“I Just Wanted To Repay You For Rescuing Me This Morning,” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author The Silhouette Spotlight - “Where Passion Lives” Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Copyright

“I Just Wanted To Repay You For Rescuing Me This Morning,”

Cass said, trying to retain her composure in the face of this sexy, rugged man.

He raised one eyebrow at her, studying her with intensity.

“Well, now that you mention it, there is one thing I’d like.”

His eyes narrowed and his gaze swept slowly down her body, sending signals to parts that had lain dormant for a long time. Cass fidgeted and stepped away from Rafe’s warmth.

“What do you want?”

“You,” he said.

“A wonderful new voice is added to the Desire line. Katherine Garbera blends humor, warmth and sizzling sexual tension in The Bachelor Next Door. I’m looking forward to her next book...and the next....”

—Bestselling author Pamela Macaluso

Dear Reader,

LET’S CELEBRATE FIFTEEN YEARS

OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE...

with some of your favorite authors and new stars of tomorrow. For the next three months, we present a spectacular lineup of unforgettably romantic love stones—led by three MAN OF THE MONTH titles.

In October, Diana Palmer returns to Desire with The Patient Nurse, which features an unforgettable hero. Next month, Ann Major continues her bestselling CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with Nobody’s Child. And in December, Dixie Browning brings us her special brand of romantic charm in Look What the Stork Brought.

But Desire is not only MAN OF THE MONTH! It’s new love stories from talented authors Christine Rimmer, Helen R. Myers, Raye Morgan, Metsy Hingle and new star Katherine Garbera in October.

In November, don’t miss sensuous surprises from BJ James, Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte

And December will be filled with Christmas cheer from Maureen Child, Kathryn Jensen, Christine Pacheco, Anne Eames and Barbara McMahon.

Remember, here at Desire we’ve been committed to bringing you the very best in unforgettable romance and sizzling sensuality. And to add to the excitement of fifteen wonderful years, we offer the chance for you to win some wonderful prizes. Look in the pages at the end of the book for details.

And may we have many more years of happy reading together!

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

US · 3010 Walden Ave., P.O Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

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

The Bachelor Next Door

Katherine Garbera

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Matt, best friend, lover and husband—without your

support and belief in me, I couldn’t have done it. And

for my children, Courtney and Lucas, who make me

remember why we’re here.

KATHERINE GARBERA

has always enjoyed creating stories. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and has served on her local chapter’s board as president and treasurer. She’s had a varied career path, including: lifeguard, production page, VIP tour guide and secretary. Reading, shopping, playing the flute and counted cross-stitch are just some of her hobbies. She’s always believed that everything she dreams she can do. With the support of her husband, daughter and family, she wrote her first novel and found she had to write another one. In 1995 she won the Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for excellence in unpublished short contemporary writing. In a world that is so technologically advanced, Katherine believes we need more romance in our daily lives and hopes to create that with her novels.

The Silhouette Spotlight

“Where Passion Lives”

MEET WOMAN TO WATCH

What was your inspiration for

THE BACHELOR NEXT DOOR?

KG: “My family. In developing my hero and heroine, that importance of family came across. I especially needed a key to who Rafe Santinu was. Rafe had a strong sense of family...so I took his family away from hun and left him with the guilt of their deaths. The want of a family is still strong within Rafe, but he believes he will destroy anyone he cares for.”

What about the Desire line appeals

to you as a reader and as a writer?

KG: “It’s fast paced, sometimes serious and sometimes funny, but always sensual.”

Why is this book special to you?

KG: “Because of Rafe Santini. I fell in love with the lonely playboy who lives across the street from the heroine and her son. While I was writing this book, for the first time I was able to deal honestly with the emotions my characters were feeling. I learned a lot about myself as a writer from It. I set the story in Florida where I was born and raised, because I love this state.”

Any additional information about

yourself or your book?

KG: “After I won the Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award for this book, I was serenaded by an entire Marine Corps unit in the bar. It was very exciting and fun.”

One

“Mommy’s trapped in the bathroom and I’ve got to get to school.”

Rafe Santini ran a hand over his bleary eyes, willing the tiny apparition standing in his doorway to disappear. A quick glance at his battered watch confirmed that it was 7:00 a.m. He scratched the stubble on his chin and stretched his arms above his head before looking down again.

The boy was still there. Rafe knew nothing about children and liked it that way. This child had invaded his private retreat, and though Rafe knew he should regret the intrusion, part of him was intrigued by the situation.

“Come on, mister. Will you help me?” The boy’s eyes were teary, and Rafe feared the child would start crying.

Rafe leaned against the front door frame and sighed. Ah, hell, he couldn’t leave the child in the lurch. “Okay, okay. Give me a minute.”

Rafe slid his feet into the buffalo sandals he’d left on the porch for late-night walks with his dog. He scratched his bare chest, debating whether he had time to grab a shirt before leaving, then decided the kid looked too desperate for even a minute’s delay. The boy lived directly across the street from Rafe. He’d seen the kid on the front porch studying, when he went for his daily jog.

The yard was neat and tidy, no toys, bikes or plastic pools littered the grounds. In fact, there was no evidence that a kid lived there, much less a young boy.

A battered Volvo wagon stood in the driveway. The boy grabbed Rafe’s hand, hurrying him along. The door opened smoothly and a fresh floral scent beckoned him closer.

The house was laid out similarly to his, except all of the remodeling had been completed. The hardwood floor shone brightly under handwoven rugs. The banister on the stairs had been cleaned until the details of the intricate carvings were clearly visible. His banister was still covered with years of dirt and grime, but he hoped it would be in the same condition as this one when he removed the layers of filth.

“Andy! Where are you?” called a worried voice from upstairs. “You better get back up here pronto.”

Pronto? Who used that word anymore? Rafe smiled at the frazzled sound of the woman’s voice. It reminded him of his mother’s when he’d been into mischief. The grin on the boy’s face mirrored Rafe’s own.

“Andy.” Anger was clear in the voice now. Amusement slid from the boy’s face like a rain cloud covering the sun.

“We’d better hurry.” The kid scrambled up the stairs, Rafe followed. They stopped outside the hall in front of the bathroom door.

“Don’t worry, Mommy. I brought help.”

“Who? The only person you’re allowed to speak to is on vacation.”

“It’s okay. I got the man from across the street. The one you said had nice buns.”

“Andy,” the voice protested, taking on a squeaky quality.

Rafe ignored that comment, figuring he’d better help the lady out of the bathroom before she exploded out of there in a killer rage. He grinned, thinking there were worse ways to be woken up. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day.

Rafe returned his attention to the door. The problem appeared to be a small, plastic army’s front row of soldiers wedged under it. “Reenacting a battle?”

A row of perfect white teeth were revealed when the boy smiled. “Yeah, Gettysberg. We’re studying the Civil War in school.”

“Andy the word is yes, not yeah. Please save the war stories for another time.” Again the voice from behind the door. “The problem isn’t on the battlefield, the lock is stuck.”

“Sorry, Mommy.”

“That’s okay, Andy. I think a bobby pin ought to work.”

“I’m fresh out of bobby pins,” Rafe said.

She’d calmed down now, and her voice had lost the frazzled, worried quality. The woman’s voice was straight out of his dreams. Distant dreams that he hadn’t allowed himself to think of in years. A sweet voice that reminded him of church on Sunday mornings and lazy days spent in bed. Images of home and family danced through his mind before he firmly shut them out.

