushed on his chest again, gently, but he didn’t budge. “Please.”

He hesitated, then finally his grip loosened and his shoulders relaxed. He lay back on the grass, then suddenly came up again, winced at the effort. “The kid—up in the tree. Is she—”

“She’s fine.” Hannah held pressure on his chest until he was flat on the ground again. “Thanks to you, she is.”

This man, however, was not quite so lucky. Hannah noted the growing lump on his forehead, the blood and scratches, and felt her stomach clench.

“My bike.” He lifted his head to stare at the Harley.

That’s when he started to swear.

“Maddie and Missy.” Hannah glanced at her wide-eyed daughters. They’d never heard such colorful expressions before. “In the house, on the sofa, right now.”

Still holding hands, the girls backed toward the house, then turned and ran up the steps. When the screen door slammed behind them, Hannah had to swallow the emotion rising in her. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if this stranger hadn’t come along when he had. What she needed to focus on was that Maddie was fine, and the man who’d saved her needed attention.

“I’m sorry about your bike,” Hannah said. “I’ll cover any expenses for repairs, plus medical bills and any other costs incurred to you.”

Of course, she had no idea how she would do that, but she’d deal with that later.

“Forget about it.” He started to rise again, then swayed slightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Hannah insisted. “Now lie back down.”

Seth didn’t want to lie back down. He wanted to get on his bike and get the hell out of this town before any more disasters befell him. But he wasn’t so stupid as not to realize that it was his head spinning, not the ground underneath him.

Dammit, anyway.

He just needed a minute, that was all, he told himself. Maybe two or three, before his equilibrium settled back down again.

He looked at the woman kneeling beside him. She was slender, with a wild mass of blond curls tumbling around her porcelain-smooth, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were as big and blue as the sky overhead, her lashes thick and dark.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Wide, curved at the corners, inviting.

Damn.

Then his gaze dropped lower, over the pink T-shirt she wore and he saw the blood. He frowned. “Is that mine?”

She glanced down. “Your head is bleeding. You really shouldn’t move until the doctor gets here.”

“I don’t need a doctor.” He attempted to stand, hesitated when the ground tilted, then pushed himself up onto his feet.

And immediately felt his legs buckle.

The woman’s arms circled him, steadied him even as the world around him swirled. He had to hold on or bring both of them down. He wrapped his arms around her, blinked several times and sucked in a breath at the rocket of pain shooting up his left leg.

“That’s gotta hurt,” the woman—Hannah—said impatiently. “Now are you going to lie back down, or do I have to get tough?”

If his leg weren’t hurting so badly, Seth might have laughed at Hannah’s threat. Since she weighed nearly half what he did and was probably six or seven inches shorter than him, he couldn’t imagine this woman getting tough.

But as she held him close against her, as the feel of her soft breasts pressed against his chest registered through the haze of pain, Seth began to imagine other things. His body responded to her closeness and the faint scent of her floral perfume. Though he was certain he didn’t need her assistance, he let her hold him for a moment, let himself enjoy her arms circling his chest and the feel of her slender curves pressed against him. He might be injured, but he certainly wasn’t dead.

“I really think you should lie down now,” she persisted.

In a different scenario, one where they were both naked, those words would have been music to his ears and he would have readily agreed. In this case, unfortunately, he simply wanted to gain his balance back and get the hell out of town.

He stepped away from the woman, wobbled a bit, then looked at his bike. He could see the front rim was twisted. Not good, he thought with a frown.

At the sound of a close, low growl, Seth whipped his head back around, which made the earth spin again.

Definitely not good.

Seth watched helplessly as a German shepherd the size of a pony came tearing at him.

Two

“Beau! Down!”

The animal stopped instantly at the woman’s command and went into a crouch. Seth released the breath he’d been holding.

Good God, he thought. What next? A swarm of killer bees would rain down on him or maybe a meteor would fall out of the sky and he’d be right in its path?

“Good boy,” Hannah said sweetly to the dog. “Stay.”

Beau wagged his tail and obeyed Hannah’s command, but his black eyes quickly darted back to the stranger.

“Nice dog you’ve got there.” Seth kept a close eye on the animal.

“He belongs to Mrs. Peterson, but he’s sort of adopted me and the girls. He’ll be fine now.” Hannah turned back around. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Did I say I was worried?” Seth said irritably. “I crash my motorcycle through fences, fall out of trees and face ferocious dogs all the time. Just another day in the life.”

Hannah raised a brow. “You must have a very interesting life, Mr—”

“Granger. Seth Granger.”

