“I really am the most dangerous guy you’ll ever know.”

Nina’s mouth was dry. Her head was light; she couldn’t catch her breath.

If Dillon let go of his hold on her, she’d probably fall at his feet.

She tried to step back, to break the contact between them. But his large hands, placed so intimately, didn’t budge.

His gaze fell to her mouth and he bent his head.

“Stop me,” he murmured.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. How could she stop him when he looked at her with such…intensity? Such hunger. How could she stop him when he made her remember how it felt to be held by a man? Touched by a man.

Wanted by a man.

A Not-So-Perfect Past

by

Beth Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Award-winning author BETH ANDREWS is living her dream – writing romance for Mills & Boon while looking after her real-life hero and their three children. A self-professed small-town girl, Beth still lives in the Pennsylvania town where she grew up. She has been honoured by her kids as The Only Mum in Town Who Makes Her Children Do Chores and The Meanest Mum in the World – as if there’s something wrong with counting down the remaining days of summer vacation until school starts again. For more information about Beth or her upcoming books, please visit her website at www.bethandrews.net.

Available in September 2010
from Mills & Boon®
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by Crystal Green

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by Karen Rose Smith

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by Kimberly Van Meter

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Cop on Loan

by Jeannie Watt

The Texan’s Tennessee Romance

by Gina Wilkins

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The Rancher & the Reluctant Princess

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Loving the Right Brother

by Marie Ferrarella

A Weaver Baby

by Allison Leigh

A Small-Town Temptation

by Terry McLaughlin

A Not-So-Perfect Past

by Beth Andrews

For the talented, supportive and just plain awesome women of Writers At Play and Romance Bandits.

Thank you all for being such great friends!

And as always, for Andy.

You give me hope.

Chapter One

AW, HELL. Not “Jingle Bells.”

Dillon Ward grit his teeth as he entered the brightly lit bakery. Red and green decorations and twinkling colored lights took up every inch of the large room. The effect was cheerful, bright and filled with so much Christmas spirit, it hurt his head.

He stomped his boots harder than necessary and brushed snow off his jacket. Luckily, the smells of yeasty bread and sweet pastries and chocolate helped ease the shock of the faux Christmas wonderland.

He scanned the room as he crossed to the front counter. Only two of the dozen or so small tables had customers, but Dillon figured that had more to do with it being twenty minutes before closing time on a Sunday afternoon, and less to do with the snow falling steadily outside.

It’d take more than an early December storm to keep the citizens of Serenity Springs, New York, from their donuts.

An elderly lady turned from the counter, her step faltering when she noticed him. She clutched her white bakery bag to her chest, lowered her head and scurried out.

Dillon took off his knit cap and pushed a gloved hand through his hair. Even though he’d lived here for almost two years, people were still wary of him. Still looked at him with the mix of curiosity, fear and revulsion usually reserved for circus acts.

Or killers.

He took off his gloves, stuffing them in his pocket. “This month’s rent,” he said, holding an envelope out to Nina Carlson.

From behind her cash register, the curvy blonde looked past him to the large picture window. “You didn’t have to shovel the walk.”

He shrugged. “It needed it.”

Because she hadn’t reached over for the rent check, and because he was tired of holding it out, he set it on the top of the pastry-display case and slid it toward her.

“Well, I appreciate it.” She cleared her throat. “Why don’t I get you some lunch? As a thank-you?”

Usually his cupcake of a landlord could barely meet his eyes, let alone stammer out a few words to him. Now she wanted to give him lunch? “Why don’t I just take ten dollars off next month’s rent? And we’ll call it even.”

Staring at the counter, she picked up the check. “Actually, I was hoping to talk to you…”

“About?”

She blinked several times. “Just a few things. About the apartment.”

“If you’re raising the rent—”

“I’m not. It’s more complicated than that. If you can’t stick around until closing, I could come up to the apartment when I’m done working.”

To his place? Alone? Wouldn’t that go over well with Serenity Springs’ moral majority? Sweet single mother Nina Carlson going to the lion’s den.

Or in this case, the ex-convict’s lair.

He doubted she even had the courage to climb the stairs.

Whatever she wanted to talk to him about must be important. And as always, his curiosity got the better of him. Never a good thing.

“I’ll wait,” he said, noting the relief on her face.

Dillon picked a table by the far window on the opposite side of the room from the middle-aged couple finishing their coffee. He sat with the window to his right, allowing him a clear view of the entrance, the kitchen and out onto the street.

Prison had taught him to protect his back.

A few minutes later, the kitchen door swung open and Nina came out, a coffeepot in one hand, a tray of food in the other.

She set the tray in front of him. “I’m finishing up with your sister in the kitchen—she’s tasting wedding cake samples—and I thought I’d bring you something to eat while you wait.”

He slouched in his seat and hoped Kelsey stayed in the kitchen. At least until he was gone.

Nina leaned over and poured a cup of coffee he hadn’t asked for and didn’t particularly want, and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. He frowned. He’d bet his brand-new nail gun she’d run screaming from the room if she knew where his thoughts went at the sight.

“It’s today’s lunch special,” she continued, placing a shallow bowl and a large plate on the table. “Tomato parmesan soup, a ham and provolone Panini on my honey wheat bread and a raspberry bear claw.”

She tucked the tray under her arm and watched him expectantly. He almost refused the food, but his stomach chose that moment to remind him the only thing he’d eaten all day were two slices of cold, leftover pizza.

His resolve was nothing up against hunger. Or a pretty blonde.

Especially this woman, with her big gray eyes. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans that accentuated her generous curves and a bright pink, V-neck top that clung to her breasts like frosting on a cake. Knowing he was beat, he picked up his spoon, sampled the steaming soup and grunted in appreciation. She smiled, producing a small dimple in her left cheek. Her loose braid swung in time with her hips as she walked away.

He’d gotten the better part of this deal. Great food and a full stomach while all she’d gotten was a cleared sidewalk. He glanced out the window. A sidewalk that would be covered again within the hour.

Halfway through his sandwich, the nape of his neck prickled, telling him he was being watched. He slowly shifted his gaze to the left and stared into a pair of guileless blue eyes.

Emma Martin, with her soft halo of blond hair, grinned up at him. “Hi, Uncle Dillon,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie. “What’re you doing here?”

He scowled at her. Not that it would deter Emma any. She was high-strung, affectionate and could talk you into a coma.

She also scared the hell out of him.

“I’m not your uncle,” he pointed out gruffly.

“You will be,” she said, “once Kelsey marries my daddy and becomes my mom.”

The kid was a little young to be getting so technical about things, wasn’t she?

“Where’s your dad?” he asked, surprised to find the room empty except for him and Emma.

“Working.” She wiped her hands on her legs leaving a trail of cookie crumbs across the light blue pants. Before he knew what she was doing, she nudged her way under his elbow and climbed onto his lap. “Me and Kelsey are picking out wedding cakes.”

Dillon shifted his leg but she didn’t budge. Over Emma’s head he saw his sister’s bright red hair through the small window into the kitchen. He opened his mouth but the mini-queen of gab kept right on talking.

“Kelsey said they couldn’t have a Princess Barbie cake for the wedding but that I could get one for my very own when they got back from their honin’ moon.”

He glared at the top of Kelsey’s head. Felt a trickle of sweat form between his shoulder blades. Come on. He didn’t doubt Kelsey knew he was staring at her.

“I want to go on the honin’ moon, too, but Daddy says I have to stay at Grandma Helen’s, even though I promised to be real good and not bother them when they lock the bedroom door so they can make my baby brother.”

His mouth dropped open. “What?” he croaked.

“I asked Daddy if they could make me a baby brother on their honin’ moon,” she told him patiently. “Daddy laughed and said it would take lots and lots of practice to make me a brother.”

“I don’t need to know any more,” he said with a quick shake of his head.

“Kelsey just sort of made this weird sound, like she was choking.” Emma widened her eyes and made gagging sounds. “Like she’d just tasted something really yucky like olives, but then Daddy whispered a secret to her and they kissed, so I guess she was okay.”

Dillon sat frozen for a moment, wondering what the kid might tell him next. Abruptly he jumped to his feet, tucked Emma under his arm like a very large, very talkative football and stalked toward the kitchen.

