She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room—especially her.

She shivered and recalled her explosive reaction to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.

A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: While Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.

Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type.

She could so easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact that she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also….

Dear Reader,

Brr…February’s below-freezing temperatures call for a mug of hot chocolate, a fuzzy afghan and a heartwarming book from Silhouette Romance. Our books will heat you to the tips of your toes with the sizzling sexual tension that courses between our stubborn heroes and the determined heroines who ultimately melt their hardened hearts.

In Judy Christenberry’s Least Likely To Wed, her sinfully sexy cowboy hero has his plans for lifelong bachelorhood foiled by the searing kisses of a spirited single mom. While in Sue Swift’s The Ranger & the Rescue, an amnesiac cowboy stakes a claim on the heart of a flame-haired heroine—but will the fires of passion still burn when he regains his memory?

Tensions reach the boiling point in Raye Morgan’s She’s Having My Baby!—the final installment of the miniseries HAVING THE BOSS’S BABY—when our heroine discovers just who fathered her baby-to-be…. And tempers flare in Rebecca Russell’s Right Where He Belongs, in which our handsome hero must choose between his cold plan for revenge and a woman’s warm and tender love.

Then simmer down with the incredibly romantic heroes in Teresa Southwick’s What If We Fall In Love? and Colleen Faulkner’s A Shocking Request. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll fall in love all over again with these deeply touching stories about widowers who get a second chance at love.

So this February, come in from the cold and warm your heart and spirit with one of these temperature-raising books from Silhouette Romance. Don’t forget the marshmallows!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Right Where He Belongs
Rebecca Russell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my parents, who have always believed in me. To my husband, son and daughter, for sacrificing along with me in order to make my dream come true. To my friends, especially Vicki, who never wavered in support and faith in me. And to my great-aunt Ruthie, who inspired this book with her wonderful stories about the past.

REBECCA RUSSELL

Between racquetball, hockey, volunteering, writing and family, Rebecca Russell is an “at home” mom who is rarely home! She lives with her husband of nineteen years and a teenage son and daughter in Plano, Texas. Although grounded in her suburban life and small-town Ohio roots, Rebecca loves to spend time with flawed but heroic characters who find love and a happy ending.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 852125, Richardson, TX 75085-2125, or e-mail her at rebecca_russell_22@yahoo.com.

Dear Reader,

For most of my life, I was content to devour books the way some people binge on chocolate. Writing proved as natural as breathing, but remained personal and private.

I had no idea that fateful night when I walked into a creative writing class at a local community college that my life would never be the same. After all, I was only looking for something fun to do. The class was actually “How To Write a Novel,” and the instructor, a romance author. She saw something in my writing and insisted I attend a local writer’s conference. Once there, she took me under her wing and within hours I was hooked.

Years later, I told that same instructor/author that I didn’t know if I wanted to thank her or curse her. I was thrilled to have a dream, but frustrated by how long it was taking to make that dream come true. And just like the single woman who swears off men soon meets the love of her life, when I had decided to worry less about getting published and write because I love to write, I sold! Getting the call from Silhouette Romance was one of the most exciting moments of my life and proof that dreams shouldn’t come with expiration dates.

I can’t imagine anything more rewarding than writing about the power of love. My hope is that as you read Right Where He Belongs, you’ll become so involved in Cassie and Tanner’s struggle to find true happiness and love, that hours will go by and seem like minutes; when you return to your life with all its challenges and joys, you’ll be ready to do some dreaming of your own.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Chapter One

“It’s payback time,” Tanner Fairfax said softly, hoping somehow his deceased grandfather could hear him and know the intentions of his only grandchild.

At the soonest possible moment, Tanner planned to sign over the deed to Fairfax House to the highest bidder, the exact thing his grandfather would have hated. Sweet, poetic justice for himself, and his parents, the people his grandfather had hurt the most.

The family estate claimed the corner lot of prime property in the sleepy farm town of New Haven, Ohio. The old but elegant two-story mansion reminded him of an aging queen who refused to budge from her throne of power. A well-maintained barn stood like a sentry next to the house.

The hot July sun bounced off a massive bay window. He shielded his eyes with one hand to get a better look. Someone had obviously been busy. A pristine white exterior explained the odor of fresh paint that coated the humid air. The excellent condition of the wraparound porch suggested recent repairs.

He hesitated at the bottom of the steps leading to his family’s estate, overcome by a sudden wariness. Painful memories of his one and only visit as a naive, excited five-year-old boy threatened to surface, but he pushed them away. He was a grown man now, in control of his own destiny.

No tears today.

Tanner took the porch steps two at a time. He grabbed the key from the back pocket of his worn jeans, opened the heavy front door and stepped inside.

Cool darkness greeted him, a startling contrast to the midday sunshine he’d left outside. He found a switch, and with a flick, light sprinkled downward from an ornate chandelier. A thick Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Impressive, but not important.

From the back of the house, a clattering erupted and he froze. “Who’s there?” he called out.

He made his way toward the sound, cautious, but not frightened. He knew little about small towns, but doubted he’d find much to fear. Anyone who owned and managed a construction company could certainly handle getting rid of an uninvited guest.

“I’m in the kitchen, Mr. Fairfax,” a feminine voice answered. “Just walk straight ahead.”

So, the stranger was a woman. Another surprise. He passed by a blur of rooms on either side as he followed the clamor to the sliver of light that escaped beneath a door at the end of the hall. He opened the door and detected an almost sweet, oddly familiar odor. An herb? A spice?

No matter. He stepped inside. The intended curt “hello” died on his lips. In the midst of the spacious kitchen stood a tall, slender woman dressed in white, paint-splattered bib overalls. Wisps of mahogany-brown hair escaped from a painter’s cap. Dark-green eyes sparkled and her hundred-watt smile knocked the breath out of him.

With an intensity he couldn’t help but admire, she vigorously wiped down scratched cupboards painted a murky brown. The same dreary color had been forced onto the paneling that covered the bottom half of the walls. Faded, water-stained wallpaper drooped in one corner. Tools littered the countertops. A large bucket and mop hugged a corner; several folded tarps dotted the floor.

“Who are you and how did you get in?” he finally managed to ask.

“I can explain, Mr. Fairfax.”

The warm friendliness in her voice erased all other questions from his mind, beckoned him to move closer to her, but he stood his ground as she sidestepped the bucket, mop and tarps.

