A faint chime echoed from down the street.

Nick watched as Darcy opened her shop door and stepped out. Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, waving in the breeze like a red flag, and every ounce of testosterone in his body was urging him to charge.

Their eyes met and the impact hit hard—a swift kick of desire straight to his gut. Just the sight of her sent him back to that moment in her kitchen. A moment he still couldn’t decide had really happened or not. But he did know one thing for sure: he should have kissed her. If he had, he wouldn’t be wondering now … He’d know.

For a brief moment he’d forgotten about his daughter beside him … and the tangled mess of the Clearville grapevine. Darcy had that effect on him. So what if, for a split second, he wasn’t a single dad, worried and scarred? With Darcy, he was something else. A man interested in a woman …

Dear Reader,

Have you ever had the chance to start over? The phrase sounds so hopeful, doesn’t it? A clean slate, the possibility of a new beginning … The reality of a fresh start can be challenging, though. How do you get over the mistakes of the past and overcome the fear of repeating them?

For Darcy Dawson, a new start means a move to a small town and an opportunity for a new business. But a new love with the town’s serious—and seriously handsome—veterinarian is the last thing on her mind.

Nick Pirelli thinks he’s ready for a new relationship with the right kind of woman, but will painful lessons from the past keep him from opening his heart to a city girl like Darcy?

Darcy and the Single Dad is the first book in my new Cherish™ miniseries, THE PIRELLI BROTHERS. I hope you enjoy it. Look for Sam’s and Drew’s stories in the future!

Happy reading!

Stacy Connelly

About the Author

STACY CONNELLY has dreamed of publishing books since she was a kid, writing stories about a girl and her horse. Eventually, boys made it onto the page as she discovered a love of romance and the promise of happily ever after.

When she is not lost in the land of make-believe, Stacy lives in Arizona with her two spoiled dogs. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at stacyconnelly@cox.net or www.stacyconnelly.com.

Darcy and the
Single Dad

Stacy Connelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Gail Chasan and Susan Litman—

Thank you for this chance at my first series for Cherish™. I’m looking forward to telling all the Pirelli brothers’ stories!

Chapter One

Nick Pirelli was exhausted. Staring out the windshield of his SUV, he was glad he knew the back routes around his hometown as well as he did. The evergreen-lined asphalt curving through the mountains had landed more than one tourist—and the occasional local—in a ditch or with a new guard-rail-shaped hood ornament. But even under the dark skies of an approaching storm, he could easily find his way.

It had been one hell of a day. Nick had worked as Clearville, California’s only vet for years, and most days, he loved his job. He had an affinity for animals and recognized the joy they brought to people’s lives with their loyalty and affection. In his almost ten years as a vet, he’d learned to control his emotions to best deal with the animals and owners who trusted him with their care. He’d treated injuries and accidents and the heartbreak of old age.

But the horse the sheriff had called him out to evaluate wasn’t sick or injured or old.

Instead, it had been abandoned and left to fend for itself in a weed-and-debris-filled paddock. Nick didn’t know how people could walk away from someone who depended on them. Who needed them.

The animal had stood still as Nick and the sheriff debated its fate, head bowed, posture as poor as the pitiful creature had to feel. But in that moment of decision, the horse’s head rose and it looked right at Nick. Its eyes had been dull and listless, but in the soulful brown gaze, he saw a hint of … It was ridiculous to call it hope in such a hopeless situation, but he’d seen a flicker of something. Maybe just the ghost of a chance that with a little care, a little love, the future could be so much brighter.

Not wanting to look too closely at the reason why the horse’s plight seemed to reach inside and grab hold of his gut, he’d pulled out his phone. Within the hour, Jarrett Deeks had arrived with a trailer hitched to his king cabin truck.

None of the local rescues would have the resources or ability to even try to nurse a horse this far gone back to health.

The horse barely had the strength to walk, but the two of them managed to ease it into the trailer. Nick had followed Jarrett out to his property. He gave the former rodeo star all the instructions he could, promising to check on the horse the next day and letting Jarrett know he could call for help at any time.

Nick was still wondering if he’d made the right choice as he headed home. Only time would tell. For now, he was looking forward to relaxing and, hopefully, leaving this day behind. With nothing more pressing to do, he planned to spend a few hours in front of the television, enjoying a baseball game and having a beer. Alone.

Thanks to a slumber party his daughter, Maddie, had been invited to, he had a weekend to himself, and he was looking forward to it with enough anticipation to send guilt dogging his heels.

After all, Maddie had just gotten back from a trip to San Francisco to see her mother. He shouldn’t have wanted—needed—a break so soon. The only saving grace was that Maddie had missed her friends during her two weeks away and had been thrilled with the invitation to stay with the Martins.

So, really, he had no reason to feel guilty at all.

Trying to force the feeling aside, he focused on the cold, crisp taste of the beer waiting for him at home, the smoky flavor of the burgers he’d cook on the charcoal grill, the peace and quiet of having the house to himself. The cabin in the woods he and his younger brother Drew had built together was more than a home to Nick. It was his haven, his sanctuary, his—

Cave.

He’d heard the gibe from more than one family member, and he was tired of listening to their complaints that he was turning into a hermit. Hell, some days he was tired of being a hermit, a realization that had blindsided him more than once lately. The most recent blow had been at his parents’ anniversary party a few weeks ago, a celebration concluding with his sister Sophia’s engagement to Jake Cameron.

The newly engaged couple had glowed, lit from within by their emotions for each other. His little sister deserved that kind of happiness and a man who loved her as completely and utterly as Jake did. Already they’d worked their way through some daunting hurdles with Jake having to earn Sophia’s trust after she’d been betrayed by a man she’d met before Jake. A man who was the biological father to the baby Sophia carried. But Jake had already vowed to love the baby as much as he loved its mother, and no one in the Pirelli family doubted his word.