“But I’ll improvise. Do you have a screwdriver?” he asked.

“Downstairs in the kitchen. What are you planning to do?”

The worried edge had returned to her voice, and he also detected a hint of resentment. Rafe wondered how long she’d been trapped in the bathroom. She was probably apprehensive about having a stranger in her house and the boy being alone with him. But he wasn’t a rapist or ax murderer and he was trying to rescue her. She’d just have to take what she got from him.

“Go get it for me, Andy.” The boy moved quickly to do Rafe’s bidding.

He bent to examine the doorknob and the lock. Rafe had always had a knack for fixing things and had spent his adult life working in construction. The old-fashioned handle would make taking it apart easier than a newer model would have been. But he wasn’t as sure of the inner workings.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you still out there?” Her voice was prim and proper now, almost cold with formality. Where had the soft, sweet tone disappeared to?

“Yes, ma’am.” He drawled out the words in a way he’d been told was annoying. Two could play at this game. In fact, he wagered he would win the manners match.

“What are you planning to do?” she asked, sounding slightly less uptight.

“I’m going to remove the doorknob. If that doesn’t work I’ll have to take the door off its hinges.” He wondered what she looked like.

“I’d rather you didn’t remove the door.”

That cold tone was beginning to grate on his already strained nerves. “Hell, I’d rather not remove the door, either. But unless you want to spend the day in there, I might have to.”

“I’ll thank you not to curse. Andy’s at an age where he’s easily influenced.”

He grunted instead of replying, not knowing what type of response that comment warranted. All he wanted to do now was get her out of the bathroom and leave. He grinned. She probably felt anxious about his knowing her opinion of his buns. “Sit tight, lady.”

Remarkably, she was silent for a few minutes. He could hear her pacing in the small bathroom. Once she saw him face-to-face she would put more distance between them than the ocean between continents. He wasn’t the type of man women wanted their young sons around. Which was okay by him. He didn’t particularly want to be around kids, anyway.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her voice calmer now, almost resigned.

“Don’t you know?”

Silence stretched. “We’ve never met.”

“Rafe Santini. I’m your new neighbor across the street.” He pulled his Swiss Army knife from his pocket and scratched at the empty keyhole. He wanted a clear view of the inner locking mechanism. “How long have you been locked in?”

“About an hour. I was taking a bath. I like to soak for a while.” She paused, clearing her throat. “Mr. Santini, um...I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful—”

“Here you go,” Andy said, returning with the screwdriver.

Rafe removed the doorknob. It should have taken only five minutes, but Andy wanted to know everything that was happening and asked questions incessantly.

Rafe remembered doing the same thing to his father as a child. Those memories gave him the patience to answer all of the boy’s questions. Andy was smart and never asked the same thing twice, which amazed Rafe.

Once the knob was removed, it was easy to open the door. Rafe had expected the woman to be matronly, round and soft like his mom had been. The woman had a son and a formal tone of voice that reminded him of his spinster aunt Florence. But instead, Andy’s mother was—ah, hell, his mind fought against the word attractive. Dammit, she was sexy.

Her dark brown hair was piled on top of her head. Tendrils curled around her heart-shaped face, the sable locks contrasting with the light, creamy color of her skin. Her eyes were a gingery color that made him think of fall leaves, Thanksgiving and home. The thin, pink silk robe she wore did little to disguise her feminine curves. She was one hell of a temptation, and he cursed himself for noticing.

She stepped on one of Andy’s frontline soldiers and hopped on one foot before losing her balance. Rafe snapped out of his trance and caught her in his arms.

She was a light, tempting bundle, and for a moment he forgot everything else—the child, the anger, her ridiculous opinion of his buns. Everything but the fact that she was a woman. And it had been too long since he’d held a woman in his arms. A woman who had more than a fleeting thought drifting through her head. A woman who smelled sweet, not like cheap perfume and cheaper whiskey. A woman who was trying her damnedest to get out of his arms.

“Please, put me down.” The formal tone again.

“Sure.”

He set her on her feet well away from the Rebel Army, and she gathered her dignity around her like a heavy winter cloak. Ridiculous, considering that she wore nothing but a thin piece of silk, which was clinging to her body like a second skin.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to Rafe. “I’m Cassandra Gambrel. You’ve met Andy.”

Her voice sounded soft and sweet again, which surprised him. He’d expected her to stick with the formal tone. The hand she held out was fine boned, making him feel large and masculine. The nails were painted in a delicate shell pink color that perfectly matched the natural color of her lips. He was in big trouble.

“Rafe Santini,” he said, finishing the introductions she’d begun.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, clutching the lapels of her robe together.

This woman’s skin was the creamiest he’d ever seen. Would it taste as good? He wanted to put his mouth to the pulse beating strongly in her neck and taste it. “I’ll put the knob back for you.”

“The lock sticks,” Cassandra said. “Usually if I wait long enough it loosens.”

“I’ll fix it,” he said, needing the distraction.

“You should get dressed, Mommy.”

Cassandra nodded, then walked down the hall, stopping at the end. “Don’t get in the way, Andy.”

“Aw, Mom.”

Rafe chuckled to himself, remembering how it had been to be growing up and fighting against the ties to your parents.

Andy nodded sagely. “I’m the man of the house now, but Mommy doesn’t let me do that much stuff.”

“Moms are like that.”

Andy sighed, sounding years older than he was. “Yeah, they are.”

Rafe’s attention drifted from the open door and Andy to the woman walking down the hall. Her stride was soft and smooth and her hips swayed temptingly...ah, hell.

Once in her own bedroom, Cass dressed hurriedly, throwing on the first thing she encountered. She rushed through her routine in front of the mirror, not wanting to slow down for fear she’d start thinking about him.

Rafe Santini’s backside was a sight to behold, but he was even more heart stopping from the front. His eyes were a brilliant gray that made her think of glaciers—but with fire burning inside them. His hair was thick, curly, and her fingers tingled with the desire to touch it. His bare chest caused her blood to beat ninety to nothing. She swiftly braided her hair and stuffed her feet into a pair of scuffed Top-Siders.

The one you said had nice buns. The words echoed in her mind like an executioner’s voice asking for last requests. She wanted to die of embarrassment, but that was the least of her problems.

She didn’t like the way Andy had been staring up at Mr. Santini. Like he was some sort of hero, or worse yet, a candidate for a father. Andy had a way of sizing up men that made them scurry to leave, or look at her in a different light. And if Mr. Santini thought of her as a woman, she had a sinking feeling that the prospects for her survival wouldn’t be good.

Since her husband’s death two years ago, Andy had been looking for a replacement daddy. It was nothing overt, but more the quiet contemplation of each and every single man they met. She knew Andy well enough to know that he would probe into Mr. Santini’s background while they worked. Andy would dig into the man’s past with all the enthusiasm of a paleontologist about to uncover a rare dinosaur bone.

Cass hated that she had to apologize to Rafe Santini but knew she owed it to him. She’d been rude. He’d sounded annoyed when she’d questioned him, but she was used to being in charge, used to being the one responsible for solving all of their family problems. It was weird being rescued by a man.

She planned on ignoring the comment Andy had repeated, and if the man had any couth he’d do the same. Besides, what man wanted to talk about his backside?

She stepped into the hall and watched, amazed to see Mr. Santini’s patience with her son. It was obvious to her that he’d had no contact with children on a daily basis. His language was deplorable, as if he didn’t realize that young ears waited to test and try every new word they heard. Yet, he made the effort to be friendly with her son, and some of her discomfort melted away.