“I’m Cassie Leighton, owner of Leighton’s Custom Remodeling. Your grandfather hired me to do repairs before he died.”

She held out her hand, then pulled it back, an apologetic grin on her face. No wedding ring, he noted, for no other reason than habit. “Sorry,” she said, then grabbed a rag out of a back pocket and wiped her hands. “I didn’t know I was such a mess.”

Surprise hit Tanner hard. He had actually been eager to discover if the touch of her hand packed the same wallop as her smile. Maybe he was coming down with the flu or something.

“Mr. Fairfax?”

He took a much needed deep breath, confused by the fact that his earlier annoyance over an intruder had vanished. “How did you know it was me out front and not some burglar?” he asked, more comfortable with suspicion than his strange reaction to a woman he’d just met.

“Not much crime in New Haven. And the minute you arrived at Mr. Samuels’s office, his secretary beeped me and I rushed over.” She openly studied him from the top of his head, to his T-shirt, faded jeans and scuffed boots. “She warned me that you looked just like your dad.”

Her intensity reminded him of his own when he examined a piece of wood for knots or uneven grain. He wondered if he measured up, then just as quickly dismissed the notion. He’d always taken the comparison as a compliment, so why doubt it now? Besides, it wasn’t as if he had trouble getting a date when he wanted one.

He was just unnerved from hearing a complete stranger talk about his father as if she’d known him, Tanner reasoned, which was impossible. Both of his parents had been dead for so long now that he could hardly remember the sound of their voices and other details he thought he’d never forget.

“Yep, you definitely have the Fairfax hair and eyes,” Cassie said, still smiling.

A sign he had passed inspection and wouldn’t be tossed into the scrap pile? “Why wasn’t I warned someone would be here?” he asked, annoyed he cared at all about what a stranger thought of him, even if the stranger happened to have a natural beauty that made him think of hayrides and campfires.

Wait a minute. He’d never gone on a hayride, let alone shared a campfire with a woman.

Crazy thoughts. Not like him at all. Lack of sleep, he reasoned. The long drive from Texas had left him punchy.

“Mr. Samuels might not have realized his secretary beeped me. She knows how I feel about this house. We thought you were arriving tomorrow, so I had planned on cleaning up tonight.”

Tanner shrugged. “I ended up leaving Tyler early and drove straight through.”

“You don’t have much of an accent for someone from Texas.”

“I guess it’s because neither of my parents had one. Is it a problem that I arrived early?”

“No problem at all. It’s just that I—” A muted ringing interrupted Cassie. She reached deep into a bib pocket, pulled out a cellular phone and checked the I.D. of the caller. “Excuse me, but I’ve been trying to reach this guy all morning,” she explained. Her long, slender fingers gripped the small phone next to her ear. He wasn’t surprised to see short, unpolished nails that were as practical as her overalls.

Most women he came across would just as soon run or hide from the prospect of getting dirty, but Cassie had chosen a profession that almost demanded it. He imagined such a woman could get ready for a date in no time; wouldn’t think twice about ruining her makeup and hair for the chance to walk in the rain.

Damn. What was it about Cassie that made him think such foreign, mushy thoughts? As for how she might behave on a date, he’d never know and didn’t care. He had a game plan: get in, settle a score, get out. No complications.

In need of a distraction, he focused on Cassie’s phone conversation. Impolite, sure, but his peace of mind mattered more at the moment.

“No, Mike, that won’t do,” Cassie insisted. “We promised to have all the fixtures in by tomorrow, even if it is Saturday. Call Danny in. He could use the extra money, but don’t bother asking Georgie. I told her she could leave early for her daughter’s soccer game. I’ll stop by the site later.”

Tanner appreciated the firm way she dealt with her employee, although he was surprised she knew so much personal detail about her workers. Turnover was high in construction; remembering just the last names of his transient employees proved a challenge.

She punched a button and slid the phone back into its hiding place. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Fairfax. Anyway, it’s wonderful that you’re here. And don’t worry about the mess,” she added, as if she could read the doubt in his mind. “I’ll be done cleaning up in no time. This really is a beautiful house.”

Cassie’s gaze turned somber and she put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

Her cool fingers created a heat in his body to rival the scorching sun of a Texas summer. He stiffened, too surprised by the incredible chemistry to move. How could a gesture, obviously meant to comfort, set him on fire?

No. He didn’t want her unexpected touch and kind words, and he definitely didn’t want anything or anyone to complicate his stay in New Haven.

“Mr. Frank liked to huff and puff a lot, but he was a pussycat inside.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Or a lion.” Time had failed to soften Tanner’s memory of the old man with the fierce eyes and bellowing voice. His grandfather had acted as if he were king of the jungle; he demanded compliance and punished those who dared to defy him.

Cassie quickly pulled her hand away from Tanner’s arm, stunned to discover that touching him had the effect of tossing a match on turpentine. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. His dark good looks had already thrown her off balance. He had hair the color of wrought iron and his eyes were Gondola Blue. The deep, rich color, her favorite, made her long for a romantic getaway to Venice where she’d ride a gondola with her lover….

“Anyway,” she continued, desperate to organize her thoughts. “Your grandfather arranged to have the exterior painted, the porch and roof repaired and the new kitchen floor installed.” She nervously gestured toward the sink. “He insisted that this room be functional before you arrived, knew he didn’t—didn’t have much time left,” she said, her voice faltering.

Darn it. She swore she wouldn’t get all weepy. But she missed the old coot who’d been her mentor as well as her friend.

She took a deep breath and stacked the tarps near the door, then slid tools into the numerous pockets of her overalls. “Would you like me to clear this all out each day, or leave it?”

“Leave it. The job will go quicker.”

“Okay. If you don’t mind a little clutter and dust, this room is useable. Or you can use the dining room as a makeshift kitchen until I’m done.”

“How long?” He gestured around the room. “I don’t want anything to interfere with my plans for a quick sell.”

Cassie flinched. “It sounds like you made up your mind before you even saw the house.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Tanner was obviously going to make her other job difficult. Just before he had died, Mr. Frank had confided in her the details of his regretful past. He had made it very clear that he alone had ruined Tanner’s chance to know and feel a part of his family’s history. Cassie had a hard time believing Mr. Frank could’ve ever acted so vengefully, but the pain in his eyes told the truth. “Sounds pretty ungrateful to me,” she challenged. “Your grandfather didn’t have to leave you the house and—”

“I’m sure there was the usual selfish reason behind it.”