“Well, Mr. Granger,” she said. “Since you’re so determined to be up, why don’t we get you inside? The doctor should be here shortly and he can take a look at that head of yours.”

“There’s nothing to look at,” Seth insisted, then frowned when the woman smiled. “I mean, I’m fine.”

“Maybe so, but it wouldn’t hurt to—”

“Look.” He brushed grass off his shirt. “I appreciate your concern, and I’m glad your little girl is all right. I’ll just stop by a repair shop in town and have my bike checked, then be on my way.”

Seth wasn’t certain exactly what happened next. He’d taken a step toward his bike and his leg just went out from under him. Hannah gasped and made a lunge at him, but as her arms came around him, intended to stop his fall, she went down, too.

Because he couldn’t stop it, he held her tight and brought her down on top of him, rather than underneath him.

Damn. This was the second time he’d found himself holding this woman close. She felt even better this time, with her body snug against his, lying on top of him. The heat of her skin seeped through his T-shirt and the feel of her long legs stretched out over his made the pain in his leg and the pounding in his head secondary.

At the sound of a low growl, Seth closed his eyes, then sighed heavily.

“All right,” he said through clenched teeth. “You and Killer here win. I’ll wait for the doc.”

“You’re a lucky man.” Dr. Lansky, dressed in a blue plaid shirt and beige fisherman shorts, pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at his patient’s leg. “Looks like you’ve got just a nasty sprain instead of a break.”

Since the doctor and Hannah had brought Seth into the house and settled him on the sofa, then stripped off his torn T-shirt and slit his jeans open to expose his ankle, he’d been surrounded by chaos. The phone had rung several times, neighbors had knocked on the door and a small crowd had gathered to watch Seth’s motorcycle be towed away by the repair shop. His head was pounding like a drum and his leg hurt like a son of a bitch.

Of all the things that Seth felt, lucky was not one of them.

He ground his teeth together, struggling to hold back the swear words threatening to erupt. At least the cut on his head hadn’t required stitches and the scratch on his shoulder was only superficial. He glanced at Hannah, who stood beside the sofa, her pretty lips pressed together with concern. Seth watched as two little blond, curly-topped heads—obviously twins—peeked from each side of their mother’s hips and stared at him with big blue eyes.

With that blond hair and those blue eyes, Seth thought, there was no question the girls looked like their mother. Given all this commotion, Seth couldn’t help but wonder where the twins’ father was.

Seth glanced at Hannah’s hand. No ring.

“We should X-ray to be sure, though.” The balding doctor continued to stare at Seth’s swollen ankle. “Can’t be too careful, you know.”

“I can drive him to the hospital,” Hannah offered. “Just let me get my—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Seth shook his head, wished that he hadn’t when a bolt of pain shot through his skull. “It’s not broken.”

“So, Mr. Granger—” the doctor slipped his glasses off and settled them in the pocket of his shirt “—along with your ability to fly and scale tall trees in a single bound, you also have X-ray vision?”

“I’ve had a broken bone or two.” Four to be exact, Seth thought, plus he’d been shot once and stabbed twice. He’d be damned if he’d let a twisted ankle get the better of him. “I’ll be fine by the morning.”

“I’m sure you will.” The doctor took a prescription pad out of the black leather bag he’d brought over. “In the meantime, you might want to take some pain medication. I recommend that you stay off that foot for several days.”

“That’s not possible. I need to get back on the road right away.”

Dr. Lansky ripped the prescription from his pad, then handed it to Hannah. “I don’t see any signs of concussion, but keep an eye on him, anyway. Clammy skin, eyes dilated, confusion.”

“Should I change the dressing over his eye?” she asked.

“In the morning should be fine, you can—”

“Hey,” Seth interrupted. “First of all, I’m sitting right here, you can talk to me. Second, I can change my own dressing. And third, I won’t be here in the morning.”

“Whatever you say.” With raised eyebrows, the doctor glanced at Hannah, then looked at the two little girls and smiled. “Mrs. Lansky is outside passing out cookies. You girls want one?”

The children looked earnestly at their mother. Clearly they understood they’d caused all the commotion, but cookies were cookies, after all, and they could only hope.

Any other time, Hannah would have said absolutely not. Any other time, her daughters would be sitting in their room with a major time-out, probably until they were old enough to drive.

But the fact was, Hannah herself was still shaken by the afternoon’s events. She needed a minute or two to gain her composure and every time she looked at Maddie, every time she thought about what might have happened, her hands started to shake.

She crossed her arms and gave Maddie and Missy her you-are-both-in-big-trouble look. “One cookie, then up to your rooms.”