Andy’s curiosity was insatiable. He drove his grandmother nearly insane with his questions. Sometimes he even managed to get on her nerves with his demands to know how everything worked. But this stranger, this man, was dealing patiently with Andy. Cass felt a softening near her heart.

She cleared her throat, and they both turned to look at her. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Mr. Santini?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cassandra hated to be called ma’am but figured she should hold her tongue after her earlier ungracious behavior. “Andy, go get ready for school.”

“But, Mommy—”

“Now, please.”

She watched her child walk toward his bedroom looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Then she turned to Santini. “Are you done here?”

“Just about. You need to get a new knob. I removed the lock, though, so you won’t get trapped in there again.”

His silver-gray eyes seemed brilliant in the dim light of the hallway. She’d never stood this close to a man as virile as Rafe Santini. His muscles were well defined, but not overdeveloped. She was suddenly aware of how long it had been since she’d exercised. He made her feel shabby and out of shape.

“I’m ready for that coffee now.”

“Sure, follow me.”

His footsteps sounded heavy on the stairs as he followed her down and into her kitchen. She’d used a sunflower border to brighten the room and had purchased all of her accessories with the same motif in mind. She thought her kitchen was sunny and welcoming, but seeing Rafe there made her question that thought. He looked out of place and uncomfortable.

Instead of sitting at the café-style table in the corner, he leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. He was dressed in faded jeans that clung to his muscled legs like a glove, accentuating their length and leanness. His bare chest was even more tempting than those gorgeous buns of his. She imagined Rafe as a big cat lying in wait for prey, and tried to convince herself she bore no resemblance to a mouse.

Lust at first sight, her mind said. God, the man was gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that he should look like an ad for decadence and hard living after talking to her son with kindness and consideration.

Rafe made her nervous. It had been too many years since a man had lounged in her kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. She wondered if he’d comment on the lightness of the brew the way Carl always had.

“Thanks for coming to the rescue,” she said, needing to fill the silence. Small talk wasn’t her forte, but she knew she needed to say something.

“No problem.”

But there was a problem. She’d been rude to him and she didn’t know how to bring it up without admitting that she’d known what she was doing at the time. “Mr. Santini...”

“Yeah?”

He stretched out the word like a piece of chewing gum. She hated to hear anyone using slang, but resisted the urge to correct him. “I want to apologize for my rude behavior when you were helping me out of the bathroom.”

He stared at her until Cass was sure her hair must be standing on end or she had something on her face. She rubbed her nose before reaching into the stainless steel refrigerator to get the milk.

“I’m not used to a strange man being in my house.”

“Then you shouldn’t have sent your child out to find someone.”

Cass stiffened. “I didn’t send him to find someone. In fact I forbade him to leave, but Andy has a thing—” She broke off. Why would he care that Andy loved school and learning? Andy would go to any lengths to get to there.

“Well he didn’t stay home. He came to my house. How the hell do you know I’m not an ax murderer, rapist or child molester?”

Cass sputtered, trying to figure out a way of defending what she knew was an indefensible position. Andy had gone before she could stop him. The boy was getting a bit impulsive, but that didn’t excuse her for letting him go.

“You’re right. I don’t know anything about you, except—”

“Except that I have nice buns.”

Oh, Lord, why had she ever mentioned that to her sister? Usually Andy was involved with playing and didn’t pay the least attention to her. But on that day, he’d obviously listened. She sought to change the conversation. “And a dog.”

“Tundra?”

“We’ve seen you outside with her. Andy loves animals.”

The coffeemaker spurted and spluttered, filling the silent kitchen with noise. Cass nervously glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at her rescuer.

“Mommy, I’m ready to go.”

Andy stepped into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a G.L Joe T-shirt. His new tennis shoes were spotless, but the laces were loosely tied.

“Come over here.” She knelt next to him to fasten his shoes, grateful for the distraction. It reassured her that she and Andy had to leave soon, that she wouldn’t have to stay and make small talk with Mr. Santini.

“There you go,” she said, rising to her feet. “Grab your lunch bag, honey.”

She poured coffee into two large foam cups, handing one to Mr. Santini and keeping the other for herself.

“Milk or sugar?” she asked.

He declined both. Andy grabbed a handful of oatmeal raisin cookies, offering a few to Mr. Santini, who took them.

“We’re going to be late,” Cass said, “Andy, did you close the upstairs windows?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll run—”

“I’ll close the house up for you. Go on, get this little guy to school.”

Cass hesitated for a moment, then remembered that Mr. Santini owned a reputable construction and land development company. As president of the home owners’ association, she’d approved his application for purchase. She knew more about Santini than she should. He was a respected member of the business community and a supporter of the Police Athletic League. There was really nothing in her house that he couldn’t afford to buy for himself.

“Thanks,” she said, herding Andy out the door. “That’s two I owe you.”

“Bye, Mr. Santini,” Andy said, waving.

Cass backed the Volvo out of the drive, wondering how she was going to deal with her new neighbor and the debt that now stood between them. All the way to school Andy talked about Rafe Santini, and that worried her more than she wanted to admit.

She dropped Andy off in front of the school just as the bell rang. She watched him run toward his classroom on legs that were no longer chubby. Andy was beginning to lose that little boy look and becoming more like a young man. He was only seven years old, but looked a lot like his father, small and lean. Andy had come home from school with a black eye two weeks ago. Since then, he’d followed her dictate on “no fighting” but had ended up feeling insecure. Cass wasn’t sure what to do with her son now.

She wished he would stay her baby forever but knew that wouldn’t happen. Andy was getting too hard to handle, she thought with a sigh. She’d always believed that a child’s upbringing would influence his actions, but Andy had a willful streak a mile wide. She hated to admit it, but she needed help with him.

Now she had a macho man with a swagger a mile wide living across the street. She thought about her new neighbor and how Andy had taken an instant liking to the man. Trouble was brewing.

She could cope now, but in a few years, if she didn’t assert herself, Andy would be racing all over the place and getting into real trouble. Mr. Santini was no help at all. Running around in those skimpy jogging shorts of his every morning. He looked like every young boy’s image of what a man should be. An athlete and a macho warrior rolled into one. It was enough to give a grown woman a heart attack.

Rafe drove a classic Jaguar sports car and probably dated women with big boobs and bleached blond hair. He was definitely not her type, and definitely not a good influence for a young boy.

But his earlier concern came back to her. He’d lit into her about letting Andy out of the house without supervision. She wondered if there was more to him than that badboy facade indicated. Did Rafe Santini care?

She pulled into her driveway and let the car idle for a minute before shutting it off. She hesitated to get out, reluctant to face her neighbor again. But at the same time, an edgy sort of nervousness made her limbs tingle and her pulse race.

She went into the house and filled her portable carafe with coffee before going across the street. Rafe sat on his front porch, his Siberian husky sprawled at his feet. Both were completely relaxed. Rafe’s eyes were closed, and Cass stood there, staring at him.

“Oh, no,” she muttered. “He’s asleep.”

One gray eye blinked open and glanced up at her. Cass cleared her throat and lifted her carafe. She leaned against the porch railing next to his lounge chair. “Want a refill?”

“Now that’s right neighborly of you,” he responded lazily, picking up his empty cup from the porch.

Silence settled around them, and Cass stifled the urge to run back to her own safe home. Her experience with men was limited to her late husband, Carl. She’d never had a chance to experiment with boys, having married right out of high school.