Tanner couldn’t be more wrong. Until his final breath, Mr. Frank had hoped that his pleading letters to his grandson would bring forgiveness and a chance to meet. But time had run out.

Mr. Frank had asked her to spend the thirty days trying to convince Tanner to forgive his grandfather, in order to accept his birthright. This was one promise she intended to keep.

“If you think you can’t make the deadline, Ms. Leighton, I’ll get someone else on the job.”

She would not let him rattle her. “Call me Cassie, and don’t worry. I’ll be done in plenty of time. Ten to fourteen days, depending on what you want done. I’m sure you have other business to take care of first, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll come by tomorrow and strip the wallpaper.”

“On Saturday?”

She shrugged. “It’s one of my busiest days. Just keep in mind, if you want any painting done in here, that’s done first. Then the walls will have to be prepped, so it could be a couple of days to a week before we put up the new wallpaper. During that time you can go over paint and paper samples. We can meet at my office downtown or I can bring them here.”

He stared at her in confusion. “Me? What do I have to do with it?”

“You can make any changes to the house you want to. Your grandfather gave you authorization so you wouldn’t have to wait the thirty days.”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this house for a month before I can unload it. I don’t care what you do about any wallpaper or paint.”

She produced a broom from a closet, a task she’d performed many times before. Grateful to have something in her hands, she restored order to the room. While she worked, she stole glances at the tall, handsome man with the lean, yet muscular build.

Mr. Frank had shown her several grainy photos of his grandson along with a written report provided by the private investigator hired to keep tabs on Tanner over the years. But a picture didn’t reveal intensity or Tanner’s true essence.

“Hold on. How did you know about the live-in clause?”

Cassie heard the cold, quiet strength behind his casual question. She shivered. He might look like his father, but he had his grandfather’s suspicious nature.

“Your grandfather told me. But even if he hadn’t, New Haven has an incredible grapevine. Rule number one in a small town—no secrets allowed. You’ll get used to it after a while, Mr. Fairfax.”

“Call me Tanner. Mr. Fairfax was my dad. And I won’t be here long enough to get used to anything.”

We’ll see about that. Tanner might have outsider written all over him—the way he carried himself, the way he had flinched when she’d touched his arm, the guarded look in his eyes—but he belonged in New Haven; he belonged at Fairfax House. He just didn’t know it yet.

Cassie knew firsthand how a sense of roots provided emotional comfort, because she’d been given such a gift. The town, its people, were home. If Mr. Frank hadn’t disowned his son, Tanner would have been born and raised in New Haven and received the blessing of roots as well.

Mr. Frank had insisted that Cassie was the only person who could help him right such a wrong, since she couldn’t imagine being happy anywhere else.

A person made of stone might have refused to help. She, on the other hand, was made up entirely of mush. Mush, with a grain of selfishness. Deep down, she knew that she had agreed to help for another reason. Years ago, she had failed to keep a promise she’d made to her father just before he died. Finally, she had a chance to prove her word meant something.

She watched Tanner as he noted every detail of the room, including her. Especially her. She shivered again and recalled her explosive reaction earlier to the innocent touch of her fingers against Tanner’s skin. Not a problem. She’d keep her hands away from him and on her work, and keep her mind on her promise to Mr. Frank.

A detail in the investigator’s report popped into her head: while Tanner had no shortage of women in his life, he either couldn’t keep them, or didn’t want to, since no relationship ever lasted more than a couple of months.

Why had that little morsel surfaced? He wasn’t even her type. She preferred easygoing and quick to smile.

“This place will need updating in order to sell,” Tanner said, a welcome interruption to her disturbing train of thought. “I want to get moving on this. Since you’re coming tomorrow anyway, go ahead and bring samples of what’s hot right now.”

She frowned as she brushed her fingertips over the faded, water-stained wallpaper. Such a grand house deserved more than the latest color or decorating fad. But the new owner’s determination to take the money and run concerned her more.

She could easily picture Tanner at home in Fairfax House. New Haven would embrace him, give him the sense of belonging and roots he had lost since his parents died. The fact she could see it wasn’t enough, though—he had to, also.

“Unless you have more important jobs,” Tanner added dryly.

She knew what she’d like to do with the sample books. Maybe a bonk on the head would make him realize what a gift he’d been given. Too bad she couldn’t afford to alienate him. “Of course not. I’ll see if I can get the books back from a customer. And for your information, Mr. Samuels asked me to make this house a priority, but I would’ve made it one anyway. This house is special to me. I practically grew up here.”

Tanner’s dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a relative?”

“Heavens, no. Just a pesky kid who hung around.” She sighed and inhaled the familiar, heartwarming scent she would forever associate with Fairfax House.

Tears threatened to form once again but she refused to cry. She had to remain strong in order to gain the new owner’s confidence. “I love that smell, don’t you?”

Tanner sniffed the air. “I can’t place it. What is it?”

“Vanilla. Your grandfather simmered some on the stove every day, and whenever I’m here I do the same thing. He said it reminded him of your grandmother. Did you know she was only sixty when she died? Cancer. But she didn’t suffer long.” Mr. Frank, though, had never recovered from his loss.

Love certainly didn’t come with any guarantees. Cassie’s father had died of a heart attack at thirty-four, leaving her mother without the love of her life way too soon. Cassie had no intention of wasting time when she found The One. They would live, play and work together, a concept a man like Tanner would never understand. He obviously preferred to love ’em and leave ’em, if one could believe the reports from the investigator. “I teased Mr. Frank that they made vanilla candles and air fresheners, but he said they weren’t the same. I sure miss him.”

Cassie blinked back the tears, reminded afresh of the pain of losing her dear friend. A friend she refused to let down. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tanner, around nine,” she said, and left through the back door of the kitchen.

Tanner watched Cassie disappear, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He’d never met a woman who wore her emotions so close to the surface. No doubt about it, she’d taken the old man’s death hard.

Tanner couldn’t imagine his rigid grandfather simmering vanilla for a wife long gone. The ice water in his veins wouldn’t allow such a sentimental ritual.

What had Cassie seen in such an old, manipulative person? Tanner could only think of two explanations: she was just another one of his victims, or a schemer who had gained more than a repair job from the old man.