The girls skipped out ahead of the doctor, who cast one long, disapproving look at Seth, then went out the front door.

“I don’t believe it.” Seth laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I crash my bike and your neighbors are out socializing in your front yard and passing around cookies. Probably fruitcake cookies.”

“Probably chocolate chip, if Mrs. Lansky made them.” Hannah moved closer to the couch. “Would you like one?”

He glanced up at her, and his narrowed, dark expression might have made her step away if she hadn’t already figured out he wasn’t nearly as dangerous as he appeared.

Well, at least, she didn’t think he was.

She’d been so worried for the past hour, she hadn’t taken the time to really look at the man. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he practically filled her small, rose floral sofa. Dr. Lansky had raised his patient’s left leg onto her coffee table, and she’d slipped a sofa pillow under his sprained ankle. He hadn’t complained once that he was in pain, but she’d seen a muscle twitch in his jaw when the doctor had asked him to bend his foot.

His hair was long, nearly to his shoulders, black and thick and shiny. His eyebrows, just as dark as his hair, slashed over eyes as hard and black as obsidian. His strong, square jaw hadn’t been shaved for a while, which only added to that menacing look of his face, and underneath his firm, serious mouth, was a small, jagged scar.

She noticed another scar that sliced like a lightning bolt across his right bicep, let her gaze slide downward to his broad, bare chest, a chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair that narrowed downward over a hard, flat belly and disappeared behind the snap of his jeans.

Oh, my.

Hannah swallowed hard, then jerked her eyes back up to his face. Her heart skipped as he met her gaze with his own. His expression wasn’t quite as fierce as it had been a moment ago, though it was certainly just as intense. She might have been offended at the blatant interest in his eyes if she hadn’t been the one staring so hard at him.

“Mr. Granger—”

“Seth.”

“Seth.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving Maddie the way you did.”

When he said nothing, just gave her a look that said he might have a suggestion or two, Hannah quickly continued. “I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but from what little I managed to gather, she’d accidentally tossed Suzie, her doll, up in the tree and it caught on a branch. Both of my daughters then conveniently forgot they aren’t allowed to climb trees without adult supervision. If you hadn’t come along when you did—”

“I did,” Seth said with a shrug. “And she’s fine.”

“Yes.” Hannah heard her daughters’ laughter outside on the porch and said a silent prayer of thanks. “But you, however, and your motorcycle, are not. I’m deeply sorry for that, and any inconvenience we’ve caused you.”

“Look,” Seth sighed, “it’s done, and it is what it is. I’ll stay overnight in town, get my bike back in the morning and be on my way.”

Hannah put a hand out to stop Seth when he lifted his leg and set it on the floor, but he ignored her warning. She watched as his jaw tightened, and his face went pale. The slow breath he exhaled pretty much said it all: he wasn’t going anywhere on that leg. Not now, and not in the morning, either.

Men. They could be such fools at times.

“Seth.” She sat on the sofa beside him and gently lifted his leg back up on the cushion. Perspiration beaded his forehead. “I admire your determination, but it might be time for you to consider a new plan. I have a suggestion.”

“I can hardly wait to hear.” Seth closed his eyes and laid his head back on the sofa.

“Good. Because you’re going to.”

One of his eyes slid open. Hannah ignored the frown he gave her, then reached for the damp washcloth she’d laid on the coffee table and dabbed at his forehead.

He reached up and wrapped his hand around her upper arm.

Breath held, she waited for him to release her, but he didn’t. Both of his eyes were open now, that dark, intense gaze completely focused on her.

Hannah felt her pulse race as he continued to stare silently at her. His hand moved slowly up her arm; the texture of his callused palm on her skin sent ripples of electricity shimmering through her body.

She stared back at him, too startled to move, too startled even to speak. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Never experienced anything like him. When his gaze drifted to her mouth, her insides fluttered. The heat of his body, the masculine scent of his skin, overwhelmed her.

Time stopped. Time and a sense of where she was, who she was, and certainly who she was with. Nothing seemed to exist but this moment, this incredible heart-stopping, mind-blowing instant. If she’d had the presence of mind, she would have pulled away, would have even been offended at the brazen stroke of his thumb on her arm. But she didn’t pull away. She wasn’t offended.

She was turned on.

Her skin felt hot, she had trouble breathing and her breasts ached.

How is this possible? Hannah asked herself numbly. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who could be turned on by a stranger—she wasn’t even the kind of woman who was turned on by men she knew, for heaven’s sake. She’d accepted the fact long ago that she wasn’t like most women. Sex, when she’d been married, had been all right, she supposed, but she’d never understood what all the hoopla had been about.