“Mr. Santini—”

“Rafe.”

She nodded, but didn’t use his name. “I have an offer for you.”

He grinned. “Does it involve my buns?”

Cass blushed. She felt the heat of it radiating from her face. She was going to have to have a talk with Andy when he came home.

“No. It involves something else.”

He raised one eyebrow at her, studying her with the intensity of a carpenter about to cut into mahogany.

“Well?”

“I wanted to um...” This was harder than she thought it would be. “I wanted to thank you for helping me out this morning and see if there was something I could do to repay you.”

“Well, now that you mention it there is one thing I’d like.”

His eyes narrowed and his gaze swept slowly down her body, sending signals to parts that had lain dormant for a long time. She fidgeted and stepped away from the railing and away from Mr. Santini.

“What do you want?”

“You,” he said.

Two

The teasing glint in Rafe’s eyes kept Cass from making a fool of herself. She forced a smile to her lips and took a deep cleansing breath. Her pulse rate still hammered annoyingly high, making her feel like a schoolgirl. “I’m serious, Mr. Santini.”

“Call me Rafe.”

His eyes were truly remarkable. So light and clear in that dark, teasing face. She wondered if he was ever serious. But then she remembered his concern for Andy earlier this morning. Lurking beneath that carefree exterior was a man she could like, and that scared her.

“Okay...Rafe.” His name felt strange on her tongue. If he’d been more like Tony, her brother-in-law, or the slightly balding Marcus, who lived down the street, it would have been so simple. She could have pretended he was a buddy.

But he wasn’t. He was a dark-skinned Italian dream man with all the confidence in the world. Cass felt out of her depth with Rafe Santini. She swallowed hard. “I was more or less welcoming you to the neighborhood and offering to return the favor if you ever got locked in your bathroom.”

He raised one eyebrow, clearly questioning her suggestion of repayment. His mouth quirked in a half grin that made her pulse race. “Won’t Mr. Gambrel have something to say about that?”

Carl would have befriended any person who’d rescued her from the bathroom. He’d never been one of those jealous types. Steady, levelheaded and able to find the calm in chaos, her deceased husband had been an anchor. She still missed him, but at least she could say the words now without her throat closing up. “My husband is dead.”

Rafe cursed under his breath.

The word was harsh and not one Cass had ever heard used by one of her peers. No man of her acquaintance used vulgarities. He reached out to her. One finger brushed against her arm, the texture of his work-roughened hands at odds with the gentleness in his tone.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” And it was. She’d come to terms with the loss of her husband a long time ago. Carl had been part of another life almost. But of course, he’d left her Andy. A constant and steady reminder of what they’d once shared.

There was something in Rafe’s silver-gray eyes that mirrored the pain that she’d felt at Carl’s loss—a pain that she’d recovered from. Somehow she thought that Rafe hadn’t.

Who had he lost? She wanted to probe into his past and find out everything she could, but knew it would be an intrusion, to say nothing of unwise. Still, the sadness seemed at odds with what she’d observed about her new neighbor, and she couldn’t help wondering about its source.

Cass knew little of Rafe’s personal life. He’d moved into the neighborhood two weeks ago and she’d seen him only briefly when he’d been out jogging or playing with his dog. Maybe it was better that way—having never met him, she’d felt safe fantasizing about him. Talking about him to Eve...

She should leave well enough alone, her common sense told her. But that sad, haunted look that had played briefly over his face wouldn’t let her.

“I was hoping for an offer to clean the windows or the bathrooms,” he said, a wicked grin on his face.

“No way,” she retorted, fighting the urge to smile at him. He was a charming rascal, this Mr. Santini. “Call me if you’re ever trapped in the bathroom or any other room in the house.”

He balanced his coffee cup on his knee. His other hand rested absently on his chest, and for some reason Cass’s eyes stared helplessly at it.

“Don’t you have to go to work?” she asked abruptly, wondering why his lack of a shirt bothered her. Every other man on the street went without one in the summer. But it wasn’t the same. She’d been raised that any decent person would never leave their house less than fully clothed, and finally she understood why.

He raised one eyebrow in a sardonic way. “I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, got any plans?” she asked, hoping that he’d be leaving for Key West, Hawaii or Africa. Anywhere so that she would have time to adjust to being so attracted to him. Some part that had been dormant for a long time felt a tingle of life again. Why had she come over here this morning?

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I’m making this house livable.”

“Really? By yourself?” It had taken a crew of twenty men to finish the work on her house.

“My crew will be coming out at the end of the week to do the major overhaul. I’m going to finish the inside myself.”

“You own a construction company, right?” Emily, her backyard neighbor, had told her all about Rafe Santini’s business interests as soon as she’d found out he was moving into their neighborhood.

“RGS Construction and Development,” he said with a touch of pride. His gaze slanted down over her. “Do you work?”

“Yes, I’m a mother, but I also run an antiques service from my home.”

“What type of service?”

“I refinish antiques and help locate pieces that my clients need to complete a room.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll keep you in mind when I start on the interior.”

She glanced at his overgrown lawn, uncomfortable talking business with a neighbor. A change of subject was needed. “What’s RGS stand for?”

“Raphael G. Santini.” He took another sip of coffee. The dog stirred, then bounded off the porch to chase after a squirrel. Watching the dog in motion was a delight. She moved with the skill and cunning of a hunter. Cass suspected that Rafe would also move like a warrior.

Raphael, she thought, what a beautiful name. His mother must be a very romantic person to have come up with that. “What’s the G stand for?”

“My middle name.” He spoke in a sardonic way that made Cass think he saw life as one big joke.

“Very funny, Santini. Come on, confess. It can’t be that bad.” She walked closer, pinning him with her own version of the mother’s stare. The one that always forced Andy to tell the truth.

“No way.” He didn’t sink back in the chair. The look on his face told her that he’d rather be tortured than admit his middle name. Interesting.

“I’m not intimidating you at all, am I?” she asked. Cass enjoyed Rafe’s company as she hadn’t enjoyed a man’s in a long time.

“Nope.” He smiled and sipped his coffee.

“Can I guess?” she asked.

“It’s a free country.”

“Is it George?”

He shook his head.

“Gary?”

Another negative response.

“Gregory?”

“Give it up, Ms. Gambrel. No one would guess the name in a million years.”

“Call me Cass,” she said without thinking.

He wasn’t going to tell her, and she was honest enough to admit she didn’t need to know. Cass then realized that she was hanging around his porch like some love-starved widow. She straightened away from the railing and prepared to leave. “See you around, Rafe.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Cass.”

A cheerful whistle followed her home, and Cass forbade herself to think of Rafe as anything but a neighbor. Well, possibly someone who could help her teach Andy discipline. But that was all.

“I’m not interested in Rafe Santini,” she said out loud, hoping that saying the words would make them come true but even to her ears, the declaration sounded weak.

Damn that good-looking man and his cute backside. She added two cookies to the penalty of treats she couldn’t have for using a curse word. At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t be able to eat dessert until the year 2010.

Rafe worked on the roof all morning and into the afternoon. The tedious job of removing shingles left his mind free to wander. But it never went further than the lady across the street. A week had passed since he’d rescued her from the bathroom, and he still couldn’t get the feel of her in his arms out of his mind.

And if he needed a further reminder, Andy was constantly underfoot, asking Rafe questions about every job he did. At first the boy had seemed annoying, and Rafe had been unsure what to say to the kid, but Andy was so serious. More of a miniadult than a child. That made talking to him easier.

