What had come over him? Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Copyright

What had come over him?

Jack swallowed hard as Alayna’s soft protest echoed around him. He opened his hand and looked at his palm, still feeling the warmth, the softness of her breast.

He closed his hand into a fist, his lips thinning. He didn’t want to get involved with her. Even less, to hurt her. She was an angel. A woman who deserved a man who was willing to give her the children that she wanted so desperately.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I—” But he couldn’t think of an explanation for his actions—nothing but the truth, which was that he wanted her. Needed her. He yearned for her softness, her compassion.

But what did he have to give her in return?

Jack pushed himself to his feet. He strode down the pier, the weathered planks pitching beneath his feet as he all but ran from her. From temptation.

From himself.

From memories that haunted him.

Dear Reader,

The joys of summer are upon us—along with some July fireworks from Silhouette Desire!

The always wonderful Jennifer Greene presents our July MAN OF THE MONTH in Prince Charming’s Child. A contemporary romance version of Sleeping Beauty, this title also launches the author’s new miniseries, HAPPILY EVER AFTER, inspired by those magical fairly tales we loved in childhood. And ever-talented Anne Mane Winston is back with a highly emotional reunion romance in Lovers’ Reunion. The popular miniseries TEXAS BRIDES by Peggy Moreland continues with the provocative story of That McCloud Woman. Sheiks abound in Judith McWilliams’s The Sheik’s Secret, while a plain Jane is wooed by a millionaire in Jan Hudson’s Plain Jane’s Texan. And Barbara McCauley’s new dramatic miniseries, SECRETS!, debuts this month with Blackhawk’s Sweet Revenge.

We’ve got more excitement for you next month—watch for the premiere of the compelling new Desire miniseries THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB. Some of the sexiest, most powerful men in the Lone Star State are members of this prestigious club, and they all find love when they least expect it! You’ll learn more about THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB in our August Dear Reader letter, along with an update on Silhouette’s new continuity, THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS, debuting next month.

And this month, join in the celebrations by treating yourself to all six passionate Silhouette Desire titles.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

That McCloud Woman

Peggy Moreland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PEGGY MORELAND published her first romance with Silhouette in 1989. She’s a natural storyteller, with a sense of humor that will tickle your fancy, and Peggy’s goal is to write a story that readers will remember long after the last page is turned. Winner of the 1992 National Readers’ Choice Award, the 1997 Golden Quill Award, and a 1994 RITA finalist, Peggy frequently appears on bestseller lists around the country. A native Texan, she and her family live in Round Rock, Texas.

To my college roomies, Melissa Gerland Dillard, Brenda Bryant Medlin and Cyndi Lumpkin Clanton. In spite of the miles and the years, you are all still cherished friends.

One

With nowhere to go, and in no hurry to get there, Jack Cordell dumped a second spoonful of sugar into his coffee and slowly stirred, killing time.

The town he’d stopped in for lunch was a small one, the diner he’d chosen a mom and pop type place that boasted home-style cooking and a blue plate special for $4.95. Though the price of the food mattered little to Jack, the appeal of a home-cooked meal did. After six months on the road, eating cardboard-flavored food, his stomach had been ready for something with a little sustenance to it.

Though crowded and noisy when he’d first arrived, the diner was nearly empty now, the only sound the rattle of pans from the kitchen and the occasional squeak of the waitress’s crepe-soled shoes on the worn linoleum as she went about her duties, clearing off tables after the noon rush. The woman looked to be on the downhill side of fifty, full breasted, thick waisted and with a tongue as sharp as the pencil tucked behind her ear. She wore her hair piled high on top of her head, a metallic gold clamp of some sort holding her bottle-red hair in place. She worked with an efficiency of movement that said she was an old hand at slinging hash.

The dusty plate-glass window on Jack’s right offered him a bird’s-eye view of the diner’s empty parking lot, the bank across the street and the post office beside it. With a slight turn of his head, he had a clear shot of the entire downtown area. All two blocks of it. Though he’d spent the last five years in Houston and was accustomed to its towering skyline and traffic-clogged expressways, Jack had grown up in a town about the size of Driftwood, and found the small town appealing, almost peaceful.

And it had been a long time since Jack had known any peace.

As he stared at the big, lazy-branched oak that shaded the bank’s entrance, a weariness settled on his shoulders. He was tired of running. Tired of living out of his truck, eating his meals out of grease-stained paper sacks. Tired of the monotony of chasing a white line, his only companion a fifth of whiskey he kept tucked underneath the front seat, while he tried to outrun his guilt, his grief—and when he couldn’t outrun it, drown it. Neither seemed to work. The guilt still weighed heavily on him, the grief a cancer eating away at what remained of his heart.

He knew he had a home to go to, a business to tend. But the idea of returning to either held no appeal. Not anymore.

As he stared at the big oak, his thoughts bluer than blue, his heart a lead weight in his chest, a woman stepped from the bank’s double doors and started across the street. She was a petite little thing, fragile looking. The thick mane of white-blond hair that hung just past her shoulders only added to that fragility. She wore a long, sleeveless dress of the palest blue that hit her about midcalf. One of those shapeless dresses that didn’t offer a clue to the figure beneath. Thin-strapped sandals, though, exposed small, slender feet, and a hint that the rest of her might be similarly proportioned.

With her chin dipped down, he didn’t have a clear view of her face, but he couldn’t help but notice the way she walked—kind of slowlike, her posture that of a person lost in deep contemplation. As he watched, a sigh seemed to move through her and she lifted her head, squaring her shoulders. At the same time, her steps quickened, bringing her closer to the diner and the window he watched her through.

He focused on her face and was struck by the oddest sensation. It was like looking into the face of an angel. A sexy-looking angel, without question, but an angel, nonetheless. Creamy, smooth complexion. Delicate features almost too perfect to be real. Bright, clear blue eyes. Full, moist lips. An innate sexuality in her movements stirred parts of his body that he was sure had died on the vine months ago.

He lost sight of her as she skipped up the steps to the diner, and he quickly shifted his gaze to the door, waiting for her to step inside. She pushed her way through the entrance, bringing a blast of hot, humid air with her. She paused, glancing around, and met his gaze for the briefest of seconds. When she did, the sweetest, yet most sensual smile touched her lips before she turned away and headed for the counter.

She brushed damp hair from her forehead. “Maudie,” he heard her say, “I sure hope you saved me a tall glass of that lime iced tea you’re so famous for.”

The waitress caught up her apron to wipe her hands, her carmine-painted lips splitting in a welcoming smile. “Thirsty, are you?”

“Parched.” The sexy angel—as Jack had already started to think of her—sank down onto a stool at the counter, her dress settling like a billowy cloud around her legs. She propped an elbow on the counter and fanned her face with a delicately boned hand. “I swear, it’s hot enough out there to fry eggs on the sidewalk.”