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“What?” Hannah blinked, stared at Seth, then blinked again. She had all kinds of suggestions, none of which she would have had the courage to speak out loud. “Suggest?”

“You said you have a suggestion.” His hand slid up to her wrist, then he tugged the washcloth from her fingers and tossed it on the coffee table. “So what is it?”

A suggestion? Hannah struggled to gain her composure and remember exactly what she’d said before he’d touched her and turned her world upside down.

“I—you…well—” Hannah felt her cheeks flush, knew she sounded like a babbling idiot. So she just blurted it out. “You can stay here.”

“Here?” He tilted a look at her. “You mean in your house?”

“Yes.” Her pulse was still racing, but her breathing was nearly back to normal, thank goodness. “I’ve been converting my house to a bed-and-breakfast for the past six months. I only have two more bedrooms to finish and then I can open for business. You can stay in one of the rooms I’ve finished.”

He stared at her for what felt like minutes, though it was only seconds. She waited, breath held, until he finally said, “You’d let a complete stranger stay in your house?”

“I realize how naive that sounds,” Hannah said evenly. “But after what you did, the way you never even gave a thought to yourself when you saved Maddie, the way you talked to her when you climbed out on that branch, well, I’m certain you’re a person I can trust. I’ll just consider you the first guest of the Wild Rose.”

“The Wild Rose?”

“That’s what I’m going to call my bed-and-breakfast,” Hannah said. “You won’t even have to walk up any stairs. I have two finished guest rooms on the ground floor. You can have your pick.”

“Hannah.” Seth shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well, actually, that’s not completely true.” Hannah shifted awkwardly. “Mrs. Peterson found your wallet on my front lawn. She insisted that it was lying open and she ‘just happened’ to notice your Albuquerque police badge.”

He lifted a brow. “‘Just happened’ to notice?”

Hannah reached for the wallet sitting on the end table. “Along with the fact that you’re single, thirty years old, six-foot-four, with black eyes and black hair.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t ‘just happen’ to notice my weight and the fact that I’m an organ donor, too,” he said sarcastically.

“Actually, she did. I’m sorry.” Her cheeks turned pink as she handed him the wallet. “You’re already a bit of a celebrity here. Billy Bishop from the Ridgewater Gazette wants to do a cover story on you.”

Terrific. Seth held back on the groan threatening to surface. Jarris would just love hearing that one of his undercover detectives had his picture plastered on the front page of this backwater town. Throw in the story about how he’d broken his superior’s nose after a bad bust last week, then how he’d been suspended for six weeks, and Jarris would probably be so happy he’d burst a blood vessel.

“No story. You tell Billy Bob—”

“Billy Bishop.”

“Whatever. You tell him absolutely, positively, no story.”

“I’ll try,” Hannah said hesitantly. “But you don’t know Billy.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Seth stared at the bag of frozen peas covering his ankle. As much as he hated to admit it, his foot hurt like hell. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had to face the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere today and probably not tomorrow, either. “I’ll need to speak to the tow-truck driver before he leaves. I’ll need some kind of time frame on the repairs.”

“I’ll go see if he’s still here.” Hannah stood, glanced toward the front door and the sound of people talking outside. “I—I am sorry about all this. My daughters are usually very well behaved, but sometimes they act up when—” she hesitated, then drew in a slow breath “—when there’s a lot going on.”

Seth could tell that Hannah had been about to say one thing, then quickly changed her mind. He admitted it made him curious, but he shrugged it off. Whatever she’d been about to say was none of his business. Unless a person was a criminal or under investigation, he made it a rule never to interfere or pry into anyone’s life. He figured if he didn’t want people butting into his life, then he should keep his nose out of their business, as well.

But there was one thing he wanted to know, though. One thing he felt he needed to know. He glanced at her ringless hand again, but wasn’t about to make any assumptions.

“Will your husband have a problem with me staying here?”

She stilled at his question, then slowly shook her head. “I’m divorced. It’s just me and the girls here.”

Since he wouldn’t be around more than a couple of days, Seth knew it shouldn’t matter to him one way or the other, but the fact she was divorced pleased him. He supposed he just didn’t like the idea of lusting after a married woman. Though he didn’t have many rules in his life, there were a few he never broke.

“So you’re opening a bed-and-breakfast all by yourself?”

“Not exactly. My friend, Lori, is going to work with me two or three days a week, plus Mrs. Peterson next door has already offered her help if I need it. I’m not foolish enough to think I’ll have full occupancy the minute I open my doors, but there’s only one motel in town and we get quite a few people traveling through here.”