“ARE YOU SURE she’s okay out there?” Nina asked as she boxed up cake samples for Kelsey Reagan. Nina wished she could see how Dillon was handling his alone time with Emma but she didn’t have a clear view of his table, only the front door.

“Emma’s fine,” the redhead assured her. “Besides, Dillon has to get used to having his new niece around.”

Nina placed a square of German chocolate cake with coconut/pecan frosting into the box. “It’s just that your brother doesn’t seem like the type to be…comfortable around children.”

Actually, the coolly enigmatic Dillon Ward didn’t seem as if he’d be comfortable around anyone. From what she could tell, he seemed more likely to make people uncomfortable. And enjoy doing it.

Kelsey leaned back against the counter and waved Nina’s concern away, the stunning diamond on her left hand catching the light. “Dillon’s got tons of experience with little girls. He raised me, remember?”

Nina tucked in the flaps of the bakery box and taped it shut.

She didn’t know all that much about her tenant—the tenant she’d acquired with her purchase of Sweet Suggestions six months ago from her grandparents when they’d retired and moved south. She knew Dillon lived alone. Paid his rent on time. Took care of any problems in the apartment. And except for the time he spent with Allie Martin, a local bar owner, he kept to himself.

Oh, yeah. She also knew Dillon had served prison time for killing his stepfather.

A fact which Nina became aware of before most people in town—including her family and ex-husband—when Police Chief Jack Martin informed Nina and her grandparents of Dillon’s past shortly after he moved in above the bakery. Her grandparents opted to let him rent from them anyway.

After all, her devoutly Christian grandparents had told her, to forgive is divine.

A sentiment that sounded good but was hard to pull off.

But, despite Nina’s misgivings, Dillon hadn’t caused any problems and had never been anything other than polite to her or her grandparents.

The kitchen door swung open and Dillon—a giggling Emma in tow—headed straight for his sister. “This yours?”

Kelsey tilted her head. “Hmm…might be. What are you willing to give me to take her off your hands?”

Nina couldn’t believe Kelsey was teasing Dillon. He was so…hard. His work boots added two inches to his already impressive height, and the sleeves of his dark green chambray shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing muscular forearms. His brown eyes, as usual, were guarded. And watchful. His mouth set.

She wondered if he even knew how to smile.

Of course Kelsey—with her confidence and bad-girl attitude—didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Her multiple ear piercings and short, spiky hair proclaimed her a rebel. Really, she was everything Nina “the good girl” wasn’t. And had long ago given up ever becoming.

Dillon attempted to set Emma down, but she giggled even louder and lifted her feet to keep them from touching the floor. “If you don’t want her,” he said, “maybe I’ll just take her out back. Toss her in the Dumpster.”

Kelsey shrugged and studied her cuticles. “Seems like a waste of a perfectly good kid, but if that’s what you want to do…”

Nina started to laugh, but Dillon shot her a look so she cleared her throat and struggled to keep a straight face.

After another long, intense look at his sister, Dillon turned on his heel and crossed the kitchen, Emma shrieking in delight. He stopped at the back door without opening it—thank God. Not that she believed he’d toss Emma out into a snowbank or anything, but it was brutally cold out and Emma didn’t even have her coat on.

Emma didn’t waste the opportunity, squirming around and climbing up Dillon’s back where she clung to him like a monkey. Uh-oh. This was getting out of hand. Why wasn’t Kelsey stepping in?

“Kelsey,” he said, a threat and—if Nina wasn’t mistaken—panic clear in his low voice.

Which she didn’t understand. If someone had messed with her ex-husband, Trey, this way, he would’ve lost his patience—and his temper.

“You know,” Kelsey said, tapping a finger to her chin, “my wedding’s in less than two weeks and I don’t recall receiving your RSVP. You are coming, aren’t you?”

While Nina couldn’t understand how Kelsey stood her ground, she did admire the other woman for it.

“The kid,” he muttered. Nina noticed he had one arm bent at an awkward angle behind him so Emma wouldn’t fall.

“Yeah, Emma’s a great kid.” Kelsey clapped her hands. “Oh, I know. Emma, how would you like to hang out with Uncle Dillon for a while? We’re not quite done here, are we, Nina?”

Brother and sister both stared at her. She was trapped, solidly stuck to the spot by Kelsey’s shrewd green eyes and Dillon’s hooded, flat gaze.

She hated being put in the middle almost as much as she hated confrontations. Whichever side she took would probably be the wrong side. Besides, she’d end up disappointing someone.

“Uh…no? I mean…we still have a few things to go over.”

Kelsey’s face lit up. “See? Much to do. Many, many cakes to sample and decisions to make. It could take as long as a few hours—”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

But Kelsey didn’t budge. Just raised an eyebrow. “Promise?”

Dillon pressed his lips together. “Promise.”

Kelsey grinned and motioned for him to turn around. When he did, she pulled Emma off his back.

“It worked, Kelsey,” Emma said wiggling with excitement in Kelsey’s arms.

“It sure did. You were great.” She hugged Emma and set her down.

Nina’s jaw dropped. They’d set Dillon up. Not only that, but they’d just admitted it. In front of him. Her stomach cramped as she waited for the explosion of temper. When a man had been so neatly played, so easily boxed into a corner, he was going to lash out.

Except nothing happened. Dillon didn’t curse or threaten or call his sister names. Didn’t pick up the nearest object and throw it at the wall. He just shook his head in disgust.

He must not be as angry as she thought. Or else he had a better hold on his control than she’d realized. Which was good, seeing as how he probably wasn’t going to be too happy with her once she told him her news.

Kelsey stuffed Emma into her coat, tugged a hat over the little girl’s head and grabbed the box of cake samples for Jack. “The wedding’s at two,” she told Dillon. “Reception’s at the ski resort.”

“I got an invitation.”

She winked at him. “So you did. See you there. Thanks for these,” she said to Nina. “I’ll let you know in the morning which one we choose.”

Hand in hand, she and Emma walked out the back door. It took a full minute, staring at the closed door, for Nina to realize she was alone.

With Dillon Ward.

She had to talk to him about her decision regarding the apartment. But for the love of all that was sweet and holy, she just wasn’t certain she could deal with his potentially violent reaction to what she had to say. No matter how surprisingly calm he’d been so far.

As usual, his expression gave none of his thoughts away. She licked her lips, and didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to her mouth. The way his jaw tightened.

Her heart fluttered and she placed her hand on her chest. She hoped she wasn’t having a heart attack or something. Wouldn’t that be perfectly embarrassing? She could see the headlines of the Serenity Springs Gazette now: Local Business Owner Scared of Her Own Shadow. Has Heart Attack Because She Was Alone With A Sexy Man. Complete story on page 12.

“Aren’t you mad?” she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

“About what?”

She picked up a dish towel and carefully folded it. “Kelsey,” she said, unable to look at him. “The way she tricked you into going to her wedding.”

“She’s sneaky. You have to watch out for her.”

Nina raised her head but she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Uh, well, it’s not like you have to go…”

The look in his eyes seared her. “I promised.”

“I know, but she did trick you—”

“I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.”

She swallowed but her throat remained dry. The way he said it made her believe him.

Someone like Dillon Ward couldn’t be trusted. She knew that. And if she didn’t, her family warning her—repeatedly—how dangerous and unpredictable he was should be enough to convince her.

Except, every once and a while, she had her doubts. But then she’d remember how Trey always said her naivety would be her downfall.

Dillon stepped toward her and she couldn’t stop herself from backing up. He motioned to the towel twisted tightly in her hands. “That do something to you?”

Warmth climbed up her neck into her cheeks. She tossed the towel on the counter. “No. It’s just been a long day.”

He nodded as if that explanation was good enough reason for her to be acting like a complete moron. But at least he wasn’t looking at her like most people did—with pity.

“I’m sure you’re in a hurry to close up and get home, then,” he said.

“Not particularly. I mean, I can’t go home. Trey, my ex, is dropping our kids—”

“Still, I’m sure you have things to do. I know I do,” he said pointedly. “So why don’t you tell me what it is you wanted to tell me and I’ll get out of your way.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from anything. I just wanted…that is…things have changed. In regards to your apartment. Since buying the bakery, I’ve had some time to think about what’s best for my business and with costs rising the way they are—”

“So you do want to raise the rent.”