Rafe always steered clear of “family” women. The type of lady looking for a man to be a husband and father to her kids. The type who wanted commitment. He didn’t care for the way that word was bandied about on talk shows, but he knew it to be a goal of most females. A woman just wasn’t happy until every bachelor she knew was married.

He liked being on his own, coming and going as he pleased and not having to answer to anyone. Loneliness didn’t bother him anymore. His business was successful, and his life on track. He wasn’t about to screw that up now by becoming attracted to a single mother.

His libido said differently, but Rafe felt firmly in control. He wasn’t some sixteen-year-old virgin experiencing lust for the first time. He was a seasoned man. He was in control. “Ha,” he muttered.

He climbed down off the roof and grabbed a beer from the cooler sitting on the porch. Maybe he’d hang the basketball hoop on the garage and see if he could entice anyone in the neighborhood into playing a game.

Hanging the hoop took all of fifteen minutes. Rafe finished off his beer with one long swallow and dug the orange ball out of a box in the garage. Walking back out onto the cement of the driveway, Rafe bounced the ball a couple of times.

“Hello, Mr. Santini.” Andy Gambrel’s shy voice broke his concentration. This serious little boy made Rafe want to go back inside. He was trying to forget Cassandra Gambrel, and her son was a reminder Rafe could have done without. They were a family and family meant pain. Remember that.

“Hi, Andy. How was school?”

A gap-toothed grin lit the boy’s face. “Good. What are you doing?”

“Playing basketball. You up for a game?”

Andy glanced over his shoulder before nodding. Rafe knew the boy was going against his mother’s edict. “Have you ever played before?”

“No,” he said. Andy shrugged, fidgeting from one foot to the other. He cast another glance over his shoulder at the house.

“Want to learn how?” Rafe asked. He had never met a child so serious. Andy seemed to be weighing the consequences of every decision he made.

At last he shook his head. “My mom says sports are for big brutes. Small guys like me were meant for the arts.”

Rafe felt a spark of anger toward Cass. Sports helped boys develop into men. It gave them the training and discipline to see things through. Andy would need that discipline when he reached the teen years. Hell, the boy needed it now. Still, Rafe had no right to interfere.

“Well your mom’s the boss, but if she changes her mind let me know.” Rafe bounced the ball one more time before tossing it toward the hoop. It was a clean shot and didn’t touch the rim.

“I’ve never really asked to play. I don’t think Mom would mind if I threw the ball a time or two,” Andy said.

Rafe figured the boy knew what he was doing. Dribbling the ball a few times, Rafe shot it toward the hoop, sinking the ball perfectly. Rafe passed the ball to Andy. “Your turn.”

Andy tried, but his passes lacked the power to make a basket. The boy bounced the ball and kept glaring at the hoop as if it were his enemy. His shots were strong, but he missed sinking the shot every time.

“It’s not your skill, Andy. The hoop’s too high for someone your size.”

“Mom was right then,” he said, sounding unbearably forlorn.

“You need a lower hoop,” Rafe said. “Or some help. Dribble the ball and I’ll lift you when you’re ready to dunk it.”

Rafe heard the squeak of a screen door opening, but kept his attention on Andy. He felt Cass’s gaze on them. It took all of his discipline and willpower not to glance over his shoulder.

Andy bounced the ball a few times before he was ready for his shot. Rafe lifted him and together they made a basket. Andy’s face glowed with the pride of success. “I did it! Wow, I can’t believe it.”

“Mommy, did you see that?” he asked turning to see her watching. Andy ran to her, hugging Cass’s legs. “I can’t believe it.”

Rafe saw the conflict in Cass. Pride warred with anger and apprehension on her face. “Good job, sweetie, but you know the rule about sports.”

“This was supervised.”

Cass shook her head. “Okay, Andy, but next time I want you to ask for permission first.”

“Thanks, Mommy.”

“Go inside and wash up for dinner.”

He left without another word. Rafe half hoped that he’d be dismissed also. But the gleam in Cass’s eyes told him differently.

“Rafe, I don’t like Andy playing sports. He’s small for his age and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“We weren’t playing tackle football, just shooting some hoops.”

“I know I’m overreacting. It’s just that I’m not sure Andy’s ready to get involved in sports. He’s only seven.”

“He’ll be okay. He knows your rules, Cass.”

She nodded, then straightened her shoulders as though preparing for an assault. “I’m the president of the Hollow Acres Home Owners’ Association.”

“Really? Must be some job.”

“It doesn’t take much time,” she said, staring over his shoulder for a minute before meeting his gaze squarely. “That hoop is against our regulations.”

“What?” he asked. Her ginger-colored eyes were serious now, but some of her earlier fear for Andy lingered.

“I’m issuing you a warning. You have two days to remove the hoop or you’ll be fined.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Wrong, Mr. Santini, I’m serious about this.” She reached down to scratch Tundra under her chin, and the dog’s tongue lolled out of her mouth as she rolled onto her back. “Didn’t you read the Owner’s Agreement?”

He hadn’t, but he couldn’t think beyond the long legs revealed by her shorts. The fabric slid up her thigh as she bent to pet Tundra. He knew that she was in shape, but hadn’t guessed at the muscle tone she had. Her legs were long and lean and he wanted to feel them wrapped around his waist.

Tension ripped through him, making a mockery of his control. Dammit, what had they been talking about? The Owner’s Agreement. “How long has this agreement been in effect?”

“Since 1983 when the county commissioners asked us to make our houses uniform.” She stood up and started to walk away.

“Well, maybe it’s time we updated the rules.”

She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Maybe, but until we do, that hoop has to come down.”

“What if it doesn’t?” he asked to keep her there.

“Then you’ll be fined,” she said. She started back across the street. “Have a good night, Mr. Santini.”

“You too, Cass.”

Damn that woman. Underneath that prim and proper exterior lurked a temptress. A woman who liked to laugh and tease. He wanted to see more of that lady, he decided.

Cass held the phone against her shoulder and secured the leftover dinner in plastic wrap. Closing the refrigerator door with her hip as she started the dishes, she said, “I’ll stop by first thing in the morning, Dana.”

Cass thought about her friend and co-chair for the PTA bake sale. Dana’s son Jeff was in Andy’s class, but the two boys didn’t get along.

She hung up and stared out the window. Dusk had deepened into night, and the imitation gas street lamps were sparking to life. She liked this quiet neighborhood with its old houses.

Andy sat on the front porch doing his homework, and Cass quickly finished the dishes before joining her son. He had wanted to invite Mr. Santini to dinner, but Cass had put Andy off. Rafe’s influence over Andy was getting out of hand.

Rafe didn’t encourage Andy, but her son was hungry for masculine attention. The other day Andy had used a swearword that her son knew warranted strict punishment. She’d also seen her son leaving his shirt off and swaggering when he walked. The same way Mr. Santini did.

Rafe had included Andy in a softball game the previous Saturday. Her son was still talking about it and asking her every evening when he could join Little League football or baseball. Andy was obsessed with getting involved in sports and mimicking their new neighbor. Cass knew she had to put a stop to things and quickly.

The loud barking of Tundra announced the arrival of Rafe before he rounded the corner. Cass told herself not to look. That he was a temptation in those ridiculously skimpy running shorts, but her gaze was drawn to him all the same. If Rafe was an example of how men could look by running a few miles every night, men across America would be hitting the streets.