“Looking for the world’s largest fruitcake?”

She smiled, didn’t seem to take offense at the slight mocking tone in his voice. “As simple as it might sound to you, the giant fruitcake Wilhem’s Bakery bakes once a year is this town’s claim to fame. Most of the people who live here take it very seriously. And believe it or not, we get our fair share of tourists. With only one small motel in Ridgewater, I should be able to make a living, at least enough to support me and the girls.”

She turned at the knock on her front door. Her expression was apologetic when she looked back at him.

“My neighbors kept a respectable distance while the doctor was in here with you,” she said with a sigh. “But they can only be held at bay for so long. Whether you like it or not, you’re a hero, Mr. Granger, and the town of Ridgewater, Texas, home of the world’s largest fruitcake, is about to welcome you.”

Three

Hannah kept a safe distance from Seth for the rest of the evening. Not that she could have gotten close to him even if she’d wanted to. The town’s phone wires had been burning up since Detective Granger had plowed through her fence and rescued Maddie, and there’d been a steady stream of people coming through the house for the past two hours to meet this mystery man. And though Hannah certainly didn’t approve, Maddie and Missy were the belles of the ball, receiving as much attention as Seth, with everyone telling them what brave little girls they were and patting them on the head. The twins were eating it up and had been eager to retell the incident over and over, embellishing the story each time, until it appeared that Seth truly was the man of steel.

The only thing missing was his red cape and a big S on his chest.

While Maddie and Missy sat together on a chair in the living room and told their story one more time to Helen Myers, a waitress at the town’s diner, Hannah stood by the kitchen door and watched Billy Bishop attempt to pump Seth for information. Though he’d been stiffly polite to the people who had come to meet and gawk at a real, live superhero, Seth was having no part of Billy’s questions.

He still sat on the sofa, his leg on display as if it were a war monument, his face looking as if it might crack at any moment. Everyone oohed and ahhed and shook their heads with sympathy while Billy asked Seth what he’d been thinking when he’d so selflessly snatched Maddie from the tree branch. Seth glared at the twenty-three-year-old, spiky-blond-haired reporter, and Hannah doubted that Billy really wanted to know what Seth was obviously thinking at the moment.

Like it or not—and clearly he didn’t—Seth Granger was big news in Ridgewater. Outside of barbed wire and armed guards, Hannah could see no way to keep her neighbors and townspeople away.

At least they’d come prepared, she thought as she looked at her dining-room table. At present count, she’d received three casseroles, a broccoli-bacon salad, two apple pies, a pecan coffee cake and one half-frozen fruitcake. Since Hannah had set out plates, silverware and coffee, the noise level in the room had dropped several decibels while people ate.

“I saw the whole thing,” Hannah heard Mrs. Peterson tell George Fitzer, who’d just arrived on the scene and was filling a plate with macaroni and cheese. “He was amazing. Truly amazing.”

“We should give him a trophy,” Mrs. Hinkle, the town librarian said.

“For heaven’s sake, Mildred.” Mrs. Peterson rolled her eyes. “The man didn’t bowl a perfect game, he saved a child.”

“Well, maybe a medal, then.” Mrs. Hinkle reached for the last piece of coffee cake. “Or a plaque.”

“I know what I’d like to give him.”

Startled, Hannah turned at the sound of the voice behind her, saw the look of appraisal in her best friend’s eyes as she stared at Seth.

“Lori Simpson,” Hannah whispered over her shoulder, “shame on you. You’re a married woman and mother of three.”

“What?” Lori, a pretty redhead with big green eyes, gave Hannah an expression of complete innocence. “I was going to say a coconut cream pie.”

Hannah lifted one brow in doubt.

Lori stared across the room and grinned. “And after I smeared the whipped cream all over his body, I’d slowly lick it all off and—”

“Stop.” Hannah felt her cheeks start to warm. In fact, she felt her entire body start to warm at the image Lori had just given her. “You have a gorgeous husband who adores you. How can you talk like that?”

“Oh, Hannah, I’m kidding.” Lori looked back at Seth. “Sort of. And for heaven’s sake, it’s not as if I’d ever do anything like that. Well, except with John, of course. That man is absolutely amazing in the bedroom. Just last week he—”

“Stop!” Hannah put a hand over Lori’s mouth. The last thing Hannah wanted to hear about right now was her best friend’s bedroom escapades. She didn’t want to hear about anyone’s bedroom activities, for that matter. Since her own sex life was so abysmal, it was better to simply leave that subject alone. “Where’s John?”