“No, that’s not it. It’s not just about the money. Not really. I mean, it’s partly the money, but more than that, what I need—”

“Would you just spit it out?” he snapped.

“I need you to move out.”

DILLON SHOOK his head. “What?”

She stepped back, her eyes darting around the empty room. He shoved his hands into his front pockets to keep from fisting them. Yeah, he towered over her and he’d just snapped at her, but he was really getting tired of everyone in town treating him like the spawn of Satan.

“I need you to move out,” she squeaked, “by the end of the month.”

“Let me get this straight.” For some reason, he simply could not wrap his mind around the fact that this pretty little piece of fluff was giving him the boot. “You’re evicting me?”

She swallowed and nodded. “It’s just that if I want to increase my business—which I do—I have to think about expansion.”

“You’re going to expand the bakery into my apartment?”

She blushed deeper and dropped her gaze and just like that, he knew whatever she was about to tell him was a pile of crap.

Figures. You couldn’t even trust someone as sweet as a cupcake to tell you the truth.

“I want to convert the apartment into a tea room. A place I can rent out for parties or book clubs—”

“Serenity Springs has a book club?”

She frowned. “Local clubs could have meetings up there or I could serve special lunches and have tea tastings. It’ll be nice…”

Sure. For her. And everyone else in town who wanted him gone since the Serenity Springs Gazette ran that article about his five years in a maximum security prison.

But for him? Not so freaking nice.

“My lease says you have to give me thirty days and written notice.”

Nina rubbed her thumb across the base of her left ring finger. “I’m giving you thirty days. And this—” she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded-up envelope “—is the notice.”

He took the envelope from her. Noticed the unsteadiness of her hand. Great. He’d obviously scared her. He wanted to tell her to develop a backbone so the world didn’t eat her alive. But then he supposed he should stop scowling at her and giving her a hard time. Try to put her at ease, like a nice guy would.

Then again, he’d stopped being a nice guy a long time ago.

He ripped open the envelope and quickly skimmed the paper while his mind turned with questions. If she was kicking him out because of his past, did he have legal recourse? Could he prove it? And the big question: where could he go?

He doubted anyone else would rent to him. After the police had suspected him of killing a woman a few months ago and that damn article ran in the paper, he’d lost two jobs he’d hoped would pull him through the winter. Despite being cleared of any wrongdoing.

He scratched his cheek. Wait a minute. What was he getting angry about? He’d be done at The Summit, a local bar he was renovating, any day now. He could blow this town. Truth be told, he should’ve been done two weeks ago but Allie Martin, the bar owner, kept giving him small jobs to do. More than likely because she knew he didn’t have any other work.

Not that he liked charity, but he did like working for Allie. It was hard not to. She was smart, funny and gorgeous. Almost too bad they were better suited as friends than lovers.

And he hadn’t had any real friends since before he’d been sent away. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin his friendship with Allie.

He wasn’t really surprised Nina was kicking him out. Ever since she’d bought the bakery from her grandparents, he’d known this day was coming. He supposed after having it not come for so many months, he’d grown complacent. Too comfortable. Too secure.

No, this wasn’t something to get angry about or fight over. This was an opportunity. Or fate’s way of telling him to get his ass in gear and get out of Serenity Springs.

He placed the eviction notice in the envelope and tucked it in his back pocket. “I’ll be out after Kelsey’s wedding,” he promised before pushing open the kitchen door.

“You don’t have to move out so soon,” Nina said, following him into the dining room. “You can stay the full thirty—”

“No need.” He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and put it on. “Besides, I’m sure you want to get started on that tea room as soon as possible.”

“Of course I do,” she said unconvincingly. “It’s just I don’t want to rush you. It might be difficult to find another place in two weeks—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He pulled his hat on. “I’m not going to.”

He reached for the door when it swung open. Nina’s kids, Hayley and Marcus, came barreling inside. The little girl spotted Dillon immediately and skidded to a stop. Unfortunately, Marcus kept going, plowing into his sister and knocking her down.

Sitting on the floor, Hayley’s lower lip quivered and her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t make a sound.

“Honey, are you okay?” Nina asked, bending to pick up her daughter. Dillon couldn’t help but notice her shapely backside.

“Everything all right in here, Nina?”

Trey Carlson, Nina’s pretty-boy ex-husband, stood in the open doorway. And from the expression on the guy’s face, he’d noticed Dillon checking out his ex-wife.

Great.

Before Nina could answer, Dillon zipped up his coat and said, “If that’s all you wanted, I’m heading out.”

“Oh. Yes, that’s all.” She looked like she wanted to say something else but didn’t. Her daughter had her face buried in Nina’s neck. Her son had taken off his hat and his pale blond hair stuck up all around his head. The boy’s eyes were huge in his round face as he sidled next to his mother and put his arm around her leg.

“Thanks for lunch.” A stupid thing to say considering she’d only fed him so he’d stick around long enough to be evicted.

At the door, Carlson blocked his way. Perfect. Just what he needed. A pissing contest with the town’s self-important, arrogant psychologist.

Dillon didn’t move. And he sure wasn’t going to say “excuse me” or anything civil to this guy. Carlson had made his displeasure about Dillon living above the bakery known to anyone and everyone who would listen. He’d even written an article for the Gazette about the psychology of a killer.

It hadn’t taken much to deduce which particular killer he was referring to.

After a long, silent stare-down, Carlson stepped aside.

Dillon smirked. Yeah. That’s what he thought. All flash. No substance.

He lowered his head against the driving snow and walked around the building to the entrance to his apartment.

He couldn’t wait to get as far from Serenity Springs as possible.

Chapter Two

THE MUSIC SWITCHED to Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas.” The sentimentality of it would’ve fit Nina’s current circumstances perfectly—snow was falling, Christmas was approaching and she was with her kids. Except she was also with Trey. The man she once thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. The man she had once been afraid she’d never escape.

Trey took his time closing the door and brushing the snow off his shoulders. Closing in on forty, he could pass for ten years younger. Nina wondered if his patients knew their psychologist was afraid of growing older—or at least, looking older—so much that he had his tawny hair professionally highlighted once a month.

Or that he went to a salon two towns away to keep them from finding out.

But not even a bit of gray or the few lines bracketing Trey’s blue eyes could detract from his movie-star looks with his conservative haircut, perfect tan, suede jacket and dark designer jeans. And he still had the sense of privilege and entitlement he’d had when they’d first met ten years ago.

At nineteen she’d been way too young. Too young, naive and, if she was honest with herself, stupid to ever get involved with Serenity Springs’ supposed golden boy.

Live and learn.

“Nina, put her down,” Trey said in what she thought of as his professional voice—soft and carefully modulated. “You know tears are a self-indulgent luxury. Coddling only encourages her self-indulgence.”

Nina smoothed a hand over Hayley’s back. Her daughter still clung to her but at least she’d stopped crying. “I’m comforting her—not coddling. She’s hurt.”

“She hurt her pride more than her backside.” He reached for Hayley. Short of using her daughter in a game of tug-of-war, Nina had no choice but to let her go. Trey set her on the floor and laid a hand on her head. “You’re fine, aren’t you, princess?”

Hayley sniffed. “Yes, Daddy.”

Trey winked at her. “That’s my girl. Now, go into the kitchen with your brother. I need to speak to your mom. Alone.”

Nina forced a smile. “If you wash your hands, you may each have one cookie. One. Understand?” They nodded. “Good. Now say goodbye to your father.”

Hayley threw her arms around Trey’s legs and tipped her head back, her lips puckered. “Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, princess.” Trey kissed her and patted her back before disentangling himself from her hold to accept Marcus’s quick, one-armed hug. “Goodbye, son. Next weekend remember to bring your math book.”

“Okay,” Marcus mumbled. “See ya.”

“Nina,” Trey said when the kitchen door swung shut behind Marcus, “cookies so close to dinner time?”

Her back to him, she rolled her eyes. “One cookie isn’t going to spoil their appetites. Besides, we’re eating at my parents’ so dinner will be a little later.”

He sighed, his you’re-such-a-trial-to-me sigh. “I don’t like them out late on school nights. You know that.”