Maudie shoveled a scoop of ice into a glass. “Did you hear that, Ed?” she yelled through the pass-through window that opened to the kitchen. She hefted an aluminum pitcher and poured tea into the glass without spilling a drop. “Alayna says we could fry eggs on the sidewalk. Why don’t you turn off the grill and move your cookin’ outside? It’d sure cool things off in here. Might even save us some money on gas.”

Jack heard a gruff, male voice, but couldn’t make out the man’s reply. Alayna—thanks to Maudie, he now had a name to associate with the sexy angel—touched her fingertips to her chest and batted her eyes at the man on the other side of the window. Her voice all but dripped southern honey as she replied, “My-y, oh my-y, Ed, but you do-o-o know how to turn a woman’s head with your sweet talk.”

Maudie tossed back her head and hooted at the ceiling. “Alayna, I’ll swear, for a minute there, you sounded just like your mother.” She shook her head, still chuckling, as she pulled up a stool on the opposite side of the counter. “How’s the old bat doin’, anyway?”

Alayna didn’t even flinch at the verbal slur to her mother. “Fine. Giving Daddy heck, as usual.”

“Serves him right for goin’ off and marryin’ a Southern Belle and abandoning his home state of Texas.” Maudie shook her head regretfully as she picked up a glass to polish, obviously preparing to settle in for a long gossip. “So how’s the remodelin’ comin’ along?”

Her smile fading a bit, Alayna took a sip of tea, then set the glass down and plucked a napkin from the chrome dispenser on the counter. “Not very well, I’m afraid.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth—a definite stall tactic in Jack’s estimation—then frowned, wadding the napkin in her fist. “Frank left.”

Maudie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “How much did he take you for?”

Jack watched Alayna’s cheeks turn an engaging shade of pink, before she lifted her glass as if to hide behind it. “Enough,” he heard her murmur.

Maudie slapped the counter hard enough to make the napkin dispenser rock and Alayna jump a good two inches off the stool. “That no-count drifter. I knew he’d end up scammin’ you. Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t trust that polecat?”

Alayna’s cheeks pinkened even more, but whether from embarrassment or in defiance, Jack wasn’t sure.

“Yes, you did,” he heard her reply. “But I had little choice but to hire him. He was the only man in town with the skills necessary to remodel the Pond House for me and the only one who was willing to take on the job.”

“Humph! I guess so. The name McCloud would be temptin’ enough for a double-dealin’ snake like Frank, but with you wearin’ the title of doctor, too, I’m sure he saw nothin’ but deep pockets and a chance for some easy money.”

A doctor, huh? Jack knew he was eavesdropping, but couldn’t seem to work up the good manners required to block out the conversation. And now he had a last name to attach to the woman. Alayna McCloud. He liked the sound of it. Soft and feminine, but with an underlying strength. Much like his impression of the woman.

He shook his head with regret as he digested what he’d heard. So she’d been scammed by a remodeler? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard of that happening.

“He did make the house livable,” he heard her say in the man’s defense. “And the kitchen and two of the bathrooms are at least functional.”

“And I suppose you paid him up-front?”

“Well,” she began evasively, “not all of it. Besides, he said he needed the money to pay his rent or his landlord was going to kick him and his family out on the street.”

“Landsakes, Alayna! Frank doesn’t have any family. You let that man work on your heartstrings while he shoulda’ been workin’ on your house.” Alayna’s chin snapped up at the criticism and Maudie sighed heavily. “So what are you going to do now?”

Alayna glanced down at the counter and dipped her finger in the condensation the glass had left there, her brow furrowing. “I thought I might run an ad in the Austin paper.” She lifted her face, her eyes so full of innocence and hope that Jack felt the need to put a fist in the face of the man who’d cheated her. “Do you think there might be a carpenter there in need of a job?”

Jack’s ears perked up at the word “carpenter” and an itch jumped to life on his palms. He rubbed his hands along his thighs to ease it. It had been years since he’d swung a hammer, worked a lathe, felt the satisfaction of wood warming beneath his hands. Uncovering the grain in a piece of painted wood, pumping blood back into an old house. He was a carpenter by trade, but all he’d done for the last couple of years was push papers, put out fires, haggle with subcontractors and inspectors. Did he really want to go back to that? Did he even want to go back to Houston at all?

He glanced out the window at the big oak with its barrel-size trunk and sprawling branches. He squinted his eyes and looked farther, taking note of the quiet street and the quaint shops that lined both sides. He’d grown up in a town like this, before moving to Houston. Small. Friendly. Where everybody knew everybody...and their business.

A sigh moved through him and he pushed back the memories before they could fully form. He was tired of running, but he wasn’t ready to go back to Houston. Not yet. Maybe never.

Standing, he fished a couple of dollars out of his pocket and tossed them on the table, then scraped his cap from the seat and his ticket from the scarred Formica tabletop where Maudie had left it earlier. Crossing to the register, he dropped the ticket on the counter and worked his wallet from his back pocket.

Maudie aimed one last frown of disapproval in Alayna’s direction, then stood and shifted to the register, pasting a smile on her face for Jack’s benefit. “Was everythin’ all right?” she asked as she punched the total into the register and took the ten-dollar bill he offered her.

“Fine, thank you,” Jack murmured politely as he accepted his change. “Much obliged.” Stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, he glanced one last time in Alayna’s direction, then turned and left the diner.

Alayna let the door to the diner close behind her, then stopped, drawing in a deep breath. Well, she’d expected an “I told you so” from Maudie, and she’d certainly gotten it. Not that it changed anything. She was still out several thousand dollars and left with a half-finished remodeling job.

Things could be worse, she told herself, looking for the bright side of the situation as she started down the steps. Frank could have taken her money and skipped out on her before he’d made the house livable again. She could at least be thankful for that. After all, she was able to sleep and bathe in her own house, which was, in her opinion, a definite step in the right direction. She could even cook her own meals and no longer needed to take advantage of her cousins’ hospitality. Though she had enjoyed sharing her meals with Mandy, Sam and Merideth in their respective homes, and getting to know their families, the time saved in traveling to and fro gave her the opportunity to tackle other projects. She supposed she had that to be thankful for, as well.

And there were the—

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Alayna jumped, sucking in a startled breath as a man stepped from the shadow of the diner, blocking her path.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, whipping off his cap and dipping his chin to his chest in apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Alayna pressed a hand over her heart to still its frantic beating. “You didn’t frighten me.”

He glanced up, one thick brow arched high over a doubtful eye as he nodded toward the hand she still clutched at her chest. “Could have fooled me.”

Alayna looked down at her hand, unaware that she had even raised it, then dropped it to her side in embarrassment. She laughed self-consciously as she lifted her gaze to the man’s again. She relaxed a little when she found nothing threatening in his eyes or in his stance. “Well, maybe just a little,” she admitted. She cocked her head, eyeing him curiously. “You were in the diner earlier, weren’t you?”