“He’s home with the kids. Patrick is working on his one-year molars and Nickie, my little drama queen, had a wart burned off her pinkie today and is walking around as if the doctor had amputated.” Lori watched Elma Thumple walk in with a plate of brownies and snagged one as the woman passed by. “Bless his heart, John offered to stay home so I could come over and meet the man who saved my goddaughter’s life. So give me details. Tell Auntie Lori exactly what happened.”

Lori might not officially be Maddie and Missy’s aunt, Hannah thought, but Lori had been through the worst of everything with Hannah for the three years since her divorce. Hannah didn’t know how she would have made it through everything without Lori’s friendship. As far as Hannah was concerned, Lori was as real a sister to her as if they had shared a mother.

“Maybe later, Lor.” Hannah shook her head, blinked at the sudden moisture in her eyes. “It’s been a long day. A tough one.”

“Oh, honey.” Lori frowned and slipped an arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Knowing this town, I assumed the accounts had been grossly exaggerated when you hadn’t called me yourself.”

“I—I was just so…dazed. And frightened. It all happened so fast.” Darn it, where were these tears coming from? The last thing she needed was to start blubbering in front of all these people. “I’m sorry.”

“Never mind.” Lori hugged her. “We’ll talk later, over a bottle of wine and a box of tissues.”

Hannah had replayed the scene over and over in her mind at least a hundred times in the past three hours: Seth climbing out on that branch while Maddie hung in midair, Seth pulling Maddie up, then handing her over. The crack of the branch and Seth falling. Every single time those images flipped through her brain, Hannah felt her breath catch and her heart stop.

She looked at Seth now, and once again her heart stopped. Only this time, it was because he was looking at her.

And there it was again.

She felt frozen. Absolutely consumed and completely overwhelmed. Helpless to do anything but stare back at him.

She felt the deep, heavy thud of her heart, heard the din of conversation around her, but she simply couldn’t move. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She felt stripped naked, and yet, she just didn’t care.

She knew she’d been unsteady all afternoon. After what had happened, it was understandable that her emotions would be spiralling.

But this was more than that.

This was something much more.

The thought frightened her. She didn’t want to be attracted to this man. At this point in her life, she didn’t want to be attracted to any man.

He held her gaze with his and still she didn’t look away.

He was handsome, of course, though a little rough around the edges. But that only seemed to add to his appeal. The stubble of beard on that strong jaw and square chin, that thick mane of black hair touching those broad shoulders, the faded jeans over his long, muscled legs. He’d changed into a clean T-shirt, also black, and Hannah realized how well the color suited him. Everything about this man was dark and dangerous, and with that bandage over his eye, he bordered on ominous.

He radiated sex. Made her think things she didn’t want to think about, things she’d thought hadn’t mattered to her: a man’s touch, urgent whispers in the dark, sweaty bodies and twisted sheets.

As if he read her thoughts, Seth’s eyes narrowed and grew more intense as he stared at her.

Dear Lord, had she actually asked this man to stay with her? Hannah thought. Here, in this house, where during the day, while the girls were at school, she would be alone with him?

Hannah rarely drank anything alcoholic, but suddenly she was wishing for a glass of that wine Lori had mentioned a moment ago.

“Hannah, sweetheart,” Lori whispered in Hannah’s ear, “you keep staring at Mr. Handsome like that and this room is going to self-combust.”

Hannah quickly looked away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Lori smiled and took a bite of brownie. “I guess I just imagined that I’d-like-to-rip-your-clothes-off-and-jump-on-you look in your eyes.”

“Lori Simpson.” Hannah snatched the brownie from her friend’s hand and bit into the rich chocolate. “Do you ever think of anything besides sex?”

Lori thought for a moment.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Hannah shook her head. “It was a foolish question. Never mind.”

Maddie and Missy spotted Lori at that moment and came running over. While they related their terrible ordeal once again, Hannah slipped into the kitchen.

Thankful for the quiet, Hannah set about making a fresh pot of coffee. She just needed a few moments alone, away from all the commotion in her house.

Away from Seth.

I can do this, Hannah told herself as she counted out scoops of coffee into the pot. Everything would be back to normal by the morning. She’d bake muffins for the diner and drop them off on her way to carpool the girls to school, pick up the accounting work she did weekly for Tom Wheeler and do her data entry, then repair the cracks on the walls in the upstairs bedroom. By the time Maddie and Missy came home from school, it would be time for homework, supper, baths and bedtime stories for the girls, then the rest of the evening she could work on the hand-stitching Lyn Gross had hired her to do for her catalog business.