Cass pretended she didn’t notice Rafe. He waved to Andy as he jogged up the walk. Tundra breathed heavily at his feet. Andy set his pencil aside and gave her a pointed look. “Mommy?”

Andy never phrased out questions when just a word or a look would get the point across. She debated for a moment and decided that the husky wouldn’t hurt her son. She nodded slightly and Andy beamed with pleasure.

“Can I play with Tundra, Mr. Santini?”

“Sure,” Rafe sat down on the bottom step as Andy bounded off the porch.

Cass watched her son toss a stick to the dog, and soon the animal and boy were playing on the lawn. “Would you like something cool to drink?”

“Got any beer?” he asked. He smelled of sweat and male muskiness. Cass wanted to lean closer to him, to feel him surrounding her, to inhale the scent that was subtly Rafe. She wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on his arm and to experience this man in a way that she’d thought she’d forgotten.

“No. Iced tea would be better for you.” She couldn’t help the way she’d been raised, and drinking except at family celebrations and holidays was strictly forbidden.

“Not if it’s sugary.”

Always a comeback, she thought, enjoying the game as much as he did. “Like beer has any nutritional value.”

“What it lacks in nutrition it makes up for in taste.”

He had to be kidding, beer tasted like...well like beer, nothing else even came close to that taste. “My tea’s not sweet.”

“Than I’ll take you up on that offer.”

She fixed them both a glass of tea before returning. This would be a good time to ask him to stop including Andy in games. There were a few man-type things that she didn’t know how to handle, and this was one of them. How did you politely tell a man that he wasn’t the right type of influence on your son?

Quite honestly there were more than a few things she didn’t know about raising a son. Teaching Andy to color in the lines and to use the potty was easy compared to coaching him on ignoring bullies. She didn’t want Andy to grow up being afraid of other boys, but at the same time she wanted him to be someone who used his mind to settle arguments, not his fists.

“Thanks,” Rafe said as she sat down next to him on the step.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his body.

He took a long swallow of tea and then bounded to his feet. “Hey, Andy. Have you got a football around here?”

The boy shook his head. “Why?”

“Basketball is against the rules. I thought we could toss the pigskin around.”

“Mommy?”

“If Mr. Santini has a ball than I don’t object to your catching it,” she reluctantly agreed. Tossing a ball wasn’t the same as playing in a game, she reassured herself.

“As it happens, I do,” Rafe said, grinning at her.

“All right!” Andy dropped the stick he’d been tossing to the dog and followed Rafe across the street.

Santini had been in their lives for only a short time, but already he had a lot of influence over Andy. She watched her son staring up at Rafe and wondered how a man who spent most of his time with beautiful women and fast cars would react to blind hero worship.

She started to call Andy back, but Rafe was showing him how to hold the football. Cass watched her little boy come one day closer to manhood, and a part of her wanted to die. She’d carefully guarded Andy, but she had the feeling that soon he would throw off that protection.

Rafe helped Andy the way a father would help a son. Showing him things that only a man could. Cass felt convinced that Andy was becoming too attached to their neighbor. Her son was using Mr. Santini as fill-in father.

She couldn’t picture Rafe in the role of a dad. He treated Andy kindly, but sometimes he acted as if her son were an alien being. Having Andy underfoot had to be trying for a man like Rafe.

Cass watched them playing ball in the front yard and forgot that Rafe wasn’t the fatherly type. He seemed perfectly at ease with her son for perhaps the first time since they’d met. She couldn’t believe this was the same man who roared out of the neighborhood once a day in his Jaguar convertible.

Her heart ached as she watched them playing ball. She wanted the scene to be real. She needed a man to share her life and Andy’s. She knew that Rafe wasn’t that man but it was still hard to stop her heart from hoping.

She went inside to prepare a snack for Rafe and Andy, knowing they’d be hungry when the game wrapped up. There was something homey about preparing iced tea for two sweaty males, Cass thought with a smile. Tundra snoozed under the oak in the front yard and Cass felt content for the first time in years.

Three

Rafe tossed the football to Andy and watched the kid jump to catch the ball. The boy had the potential to be a dedicated athlete. The desire to succeed burned brightly in his eyes. He had the innate skill that few possessed and seemed to enjoy every sport that Rafe introduced to him. The grin on Andy’s face erased much of the apprehension Rafe usually felt when dealing with the boy.

Rafe hadn’t been around children for the majority of his life. In fact the last time he’d been with other kids was—he searched his memories—hell, not since he was a boy.

Kids were foreign entities that Rafe didn’t deal well with. They were crying, sticky little people that always talked loudly. But Andy Gambrel was different. Andy had a sense of maturity seldom found in one so young.

The other kids in the neighborhood were older than Andy, and Rafe had watched the boy playing alone over the last week. Something about the solitary way the boy had amused himself generated a sort of sympathy in Rafe. No child should be left to himself like that. Rafe never had been, and for some reason he didn’t want Cass’s son to be, either.

Andy tossed the ball back to him, and Rafe caught it one-handed. “Have you ever gone to a basketball game, Andy?”

“No, we’ve been down to the Bob Carr auditorium for plays and musicals though.” Andy scrunched his face in a look of pain. “Sometimes we see people going to the Magic games.”

“What show did you see?”

“A French play Les Misérables,” Andy said, correctly pronouncing the French title. “It was okay for the first twenty minutes, but all that singing was boring. Mommy really liked it. She even cried.”

Rafe chuckled.

“I bet the Orena—the Orlando Arena—is great.”

The touch of envy in the boy’s voice was barely audible, but there. Rafe wondered if Cass realized how much her son wanted to go to a game. Probably not, or she would have taken him. She was a good and caring mother, even if she was a bit overprotective.

“Have you seen the Magic play?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said. “I have season tickets.”

“Oh,” the boy said, so softly and wistfully that Rafe bit back a grin. The kid wasn’t stupid and had an understanding of manipulation that would have made any father proud.

They tossed the ball back and forth a few more times. “You want to go to a game sometime?”

“Wow, I’d love to. But Mom would never let me go. She’s still ticked about the softball game last weekend.”

Cass had to loosen up. Her son was starting to develop into a man, and she was fighting him every step of the way. “What’s wrong with the softball game?”

“I wasn’t exactly honest about what we were doing,” Andy confessed.

“We’ll see if she wants to go with us,” Rafe suggested.

“You think she might want to?” Andy asked.

No, Rafe figured she wouldn’t want to go, but saying no to her son was going to be hard. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

They rejoined Cass who brought out more iced tea and freshly baked bran muffins. Cass reminded him of every ideal that American men had about a mother. She was kind, firm and caring. She baked, cleaned and was at home when Andy arrived from school.

At the same time she had a sexy little body that made Rafe think of long hours spent in bed. That was why he kept coming back. Why he put up with her lectures on using correct grammar and not cussing. She was Rafe’s ideal of the perfect woman, which is why he would never allow himself to have a relationship with her. No man would ever have just a fling with her. She was the kind of woman a man made a commitment to. A commitment was the one thing he couldn’t offer her.

“Cass, I asked Andy to join me at a Magic game tomorrow night, and I’d like for you to come with us. What do you say?”

Her gingery eyes widened with speculation, and he saw the refusal written there before she opened her mouth. “Thank you for asking, but Andy and I wouldn’t be able to find tickets to the game. I hear they’re sold out.”

Tricky lady. She always had an excuse handy, but this time he was prepared. “I have season tickets.”