He took his cap in both hands, curling and uncurling its bill. “Yea, ma’am, I was. And I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.”

Alayna wrinkled her nose. “You mean Maudie’s lecture.”

He shrugged. “Sounded as if she had your best interest at heart.”

She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “Yes, I suppose, though I feel rather foolish. Especially since Maudie warned me about Frank.” She angled her head, frowning just a little. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before. Do you live in Driftwood?”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he answered with a quick shake of his head. “I’m not from around here.”

“I didn’t think so.” She laughed. “In a town the size of Driftwood, everyone pretty much knows everyone else—and their business,” she added sagely.

Jack frowned upon hearing her echo his own sentiments about the town, but he was at a loss as how to approach her with the idea that had come upon him earlier as he’d stared out the window at the quiet street. He dropped his hands to his sides and tapped his cap nervously against his thigh.

Alayna continued to peer at him. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked helpfully.

“Well, yes, ma’am, there is,” he began uncertainly. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and you mentioning that you were going to advertise for someone to complete your remodeling job. I’d like to apply for the job, if you’ll allow me, and save you the trouble of posting an ad.”

Alayna’s eyes sharpened in interest. “Oh? Are you a carpenter?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve worked in carpentry most of my life. My dad was a carpenter, and he taught me and my brother the trade. I can handle pretty much any job that pops up in a redo. Electrical. Plumbing. Painting. You name it.” He snorted what might pass as a laugh. “I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades.”

Intrigued, Alayna studied him. He was close to her age, maybe a bit older, with strong features, and broad shoulders. Definitely fit enough for the work that would be required of him. She liked to think she was an excellent judge of character and could tell a lot about a person by simply looking into their eyes. That he could meet her gaze squarely attested to his honesty in Alayna’s estimation.

Yet, there was something in his eyes—or rather lacking in them—that concerned her. There was a sadness, an almost emptiness to the brown depths. Not that that would affect her decision to hire him. It simply intrigued her. There was a story there, a loss or disappointment of some kind that had left him disillusioned and withdrawn. She wondered if he’d share it with her, and wondered further if she could help him deal with it.

She gave herself a firm shake, forcing her mind to the situation at hand and her heart from the swell of sympathy she felt building.

She knew Maudie would throw a screaming fit if she discovered that Alayna was considering hiring a complete stranger right off the street, especially after the fiasco with Frank. But Alayna was desperate. She had to find someone to finish the job Frank had started.

“I pay by the hour, not the job,” she said, then named a figure, watching his reaction.

He lifted a shoulder. “That’s fine by me.”

“And I handle the purchase of supplies.”

“Whatever suits you.”

“You said you weren’t from around here.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not.”

“Then, where would you live?”

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m sure I could find a place.”

She glanced away, looking down the street and away from him. “There’s a small cabin on my property,” she said thoughtfully. “I lived there until Frank made the house habitable.”

Since she’d offered the information as a statement and not an invitation, Jack wasn’t sure what kind of response she expected from him, so he remained silent.

“I suppose you could stay there,” she said, turning her gaze back to him. “It isn’t much, but it offers the essentials.”

“I’m used to making do.”

“Are you a man of your word?”

His chest swelled as if in asking the question she’d insulted him. “My word’s as good as any legal contract you could have drawn.”

“And I have your word that you’ll see this remodeling job through to its end?”

He gave his chin a tight jerk of assent. “You have my word. I’ll see the job done.”

“When can you start?”

“When do you want me?”

She arched a brow, a smile teasing one corner of her mouth. “What are your plans for this afternoon?”

Jack shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”

She quickly dug pen and paper from her purse, then turned the bag over, bracing it against her stomach while she used its side for a writing surface. “I have a few more errands to run,” she told him as she jotted down directions to her house, “but I should be home by three.”

She held out the slip of paper and Jack took it, studying her neat handwriting. When he glanced up, he saw that her hand was extended toward him. Along with it she offered him a smile. “I’m Alayna McCloud.”

Up close, he found her eyes an even deeper blue than he’d thought before, and he quickly decided that a man could probably drown in their depths if he cared to look long and deeply enough. Thankfully Jack didn’t He took her hand, if a bit reluctantly, and shook it “Jack Cordell.”

Her smile broadened, dimples winking at him from her cheeks. She added a squeeze to the shake. “I’m pleased to meet you, Jack.”

The warmth of her hand slowly worked its way up his arm while the added pressure in her grip seemed to draw his insides into a knot. Frowning, he uncurled his fingers from around hers and dropped his hand to his side, slowly flexing his fingers. “Same goes,” he murmured, then abruptly turned away.

Jack sat on the porch steps, waiting...and slowly melting. He shoved his cap back on his head and used his shirtsleeve to mop the sweat from his brow. She’d said three, and it was already almost half past

On a sigh, he stretched out his legs and tucked his pressed hands between his thighs, hunching his shoulders forward. Had he been too hasty in taking on this job? he asked himself. Was it the job itself that had appealed to him, the chance to work with his hands again? Or had it been the woman? It had been a long time since a woman had caught his attention enough to make him look twice. Even longer since he’d worked with his hands.

Maybe it was a mixture of the two, he decided, squinting his eyes thoughtfully as he stared out at the drive that led to the house. He gave his shoulder a lift, then shook his head. Didn’t matter, he told himself. Either way, he had a job to do, a place to stay for a while. And a pretty woman to look at. Not a bad deal all the way around, no matter which way he looked at it.

While he was pondering all this, a cat slipped from beneath the porch steps and wound its way around his feet. Jack scowled at the scraggly-looking cat and nudged it away with the toe of his boot. At the sound of an engine, he glanced up, standing when he saw a minivan coming up the long drive. It stopped at an angle in front of the picket fence that surrounded the house, and Alayna slipped from behind the wheel and to the ground. She quickly ducked back inside, stretching to grab a sack of groceries from the passenger seat. With the movement, the hem of her dress rose, exposing a tanned calf, then the tender flesh behind her knee. At the sight, Jack felt his pulse kick and heat crawl up his neck.

“Hi!” she called brightly as she turned and headed toward him. “Sorry I’m late.”

Jack frowned, tugging the bill of his cap low over his forehead as if to hide the truth of where his eyes had strayed. “No problem.”

She stooped to give the cat that greeted her a loving pat. “I see you met Captain Jinx.”

Jack’s frown deepened as he watched the flea-bitten, stump-tailed cat arch beneath her hand, purring its contentment. “Yeah.”

She straightened, lifting her gaze to his, a teasing smile curving her lips when she saw the look of disgust on his face. “You don’t like cats?”

He lifted a shoulder. “They’re okay.”

She laughed softly as she shifted the sack of groceries to her hip, then looked back down at the cat. “He’s not really mine. He just appeared one day and stayed.”

“Did you feed him?”

Alayna glanced up, her forehead wrinkling at the unexpected question. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I did. Why do you ask?”