As if she had time to think about handsome strangers and her out-of-whack hormones. Hannah laughed at her own foolishness as she filled the glass carafe with water. Besides, she had a very large house. She’d be working upstairs, Seth would be downstairs. She probably wouldn’t even see him, except in passing. It wasn’t as if he could get around very well, anyway.

She didn’t have the time or the desire to be distracted by Seth Granger. He’d be gone in a few days and her house would be back to normal—not that normal would in any way describe her life, she thought, shaking her head with a smile.

Once she had her bed-and-breakfast open for business, Hannah would have everything she wanted: her own business, security for Maddie and Missy, and once she bought out Aunt Martha’s share of the house, a sense of independence she’d never had before.

There wasn’t anything else she wanted at this point in her life. She’d done just fine without a man for the past three years. In the future, maybe she would meet someone. A man who wanted roots and family and came home at night. Before midnight, without another woman’s perfume on his shirt.

For now, Hannah only needed Maddie and Missy and that was enough. Seth Granger might be an interesting and temporary diversion, Hannah admitted, but that’s all he was: interesting and temporary, with the emphasis on temporary.

While the coffee percolated, Hannah opened the refrigerator to refill the creamer she’d set out on the table. Beside the container of half and half was a can of whipped cream someone had brought to go with a bowl of strawberries.

…I’d like to smear it all over his body and lick it off…

Hannah slammed the refrigerator door shut and forced the image Lori had given her out of her mind. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Suddenly her house didn’t seem large enough at all, and a few days felt like a very, very long time.

The scent of hot cinnamon roused Seth during the night. Darkness surrounded him and he wasn’t certain where he was, but that wasn’t so unusual. He’d woken up more than once in the dark in a strange place, a strange bed. In his line of work, he was never certain about where he’d be sleeping. A car, a park bench, even an occasional alley, amidst a community of homeless who lived in cardboard structures and tents made out of blankets. Wherever his job took him, he went, and most of the time it seemed as if he spent more time on the streets than in his own apartment.

But the scent of cinnamon and…what else? Apples, that’s what it was. The scent of cinnamon and apples had never woken him before. For several moments, he thought he might be dreaming, maybe having one of the flashbacks he occasionally had from his childhood. Before the accident. Before his life had changed so dramatically.

But he wasn’t dreaming, he realized. The scent was very real, as real as the bed he lay in. A firm, comfortable mattress covered with smooth, soft sheets, feather pillows and a thick, down comforter. He blinked, raised his head and glanced at the bedside clock.

Five in the morning. Not exactly the middle of the night, but not exactly what he’d call morning, either.

Seth blinked again, rolled to his back and felt the pain shoot straight up his leg.

He swore hotly and remembered where he was.

In Ridgewater, Texas.

Home of the world’s largest fruitcake.

Gritting his teeth, Seth slid his legs out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. When the pain subsided, he flipped on the nightstand lamp and looked around the room. It was a nice room, large, with high ceilings and white chair rails against soft blue-and-white striped walls. The windows were tall with lace curtains, the highly polished hardwood floors dotted with navy blue throw rugs. There was a white-tiled bathroom attached to the room, with a ball-and-claw bathtub and a showerhead that a guest could hold or attach to the wall.

Seth dragged a hand through his hair and stretched, then rolled his shoulders. His neck felt a little stiff and a low throb pounded in his head, but all in all, other than his swollen ankle, which had turned a deep shade of purple, he felt fine.

Well, as fine as he could feel about being stuck in the middle of nowhere for God knew how long.

After last night’s gathering, Seth was counting the minutes until he could leave Ridgewater. He knew he should appreciate that all those people had shown up to meet him, but the fact was, he didn’t. He hadn’t done anything that any other person in his situation wouldn’t have done. He didn’t deserve, and he sure as hell didn’t like, all that attention.

Especially from Billy Bishop, ace reporter for the Ridgewater Gazette.

Billy had been a major pain in the butt. He’d wanted to know every detail of Seth’s life. His work, his past, even his hobbies, for God’s sake. Even if he had a hobby, which he didn’t, who the hell would care what it was? He’d intentionally kept his answers vague and short. The less he gave Billy Bob Bishop, the shorter the article and the quicker this entire incident would fade away.

Careful not to put any pressure on his ankle, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of gray sweat pants and the T-shirt he’d worn the night before, then hobbled to the door and followed the seductive scent to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, surprised to see Hannah standing at the counter, filling muffin tins with thick batter from a large metal bowl. From a big blue clip on top of her head, her long blond curls tumbled down her back like a rippling waterfall. She wore a light-blue robe and pink bunny slippers. He could swear she was humming…

…“Born to be Wild?”