Tanner made a mental note to check the details of his grandfather’s will. He had no living relatives. Although he wasn’t the sole beneficiary, he couldn’t remember Cassie’s name on the list.

He’d been warned that small towns had no secrets, so he shouldn’t have much trouble finding out more about Cassie. Suspicion was good. Anything was better than dwelling on why he’d felt such relief at discovering she wasn’t a relative.

He didn’t want any complications. For the next thirty days he intended to relax. A former boss, retired and bored, had jumped at the chance to fill in as manager, so for once, the lengthy time away from his company didn’t present a problem.

He’d spend his time getting a feel for what his truck-driver dad’s life must have been like growing up in New Haven, Ohio. From what little he knew, things hadn’t soured for his dad until he defied his father and left town after high school graduation.

Tanner’s mind wondered back to how familiar Cassie seemed with the house. She’d fetched a broom as if she’d done so many times before, had known of his grandfather’s habits and the conditions of the will.

For some reason the familiarity, imagined or not, bothered him. His reaction made no sense whatsoever. He was the one who had ignored every bribe and turned down all invitations to come live in Fairfax House.

Tanner refused to waste another minute on the confusion he felt over being in the huge, dark house again.

“Yoo-hoo,” yelled a high-pitched voice from the front of the house. Rapid pounding followed.

“Now what?” Tanner muttered, and left to answer the front door. He gave the rooms he passed along the way a cursory glance. Elegantly curved furniture filled the formal living room and dining room. Pictures in old-looking frames covered the top of a buffet. To his left, he noted a den that had obviously been turned into a bedroom. He’d stash his gear there, later.

He opened the door and discovered a woman with orange hair piled on top of her head, wearing enough makeup to start her own cosmetics business. Oven mitts covered her hands. Steam escaped from a glass dish of green beans. He took a whiff of the unmistakable aroma of cream of mushroom soup and dried onions and his mouth watered.

“I want to be the first to officially welcome you.” The woman smiled, ducked under his arm that held open the door and zeroed in on the kitchen.

He blinked, floored by the idea that a stranger had just bulldozed her way inside, then quickly followed.

“We’re so sorry about your grandfather,” the stranger said. She placed the dish on one of the burners on the stove and shoved the mitts into apron pockets. “But we’re just tickled to have another Fairfax in this house. It’s Tanner, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m Mrs. Boone, from across the street.” He shook her offered hand. “Mr. Boone would’ve come, too, but he’s recovering from surgery and can’t get around just yet. Your grandfather loved my green bean casserole, so I just know you’ll love it, too. And if you have any questions about New Haven, I’m the town historian. I’ve lived here all my life, so I’ve seen it all.”

“Thanks, but I won’t be here—”

“Why, you’re the spitting image of your daddy. Frankie was quite the charmer.” She leaned toward Tanner. “Not at all like your grandfather. That Frank, Sr. was short on charm, but he was fair and a man of his word.”

Tanner was already weary of the praise for a man who must have hidden his shortcomings from the town. “I see. Well, thanks again, Mrs. Boone.”

“You’re more than welcome. Tell me, are you as full of pluck as your daddy was? ’Cause this town could use shaking up.”

“Frankie, you’re finally home,” a feeble voice called out from behind the screen of the kitchen door. A stooped, white-haired woman shuffled inside.

Mrs. Boone placed her hand on the old woman’s elbow. “Oh, no, Mrs. Johnson. Frankie and Susan passed away years ago in that horrible car accident, remember?”

“Nonsense, child. I’d know that hair and those eyes anywhere. Why did you stay away so long, Frankie?”

A mixture of emotions jackhammered Tanner. The warmth and joy in the stranger’s voice, the lines of concern and compassion on her face, and the fact that she’d obviously known and liked his father caused Tanner’s throat to grow tight. He swallowed hard. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he craved to know the details of his parents’ childhoods.

“The town hasn’t been the same since you left, dear boy.”

Tanner had no idea how to respond to the woman without confusing her more, so he played along. He smiled. “How have you been, Mrs. Johnson?”

She sighed. “Teaching isn’t what it used to be. No respect, no joy of learning. Your daddy thought you could scare kids into doing the right thing, or at the very least bribe them. But I daresay I disagree. Where is the rascal, anyway?”

A sad smile crossed Mrs. Boone’s face. “Mrs. Johnson was the best math teacher New Haven High ever had. She lives just across the alley. On her good days she liked to come over to spar with your grandfather. You could hear those two all the way downtown. Obviously, today isn’t a good day. Come on, Mrs. Johnson, I’ll walk you home.”

Tanner looked forward to a good day when they could go back in time together. “I’ll drop by for a visit sometime, if that’s okay with you, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Any time, dear boy. It’s time I have plenty of.”

Mrs. Boone led the stooped woman toward the door. “Oh, look, Tanner!” Mrs. Boone said over her shoulder. “You’ve got more company. And you’re in luck. Looks like Miss Eva brought cinnamon rolls. One whiff, and you’ll agree they’re to die for.”

His warm, nostalgic mood evaporated at the sight of several strangers approaching the house. He worried he was caught in the Father Knows Best version of The Twilight Zone. What else explained why strangers felt free to wander into his house, or why people admired a jerk like his grandfather?

No matter. He knew the man for what he really was—a scheming, coldhearted tyrant.

Every citizen in New Haven could line up at his door with gifts and kind words about his grandfather. Tanner didn’t care; he’d ignore them all.

And he for damn sure wouldn’t give in to any interest or attraction he might feel toward Cassie Leighton.

Chapter Two

Cassie cradled the grocery sacks against her chest and hurried across the street. A quick glance at Tanner’s truck revealed it hadn’t budged since she’d left Fairfax House earlier that afternoon. A single light in the old house led her to believe he was home. Good. She hated to think she’d wasted time deciding what to wear for nothing. She’d fretted less for a date, for Pete’s sake.

But she had to walk a fine line. Tanner was not only a customer and a neighbor, but someone Mr. Frank had entrusted her to look after. So, she’d chosen comfortable jeans, a white sleeveless blouse, sandals and her denim floppy hat. Casual, but a step up from shorts and T-shirt with her company logo.

She shifted the stuffed paper bags in her arms and tapped the door with her foot. “Come on, Tanner,” she mumbled. “Open the door.” On a mission to welcome him to the neighborhood, she also hoped her gifts would make him realize how much she’d loved and respected his grandfather.