Yeah. She knew. She knew how he felt about all of her transgressions, each one of her faults and her many failings.

Trey was nothing if not vocal in his opinions.

She began to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear but stopped at Trey’s disdainful expression. During their marriage, she’d straightened her hair and pulled it back into a low ponytail because that’s how he’d liked it. But their marriage ended long ago and she’d be damned if she’d give him any more control over her life.

She twisted the loose strands around her finger. “They need to see their grandparents and aunts and uncles. And this is the only night that works for everyone. They’ll be home and in bed at their regular bedtimes.”

“I hope so. I wasn’t happy with Marcus’s last report card. A boy that bright getting a B in math…”

“I don’t think it’ll hurt his chances of getting into a good college. Besides, he’s doing his best—”

“No, he isn’t. Clearly. He can do much better.”

And didn’t that sum up every problem she and Trey had had during their marriage? She’d done her best to please him, to make him happy. And it had never been good enough. He’d found her lacking. Her looks. Her intelligence. Her mothering skills. Even her skills in the bedroom.

“We met with his teacher, she said Marcus is doing fine—”

“She’s enabling him to slide by. Let’s have him switched to a different classroom.”

He stepped toward her and she grabbed the serving tray off the table and crossed the room. “I have a lot to do before I can close up. Did you want something else?” she asked as she cleared the dishes from Dillon’s table.

She didn’t want to argue with him. She’d done enough of that during her marriage. Besides, she’d learned long ago that standing up to Trey was a waste of time and effort. She couldn’t win.

But she could divert and evade—the only tactic that had ever worked for her.

Trey’s mouth thinned. Either he was angry she had the nerve to try to change the subject or he blamed her for getting sidetracked from his original goal.

“What was going on with you and Dillon Ward?” he asked, his hands on his narrow hips. “What if someone walked by and saw you two in here, alone, after closing? Do you realize how that looked? What people would say?”

At the next table she loaded dirty coffee cups onto her tray. “It’s snowing like crazy. I doubt anyone in town is out walking or peeking into storefront windows.”

“That’s not the point,” Trey said stiffly.

“We were just talking—”

“Men like Dillon Ward don’t just talk to women. More than likely, he sees you as an easy mark. You’re single, own your own business and are ripe pickings for someone like him.”

She tossed dirty silverware onto her tray with a loud clang. “Ripe pickings? What am I, a piece of fruit?”

“You’re being overly sensitive. All I’m saying is that you can’t let your guard down around someone like him. You’re an attractive woman.” His gaze skimmed over her. “Even with those few extra pounds.”

She spun on her heel and walked back behind the counter, her stomach churning, her face heated. She shouldn’t let his words affect her. But God, she hated how looking into his eyes made the memories rush to the surface. Made her feel like less than nothing.

She shut off the industrial coffeepots as if they demanded her full attention. Every self-help book she’d read during the past two years said the only way someone could hurt you is if you gave them power over you. She gripped the counter, the hard edge digging into her palm. But she didn’t give Trey power. He took it. And she ended up feeling worthless, fat and inadequate.

Just like he always told her she was.

“Dillon isn’t interested in me,” she said, brushing past Trey. She placed a chair upside down on the table. Someone like Dillon wouldn’t look twice at her. She was too vanilla—plain, boring and unnoticeable. “We were discussing his eviction.”

Trey grinned, the same grin that had wrapped her around his finger all those years ago. She still remembered how her stomach had fluttered the first time he’d smiled at her like that. How shocked she’d been that he’d noticed her. How flattered.

How stupid.

After double checking to make sure the table was clean, he leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’m glad you listened to my advice. This is best for everyone concerned. Ward is dangerous.”

She moved to the next table. “Of course you’re glad. You got what you wanted.”

He shook his head, his expression magnanimous. Composed. As if he was talking to one of his patients. “It’s not what I want that matters, Nina. Even though things didn’t work out between us, I still care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She bit her lip. Cared about her. Right. Which was why he made her feel worthless. And then left her for the tall, thin, sexy—and let’s not forget successful—Dr. Rachel Weber.

“You made the right decision,” he assured her as he patted her shoulder. She twisted out of his reach, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care that she couldn’t stand him touching her. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll pick the kids up at six Thursday. Please have them ready on time.”

As he walked out, she slammed the next chair on the table and imagined it was his head. Her pulse raced. Talking to Trey always made her feel like she’d just run a race.

And lost.

“Marcus had three cookies,” Hayley said as she skipped into the room.

Marcus, hot on his sister’s heels, said, “Nu-uh. I had two.”

“Daddy says Marcus needs to stop eating so much ’cause he’s getting fat.”

Nina fisted her hands. While Marcus had put on some weight since the divorce, her son was far from fat. But Trey wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfection. Especially in his children.

“They were small cookies,” Marcus mumbled, his cheeks flushed pink. “I’m pretty sure they equaled one regular-size cookie.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I told you one cookie,” she said, forcing a brightness she didn’t feel into her voice. She ruffled his mussed hair. “But not because I’m worried about your weight. I just want to make sure you eat the dinner Grandma’s making. You can work up an appetite by helping me put the rest of the chairs up on the tables.”

Hayley tugged on Nina’s jeans. “I want to help, too.”

“Run and get the broom and dustpan. And no more tattling.”

Hayley raced off while Marcus dragged his feet toward the first table. “How was your weekend?” she asked.

He shrugged. Turned a chair over before hefting it in place. “Dad signed me up for the indoor soccer league.”

She helped him lift the next chair. “I didn’t know you wanted to play soccer.”

“I don’t. I want to play basketball.”

“Then why—”

“Dad wants me to.”

“Well, it might be fun—”

“No, it won’t. None of my friends are playing and I think soccer’s boring, but Dad wants me to play it because he says I’m not good enough to start at basketball, which means I’ll be on the bench for most of the games and won’t get enough exercise.”

She crouched in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Dad just wants what’s best for you. Come on, give it a try. If you don’t like it after a few weeks, I’ll talk to your dad about quitting.”

Marcus frowned, but it wasn’t the anger on her son’s face that made her throat constrict. It was the disappointment. “No, you won’t. You always say you’ll talk to him but it never changes anything.”

She sat back on her heels. “Honey, that’s not true. Dad and I may make decisions that you don’t like but we’re only thinking about what’s best for you.”

“Basketball’s what’s best for me.”

“Well, then,” she said slowly, “I’ll discuss it with your dad.”

He searched her face. “Promise?”

The idea of confronting Trey, of subjecting herself to his put-downs and arrogance made her palms sweat. But for her son, for that hopeful look on his face…

“Of course I promise.” Something crashed in the kitchen. Nina stood. “Could you please check on your sister?”

As she watched her son leave, his back stiff, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was doing the right thing. She wanted to teach her kids how to get along with their father. To protect themselves from his stinging comments and wicked temper. So why did she feel like she was failing them?

And in the process, failing herself?

ONE GOOD THING about his latest foster parents. They had decent taste in music.

Kyle Fowler loaded AC/DC’s “Back In Black” into the SUV’s CD player and cranked the volume. He switched on his high beams but that made it harder to see in the heavy snow.

Their vast CD collection was the only good thing about Joe and Karen Roberts. Sure, during the past seven months with them they’d given him a cell phone—to use in case of emergencies—and bought him some new clothes. But they were no different from any of his other foster parents.

He slowed enough to make sure there was no other traffic and then coasted through a Stop sign. No other foster parents had given him anything except a hard time. But Joe and Karen had bought him things just so they could take them away again.

What kind of sick head game was that? They were getting off on their power, that’s what they’re doing.

Jeez, it was just a little pot. It wasn’t like he was cooking up meth or something really bad. Pot never hurt anyone. Besides, they shouldn’t have been snooping around his room. They were the ones who were wrong and yet they thought they could ground him?

Who the hell gets grounded anymore?

None of his other foster parents had ever cared if he got in trouble. Okay, so maybe they cared—but only how it affected them and their check. Oh, once in a while he’d have someone bitch him out, maybe slap him around a bit but nobody lectured him like the holier-than-thou Joe and Karen.

On a straight stretch by the high school, he accelerated and flipped the bird to the empty building. He wasn’t going back there, that’s for sure. The SUV fish-tailed on the slippery, snow-covered road, but he easily kept it under control.