Smiling, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. After she’d shown him to his room last night, she’d laid out fresh towels and soap, apologized for all the commotion, then quickly excused herself. She’d intentionally avoided eye contact with him, even as she was thanking him once again for saving Maddie.

He supposed she’d been nervous about him staying in the house. He was a complete stranger to her, after all, and the only thing she really knew about him, other than his driver’s license statistics, was that he worked for the Albuquerque police department.

But earlier in the evening, when she’d been talking to her friend, Seth had looked at her. And she’d looked back.

Whatever had passed between them—and he still wasn’t certain if he’d imagined it—had been potent.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t experienced lust before. Hell, that was more than familiar territory to him. What hadn’t been familiar had been the intensity of what should have been a simple look, but had been anything but simple. And while it disturbed him on one level, it intrigued him on another.

She intrigued him. A beautiful woman, single mother of mischievous twin girls, soon-to-be proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast. He’d seen the fear in her pale-blue eyes yesterday when he’d handed Maddie to her, but she’d stayed calm and kept her composure when a lot of women would have come unraveled. She’d taken care of him, then graciously opened her house to her neighbors, quietly set out coffee and food and stood back and watched.

Her song changed from Steppenwolf to Ricky Martin’s “Shake Your Bon-Bon.” Seth dropped his gaze to her pretty bottom moving back and forth to the Latin beat, and he felt his gut tighten. Damn. He’d never been a fan of Ricky’s until this moment.

Seth swallowed the dryness in his throat, knew that he should announce his presence rather than standing here leering at the woman. He just couldn’t help himself. The sight of her moving to the song, dressed in that simple bathrobe and bunny slippers should have been humorous, but strangely, he found it sexy. When she gave an extra little twist to her hips, Seth forgot to breathe.

Damn if the woman wasn’t getting him hard.

He supposed the fall might have rattled his brain, but whatever it was, his hormones had jumped to attention and were clanging warning bells. His pulse quickened, and it seemed as if all the blood from his head had taken a trip south.

He remembered the firm press of her body against his yesterday, the smooth feel of her skin under his hands when he’d held her arm on the sofa, the way she’d looked at him last night across the crowded room. No question there was chemistry between them.

The question was, should he act on it?

Strange, but he’d never asked himself that before. If he’d wanted a woman and she’d wanted him, it was simple. If it felt right, Seth had never held back. He went for it and whatever happened, happened.

But Hannah wasn’t simple. Something told him that she was anything but simple. Seth knew he was just passing through this town and this woman’s life. The last thing he should be doing was having thoughts about taking her to bed.

Then she shook her bottom again as she softly sang and Seth felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He knew if he didn’t stop her, he was probably going to do something very foolish.

“Morning.”

She whirled around, a look of sheer shock on her face. She stood there for a moment, eyes wide as she stared at him, then her face flushed bright red.

Because she hadn’t belted her robe, the short, pink cotton nightgown she had on didn’t hide much. At the sight of her high, unfettered breasts, he felt another slam to his gut. His gaze traveled down over her long, shapely legs, and his body flooded with heat.

Even her silly slippers looked sexy to him, an obvious indication he wasn’t thinking clearly. He could picture himself tugging those bunnies off her feet, then sliding his hand up her sleek curves, over her hips and under her simple cotton nightgown, up higher, until his palms were filled with her soft, feminine flesh.

It took a few seconds and a will of iron to wrench his gaze back up to hers. She still hadn’t moved, except that her lips had formed a small O.

When he pushed away from the doorjamb, she instantly went from zero to eighty. She mumbled a good morning as she whipped back around, dropped the batter-filled measuring cup into the bowl, then belted her bathrobe tightly.

“I wasn’t expecting you up this early,” she said over her shoulder, her voice strained and high-pitched. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Oh, she’d wakened him all right. His entire body was awake and alert and ready to go. “Actually, it was those muffins you’re baking.”

He hobbled to the large oak table in the middle of the spacious kitchen. Hannah quickly reached for a towel to wipe her hands.

“You shouldn’t be up on that leg,” she said firmly and rushed to his side to slip an arm around his waist.

“I’m fine, Hannah.”

But he let her help him into the chair, not because he needed help, but because he wanted to indulge himself, if only for a moment. He felt the soft press of her breasts against his side and nearly groaned at the rush of heat through his body. He breathed in the scent of apples and cinnamon on her skin, held on to her longer than was necessary or wise. When she moved away, it was all he could do not to snatch her back and see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

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