Unfortunately, she had another, less pure motive for such a quick return visit: Tanner had filled her thoughts all day.

After she’d left Fairfax House, she had stopped by the office to log in any deliveries and bring home the mail. For the remainder of the afternoon she had helped her crew install light fixtures at a job site. Thank goodness the routine work hadn’t required her full attention.

All her life, Cassie had been told she had too much curiosity, so her job proved the perfect fit. She saw hidden treasures in old, beaten-up things. Stripping paint from a piece of furniture to expose the natural beauty underneath was a joy, not a chore.

So, why wouldn’t a man such as Tanner, unlike the other men in New Haven, fascinate her? He had more walls built up around him than the mansion he’d inherited, which probably explained why he’d never had a long-term relationship with a woman.

Too bad for him that she lived to tear down walls. But, of course, she had no personal motives. She just had to know him better in order to figure out how to convince him to stay.

She gently kicked at the door again. Still no answer.

Movement in the nearest window caught her attention. The door slowly opened. “Come in. Hurry,” Tanner whispered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked with forced nonchalance. Curiosity over his odd behavior battled with her unwillingness to appear too eager to see him again. Unfazed by the darkness, she headed for the kitchen. She could find her way around the house blindfolded, had done so many times during games of Blind Man’s Bluff with her sister. “You act like you’re in hiding.”

A dimmed swag light revealed the kitchen table crammed with foil-covered dishes and platters. Her mouth watered at the unmistakable aroma of Mrs. Boone’s green bean casserole, Mr. Dunne’s barbequed chicken and Miss Eva’s cinnamon rolls, along with many other specialties just as familiar.

Cassie made room on the table for the sacks. She tore her glance away from the enticing spread and studied Tanner, only to discover something even more tempting—vulnerability.

“You bet I’m hiding, Cassie. I haven’t had a minute’s peace since I set foot into this house. People have been coming out of the woodwork in droves. Look at all this.” He gestured at the food, then glanced back at her. “I didn’t even notice you had the sacks or I would’ve carried them for you. Sorry. It’s just that I’m…I’m…”

“Flustered?” The corners of her mouth involuntarily turned upward. Nothing was more adorable than a flustered male. Adorable? Tanner? She didn’t want to go there. “Surely you’ve been in small towns before. We pride ourselves on friendliness.”

“I’ve worked in hundreds, but never lived in one.”

“Hundreds? That’s a lot of traveling. What kind of work do you do?” Although she already knew the answer, she wanted Tanner to talk about himself. Something told her that he’d be furious to know an investigator had reported on most aspects of his life.

“Carpentry. And I own a construction company.”

When Cassie had first learned of Tanner’s chosen field, she had felt an instant kinship with him, sight unseen. Now that she’d met him, so restless, closed off, and full of anger, she knew not to read anything into the fact they both owned their own company and enjoyed working with their hands. He had the most beautiful hands, large and tanned….

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on her plan. If he wanted to be truly happy, Tanner needed to understand the importance of roots and accept his birthright. “Construction must be in the blood. That’s how Mr. Frank got his start. Residential, mostly. Then he expanded with businesses related to construction—a hardware store, remodeling and repair. But I guess you already know that.”

“I’m strictly commercial.” Tanner folded his arms against his chest and his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt. “I know all I need to know about my grandfather. He was used to getting his own way.”

Tanner was bullheaded. Just like his grandfather. “Yes, well, most successful people are. And if you don’t know it already, the remodeling business I own belonged to your grandfather until two years ago.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s pretty young to buy and think you can run your own business.”

“Twenty-three isn’t that young when you consider I had worked for your grandfather for nine years before that. My father had left me a little money, so between that and a loan, I was able to offer Mr. Frank a fair price. You can check the papers you got from Mr. Samuels.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Tanner ran a hand through his thick black hair and paced, his boots pounding against the hardwood floor. “This is what I don’t get.” He gestured at the food. “What do these people want from me?”

Cassie’s heart ached from Tanner’s dismissal of his grandfather, a man she had grown to love as surely as if he’d been a blood relative. She had to make Tanner see how much his grandfather cursed his own pride and stubbornness that had driven away family, that he had loved Tanner, regretted not being in his life, and had wanted to make up for the mistakes he’d made. “All these people want is to make you feel welcome, show how much they respected your grandfather.”

“But why would they care what I think? They don’t know me.”

“You’re a Fairfax. That’s all they need to know.” She grabbed the chilled gallon of milk, then the eggs, bread, cheeses and coffee from one sack. From the other, she gently removed a small pot of ivy, napkins and other paper products.

Tanner stopped pacing and stared at her as if she’d swapped the denim hat she wore for a bucket. “It’s that simple?”

“Yep. And I’m warning you, if you haven’t gotten an invitation to dinner from my mother yet, it’s coming.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been in town one day.”

“Like I said, news travels fast.”

“Why would your mother invite me to dinner?”

Cassie smiled patiently. “She went to school with your dad. They were sweethearts once. Later on, Mom took care of your grandmother until she died, and then did the same for your grandfather. They treated Mom, my sister and me like family.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I just don’t get it.”

“You will. Eventually.” At least, Cassie hoped that someday soon he’d realize family and roots meant everything. She carried the plant over to the sink and placed the ivy on the window ledge above it.

“Is that some kind of plant? What are you doing?”

“Someone threw out the plants that used to be in here. So, I brought a replacement.” She untangled the vines and smiled. Perfect. “The kitchen looks more cozy already.”

“Cozy? I don’t care about cozy. And I certainly can’t take it with me, since I’m never home.”

She could almost see the protective walls form around him. “I can’t imagine not wanting a place to feel like home, even for a little while.” But then, she decorated the inside of her van.

“Look, home is just an apartment where I collect the mail and clean clothes and that’s the way I like it.”

Cassie guessed that finding himself completely alone at seventeen had shattered any illusions about home and hearth. Although nothing could bring back his parents, she could help him connect to a part of his family he’d never known. But first, he needed to forgive his grandfather.

Boy, did she ever have her work cut out for her. “Fine,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take care of the plant for you.” She held up a can of coffee. “I didn’t know what brand, but guessed you at least wanted caffeine.”