He remembered Karen’s disappointment, Joe’s anger, as they’d sat him down earlier this evening. He’d felt almost sick when Joe tossed the baggie of weed onto the coffee table in front of him. And when they’d both said how disappointed they were in him, he hadn’t been able to breathe.

Karen claimed she found it when she was cleaning up his room. She was always doing stuff like that—cleaning his room, putting away his clothes. Acting all nice and sweet, as if she enjoyed having him around. But he knew the truth would come out eventually. She and Joe were just messing with him. Acting as if they liked him, cared about him.

His hands tightened on the wheel. What bullshit.

He reached into his coat pocket and took out a pack of smokes. He’d just forget how nice Karen pretended to be, how she smiled at him and laughed at his jokes. How she asked him what he wanted at the grocery store and never complained that he ate too much. How she’d made him a cake for his birthday.

No one had ever made him a cake. No one had even remembered his birthday before. But Joe and Karen took him to a restaurant and when they got back home, they had the cake with candles and everything. They’d even sung to him.

It was freaking embarrassing. He was fifteen, not five.

The worst part was, when Joe had hugged him and Karen kissed his cheek, he’d thought maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

His eyes burned. And it was different. But it was also worse. Because he’d thought they were cool. But the way they flipped out over a little bit of pot was whacked.

He had wheels, a full tank of gas and, thanks to his helping himself to the extra cash around the house and in Karen’s purse, he had money. Almost two hundred dollars. That would last him until he was far enough away to ditch the car. He’d get a job and start fresh. Make his own way.

And to hell with everyone who’d ever held him back. To hell with anyone who tried to stop him.

With his cigarette in his mouth, he lifted his hips and dug in his front pocket for his disposable lighter. Steering with his left hand, he lit the cigarette with his right and blew out smoke. He glanced at the speedometer. He was going fifty down Main Street. He should probably slow down but nobody in this hick town was up anyway.

Not even the cops.

He pushed a button to roll the window down a crack. He took his eyes off the road for a second to flick the ash off his cigarette but when he looked through the windshield again, he was heading straight for the sidewalk. Swearing, he dropped his cigarette and jerked the wheel to the right at the same time he slammed on the brakes. His tires locked up. The SUV spun out of control, jumped the curb and crashed through the front of Sweet Suggestions.

NINA WAS SURE it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It couldn’t be.

Because it seemed really, really bad.

Two of the three large, glass display cases were smashed. Tables and chairs were in pieces across the room. Donuts, pastries and loaves of bread covered the floor, along with rubble and glass. Both large windows were demolished. The outside wall was gone.

And a banged-up SUV sat in the middle of the room, halfway through the wall separating the kitchen from the front.

The frigid air cut through her sweatpants. She shivered and flipped the hood of her heavy down coat over her snarled hair. When Police Chief Jack Martin had called and woke her, she’d tried to take off in her sweats and the ratty Hello Kitty T-shirt she slept in. Luckily, her mother—whom she’d called to watch the kids—had shoved Nina’s arms into the coat. She just wished she’d had the good sense to pull on wool socks instead of slipping her bare feet into these ancient canvas sneakers. She could no longer feel her toes.

Outside, the lights from two police cars were flashing while bright orange flares burned at the intersection. Her father was talking to one of the policemen while the tow truck driver hooked his winch to the SUV. Nina’s teeth chattered and she blew on her hands in an effort to warm them.

Jack had asked Nina to wait inside. From the look on his face as he spoke to Dora Wilkins—the editor-in-chief of the Serenity Springs Gazette—out on the sidewalk, he wouldn’t get to Nina for a while.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, then realized how foolish a lie it was. She exhaled heavily and glanced at Dillon. His hair was mussed, his green T-shirt wrinkled, his work boots untied. “On second thought, I’m not fine. This is a disaster.”

He turned over an unbroken chair and used the sweatshirt crumpled in his hand to brush it off. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Worse?” she asked as she sank into the chair. She gestured wildly. “There’s an SUV in my bakery. There’s a huge hole in one wall and the other wall’s completely gone. Gone. How can it be much worse?”

“A few feet to the left—” he crossed his arms; she noticed his skin was covered in goose bumps “—and he would’ve taken out your gas meter. That would’ve been worse. As it is, you’ll have to shore up the supporting wall, get new windows and a door, a couple of tables—”

“Tables and chairs and new display cases. Maybe even new flooring. Not to mention priming and painting those new walls.” Her throat tightened painfully with unshed tears. She dropped her head into her hands. “Everything’s ruined. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You’re supposed to handle this,” he said simply. “Does it suck? Yes. But sitting around whining—”

“I am not whining.” She stood and flipped her hood back. When he raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Okay, maybe I am whining. Just a little bit. I’m entitled.”

“Look,” he said hesitantly, “I realize we don’t…know each other very well, but since I’ve lived here I’ve seen you handle your kids, late deliveries and rude customers. Believe me, you can handle this.”

Her mouth popped open. “That’s…that’s the nicest compliment I’ve had in a long time.” And what did that say about the sad situation of her life that it came from the man she’d recently evicted? She skimmed her fingers over his cold hand, just the briefest of touches, but it left her fingertips tingling. She rubbed her hand down the side of her leg. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, looking so uncomfortable she almost smiled. “It’s no big deal. Just calling it like I see it.”

She cleared her throat. “You know, that sweatshirt might do you more good if you actually put it on.”

“It might,” he agreed as he unwound the cloth to show her the dark blood staining it, “but I’d rather not.”

“What happened?” She swept her gaze over him. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s not his blood,” Jack said as he carefully stepped over glass to join them. “It’s Kyle’s.”

Her knees went weak. “Kyle? Kyle who?”

“Kyle Fowler,” Jack said. “He’s the one who was driving.”

She held her hand out. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that the Roberts’ foster son?”

“He is.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems he got mad at Joe and Karen and took off.”

“Took off?”

“He stole their car,” Dillon said, balling his shirt up again. “Some of their cash, too. The kid’s in deep sh…uh…trouble.”

“He’s lucky he walked away with only a few bruises and a broken wrist,” Jack added.

“If he wasn’t hurt,” Nina said, “where did all the blood come from?”

“He hit his head against the window, got cut up. But it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Dillon held up his shirt. “Or looks. Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

She didn’t even want to think about how or why Dillon would know such a thing. “I’m glad Kyle’s okay.”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Dillon commented.

“What do you mean?”

“If some kid stole a car and crashed into my building, I don’t know if I’d be quite so understanding.”

“Understanding? Is that what I’m being? Maybe it would be better if I said I wanted to go to the hospital and tear into Kyle for his stupid, reckless actions?”

“I’m not sure about better, but it might be more honest.”

“Yeah, well, honesty’s overrated,” she muttered. The few times she’d allowed her temper to get the better of her, she’d ended up with a lot of bruises. Besides, she couldn’t get mad at some troubled teenager. The town would probably pass out collectively in shock.

And take away the halo they’d branded her with.

“There will be consequences,” Jack told her as one of his officers called his name. “Kyle’s facing some serious charges. And this isn’t his first offense. It could mean time in juvenile hall for him. Excuse me for a minute,” he said before walking away.

While she was glad Kyle wasn’t seriously hurt, she just couldn’t feel bad for him. He’d only been here a few months, and he already had a reputation as a troublemaker. Although truth be told, he’d arrived with the stigma in place. Everyone had been concerned when Joe, a local accountant, and Karen, an elementary school teacher, had become Kyle’s foster parents. Married for close to twenty years and unable to have children of their own, they’d chosen to take in a juvenile delinquent instead of adopting an infant.

“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Dillon said.

She laughed and rubbed her temples. “That’s a new one. Usually people are telling me not to bother getting mad. Especially over things I can’t control.”

“I’m just saying you have the right to be angry. Most people would be.”

She dropped her hands. “I don’t want to be angry. I just want this to not have happened. I want to close my eyes and open them to discover this is all a bad dream.”

“That’s not how life is.”

“No kidding.”

He thumped his fisted hand against his thigh several times. “Since you can’t blink and make this disappear—”

“What if I wiggled my nose?”

He smiled and the effect was so sexy, she caught her breath and lowered her gaze. The last thing she needed was her hormones taking notice of Dillon Ward.