He lifted a shoulder again. “That would be enough to convince him to stay.”

Alayna stared at Jack a moment, caught once again by the sadness in his eyes, the emptiness there, wondering what had robbed them of their life, their sparkle. She wondered, too, if she fed Jack, as she had the cat, would he stay long enough to finish her remodeling job?

At the outrageousness of the thought, she shifted the sack of groceries in her arms. “What would you like to see first? The cabin where you’ll be staying, or the house?”

Jack glanced over his shoulder toward the house. He didn’t care one way or the other about his own accommodations. But the house and its distinct architecture had intrigued him from the moment he’d first caught sight of it. “The house, if you don’t mind.”

“The house, it is.” Alayna led the way, with Jack following. When they reached the kitchen door, she juggled sack and purse, and he quickly stretched an arm in front of her, caught the screen door handle and pulled it open. “Thank you,” she said, offering him a grateful smile as she passed by him.

Feeling the warmth of her smile and catching a whiff of the flowery scent that trailed her, Jack stared after her a second, watching the subtle movement of her hips beneath the sacklike dress, and the rhythmic sway of her hair across her shoulders and back. He wondered what the texture of her hair would feel like between his fingers, what she’d taste like when aroused. When he realized where his thoughts were taking him, he frowned and quickly stepped inside, letting the door close quietly behind him.

In the kitchen, Alayna set the bag of groceries on the counter, then began to dig out the items that needed refrigeration. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, crossing to the refrigerator. “I made lemonade this morning, or I might be able to scare up a beer. Frank might have left one or two behind.”

Jack looked around the kitchen, admiring the old glass-front cabinetry. “Lemonade’s fine,” he murmured absently. He crossed to the breakfast nook, tucked into a bay window, and ran his hand across the faded wallpaper, letting his fingers tell him the wall’s history.

Alayna watched him as she pulled the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. “Frank didn’t do much in there,” she offered. “My first priorities were the kitchen, my bedroom and bath.” She took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice.

“There’s beaded paneling beneath this paper.”

In the midst of pouring lemonade, Alayna glanced Jack’s way and saw that he had pulled a knife from his pocket and was carefully scraping at the paper near the window frame. “What?” she asked, wondering what he was doing.

He folded the knife and stuck it back in his pocket. “Wood,” he explained, plucking with a fingernail at the paper he’d loosened. Then added, “Two-inch tongue and groove.” He gave his head a regretful shake. “Somebody papered over solid wood walls.”

Intrigued, Alayna caught up their drinks and crossed to him. She offered him a glass, which Jack took, then she leaned to peer closely at the spot of wood he’d uncovered. “Is that bad?” she asked in concern.

The heat and intimacy of her body pressed against his had Jack sidestepping away from her, giving her room and himself the opportunity to breathe a little easier. “Not necessarily bad. Just stupid.”

Alayna choked back a laugh upon hearing her ancestors referred to as “stupid.” The McClouds were a proud bunch, and probably wouldn’t think kindly of a man who questioned their intelligence. She took a sip of her lemonade. “So what do you propose we do about it?”

Jack turned his head to look at her, surprised by the “we” in her statement, but decided to take it as a sign that she trusted his opinion. “It’s your house. But if it was left up to me, I’d rip that paper off and let the wood breathe. It’d be a pretty sight, I can promise you that.”

Alayna looked at him, surprised by the level of emotion in his voice, his passion for something as innocuous as a wall of wood. “Will it cost much?”

He lifted a shoulder, which seemed to be his favored means of communicating with her. “Elbow grease, mainly. ’Course you never know what problems you might find when you start uncovering things.”

Alayna turned to look at the wall again, trying to imagine it without the faded paper, and wondering, too, what other things she would discover that Jack felt passionate about... and she would find out. There was still life inside him. The emotion he’d just displayed over her breakfast room wall proved that. “Okay,” she said, with a decisive nod at the faded paper, then turned to smile at him. “Let’s do it.”

“Now?”

Alayna laughed at the shocked look on his face, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. “No, not now, as in right this minute.” She turned to look at the wall again, her smile softening. “But I think you’re right. That wood needs to breathe.”

That she would accept his advice so readily both surprised and relieved Jack. He knew from experience that homeowners could be a pain in the butt to work with, having ideas and opinions on how repairs should be made that could drive a remodeler straight up the wall. He just hoped that when he stripped off that paper, he didn’t discover that it had been hung to cover up some problem, like termite or water damage. While he was thinking this, he felt a featherlight touch on his arm, then it was gone and Alayna was turning away, saying, “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Jack followed her, unconsciously rubbing a hand at the tingling sensation she’d left on his arm.

“The fireplace in the living room was sealed off years ago,” she explained as she led the way to the front of the house. “I’d planned to open it and make it functional again.” She paused in the archway that opened to the large living room. Jack stopped beside her, stealing a glance her way, and saw that she had her arms hugged up beneath her breasts in an oddly protective way. “But I’m afraid,” she said with a disappointed sigh, “that this is one of the luxuries I’m going to have to forego in order to stay on budget.”

Jack turned his head to follow her gaze... and the craftsman in him all but drooled at the sight before him. A huge limestone fireplace dominated the opposite wall, its white stone front stretching a good twelve feet from floor to ceiling. Embedded in the stone above the fireplace’s dark opening was a hand-hewn cedar mantel, polished with care and age. Jack’s heart swelled at the amount of time and skill that had gone into the overall design, but it quickly took a nosedive when his gaze hit on the gas space heater wedged in the firebox where logs should be resting, waiting for the flare of a match.

Leaving Alayna standing in the doorway, he crossed the room and knelt down before the hearth. He leaned over, bracing his hands on the uneven stone, and looked up, craning his neck so that he could see up the flue. Sure enough, weathered boards sealed off the chimney. He poked at the boards almost wistfully, thinking of the waste...and, too, of the disappointment he’d heard in Alayna’s voice when she’d told him she was going to have to forego re-opening the fireplace in order to stay on budget. He straightened, dusting soot from his hands. “I can open her back up,” he said, avoiding her gaze.

“ ’Course I’ll check out the chimney and flue to make sure that everything’s in working order first. But I won’t charge you any extra for my time.”

“Oh, no!” she cried, hurrying across the room. “I can’t allow you to do the work for free.”

Jack frowned as he looked down at her, seeing nothing but a deep, blue pool of compassion in her eyes. The idea that she would think of his needs, and not her own, baffled him. In his opinion, and based on his personal experience, the gentler sex was, as a rule, selfish and demanding. Was this woman real? he asked himself. When he felt himself being sucked deeper and deeper into her gaze, drawn by the compassion he saw in her eyes, he backed away from her.

“Not much work involved,” he insisted briskly. “Somebody along the line probably just got tired of cutting wood and sealed off the fireplace, choosing instead to use gas to heat the room.” He gave an impatient gesture with his hand. “Let’s see the rest of it.”