“Definitely.” His expression even more puzzled, he approached the table. “How much do I owe you for the groceries?” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

She waved away the offer. “If you pay, then I’ll have to assume that because my gift isn’t homemade it doesn’t measure up. I’m not much of a cook or a baker, so I can’t compete with all this wonderful food.”

“That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Good.” She grinned. “Here’s rule number two in a small town—when someone is nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”

She expected some sort of resistance, either a rationalization to pay, or even the return of his earlier wariness. Instead, his dark gaze grew warm, the firm lines of his mouth softened. His expression held something that unnerved her even more—interest.

Tanner snapped out of his flustered fog, jolted by Cassie’s lighthearted explanation of why he should put back his wallet. She could have just as easily pouted or acted insulted by his offer of money. How refreshing. He smiled. “Thank you.”

Her eyes grew wide, her face flushed. She fidgeted with the denim hat that covered most of her rich brown hair. Not many women pulled off wearing hats, in his opinion, but it looked natural on Cassie.

“You—you’re welcome.”

In fact, he suspected she’d look good in just about anything. Tonight, instead of overalls, faded jeans outlined dangerous curves. A sleeveless blouse revealed well-defined arms. Bright-pink toenails poked out of sandals, the vivid, feminine color a further reminder that she was all woman.

As if he could forget.

She inched backward toward the kitchen door. “I—I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night,” she said, then left.

Tanner walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He untucked his shirt and used it as a towel, hoping to also wipe away the image now firm in his mind of Cassie’s tempting package of curves and muscle, firmness and warmth.

Damn. He wanted to see Cassie as just a hired hand, not a woman. She was too sentimental and emotional. Tears had threatened at the mention of his power-hungry grandfather. She’d reacted to a smile and a thank you the way some women responded to a compliment or flowers.

Yes, he had derived satisfaction from managing to fluster her. And he couldn’t deny he was glad, even grateful, to discover that she also felt the chemistry between them. But he’d ignore the attraction. One reason had brought him to New Haven—to inherit the house in order to sell it.

Thirty days and counting. After that, the entire town could swarm Fairfax House. He’d be gone.

Saturday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Cassie knocked on the kitchen door of Fairfax House and braced herself to see Tanner again. She just hoped he wouldn’t mention her frazzled state last night, which had been entirely his fault. His unexpected smile had softened his features and reminded her of how moments earlier she’d found him adorable. Then he’d given her that look.

Once home and in her own bed, she’d tossed and turned for hours. Had she imagined the curiosity in his gaze? If her instincts were correct, would any interest on his part prove a complication or an asset in her attempt to convince him to remain at Fairfax House?

No. The tantalizing notion wouldn’t get another thought. Besides just being plain wrong to capitalize on whatever chemistry existed between them, she’d never been one to do things the easy way.

The aroma of strong coffee and cinnamon streamed through the screen door and made serious thinking difficult. Her mouth watered, her stomach grumbled, and she silently cursed her weakness for sweets. She didn’t need any distractions.

She wanted something from Tanner Fairfax, something she could almost taste, the way she could already taste the perfect blend of cinnamon and sugars in Miss Eva’s famous rolls. She didn’t care if Tanner acted bitter, suspicious, flustered or even flirty. She’d deal with whatever he threw at her.

“Come in.” He held the door open.

“Thanks.” She stepped inside. Her determination to act naturally took a nosedive at the sight of Tanner, obviously fresh out of the shower. Drops of water clung to his hair. A navy T-shirt outlined his broad chest. Gray gym shorts revealed tanned, lean, muscular legs.

So, her customer was attractive. Not a problem.

She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts back to business. “Before I forget, another customer still has my wallpaper books. I can have them here in a day or so, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” The door banged shut as he walked across the kitchen, his weathered sneakers silent on the tiled floor. “How about coffee and a roll before you start? This good food shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded at two places already set with paper plates and napkins at the kitchen table.

She didn’t know what to make of his almost formal manner, the polite smile. Not a smidgen of curiosity. Apparently, she’d tossed and turned for no reason last night.

She was okay with that, though. Polite, she could handle. “Only a fool would turn down that offer.” She took a seat, determined to keep things light, friendly, but still professional, in order to win his trust.

“Butter?” he asked.

With a guilty start she shook her head and turned her thoughts to the safer topic of breakfast. She unwound a portion of the roll coated with homemade icing, tore off a piece and popped it in her mouth.

“Heaven,” she murmured, savoring the sinfully rich confection, heavy on the cinnamon and some other blend of spices which remained Miss Eva’s secret. Bit by bit, she unraveled the roll, enjoying each delicious bite.

She glanced up to find Tanner staring at her. “What’s wrong? Do I have a frosting mustache or something?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “Nothing like that. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone eat a roll like that before.”

“When something is this good, I try to make it last even longer. Don’t worry, though. With wallpapering, I charge by the roll, not the hour.” She wiped her fingers on the napkin next to her plate. Teetering on the edge of sugar overload, she took a sip of coffee as strong as the aroma had promised.

Over the rim of her cup she caught him studying her as if she were a complex blueprint. What had she said or done?

“I’m not worried.” He nudged his plate away, having already inhaled two buttered rolls before she’d finished one. Obviously, he didn’t share her tendency to savor. “I didn’t mean to rush you,” he continued, “you were on time this morning, which is refreshing in itself.”

“I can’t take credit for that. I live across the street in Mrs. Boone’s upstairs apartment.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Seems like I was recently told that when someone says something nice to you, a simple thank you is enough.”

She smiled, surprised and much too pleased by his sudden shift from impersonal politeness to friendly bantering. “A quick study. I like that. And you got points last night for not commenting on the fact that I don’t cook or bake.”

“Big deal. I’ve never spent any time in a kitchen, either.”

“But my mom and sister put Martha Stewart to shame.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” She much preferred this relaxed version of Tanner over the guarded one, for the sake of keeping her promise to Mr. Frank, of course. She had to earn Tanner’s trust. “Have you checked out the barn yet?”

“It was locked. I’ll call the lawyer about a key.”

“A spare key is in the broom closet. You’ll love the barn, Tanner. There’s so much history in it. Right now, it’s just storage for your grandfather’s old Thunderbird, but when your great-grandfather lived here, this house was actually out in the country and he traded horses. The town spread out until Fairfax House ended up in the middle of town. You’re allowed to keep the barn because it’s the original structure.”