Of course, it’d been so long since she’d been aware of a man, she’d begun to doubt she even still had hormones.

The tow truck driver got into his truck and started hauling the SUV out. Dillon took a hold of her elbow and led her to the far corner.

“Unless your magic powers suddenly materialize,” he said, bending close so she could hear him over the noise, “you’re going to have to decide what your next step is.”

He still hadn’t dropped her elbow. His hand was large and very masculine against the bright pink of her puffy coat. His hold on her was light. Supportive. And steady. She could really use some steadiness now.

She swallowed. “I…I guess the next step is to call the insurance adjuster.”

“Yeah, but right now the exterior wall needs to be boarded up and, since the interior wall is weight-bearing, it’ll have to be jacked up temporarily.” He leaned back, his jaw tight, his eyes steady on hers. “I could take care of the exterior wall. I wouldn’t be able to do anything inside until tomorrow, though. That is, if you want my help.”

Her pulse skittered. Before she could answer, her dad barreled toward them. His weathered cheeks were red from the cold, his knit ski cap pulled down low over his ears.

Dillon dropped her arm and stepped back. Nina forced a smile for her father. “Good news, Dad,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden tension, “Dillon’s offered to board up the wall tonight. Dillon Ward, you know my father, Hank Erickson, don’t—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Her dad’s mouth was turned down at the corners. “I already have a contractor on his way.”

Dillon looked at her as if…what? “Thank you so much for offering, Dillon, but—”

“No problem,” he said. “Good luck with the renovations.” His expression hard, he nodded at Hank and walked away.

Hank squeezed her shoulders and dropped a quick kiss on her head. “We’ll take care of this, honey. I called Jim Arturo to handle the repairs. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

She stiffened and slipped out of his hold. “Don’t worry? This is my livelihood we’re talking about.”

He patted her arm. She wanted to bite his hand. “I know it’s upsetting, but let me handle this. Now,” he said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket, “you have your insurance with Todd Alexis, right? I’ll call him and get things moving along.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she could call her insurance agent herself but he was already dialing a number as he walked into the kitchen. She slumped into a chair. She had a bank loan to repay and Christmas gifts to buy, not to mention her ancient minivan needed new tires. And she’d kicked out her tenant, the only source of income she could count on.

She blinked back tears. But she wasn’t supposed to worry. Or be strong enough to solve her own problems.

The sad part was, even though it grated on her last nerve, she knew she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was so damn tired. And scared. And since everyone expected her to stay in the background and let them take care of her, that’s what she’d end up doing.

Even if she did want to take charge of her life.

Chapter Three

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO come in today,” Allie said from behind the polished, horseshoe-shaped bar.

“Yeah, I did.” Dillon sat on a stool and shrugged out of his jacket. Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting The Summit’s barroom in shadows. Despite a jukebox filled with classic rock songs, Allie hummed along to some bubblegum song playing on the radio underneath the bar. He grimaced as the singer hit a high note. “How can you listen to this crap?”

She flipped her heavy, dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s pop music, not crap. And I like it.” She did a little shimmy and shake to the chorus. “Besides, if I have to listen to ‘Hotel California’ one more time, I’ll stick my head in the oven.”

“It’s electric.”

She waved that away. “So it’ll be a symbolic gesture.” She turned the music down. “I drove by the bakery on my way here. The damage is pretty extensive. What’s Nina going to do about it?”

“Her father was there last night, said he’d take care of getting a carpenter to do the repairs.”

Yeah, Mr. Erickson had jumped in real quick. Nina’s father hadn’t wanted the town’s most dangerous citizen anywhere near his precious daughter.

Dillon’s shoulders tensed as he remembered how Nina had brushed off his offer to help. An offer he never should’ve made. She had enough people around to help her. He wasn’t going to lose any sleep over her.

Allie polished a beer glass, her eyes narrowed in concentration. He didn’t bother pointing out that water spots weren’t going to keep her clientele from drinking their booze. “Joe Roberts called me before you got here. Wanted to get my opinion on what was going to happen to Kyle.”

“Are you putting your lawyer shingle back out?”

Regret flickered across her face but was quickly gone. “Hardly. I’m a business owner now.”

Allie had been a successful defense attorney with a high-class law firm in New York City before returning to Serenity Springs last year. The few times he’d asked what had happened to send her back to her hometown, she either changed the subject, evaded his question or went into some long, boring dissertation about the legal system. His least favorite subject.

If her ability to talk for thirty minutes straight and not say a damn thing was anything to go by, she must’ve been a hell of a lawyer.

“So why’d they call you?” he asked.

“My mom is friends with Karen’s mom and she told them to call me.”

“Sounds like legal work to me.”

Having wiped each and every spot off the glass, she set it down and picked up another one. “Only work I’m doing is figuring out how to keep a bartender longer than two months.”

“Smart choice.”

He was glad she wasn’t going to allow herself to be dragged back into trying to save people. Talk about a thankless—and futile—endeavor. He’d spent the first half of his life trying to save his mother from her addictions and Kelsey from abuse—and her own rebelliousness. And it hadn’t helped any of them.

He’d almost stepped back into that bottomless pit again when he’d offered Nina help last night. Luckily her lack of backbone had come to his rescue.

“I don’t know,” Allie said, holding the glass up to the light before putting it away. “After talking to Jack—”

“If you’re not working the case, why talk to your brother about it?”

“I wanted to get a feel for what’s going on. Kyle’s in big trouble. It’s a shame. He was doing so well with Joe and Karen.”

“He stole from them.”

“I know, but he was upset and he’s only fifteen. Poor kid’s been in the system most of his life. He’s had it tough.”

Dillon shifted and hooked his foot on the rung of the stool. Fought to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Lots of people have it tough.”

His own childhood—if you could call it that—had hardly been ideal. His father died from an overdose when Dillon was four and his mother spent most of her time drowning her sorrows in vodka.

But he’d survived. He’d sucked it up and taken care of his mom and Kelsey. And even though there had never been enough money, he’d never resorted to stealing. He’d made sure Kelsey hadn’t, either.

Until she’d stopped listening to him.

He frowned as he realized there were more than a few similarities between his sister and Kyle. When Dillon helped Kyle out of the SUV last night, he’d seen defiance in the kid’s expression, the to-hell-with-the-world-I-don’t-need-anyone attitude. But he’d also seen the kid’s fear.

All of which he’d seen plenty of times in Kelsey growing up.

Compassion warred with his hard-earned good sense. Even after all that happened to him, his protective instincts still drew him to those in need.

Like the kid. And Nina Carlson.

“Kyle will be punished, that’s for sure,” Allie said. “He’ll probably be sentenced to juvenile hall.”

“Is that what you told his foster parents?”

“I told them the truth. And advised that it wouldn’t hurt to have Kyle try to make amends somehow. If he’s lucky and gets Judge Williams, showing remorse will go a long way toward a lenient sentence.”

Did that really work? When Kelsey got busted for shoplifting or underage drinking, she never made amends. Just got into more trouble. Trouble he’d then do his damnedest to get her out of.

He rolled his head side to side but his neck muscles remained tight. He hoped for Kyle’s sake, Allie’s idea worked. Being locked up changed a person. He’d hate to see that happen to a kid.

He drummed his fingers on the bar before slapping it lightly with his palm. Not his problem. Even if it was, he was in no position to help.

“Allie, we need to talk.”

She didn’t take her eyes off of the stubborn spot she was trying to rub out. “I thought men hated to talk.”

“We do.” She set the glass down and looked at him expectantly. He scratched his jaw. Between his late night and wanting to get this conversation over with, he hadn’t taken the time to shave. “Listen, this…thing between us—”

She tossed the towel on the bar. “I knew this would happen.”

“What?”

She pushed up the sleeves of her dark green sweater. “This.” She gestured between them. “Us working together every day. It got to be too much for you. The tension. The attraction. And now, you’ve fallen for me. Why must I be so irresistible?” she asked the heavens. She squeezed his arm. “It’ll never work out between us. You have to see that. I’m not what you need.”

What a smart-ass. God, he was going to miss her. “What I need is for you to swallow your ego and be serious for a minute.”