Thankfully she let the subject drop. With nothing but a curious glance in his direction, she led the way to the stairway.

“The master bedroom is downstairs,” she explained over her shoulder, “but Frank finished all the remodeling there before he left. You’ll need to focus on the rooms upstairs.” The soles of her sandals scraped lightly on the oak-planked stairs as she climbed higher, drawing Jack’s gaze to her feet.

He stood at the bottom step, his eyes sliding up over her ankles and to the gentle curve of her calf. A warmth crawled up his neck and down to his groin as her elevated position on the stairway above him revealed more and more of her bare legs to him.

And he silently prayed she was wearing panties.

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he discovered she wasn’t. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman in the biblical sense, and he didn’t know if he had the willpower needed to resist the sight of so much tempting flesh. He swallowed hard, paralyzed as much by the feelings of lust building as he was by the sight before him. He tried to remember the last woman who had stirred thoughts like these, but quickly gave up. It had been way too long.

“Upstairs,” she said, lifting a hand from the rail to gesture above her, “are four more bedrooms.” On the landing, she turned to look back at Jack and stopped when she saw that he was still standing in the hallway below. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice husky, staring at her and trying his damnedest not to think about those panties. The idea that he’d even think about a woman’s panties was a relatively new one, and a definite improvement over his thoughts for the last several months. This woman was pushing buttons and getting a response to hankerings he was sure he’d lost long ago.

Could this be the end of his wanderings?

He cleared his throat, and started up the stairs. “Yeah,” he said with more enthusiasm, thinking he might have just landed himself in heaven—or hell, depending on how the situation turned out. “I’m right behind you.”

Alayna waited until he’d caught up with her, then opened a door on her left. “I don’t plan to do anything too major in here,” she explained. “Just freshen things up a bit. Paint. Drapes. Maybe add shelving for toys and such.”

Jack’s head snapped around at the mention of toys. “You have kids?”

At the question, the smile that seemed her constant companion melted right off her face. She glanced away from him and to the far window with its view of the pond. “No,” she replied with what almost sounded like embarrassment. Then she forced her chin up and a confident smile to her lips as she turned her gaze back to his. “At least, none of my own.”

Jack felt the blood drain right out of him at the hope he saw in her eyes. And just when he was beginning to feel a little interest, a little heat in the old furnace, she had to go and mention kids. A damn shame, too, he thought sadly, admiring the sway of her hips as she walked away from him and across the room. She was a beautiful woman. Sexy. Friendly.

And convenient.

He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. But he wasn’t getting involved with a woman who wanted kids. Not Jack Cordell. No how, no way.

Two

While Jack was bemoaning his bad luck with women, a horn blasted outside and Alayna hurried to the window and peered down below. One look and she cried, “Oh, no!” then whirled and ran past him.

Wondering what she’d seen that had put that horrified look on her face, Jack crossed to the window and looked down. A yellow school bus was parked out front, its caution lights blinking.

Jack’s stomach clenched at the sight of the small faces pressed against the windows.

As he watched, unable to move, the bus’s doors folded back and a book bag came sailing through the door. A small boy appeared next, one shoulder hunched up defensively against the bus driver who was shoving him down the steps in front of him.

Every muscle in Jack’s body tensed, poised for flight.

He had to get out of there.

But before he could make good his escape, Alayna appeared on the front lawn below him, the skirt of her baggy dress whipping around her legs as she raced toward the bus. Jack shifted his gaze back to the little boy. He couldn’t hear what the bus driver was saying to the kid, and didn’t want to hear. He wanted out in the worst sort of way. Out of this house. Out of this town.

He just plain wanted out.

You have my word I’ll see the job done.

Jack groaned, leaning to plant his hands against the window’s sill and his forehead against its glass as his words came back to haunt him. He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d given his word. And Jack Cordell never backed down once he’d given his word.

He opened his eyes with a frustrated sigh and saw that a little girl had joined the trio on the drive. She was standing off to the side, her chin dipped to her chest, a threadbare-one-eyed teddy bear hugged tight to her chest, her thumb sunk deeply into her mouth. The boy was kicking and swinging at the driver, and Alayna was trying her best to wedge herself between the two.

When the bus driver gave Alayna a shove, roughly knocking her out of his way, Jack straightened, curling his hands into tight fists. Whether he wanted to be in this house, or not, was no longer important. He couldn’t stand by and watch a man rough up a woman.

He stormed from the room, down the stairs and out onto the lawn. Alayna was already back on her feet and was preparing to jump back in the fray.

“Let the kid go.”

The order was delivered with just enough volume and with enough punch behind it to make the boy quit his thrashing, the bus driver to quit his shouting and the little girl to drop her thumb from her mouth. All four—Alayna included—turned to stare at Jack, slack-jawed.

Jack moved closer. “I said, let the kid go.”

The bus driver squared his shoulders. “And who do you think you are, telling me what to do?”

“Who I am isn’t important. What I’m telling you is. Let the kid go.”

“He cussed me.”

“I said, let the boy go.”

The bus driver eyed Jack a moment as if measuring his chances if it came to a fight, then scowled. He gave the boy a shove, knocking him up against Jack’s leg. The boy fell to his knees but immediately scrambled back to his feet, curling his hands into fists. Jack put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, firmly holding him in place.

With a sneer at the kid, the driver turned on Alayna. “I’m telling you for the last time,” he said, shaking a threatening finger in her face. “That smart-mouthed kid ain’t ridin’ my bus no more. I don’t have to put up with that kind of sass, ’specially not from a snot-nosed, motherless brat.” With that, he wheeled around and stomped back up the steps of his bus. The door snapped back into place, then, with a grinding of gears, the bus pulled away.

Jack tightened his hand on the boy’s shoulder and spun him around to face him. “Did you cuss him?”

The kid glared up at Jack, meeting his gaze belligerently. “Yeah. I called him an old fart, ’cause he is one.”

“Go to your room.” Jack wasn’t sure where the order came from, or even why he was involving himself in a situation that was definitely none of his business. But he had, and though he’d come to the kid’s defense, he knew the boy was in the wrong and needed a good reprimanding.

The boy swelled up as if he wanted to argue Jack’s right to tell him what to do, but Alayna quickly intervened. “Go on upstairs, Billy, and put your school things away. And take Molly with you. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Though Jack could tell the boy didn’t want to obey the order, to his credit, he followed Alayna’s instructions. “Come on, Molly,” he muttered, stooping to scrape his book bag from the ground. “Something stinks out here,” he added, shooting a dark look Jack’s way.

Molly sidestepped her way past Jack, her eyes wide and watchful as she stared up at him. When she’d made it safely past him, she tucked her teddy bear tighter against her chest and ran to catch up with Billy. On the porch, she bent and scooped up the cat, then, with a last nervous glance at Jack, she slipped inside the door.