She glanced at her son, and Rafe could see her weighing the consequences of declining. She sighed, and it was not a welcoming sound. “Well, then I guess we’d be happy to go with you.”

Cass spent the morning pretending not to notice Rafe. Andy had talked about the impending basketball game all the way to school. She had the feeling that this was going to win her son a lot of points with his friends. Not many second-graders were invited to go to see the Orlando Magic play.

Cass sighed. By nature she was calm and unflappable, but Rafe Santini had a way of making her forget to be calm and unflappable. He’d put several wood cutouts across the front of his lawn of a woman bent at the waist with her frilly drawers showing. In front of his porch he’d placed large, plastic flowers in florescent blue, orange and green. He had the most hideous looking yard on the street.

The complete craziness of the yard was at odds with the man who patiently taught her son to play catch and the finer points of basketball. This was the man who wanted to needle her because she made him remove his basketball hoop.

Rafe’s multidimensional personality kept her on her toes. The sexy man made her nervous and achy in places that she hadn’t thought of in a long time—secure emotional places that she’d forgotten. He made her feel vulnerable, and that wasn’t necessarily bad because Rafe also made her laugh again.

She liked his sense of humor, which was almost always present. She liked the deep well of patience he showed with Andy. And most of all she liked the way he dug in and finished a job no matter how dirty or tedious. She just plain liked him and that was dangerous.

He worked on his house in denim cutoffs that should have been illegal. The faded material clung to his legs, revealing every muscular inch. His backside had originally drawn her attention, and she stared at him now as he hefted a box of shingles onto his shoulder.

He sang a lively country tune about trashy women and bopped along to the music. He had his own style, she thought with a grin. If one could call it style. She giggled out loud, picturing Rafe in one of the trendy men’s magazines.

As usual he wore no shirt, though she tried not to notice. Why couldn’t he have a paunch around the middle? Or a soft belly and flabby legs? Was that too much to ask?

She watched his muscles ripple with each movement of the hammer. Cass stared at his back until she realized what she was doing. Get a grip, girl, she admonished herself.

Rafe waved at her, and Cass knew she’d been caught staring up at him. She raised her hand in acknowledgment, and he just grinned in a way that made her want to run in the house and hide.

Cass forced her attention back to the Victorian Renaissance chair she was reupholstering for Mrs. Parsons. Rafe’s decadent image haunted her. She hated to think she was turning into a slavering sex fiend, but the man refused to stay out of her mind and his naked chest wasn’t helping.

The hammering stopped, and Cass scowled as she glanced up again. Rafe worked on a two-man job by himself. He rolled out the tar paper and hammered in the tacks before starting the process all over. At the rate he labored, the small section he was reroofing might not be finished until tonight.

Cass finished adding the trim to the chair, then stood and brushed the fabric threads off her khaki shorts. Her mother had raised her to be neighborly, and that meant offering help. She crossed the quiet street and shielded her eyes against the sun.

“Hello, Santini.” She wanted to put distance between them, and using his last name helped her to think of him as a buddy.

Rafe finished securing the section he was working on before glancing down at her. “Morning, Gambrel.”

That he didn’t mention her earlier gawking earned him points for tact, which she honestly admitted she’d thought he lacked.

She wished she’d changed into jeans before coming over. For some reason Rafe seemed to be glaring at her legs. Cass was generally happy about the way she looked, but now she thought about the extra five pounds she hadn’t lost since Christmas last year. “Do you need some help?”

“No,” he said, and rolled out another section of tar paper. “I roof in my sleep.”

Feeling put in her place, she wanted to escape. Her conscience demanded she make one more offer of help. “Wouldn’t two hands make the job go faster?”

“Yeah, I guess it would.” He sat back on his heels. “You’re not feeling guilty, are you?”

The twinkle in his eye warned her he was up to no good. But like an unsuspecting mackerel being lured to a fisherman’s hook, she swallowed the bait. “Guilty about what?”

“Sitting under the shade of the porch while I labored out in the hot sun.”

“Santini, don’t you know better than to give the help a hard time?” she asked before walking back toward her house.

“I guess not, Gambrel.”

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Should I stay?”

“Yes, ma’am, please.”

The polite tone to his words made her think he might be teasing again. She took a step toward the ladder intending to climb up to the roof. “Hang loose, Gambrel. I’ll be right down.”

In a matter of minutes Rafe was at her side. “You’ll need a tool belt and a hammer.”

“I thought I’d just hand you things and hold them in place.” She really didn’t know that much about home repair.

“What things, Cass?” He poured roofing tacks into one of the pockets on the leather tool belt.

“Nails and stuff.” She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“You’re a real tools expert.” But there was no censure in his tone, only the teasing lilt she’d come to expect.

“You’re treading on thin ice, Santini,” she warned him, playing along with his game.

“I’m scared, Gambrel. Real scared.” He handed her a rubber-handled hammer. “Turn around.”

She did and was engulfed by Rafe. His body warmth and musky scent surrounded her as he wrapped the tool belt around her waist and fastened it. If she leaned back an inch she’d be pressed up against his chest. A shiver passed through her, and temptation warred with good sense as she thought of his naked chest.

“There you go,” he said. His voice sounded different. A deeper, huskier version of his usual tone that made her aware of the difference between them. He stepped away from her and put his hand on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

“Thanks,” she managed to squeeze out of her dry throat. The weight around her was unaccustomed and felt weird.

Cass settled the hammer into one of the loops. Rafe passed her a scraper and a few other tools she couldn’t identify. “Is that all?”

“Distribute the weight of the hammer and the mallet.”

She moved the tools around. Well, she felt downright handy now.

“Do those shoes have good soles?”

“Yes, I think so.”

He knelt down near her knees. “Let me take a look at the bottom of your shoes.”

His breath brushed across her thigh and the muscle quivered. He was so close. Cass’s fingers itched with the urge to bury themselves in his thick black hair.

Cass swayed and her leg scraped against his cheek. The stubbly texture of his skin felt good against the smoothness of her own. Thank heavens she’d shaved her legs yesterday. She leaned away from him in embarrassment. He probably thought she was a love-starved widow.

“Put your hand on my shoulder for balance.”

His words were harsh, almost guttural. Cass knew their brief encounter had affected Rafe as much as it had affected her. She hoped it had. Her heart was beating loud enough to be heard a mile a way.

Oh, damn. She didn’t want this headlong rush into desire. Not now when her life was finally starting to balance out. She was independent and in charge of her own life, but a part of her still longed for someone to hold in the middle of the night. Not just anyone, but a certain man who could fill the emptiness inside of her.

Her hand rested on the tightly corded muscles of his shoulder as he examined the bottom of her shoes. He straightened and gave her the once-over. “Okay, you’re ready to work.”

They labored on the roof for the next two hours. Cass found roofing a hard but interesting task. They’d almost completed the section by mid-afternon, and she was relieved to know that she’d helped Rafe.

The sun was hot and Cass felt her face begin to pinken. “I need a break.”

Rafe glanced over at her. “You sure do. Go sit over there in the shade.”

A large maple tree provided shade on the east side of the roof. Walk across the roof by herself? No way. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Scared, Gambrel?”

Cass wasn’t the type to take a dare. She freely admitted to her faults. And she wasn’t going to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She doubted that this strong man ever did. “Yes, I am.”

He reached out and brushed a finger across her cheek. “There’s no need to be. I won’t let you fall.”