“Why?” She leaned on her elbows, her face in her hands. “You’re being serious enough for both of us.”

“Allie…” He slid to his feet. “I’m leaving.”

She swatted him on the arm as she straightened. “Don’t be such a drama queen. I’ll stop. I promise I’ll be good.”

“No. I mean I’m leaving Serenity Springs.”

“What?” Her smile disappeared. “But why?”

“It’s time I moved on. And now that I’ve been evicted—”

“Nina evicted you? No way.”

He nodded. “She said she wanted to expand. I figure she’d just been biding her time after buying the building to kick me out. Can’t say I blame her for not wanting a murderer living above her place of business.”

Allie’s eyes flashed. “She can’t refuse to rent to you because you were in prison. We’ll take her to court. I can’t believe she would pull something like this. And to think, she used to be so…so nice.”

“Put away your law degree. We’re not taking anyone to court for anything. And Nina hasn’t changed. She told me—very nicely—that I was evicted. It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t want Allie and her high ideals to go after Nina. The ex-lawyer would smash the cupcake into crumbs.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d said Nina was nice. Too nice. And she’d seemed so…lost last night. Fragile. She’d acted as if she wanted to take charge, but just didn’t know how or what to do first.

Allie hurried out from behind the bar. “But what about the rest of the work here?”

“There is no more work here. And after the false accusation of Shannon’s murder, Serenity Springs just isn’t the place for me.”

“It could be,” she said softly. “You could have a second chance. And if you need a place to stay, why not move in upstairs—”

“No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m leaving after the wedding. I’ll get my tools out of here today.”

She crossed her arms. “But I don’t want you to go.” She pouted. “I’ll miss you.”

He smiled. “Last week you told me I was a bigger pain in your ass than your brother.”

“So? Doesn’t mean I don’t like having you around.”

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine.” Before he could change his mind, he squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for being a good friend.”

She patted his waist, sniffed and walked away. Dillon tipped his head back and exhaled. Leaving was for the best. He just hoped the next two weeks flew by.

IF ONE MORE PERSON told her how sorry they were for her, she’d shove a stale Danish down their throat.

And it would be even more effective and surprising because it came from sweet, easygoing, good-girl Nina Carlson.

She kicked the table leg. Pain shot up her foot. Ouch. She hobbled over to lean against the counter. See why she never bothered to get angry? All it did was leave her feeling empty and guilty.

And in pain.

She picked up the contractor’s estimate and crumpled it in her fist. No, anger wouldn’t help. It was past time she took control.

Headlights illuminated the kitchen as a truck pulled into the parking lot. Finally.

Nina shoved the wadded paper into her pocket and hurried across the room, ignoring the ache in her toes. She yanked the door open and dashed out into the cold air. “Dillon!”

Getting out of his truck, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at her before closing the driver’s side door.

She crossed her arms and lowered her head against the stinging wind as she jogged across the parking lot. It had stopped snowing but the wicked cold blew through her threadbare Harvard sweatshirt, and snow soaked her sneakers.

Two feet from him, she slipped, her arms windmilling as she started to fall.

“Easy,” he murmured, stepping forward and taking a hold of her upper arms.

She clutched him until she found her balance. At least the embarrassment heating her face eased the tingle of cold in her cheeks.

He scowled at her. “Where’s your coat?”

“Inside.” Her breath came out in bursts of frost. She inhaled and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Dillon, I…I need you.”

He let go of her and stepped back. “I’m flattered.”

She blew on her frozen hands—spring couldn’t come soon enough. “Look, I’ve had a really rotten day and I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have the time or inclination for innuendos right now, okay?”

“My mistake.”

Ack. Did he have to be so…unflappable? Especially when she was always so flustered.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, but there was no curiosity on his face. Merely patience.

“I…are you almost done at The Summit?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I finished up today.”

“That’s great.” Her teeth chattered. “Can…can we go inside? I have fresh coffee.”

He was going to refuse. She could see it on his face. What could she do to change his mind? To persuade him to hear her out? Kelsey would make some wise remark and bait him. Nina’s older sister Blaire used her stunning looks to manipulate men.

Since she didn’t have Kelsey’s nerve or Blaire’s looks, Nina silently prayed.

“I have a few minutes to spare,” he said.

She smiled, relieved, noticing the way his eyes narrowed slightly before she trudged back toward the bakery. But at least he was following her.

Inside, she poured two cups of coffee, took a moment to doctor hers with a heavy dollop of cream and preceded him into the dining area. A chill racked her and she wrapped her fingers around her warm mug.

He sat and nodded toward the plywood covering the hole in the exterior wall. “Looks like you have things under control here.”

She choked on her coffee. Coughed so hard, her eyes watered. Once her vision cleared, she studied him. The man had the emotionless thing down pat.

“I wouldn’t say things are under control.” She rapped a staccato beat on her cup with her fingernails before setting it on an empty table. “As a matter of fact, I don’t have anything under control.”

“That so?”

“My father asked Jim Arturo, you know, from Arturo and Sons Builders?” He inclined his head. She took that as a yes. “Anyway, Dad asked Jim to meet us here earlier today.” She took out the paper, smoothed it out and handed it to Dillon. “Jim gave me this.”

He glanced at it as he sipped his coffee. “Pretty sizable estimate.”

“That’s not the problem. The problem is, he can’t start working here for at least two months. Two months. Do you know how long that is?”

“Eight weeks? Give or take a day or two.”

She gave him the look she used on her kids to warn them they were two seconds away from being banished to their rooms. Dillon didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. Figures.

She began to pace. “There’s no way I can afford to lose two months’ worth of business, especially during the holidays. Besides losing local sales, I’ll be missing out on a huge chunk of revenue generated by tourists—”

“Kitchen’s still functional.”

She stopped so quickly, her ponytail hit her cheek. “But I don’t have a place to display what I’ve baked. Plus, without any place to sit and eat, I’ll lose the breakfast and lunch crowds, not to mention foot traffic from people out shopping. Even if I put up a sign that says we’re still open, how many people are going to notice in all this mess?”

He set the estimate on the table. “Yeah. That’s tough.”

“Tough?” Her voice rose. “I’ve worked my butt off trying to make this business a success. I have daily specials planned for the entire month. I’ve even booked a few holiday parties plus a girl’s eighth birthday party where the kids can eat lunch, play games and bake and decorate their own cookies.” Her breathing grew ragged, and spots formed before her eyes. “Where am I supposed to do all of that? In the kitchen?”

Nina tried to catch her breath, to get herself under control again. She’d blown it. She’d overreacted, just like Trey always said she did. Lost her temper when she knew better. She rubbed her cheek. If she raised her voice to Trey and his oh-so-reasonable tone didn’t get her to calm down, his stinging slaps did.

“What does any of that have to do with me?” Dillon asked, seemingly unaffected by her outburst.

She frowned. That was it? The man really was an enigma.

“You said you were finished at The Summit and I was hoping…” She swallowed, then rushed on so fast her words slurred together. “I want to hire you to do the renovations.”

She held her breath until the silence stretched out so long, she grew dizzy and had to exhale.

Finally Dillon stood and asked, “What makes you think I don’t have other jobs lined up?”

She rubbed the base of her bare ring finger. “I heard no one will hire you after the murder investigation.”

After a second of stunned silence, he asked, “You always believe everything you hear? Because if I did, I’d believe you were emotionally crushed when your ex-husband left you. And that if he ever returned, you’d take him back in a flash.” He waited a beat. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

She remembered being the top subject of the rumor mill. But instead of letting her humiliation overcome her, she made a show of looking him up and down. “What are you, a secret member of the Red Hat Society? I thought only old women gossiped.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe you can hold your own after all.”

“I can,” she lied. “But just because you shouldn’t believe everything you hear, doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth in rumors, either.”

She’d rather use margarine and artificial sweetener in her recipes than go back to Trey, but she had been crushed when he’d left her for another woman. Oh, not her heart—that had just been bruised—but her ego. Her pride.

She’d give just about anything to get even a tiny bit of that pride back.

“So. Do you have any other jobs lined up?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“Great. So will—”

“No.”

She shook her head. “What?”

“I won’t work for you.”

“But why not?”

“I’m not going to be here.” The intensity of his gaze pinned her to her spot. “You wanted me gone, remember?”