Alayna watched her charges disappear into the house. “I’m sorry,” she said, then turned to look at Jack. She sighed when she saw his disapproving scowl. “I’m afraid my children didn’t make a very good first impression, did they?”

One thick eyebrow shot up in surprise. “Those two are your kids?”

“Technically, no. They are my foster children.”

His scowl returned.

Alayna wrinkled her nose as she continued to peer up at him. “I guess you don’t care for children any more than you care for cats, huh?”

“Not particularly. And that boy there,” he said with a jerk of his chin toward the house, “needs to have the seat of his pants warmed. He’s got a mouth on him.”

Alayna nodded her agreement, though already dreading the confrontation. “Yes. I’ll talk to Billy.”

Jack grunted, indicating his doubt on the effectiveness of having a talk with a kid like Billy.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” Alayna asked uncertainly. “You’ll stay and do the remodeling?”

Jack glanced toward his truck, the temptation to climb back in it and drive away so strong he had to brace his knees to keep from giving in to it. “I gave my word,” he said, setting his jaw. “I’ll see the job done.”

Jack awakened early, as was his habit, to find the sky beyond his window washed with the pinks and lavenders signifying dawn’s arrival. The bed he slept on was an old one, but comfortable, and a definite improvement over the bedroll he’d been sleeping on for the last couple of months, spread out over the bed of his truck. He rolled to his side, tucking an arm beneath his head, and stared out the window, praying that the events of the day before had never happened, that he’d wake up any minute and realize it was all a bad dream.

But he wasn’t asleep, and this was no bad dream that he’d wake from. The view of the Pond House through the cabin’s window was proof enough of that.

The Pond House. A fitting—if simplistic—name for the house, since the structure had been built beside a pond. Yet, the name was a poetic one, too, reflective of the setting and the natural materials that had been used in its construction. White limestone, rough cedar, combined with a lot of glass to take advantage of the views. It was a beautiful place, well constructed, though still in need of repair. There was a peacefulness about the place and its setting that seemed to tug at him.

Peaceful. That word again. He frowned, thinking how the day before he’d thought the same thing about the town of Driftwood when he’d been staring at its main street through the café’s window. Now here he was planted right smack-dab in the middle of it all—the town, the house, the pastoral setting—and he sure as hell didn’t feel very peaceful. Not when he considered the kids who inhabited the house...or the woman who cared for them.

He glanced at the bedside table and at the bottle of whiskey sitting on top of it. His friend. His companion. His catharsis for a pain that just wouldn’t go away.

He frowned and reached for the bottle, curling his fingers around its neck. Amber liquid sloshed against its side as he leaned over and shoved the bottle underneath the bed and out of his sight. The whiskey had failed to work its magical charm for him this time. His dreams during the night, though different from his past ones, were no less disturbing. They had been filled with an angel-faced woman with eyes so deep a blue a man could drown in them, and a gentle touch that made his skin heat and his heart yearn for things that could never be.

With a groan, he rolled to his side again, and stared out the window. As if his thoughts had drawn her, the back door of the Pond House opened and the woman who had filled his dreams stepped out onto the flagstone patio.

Alayna.

She wore a long, cotton robe, the same shade of blue as her eyes. It billowed around her legs in the early-morning breeze like a cloud in a summer sky. Barefoot and with her blond hair still mussed with sleep, she looked young and innocent...and good enough to eat. While he watched, she hugged her arms up under her breasts, tipped her face up to the sky and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. A soft, sensual smile curved her lips as she filled her lungs with the fresh, early-morning air. Even from his distance, Jack could see the rise of her breasts over her folded arms, and his groin tightened in response.

Damn, but she was pretty, and as sexy as any woman he’d ever seen. He shifted, easing the unexpected ache that jumped to life between his legs. Unable to look away from her, he continued to watch as she walked around the patio, pausing to fluff a floral pillow on a chair, then stooping to pull a weed from a terra-cotta pot filled with pink geraniums and trailing ivy. With her movements, the robe parted, revealing a brief peek at tanned legs, and when she stooped, the top gaped, baring an even more enticing view of the valley between her breasts.

Eve couldn’t have waved that apple under Adam’s nose with a greater effect.

Jack felt the desire mounting and rolled to his back and away from the tempting sight, his eyes wide, his breath coming fast and hard. He fisted his hands in the tangle of bed linens, forced his gaze to remain on the ceiling and made himself draw in three deep breaths.

Kids, he reminded himself. The woman had kids. And Jack Cordell wanted no part of them. The woman or her brood.

Alayna stuck her head out the kitchen door and offered Jack a sunny smile. “Good morning! You’re up early.”

Seeing that she still wore the same blue robe he’d seen her in earlier, Jack frowned and glanced away, setting his toolbox on the flagstone patio. “Didn’t see any sense in wasting time getting started.”

“Have you had breakfast?” She laughed before he could answer, flapping a dismissing hand at him. “Of course you haven’t,” she said, shaking her head at the foolishness of her question. “You wouldn’t have had a chance to stock the cabin with food, yet.” She waved her hand again, this time gesturing for him to come inside. “I was just whipping up a batch of pancakes. There’s plenty for two.”

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped back into the kitchen, letting the door close softly behind her.

Jack stared through the mesh screen at the shadowed form moving beyond it, his empty stomach warring with good sense, his mind worrying with the fear of facing those kids again. In the end, his stomach won out.

His feet heavy with dread, he opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of coffee greeted him first, followed quickly by the scent of bacon frying. Then his gaze rested on Alayna, standing before the stove, looking much the same as she had earlier that morning when he’d seen her on the patio—her feet still bare, her hair still tousled from sleep.

He glanced around uneasily. “Where are the kids?”

“Oh, they’ve already left for school.” She glanced over her shoulder, but missed the relaxing of his shoulders, though she must have seen the question in his eyes. “My cousin’s son drove them,” she explained, then turned back to the griddle with a sigh. “Yesterday wasn’t the first time we’ve had a problem on the bus...and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Molly says that Mr. Evert, the bus driver, picks on Billy.”

Jack grunted his doubt and won a slight frown from Alayna.

“I know that what Billy did was wrong,” she said as she turned back to the stove. “But he’s just a little boy and he’s having a difficult time adjusting to all the changes in his life. Mr. Evert’s an adult. Surely he could be a little more understanding, a little more compassionate.”

“The boy needs to learn to control his mouth and show respect for his elders.”

Alayna sighed again, and poured batter on the griddle. “Yes. You’re right, of course. Still...” She gave her head a shake, then turned slightly, offering Jack a grateful smile. “I appreciated your help yesterday. Having a male influence around will be a help to Billy, I’m sure.”

Jack intended to set her straight real quick about his willingness to get involved in the kids’ lives, but her movement caused her robe to gape a bit, revealing the swell of a breast, the shadowed cleavage that lay between. The sight burned away all rational thought. He ripped off his cap and gripped it by its bill, needing to fill his hands with something other than tempting flesh. “Is there something I can do to help?” he asked, forcing his gaze away from her and to the clock on the wall.