But she was afraid that he would. Not fall off the roof. Rafe was too good a crew boss to allow any of his workers to get physically injured. But with each minute she spent with this man a part of her trod deeper into dangerous territory. Emotional territory that could spell trouble for her. Territory she hadn’t explored since the early days of her marriage.

He offered her his hand and seated her in the shade before retrieving two cans of fruit punch from an ice chest. He walked with the surety of a cat... no a streetwise warrior. Someone who knew that he could take on any situation. Cass envied him his confidence.

She’d felt weak and shaky most of her life. First with the loss of her father when she was sixteen, then with the loss of Carl when she was twenty-six. Instinctively she was drawn to strong men, yet a part of her resented their strength.

He was watching her, and that made her nervous. She took a long sip of the punch. The sweet liquid left an aftertaste and she set the can aside. “I’d like to invite you to dinner before we leave for the game tonight.”

“It would be easier to grab something at the Orena.”

Cass digested that. “Were you able to purchase tickets for us?”

“I told you I have season tickets.” He stared at her for a full minute before continuing. “Why didn’t you want Andy to go alone with me?”

Cass hedged for a moment. Short of out and out lying, there was no way to avoid the truth. “I don’t like the enthusiasm you have for sports. Andy looks up to you. What you do, he wants to do, and he’s so small for his age, I’m afraid he’ll get hurt.”

“Watching a game?”

“You know that once he gets the bug for any game he’ll be hooked, and then I’ll seem like an ogre if I don’t let him participate.”

“Cass, I’m not trying to influence your son. I thought the game sounded like a good idea, but if you didn’t want him to go, you should have just said no.”

“I know, but Andy wants to get involved in some afterschool activities, and I wanted to ask for your help with something.”

He stared at the top of the aluminum can. “I have no experience with kids, Cass.”

“I know. This is kind of a-man-who-was-once-a-boy question.”

He grinned. “Well, I was a boy once.”

“Somehow I suspected you might have been,” she said before blurting out, “Andy asked me to let him join peewee football.”

“That’s up to you,” Rafe said. Cass knew he didn’t want to be caught up in their lives.

“Rafe, I don’t want Andy to grow up being a little wimp because I never let him try things. But I also don’t want him to get hurt, and football is dangerous. I’ve heard tales from other mothers in the PTA.”

His light eyes were piercing in their intensity. “Injuries happen, Cass. But participating in a sport helps develop discipline.”

Silently Cass heard the censure from their first meeting. Discipline was something Andy lacked. Her son ran wild when he wanted to, and Cass knew she was to blame. “Can you suggest an alternative to football?”

“Let me think about it.” He stood up before tugging her to her feet. “You need to get out of the sun for a while.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re turning pink, lady.”

She ran her eyes over his almost bare body. His olive skin had merely deepened in the late-October sun, but if she stayed out much longer she’d look like a lobster. “I’m going.”

She held tightly to Rafe’s fingers as he led her across the steep roof to the ladder. She glanced down before taking her first step onto the aluminum ladder and felt the world tip on its axis. She closed her eyes as dizziness swamped her.

“I think I’ll stay up here for a while longer.” Maybe the rest of her natural life. She could watch Andy grow up from the roof.

“Come on, little coward. I’ll help you down.”

She stiffened and drew away from Rafe, but didn’t release his hand. “I’m not a coward. Anyone with common sense would be wary of falling.”

“I know, Cass,” he said in the gentlest tone of voice she’d ever heard him use. “I’ll go down first.”

Rafe surrounded her completely as they descended. She should have felt only cherished, safe and protected. But she also felt the first dangerous spark of passion. Her nipples tightened against the lace of her bra, and her body ached.

She leaned into Rafe’s chest and stopped climbing down. He paused, too, a harsh groan coming from his throat, and he rubbed his chest against her back.

“Rafe?” she asked, not sure what she wanted or what she was asking for. Only that she would regret that “something” if she never experienced it. Rafe made her feel alive. Like a woman who’d been frozen for a long time and was only now encountering her true self.

His lips brushed the nape of her neck, and electric shivers coursed through her body. He was warm and hard behind her, and she felt as safe as she would have, flat on the ground. She sank back against him, wanting more than this time and place could offer them.

“Cassie,” he murmured as he ran his lips along the length of her neck. His hands were still secured around her waist, but she’d felt his fingers making forays toward the bottom of her breasts.

Tundra barked loudly, breaking the moment as nothing else could have. Cass felt her face heat with a blush of shame. What could she have been thinking to react so shamelessly in a man’s arms? Especially this very experienced man’s. This man who had women at his beck and call and who was more worldly than Cass would ever want to be.

Rafe was moving again. In a moment they were safely on the ground. “Cass, you okay?”

His voice was sincere and kind and, dammit, she hated how weak and vulnerable she felt. “I’m fine. See you tonight.”

Cass left before he asked questions she didn’t want to answer. She was achy and shaking when she entered her air-conditioned house. She had a bad case of lust for a totally inappropriate man. What the heck was she going to do?

Rafe always wore jeans and a Magic shirt to all the games he attended. He figured Cass wouldn’t have thought to buy herself and Andy one, so he brought shirts for them. He looked forward to showing Cass part of his world.

Rafe also anticipated his good-night kiss. There was no question that he was going to claim one. Her mouth was tempting the hell out of him, and tonight he would know the feel of it under his own. He would know the feel of her in his arms.

Introducing Cass to sports had the side benefit of helping little Andy convince his mom that participating in a game was okay. Though Rafe cautioned himself against caring for the little boy, he liked the kid.

Rafe froze as it suddenly hit him that he was involving himself in this family’s life. He’d sworn not to let himself care for anyone after the death of his family, and he’d lived up to that until now. Until Cass Gambrel had tempted him to care. But along with the temptation was a niggling sense of warning. Mama, Papa and Angelica had depended on him, and he’d let them down. Firmly pushing the faces of the past out of his mind’s eye, he knocked on the door and heard running footsteps on the stairs.

“I’ve got it.”

Rafe grinned. Andy was a lovable kid.

“Hi, Mr. Santini. I thought you’d never get here.”

Rafe handed one of the T-shirts to Andy.

“Wow, thanks, Mr. Santini. Mommy, he’s here,” the boy yelled up the stairs.

“I know, sweetie,” Cass said from the top of the stairs.

She looked as he imagined she would. Casual, comfortable and chic. Not that she would think of herself in those terms. She wore a light green polo shirt and khaki pants.

Rafe was counting on Andy’s help to get Cass to change into jeans and the T-shirt he’d brought for her. “You look nice, but I brought you a shirt to wear tonight.”

Cass walked carefully down the stairs, stopping next to Rafe. He held up the shirt, measuring it against her. He’d gotten the smallest size available, but he had a feeling it would still be too big on her.

“I don’t know. I look funny in T-shirts.”

“Please, Mommy,” Andy cajoled without any prompting from Rafe.

“Come on, Cass. Everyone wears them.”

“Okay, I’ll go change.”

Twenty minutes later they were on their way. Rafe drove Cass’s Volvo through the downtown traffic. Andy sat in the backseat and talked about everything under the sun from school to television then back to school again.

Rafe tried to concentrate on the traffic and driving, but the image of Cass as she’d looked coming down the stairs was burned on his brain. Her jeans were time-worn and faded, hugging every feminine curve tightly. He’d had to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and caressing her sweet rear end.

The T-shirt had draped over her curves and clung to her breasts when she’d put on her jacket. For a moment lust had hit him so hard that he couldn’t breath. He’d stood there, rooted to the spot, staring at her.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.