Her cellular phone rang. “Excuse me, Tanner.” Cassie dug the phone out of a bib pocket and checked the phone number. Good. “It’s my painter. I’ll just be a minute.” She put the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Georgie.”

“Hi, Cas. I’m on my way to Mr. Dibble’s place. And I wanted to thank you again for letting me off early yesterday. Emily scored the team’s only goal!”

Cassie grinned as she pictured the curly-haired six-year-old in her purple-and-white uniform. “Not a problem, Georgie. Looks like I owe her an ice-cream cone.”

“Now, Cas, it isn’t necessary to bribe. She lives to tear up the field.”

“I know. But she’s so cute, I’d end up treating her anyway. Oh, and in case you forgot, wait a while after you ring Mr. Dibble’s doorbell. He uses a walker and might take a while to get to the door. And don’t waste much time going over paint chips. He always ends up choosing the original color.”

“Okay. I’ll check in later, then. Bye.”

“Bye.” Cassie hung up and dropped the phone into a pocket, aware that she didn’t have any time to waste, either. She had less than a month to make Tanner feel connected to Fairfax House, to New Haven.

“Is your business a family operation?” Tanner’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“No. There’s only me. But I’m all for the idea. I think a family that works together, stays together.” She had observed too many couples drift apart while chasing after different dreams; her sister was a perfect example.

Tanner looked as if he’d taken a bite of lemon. No surprise there.

“Why do you ask?” she persisted.

He shrugged. “I just assumed. Why else would you know if a worker is hurting for money, or if their kid has a game?”

Cassie smiled. Questions, the first sign of interest. “That’s the beauty of small-town life. It’s second nature to me, since I’ve either grown up with or around these people. I always prefer to use local subcontractors, people I can trust.” When she cared, remembering the important things was easy. “I take it things are a little different where you come from?”

“You could say that.”

Darn. A closed door. Somehow, she needed to spark Tanner’s interest in the house, in his family history. Maybe she should start with what fascinated her the most about the mansion. “This may sound crazy, but I have a favor to ask.”

Tanner raised his eyebrows. “A favor?”

She rarely allowed distractions during work, but she had more than one job to do. The price and the time frame for the repairs to the kitchen had already been agreed upon. Her other job, her promise to do all she could to convince Tanner to make Fairfax House his home, was a freebie, no invoice required. “Would you mind if I went upstairs for a look-see?”

“Do you suspect more water damage?”

“No. The damage was limited to the separate roof above the kitchen. This is sort of personal.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I’ve been in this house many times, but my sister and I were never allowed to go upstairs. It seems silly, I know, but the spiral staircase always reminded me of a beanstalk.”

She paused and grinned. “I desperately wanted to be like Jack and climb that sucker. Later, when I got closer to Mr. Frank, it seemed too much of an invasion of privacy to ask. Not to mention sort of odd. But I’ve always wondered what was so special or scary about the upstairs that kept it out of bounds.”

“But you’ve been working in this house. If it was that big of a deal, why didn’t you just look on your own?”

“I was tempted. But it felt disrespectful.”

“Some willpower.”

“Tell me about it. But now that you’re the owner, I won’t feel guilty if you say it’s okay.”

Tanner unfolded his long frame. Dark eyes shined with amusement. “Lead the way.”

“Great.” She hurried through the parlor and formal living room to the ornate staircase, breathless with anticipation. The last time she recalled feeling this excited was as a child on Christmas morning. Well, maybe as an adult last Christmas. She hadn’t changed that much. The fact that Tanner followed closely behind only added to her eagerness.

Maybe she could hook his interest with one of her favorite stories. “This staircase originally came down into the dining room. Your grandmother mentioned how much better it would look this way, and the next day Mr. Frank brought in an architect. He would’ve done just about anything for her.” Anything except admit he’d been wrong about what mattered to her most—their son.

Cassie paused at the bottom step. The stairs seemed to have shrunk over the past twenty years, but what lay beyond was huge and she felt daunted by the immense responsibility before her. She had learned not to take promises lightly; she would not let Mr. Frank down.

“Go on.” Tanner urged. “But don’t get your hopes up. I did a quick inspection last night—I was too beat from driving straight through to do more. It’s just hallways and rooms.”

Cassie refused to buy into his pessimism. Although she had asked to explore as a ruse to snare Tanner’s interest in his family, she was still excited to finally have the chance to appease her curiosity.

She slowly made her way up the wooden steps, trailing her hand along the smooth banister. She’d waited a long time for this opportunity and wanted to savor every moment. “I’ll bet Mr. Frank is smiling right now. He always warned me that I had an overactive imagination.”

“I don’t get it, Cassie. Once you got older, what made you want to hang around an old guy you weren’t even related to?”

Her plan had worked! More questions, the first step toward understanding. “My father died when I was nine. My mom and sister found comfort in doing things together. Cooking, baking, sewing. Things I was dreadful at. That’s why I enjoyed puttering around with my dad in the yard and garage so much.” Having lost that connection, she’d never felt so alone in her life. And guilty.

Just before her father passed away, he’d asked her to promise to be less of a tomboy. Her mother didn’t need more to worry about, and she fretted that Cassie would never fit in. Once he was gone, they would all need to lean on one another.

Cassie had tried to act more like her sister, a girlie-girl, but it proved such a bad fit, she’d given up. So much for keeping promises. “Your grandfather, bless his heart, saw how lost I was and found things for me to do around this house.”

She realized, looking back, that the old man had been just as lost as that frightened young girl. Before long, she even thought of the house as a lost soul—locked in dark colors and heavy wood, unhappiness and regret in every corner.

Such a treasure deserved a second chance. If Tanner decided to put down roots in New Haven he could bring the house into the light, turn it into a home, not just a pristine, cold showcase.

More importantly, though, Tanner would have found where he truly belonged. He’d lost so much already. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one.” Cassie opened the door and strolled inside the room, surprised to find she had been holding her breath.

Darn. Just peach-colored walls, elegant furniture and a lingering scent of mothballs.

Tanner followed Cassie inside the room. He pictured her, lonely and missing her dad, racing off to do repairs in the old house, and felt a sharp tug on his heart.

He knew how working with your hands could soothe your soul. After he’d lost his parents in a car wreck when he was seventeen, a nonprofit group called Mentors, Inc. had hooked him up with a master carpenter who specialized in framing and building cabinets on-site.