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. Shoot.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said. “Good luck finding someone to take the job.”

She leaped forward. “You can stay,” she blurted, clutching his arms, “in the apartment. It’s not like I can afford a tea room now anyway.”

His brown eyes were guarded. “You didn’t evict me because of a tea room.”

“That was nothing personal—”

“Doesn’t matter.” His hands were large, warm and surprisingly gentle as he disentangled himself from her grip. “I’ve come to expect people to treat me a certain way, and so far, they haven’t disappointed me.”

Shocked, she stared at him. Is that what she’d done? All she’d wanted was to get her family and Trey off her back. And yes, maybe to give herself some peace of mind by asking Dillon to leave.

But she hadn’t meant to hurt him.

“Dillon, I’m so sor—”

“Don’t be. You did what you had to do and now I’m doing what I have to do. Find someone else for the job because I’m not interested in saving you.”

HER CHEEKS turned pink. He wondered if Nina’s skin was a soft as it looked. Man, she smelled good.

“But, if you don’t have any other jobs, you could work here,” she insisted. One thing for her: she might be a cupcake, but she was a stubborn cupcake. “I’m sure you’d be done by the end of the month.”

“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “Except I’m leaving after the wedding.”

“You could wait. Aren’t you celebrating Christmas with Kelsey and her family?”

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Please,” she said hoarsely. “Please.”

Damn it. He didn’t want to feel bad for her.

“Nina?” A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and round, wire-rimmed glasses opened the door, holding it wide for Kyle to walk in. The kid’s too-large feet shuffled against the linoleum, his thin frame lost in a pair of baggy jeans and sweatshirt, his left wrist wrapped in a light blue cast.

The man glanced at Dillon before focusing on Nina. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. We’re on our way back from our lawyer’s and Kyle has something he’d like to say to you.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped, his eyes hidden by his shaggy, brown hair. The man—Dillon assumed he was the kid’s foster father—cleared his throat.

Kyle lifted his head and shook his hair back giving them all a glimpse of the nasty purple bruise on his forehead. But he still didn’t meet Nina’s eyes. “I’m sorry for the accident. For the trouble.”

Nina’s lips tightened. She opened her mouth, then shut it, her face flushed, her eyes flashing. Dillon’s lips twitched and he ducked his head as he waited to see what she’d do next.

She inhaled and her expression cleared. Dillon suspected he was the only one who realized her smile was completely fake.

And the way she kept hiding her true feelings from everyone was really starting to bug him.

“Accidents happen,” she said in a high, chipper voice. “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”

“Nina,” the other man said, “can I talk to you? In private?”

“Of course. Come on in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be right back,” the guy told Kyle who just shrugged.

Dillon needed to leave, too. But instead of heading out, he heard himself say, “That was a piss-poor excuse for an apology.”

The kid snorted and rolled his eyes. “Her insurance will cover the damages.”

“Heard you might get sent away for this.”

“Listen, just because you helped me last night doesn’t make you my savior.”

“True.” He wasn’t anybody’s savior. Not anymore. Dillon started to leave before turning back. “You been to juvie before?”

“Not yet.” Kyle smirked. “You can fill me in since you know all about being sent away.”

Dillon fought to keep his expression neutral, to not grab the kid and try to scare some sense into him by telling him exactly what it was like to be put away. If he got sent away, he’d learn soon enough how things worked behind bars. He’d experience it all first hand.

The kid’s smart-ass attitude wouldn’t help him then.

“Besides, maybe Joe can talk the bakery lady into helping us out,” Kyle said.

Hope. The one thing Dillon had numbed himself against while in prison. The first thing he’d lost when he’d been locked up. The one thing he’d never gotten back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself before,” the man said as he reentered the room and held a hand out to Dillon. “I’m Joe Roberts.”

“Dillon Ward.”

“I know. Nina told me. Thank you for your help last night.”

“All I did was get the kid out of the car,” he said uncomfortably. “The EMTs bandaged him up.”

“Still, my wife and I appreciate it.” He crossed to Kyle and laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “We’d better get going. We’re supposed to pick up dinner. Thanks again.”

After they left, Dillon stared blindly at the door. Kyle reminded him of Kelsey as a kid. She’d always been reaching out for something. And while he’d believed he’d been protecting her, he hadn’t really. He’d told her to smarten up but hadn’t done enough, hadn’t made those big gestures that show people what they mean to you. Show them the difference between right and wrong. He should’ve taken Kelsey away as soon as possible, gotten guardianship or something. Instead he’d just hoped she’d listen to him and not cause problems. And that their stepfather, Glenn, wouldn’t hurt her.

Look how well that had turned out.

Why hadn’t Nina returned from the kitchen? Obviously she didn’t want to see him again. He crossed the room but couldn’t force himself to walk out.

He lowered his head. Why did he have the feeling he was about to make a really big mistake?

But what the hell? It wouldn’t be the first time.

Chapter Four

DILLON WALKED into the kitchen and stopped short when he noticed Nina at the small table.

Damn.

He stared down at the top of her bent head. Her shoulders shook and she was making these soft, hiccupping sounds—as if her entire world was crumbling.

He rubbed a hand over his face. Tears. God, he could handle just about anything. Imprisonment. Having the living hell beat out of him by three other prisoners. The days he’d spent in solitary confinement because he’d had to…protect himself.

But not a woman’s tears.

Indecision made him edgy. Should he put his hand on her shoulder? Murmur useless platitudes about how everything would be fine?

At a loss and way out of his element—not to mention his comfort zone—he scowled. “You going to swallow those tears back?” Startled, Nina lifted her head, her cheeks wet, her lips parted. “I never would’ve taken you for one of those women,” he added gruffly.

She sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “One of those women?” she asked, her tone surprisingly frigid for someone who’d just been bawling her eyes out. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“One of those women who cries when things don’t go their way, instead of standing up for themselves. Who whine and complain but never do anything to change their circumstances.”

Women like his mother.

“If I want to cry because my business, my finances and any chance I have at giving my children a decent life are all in danger, then I’ll damn well cry,” she told him as she stood. With her hands on the table, she leaned forward. “And if you can’t suck it up and take a few tears, then leave.”

Huh. Maybe Nina wasn’t like his mother after all. Leigh never stood up to any of the many guys who used her and she sure as hell didn’t stand up to Glenn or try to leave him. No matter how badly he hurt her or her kids.

“That Joe guy say something to you to set you off?” he asked.

“Of course not. He just wanted to let me know that Kyle’s not really a bad kid.” The disbelief in her tone made it all too clear how she felt about that. “The court-appointed psychologist thinks Kyle was testing his foster parents. Seeing if he could push them away before he got too close to them.”

Smart kid.

“You think that’s what happened?” he asked.

She straightened, her hands fisted at her sides. “You know what? I don’t give a rip about what Kyle was doing when he crashed that SUV. My life is in the toilet, but I’m the one feeling guilty. Like I should be more understanding. More forgiving.” Her voice broke and she turned her back to him.

Dillon ordered his feet to move. But knew he couldn’t walk away. “When do you want me to start?”

She faced him again. Wiped the back of her hand under her pink-tipped nose. “Start what?”

“The job. Tomorrow soon enough?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in saving me.” Her venomous tone made him want to smile. “What changed your mind?”

“A couple of things.” He shrugged. “I figured I might as well make some money before I move. And my working here will piss off all the people who wanted me out in the first place.” He paused. “All the people you listen to.”

Her pretty mouth popped open. “So this is revenge?”

He couldn’t tell if the idea appalled her. Or thrilled her. “Does it matter?”

“I…” She shook her head and rubbed her temples. “You know, at this point, I’m not even sure.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. She was just too damn cute with her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Thank God he didn’t find cute appealing.

“You might want to decide,” he said. “The offer’s not going to be on the table forever. But before you make up your mind, you should know I do have one condition.”

“Virgin sacrifices every morning?” she mumbled.

He froze, unsure if he heard her right. Then he allowed his gaze to roam over her lush curves.

Color flooded her cheeks. “What’s the condition?”

“I want Kyle to work with me.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I want him to work with me so he can show he’s taking responsibility for what happened and wants to make amends.”

“No,” she said, stepping around the table in front of him. “No way.”

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