“You can set the table, if you like. The plates are in the cupboard—” she gave her head a nod in that direction “—and the silver is in the first drawer to the left.”

Jack tossed his cap to the counter, crossed to the sink and began to wash his hands.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully as she turned thick strips of bacon in an iron skillet, “it’s really foolish for you to even consider stocking up on a lot of groceries. Cooking for one is difficult, I know, and awfully lonely.” She tossed a sympathetic smile in Jack’s direction. “Why don’t you just plan to eat your meals here with us?”

Jack’s fingers slipped on the bar of soap and it shot out of his hands, smacking against the side of the chipped porcelain sink with a loud thunk. He swallowed hard, trying to think up an excuse to decline. “I wouldn’t want to put you to the trouble,” he mumbled and stuck his hands beneath the water, wishing he could stick his head beneath the cool spray, as well.

“Oh, no bother.” She graced him with yet another smile.

Without answering, Jack tore off a strip of paper towels and dried his hands, already regretting accepting her invitation for breakfast and wondering how he was going to wiggle his way out of sharing meals with her and her brood. He reached for the plates, then opened the drawer she’d indicated and stacked the necessary utensils on top. Crossing to the table, he arranged place settings on opposite sides of the table.

“There’s coffee already made, or, if you’d prefer, there’s orange juice in the refrigerator.”

Hoping the caffeine would clear his head a little and settle his nerves, Jack mumbled, “Coffee’s fine,” and headed for the coffeemaker on the counter. By the time he’d poured himself a cup, Alayna was setting a platter of bacon and stacks of golden pancakes in the center of the table. She took a seat, gesturing for him to join her.

“Have you decided where you’d like to start work today?” she asked as she served first his plate, then hers.

Jack pulled a napkin across his lap, but kept his gaze fixed on his plate. He wasn’t sure he trusted that robe of hers to stay in place, not with the way she was flapping those arms of hers around, and he didn’t think he could handle another glimpse of those creamy breasts. He had to get out of this place, he told himself, and the sooner the better. “You never said what all you wanted done.”

Alayna poured syrup over her pancakes. “Frank took care of the major repairs before he left, but there are still quite a few things that need attention. There are two baths upstairs. The shower leaks like a sieve in one of them, though both could stand some remodeling. And there are a few changes I’d like made in the bedrooms.” She waved her fork vaguely. “Enlarging closets. Adding shelving. Painting. That kind of thing.” She parted her lips and slipped a forkful of pancakes between them. She smiled at Jack as she chewed. “But I think what I’d like to do first is tackle the wall in the breakfast nook. You really aroused my curiosity with your comments about the wood hidden beneath the wallpaper.”

The emphasis she placed on the word “aroused” had Jack snapping his gaze to hers. He immediately regretted the action. Her face was flushed with excitement, her blue eyes bright with expectancy. The craziest notion bubbled up out of nowhere...he wanted to lean across the table and cover her mouth with his, and show her what it meant to be really aroused.

Slowly he dragged his napkin from his lap and wiped it across his mouth, then across the perspiration beading his forehead before wadding it in a ball against his thigh. “Then that’s where I’ll start,” he said, picking up his fork.

“What will we need to do?”

Jack jerked his head up again. “We?” he repeated, his face going slack. “You’re planning on helping me?”

She laid down her fork, her shoulders drooping right along with her expression. “Well, yes,” she said uncertainly. “But I won’t get in your way,” she added quickly, “if that’s what you’re worried about. I just thought the work would go that much faster if I helped.”

Jack set aside his own fork, his appetite suddenly gone. The idea of working alongside Alayna and the forced intimacy involved had created another, more dangerous hunger.

Paper hung in tattered strips, already revealing sections of tongue-and-groove boards by the time Alayna returned to the breakfast room. Thankfully she had exchanged her robe for a pair of baggy cotton slacks and a man’s tailored white shirt. Even though she was now covered from neck to toe, somehow she still managed to look sexy, a fact that irritated Jack.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her roll up her sleeves and knew he was going to have to think of some way to dissuade her from helping him. He wasn’t sure his system could take much more temptation.

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?” she asked, her voice full of enthusiasm.

Keeping his eyes focused on his work, Jack tipped his head toward the soggy wallpaper he’d already ripped from the wall and dropped to the floor. “You can pick up the scrap paper and put it in the garbage sack I’ve set out.”

“That’s all?”

Jack bit back a smile of satisfaction at the disappointment he heard in her voice. Realizing that this might be just the way to get rid of her, he kept his gaze on the wall in front of him. “Well, I suppose you could start on the plumbing in the bath upstairs, if you’d rather do something that requires more skill.”

“But I don’t know anything about plumbing.”

Jack dropped his hand to his side, and slowly turned to look at her, his posture that of a man at the end of his patience. “Well, then why don’t you pick up the paper, like I suggested?”

To his surprise—and disappointment—Alayna dropped to her knees and began to scrape the soiled and gum-slickened paper into a pile.

“What do we do after all the paper is off?”

Jack stared down at her, watching in growing amazement as she crawled around on the drop cloth he’d spread on the floor, picking up the soggy paper and stuffing it into the garbage bag. She didn’t flinch, didn’t curl her nose, didn’t argue. Hell, she didn’t even complain! She just did as he’d instructed. A woman of obvious breeding, and a doctor, no less, willing to lower herself to performing menial labor? The woman was an oddity. A paradox. A total opposite to his ex-wife who had thought herself too good to get her hands dirty. He gave his head a shake, clearing it of the old memories, and went back to tearing off paper.

“Once the paper’s off,” he said, firming his voice as he refocused on her question, “we’ll have to clean the wall, removing all the old paste and any residue the paper left. Then we’ll give it a good rubbing with a mixture of linseed oil and a little turpentine. If you’re satisfied with the look, then we’ll brush on a clear sealer. If not, we might want to first add a stain, then the sealer.”

At his use of the word “we,” Alayna sat up and rocked back on her heels, wiping her palms down her thighs. “You’ll let me help you do all those things?”

Jack angled his head to look at her and saw the almost childlike hopefulness in her eyes. Quickly he looked away, refusing to be moved by it. “We’ll see.”

Alayna dropped back down to her knees and started picking up the paper faster. “Neat. I love to paint.” At Jack’s doubtful grunt, she scooped up a pile of paper and stuffed it into the bag. “I really do,” she insisted. “When I opened my first office in Raleigh, I was operating on a shoestring. It was a dump. Really depressing. I completely redecorated it and I did all the painting myself. I even did a mural of a jungle with all these wild animals peeking out from behind the trees and plants.”

Jack turned to look at her. A mural of a jungle? What was she, a veterinarian? “What kind of doctor are you, anyway?”

“A child psychologist.”

Jack’s stomach plunged to his feet. He quickly turned away and picked up the brush and put it in motion.