Tanner had thrown himself into the part-time job to curb his loneliness. Wood was solid, yet he could coax it to his will. He determined the shape, texture, even the color. Control of any kind had worked like a bandage against the open sore of helplessness that had raged inside of him.

He doubted he’d have to explain to Cassie how that job had become a lifeline to an angry, scared kid in search of direction and purpose.

At least he’d been old enough to declare himself emancipated, and could make his own decisions about his future. He had stayed with neighbors, who were also close friends to his parents, until he graduated from high school and got his own apartment. Man, he hadn’t thought about those dark times in ages. Didn’t care to, either. He’d rather contemplate the fascinating woman next to him who was real, unpretentious and obviously unaware of her effect on him.

Who was he kidding? She probably had the same effect on all men, was probably involved with someone. No. He wouldn’t think about her personal life; it was none of his business.

“The antiques are so beautiful.” Cassie’s soft voice pulled him back to the present. “Too bad they can’t talk. I’ll bet they have wonderful stories.” She slowly ran her hand along the curved back of a cherry rocker.

She hadn’t simply touched the chair, she’d caressed it. He marveled at how she milked the simplest of pleasures for all they were worth.

At breakfast, observing her lost in the taste, smell and feel of the pastry had thrown him off balance. In no time, his cool politeness had been replaced with a keen awareness of the sensual woman across the table. He’d found himself relaxing, had even razzed her about a simple thank you after she’d shrugged off his compliment for promptness.

Minutes later he had agreed to explore the upstairs with her. The spontaneous act had felt natural, which amazed him, since he’d denied that part of himself for so many years. He had learned quickly that spontaneity was for other people, not for someone like him who had lost his parents, his anchors, much too early in his life.

Cassie’s slow ascent up the staircase she’d been dying to climb for years had impressed him, made him wonder if she would approach lovemaking with the same drawn-out passion….

Tanner nearly groaned at the thought. In less than a month he’d return to Texas. He had no business thinking of her in that way. Damn. He needed a distraction. “What do you think this room was used for?” he asked as he opened the doors of an intricately carved armoire.

“It might have been your dad’s, if that picture means anything.” She walked over to the nightstand, picked up an ornate silver picture frame and offered it to him. “Do you recognize anyone, Tanner?”

He wanted to walk away, but couldn’t. Cassie placed the frame in his hands, the heavy metal cool to the touch.

He traced the outline of a young boy with familiar dark hair and eyes sitting on the back of a red convertible, no doubt the Thunderbird Cassie had mentioned earlier. An obviously proud father stood off to the side.

“They look happy in that picture, don’t they?”

Tanner returned the frame to Cassie, determined not to show a reaction to the photograph. No way did he want to imagine his grandfather as a typical, doting dad. He was a monster who had hassled his family. “Nice car.”

She gazed at him expectantly, but he had nothing to say that she’d want to hear. “Let’s check the next room,” she finally said.

Up and down the hallway, her enthusiasm built with each step. Her excitement proved contagious. Tanner followed, grateful for a distraction. How could someone so curious possess the willpower not to sneak upstairs on one of her many visits? Despite himself, he was impressed.

She hurried to the next room. “Jill is going to gloat. She never believed there was anything special up here.”

“Jill. That’s your sister, right?”

“Right. The one without an imagination.” Cassie stopped in front of the last room. “What made you choose this room, Tanner?”

He blinked. “Choose it for what?”

“Your room. None of your stuff was in the other rooms, and this is the only one left.”

“I tossed my dufflebag in the room downstairs.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In case you didn’t notice, the bed downstairs is a double. All the beds that we’ve seen up here are queen or king-size. But hey, whatever floats your boat.”

She turned her attention to the next room. “I sure hope this one is more interesting.” She opened the door and stepped inside.

Tanner followed close behind. “More interesting, maybe, but nothing exciting.” Heavy, stale air assaulted him. Light poured in from high windows and revealed a long, narrow room that ran the length of the house. The perfect space for storage.

“Wow,” Cassie murmured. “Looks like a Hitchcock movie set.”

“The only things missing are a few rabid birds.” A sloped ceiling created a tunnel affect. At one end stood an enormous oak rolltop desk and shelves that sagged under the weight of too many books. The opposite side of the room held an armoire and several trunks. Cobwebs cloaked every surface.

“Just look at that Victrola, Tanner! I can almost hear big-band music and picture giggling teenage girls teaching one another the latest dance steps.”

He watched Cassie rush across a massive, faded, Oriental rug to the Victrola.

“I knew it! Jill and I would’ve had a blast in here. And of course, probably destroyed every breakable thing in sight.” She took a rag from a back pocket and flicked it across the lid of the antique, destroying at least one spider’s home while she whipped up a miniature dust storm.

She sneezed and waved her hand to clear the air, a grin on her face all the while. A blanket of dust and a maze of sticky cobwebs failed to dim her excitement. The sparkle in her eyes made him want to keep giving her reasons to be excited. A dangerous thought. He planned to leave as soon as possible so there wouldn’t be time to…to what? Build a relationship?

Not an option.

Once again he needed a diversion and stopped at the first thing in front of him, a fancy table with a glass case on top. Four rows of tarnished spoons nestled against faded black velvet.

“Tanner, look. I found some old letters addressed to your grandmother. What did you find?” Cassie approached him and gasped. “These collectibles are from all over the world. You should get a safety deposit box.”

Vivid childhood memories popped into his mind. His truck-driving father had always brought back a souvenir spoon from each town he visited as a gift for his mother. They had explained how the spoons symbolized their freedom. The real collection and more could’ve been theirs if they had agreed to let his grandfather run their lives. He had insisted they return to New Haven, or send Tanner to live with him in order to benefit from the opportunities money and status provided. Of course they had refused.

Tanner had thought it silly how happy the cheap gifts had made his mother. Now, as he gazed at the impressive collection, he understood why she had claimed that a spoon from Peoria was more valuable than a collectible from Paris.

His throat tightened. A strange wetness appeared behind his eyes at the reminder of how much pain his grandfather had caused his parents. He was more convinced than ever that he’d done the right thing by coming to New Haven. Finally, he could make good on the promise he’d made to his parents while he knelt at their graves so long ago. Delayed justice, but sweet just the same.

He didn’t need the money, only the satisfaction he’d feel when he sold the very thing his grandfather had valued over family.

“Tanner? What’s wrong?”

Chapter Three

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