Intent on gathering up the paper, Alayna went on with her explanation, unaware of his reaction to her choice in careers. “I specialized in cases of abuse and neglect. My clients were usually sent to me by the courts.” Having picked up all the paper he’d discarded, she rocked back on her heels and watched while he brushed water over another section of the wall. “My husband thought I was crazy.” She chuckled, remembering. “He hated painting with a passion.”

She slowly sobered as other memories of her ex-husband slipped into her mind, and she dropped her gaze to her hand, unconsciously rubbing at the spot where she’d once worn his ring. “In fact, he hated my office, my career, my clients. He couldn’t stand imperfection in any form.” A shiver chased down her spine at the unwanted reminder, and she straightened, lifting her gaze to Jack...and found him staring at her.

“You’re married?”

At the stunned look on his face, she quickly shook her head. “No. Divorced.” When he continued to stare at her, she returned the question. “Are you married?”

“No.” He turned back to the wall, and peeled a strip of paper from it, letting it fall to the drop cloth, then added, “Divorced.”

She stared at his back, wondering if the sadness, the emptiness she’d seen in his eyes was a result of the divorce. “Were you married long?”

“Long enough.” Jack ripped another strip of paper from the wall and dropped it to the floor and, along with it, it seemed, the topic of discussion. “There’s a scraper in my toolbox. Get it for me.”

Alayna saw the tenseness in his shoulders, heard it in his clipped order. Avoidance. She knew the symptoms well. And knew, too, how unhealthy the tactic was.

She crossed to his toolbox, found the scraper he’d requested, then returned, holding it out to him as she studied his profile. “Divorce can be painful,” she offered quietly, hoping to draw him back into the conversation. But he didn’t bite. The only sign that he’d heard her was an increased tenseness in his jaw. His gaze remained fixed on the wall.

“Was yours a painful divorce?” she asked, angling her head to better see his face, his expression.

Jack flung the paper he’d just torn from the wall to the floor and bent to pick up the paintbrush again. His lips remained stubbornly pressed together as he swiped water over a new section of faded wallpaper with angry strokes.

His refusal to talk about his divorce told Alayna what he refused to admit. His divorce had been painful. From experience, she knew that talking helped. “Jack?” she prodded gently. “Was it painful?”

He tossed his paintbrush back into the can, then looked at her over his shoulder. “Don’t try crawling around in my head, Doc. You might not like what you find.”

Alayna refused to let him intimidate her. “Sounds as if you’ve had experience with a psychologist. Judging by your tone, it wasn’t a very happy one. Is that true?”

“Bingo,” he muttered bitterly and picked up his paintbrush again. “Paid a damn fortune to spill my guts to some tight-assed, sanctimonious stranger who sat in a chair and mumbled ‘hmm’ all the time. When that didn’t work, I paid another wad of money in attorney fees.” Slowly he turned to look at Alayna, his mouth thinned in a grim, thin line. “Now there’s somebody you might enjoy psychoanalyzing, Doc. My ex’s divorce lawyer. Smiled the whole time he was ripping out my heart and draining the blood right out of me. I’ll bet you’d get a kick out of digging around in his gray matter.”

Unaffected by his bitter tone, Alayna listened, enthralled. Jack was talking. This was good.

“Cats, children, divorce lawyers.” She ticked off each on her fingers, as if making a list, then glanced up at him, teasing him with a smile. “Is there anything or anyone else I should add to your list of dislikes?”

His scowled deepened. “Yeah. Angel-faced psychologists. They really get under my skin.” He picked up the scraper and tossed it to her. She caught it deftly in one hand. “Now, are you going to yap your jaws all day, or are you going to work?”

“Oddly enough,” she replied, unoffended, “I can talk and work at the same time. Can you?”

“Yeah,” he replied irritably, “if the topic’s interesting.” He stooped to pick up his paintbrush again, then turned his back to her. “Unfortunately, this particular one bores me stiff.”

Three

“Maudie tells me that you’ve hired a new remodeler.”

Alayna handed Mandy a glass of iced tea, then shuddered visibly as she sank onto a patio chair opposite her cousin. “Yes, and I can just imagine what all Maudie had to say on that subject.”

“Oh, let’s see,” Mandy replied, tapping a finger against her chin, as if trying to recall the details of the conversation. “Something about Frank scamming you out of thousands of dollars, and what a softhearted little fool you are. Then I believe she mentioned something about this man you hired to replace Frank being a good-looking hunk, and that she is sure you hired him just to satisfy this insatiable need of yours for wild sex and—”

Alayna snorted. “Oh, yeah,” she said sarcastically, “that was it, all right.”

“—and,” Mandy continued pointedly, trying hard not to smile, “this same man—the one, by the way, who was hired strictly for his sexual prowess—will also steal you blind, the same as Frank did.” She lifted her glass of tea, and smiled at Alayna from behind it. “I think that’s about all she had to say on the subject.”

Alayna arched a brow. “Are you sure?” she asked dryly.

Mandy tossed back her head and laughed. “No. But those are the best parts.”

Annoyed, Alayna folded her arms beneath her breasts and crossed her legs, her foot pumping like an oil derrick. “I swear. I love Maudie to death, but there are times...”

“I know, I know,” Mandy agreed, still laughing. “But she means well.”

In spite of her annoyance, Alayna found herself chuckling, too, as she thought of Maudie with her mother-hen-heart and her bossy ways. “Yes. It’s her only redeeming quality.”

Mandy nodded her agreement, then glanced around. “Where is he, anyway? I thought for sure I would be interrupting something really sordid by dropping by without calling first.”

“He went to town to pick up some supplies.”

“Oh, well. Maybe next time.” As she sipped her tea, Mandy continued to look around, making note of the changes since her last visit. “You’ve really done a lot with the place.”

Alayna followed her cousin’s gaze, smiling her pleasure at all she’d managed to accomplish. Frank had completed a lot of the work before he’d run out on her, and after only a week, Jack had done quite a bit more. “Yes, but there’s still a lot to be done.”

“All in due time.”

Alayna’s brow creased with worry. “But that’s just it. I don’t know how much time I have. I want to be ready if they should call and have more children needing a home.”

Mandy leaned over and gave Alayna’s knee a comforting pat. “You’ll be ready.” She smiled at the doubt she saw in Alayna’s eyes. “Have I told you that I’m proud of you?”

Alayna blushed, uncomfortable with the praise. “About a thousand times.”

Mandy settled back in her chair. “Well, I can’t say it enough. Few women would consider doing what you are doing, and fewer still would be able to do it well.”

Alayna scooted to the edge of her chair, reaching out to clasp her cousin’s hand in hers. “Oh, Mandy,” she said her voice filled with doubt. “I want to do this well, I really do, but I’m frightened. Billy and Molly seem to be doing well enough, but what if I somehow fail these children and do them more harm than good?”

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