Love—strong and solid after his parents’ thirty-five years of marriage and as bright and shiny as the engagement ring his sister now wore—had surrounded him and yet Nick had somehow felt apart from it all. His mother’s words had only multiplied the feeling of life and love passing him by as she’d embraced his sister in a tearful hug. “I can’t believe my little girl is getting married! It seems like only yesterday you were Maddie’s age.”

Nick had immediately looked toward Maddie, his own little girl who he feared was ready to make her eight-going-on-eighteen leap in a blink of his eye.

His hands tightened on the wheel. This last trip to San Francisco over summer vacation—or more specifically, Maddie’s return from that vacation—solidified Nick’s fears.

His daughter was changing.

At first, after Christmas and then spring break, he’d convinced himself the changes were merely superficial. The new outfits that cost more than his entire wardrobe combined. The haircut too sophisticated for an eight-year-old. Underneath it all, he’d told himself, Maddie was still his Maddie. His little girl.

But this time, he couldn’t close his eyes to what was happening. His concerns had hardened into cement blocks around his ankles, and no matter how he struggled, he felt himself going under. Getting in over his head while Maddie drifted further and further away. Because each time his daughter left their small hometown of Clearville to visit her mother, she came back … different. A little less the girl he knew and a little more the woman he’d married.

But a girl needed her mother, so he’d done his best to accommodate Carol’s requests to see their daughter even after she’d walked out on both of them with little warning five years earlier.

Lately, the uneasy feeling that his ex wanted more time with Maddie had crept into his gut whenever they spoke. Not that Carol had come out and said anything directly, but then that wasn’t her style. She was more subtle and sly. Like the most recent visit when Carol had sadly informed Maddie they had time to go to SeaWorld or Disneyland but couldn’t possibly do both.

Nick had known extending the trip would be playing right into Carol’s hands, and he’d been damn close to telling her she could take Maddie to SeaWorld and he’d take her to Disneyland. But one thought stopped him. He didn’t want to take Maddie only to have her wishing the whole time her mother was the one holding her hand through the happiest place on earth.

Nick was glad his daughter enjoyed her visits with her mother. If Maddie was happy, he was happy. Most of the time, he could even convince himself it was true; after all, it wasn’t Maddie’s happiness that worried him. It was how unhappy she was when she returned that had his gut tangled in knots.

He’d hoped his sister Sophia’s upcoming wedding and Maddie’s role as flower girl would give her something to look forward to, but she wasn’t nearly as excited as he’d expected. He couldn’t figure it out. With her recent fascination of all things girly, he’d thought she’d jump at the chance to be in the wedding party. He just didn’t get little girls.

Nick snorted. Hell, it wasn’t like he got women, either.

Maybe that was what happened when a man was single for too long.

His jaw tightened, and he half expected a lightning bolt from the approaching storm to strike him down. Hadn’t he said it’d be a cold day before he ever took a chance on another relationship?

But watching Sophia and Jake together, he’d envied their courage to risk heartbreak for the reward of finding love again. He felt as though something had hit him in the chest in that moment, striking the emptiness inside him like a blow to a bass drum. Even now, weeks later, the reverberations still vibrated inside him, urging him to … do something.

But Nick wasn’t a man to give into rash impulses. He’d learned his lesson after trying to turn a heated, whirlwind affair into a long-term relationship. If that hadn’t already made him cautious, he also had Maddie to consider. Word of his first date would spread throughout town before he’d glanced at the dinner menu, and the woman would likely have nieces or nephews—if not a son or daughter—who went to school with Maddie.

The idea of putting his daughter through that kind of speculation—of putting himself through it—had kept at bay any thoughts of trying to date as a single dad. Until now.…

The buzz of Nick’s cell interrupted his thoughts. A glance at the screen showed his office number, and he cringed. If Jarrett Deeks was having trouble with the horse, he’d have called him directly, so Nick could only hope that whatever his assistant needed could wait until tomorrow.

Answering the call on speaker, he said, “I’m on my way home, Rhonda. Unless this is an emergency—”

“Oh, but it is,” the forty-something woman replied with a hint of amusement in her voice.

The first splatter of rain hit the windshield, and Nick bit back a curse. “If this is some kind of a joke—”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, Doc.”

Nick sighed, mentally kissing his beer and ball game goodbye. “What’s the emergency?”

“Darcy Dawson called. She said she ‘needs the doctor right away.’”

Personal experience reminded him Darcy Dawson’s voice sounded nothing like his assistant’s pack-a-day rasp. Darcy had a just-out-of-bed-sexy murmur and a laugh that stroked like fingernails down a man’s spine.

“Better watch out,” Rhonda was warning him with a fair share of teasing in her tone. “I’m surprised Darcy hasn’t tried making a play for you or one of your brothers already. The three Pirelli boys are some of the best catches in town. You’re all young, successful, single—”

“Give me a break, Rhonda,” Nick said with a snort of laughter at his assistant’s joking and the implication that he, like his brothers, was free to have the kind of fling Darcy Dawson had become known for in her less than two months in Clearville. He had Maddie to think about, and even though she was still a little girl, he was painfully aware how the decisions he made could affect her.

Doubly aware, he felt, since Carol wasn’t always as discriminating as he thought she should be. He’d made it more than plain to his ex-wife a few years ago—when Maddie came home talking about the “sleepovers” her mother had—that he didn’t want any of Carol’s casual boyfriends around his daughter.

Carol had turned his words back on him, insisting he, too, keep his girlfriends away from Maddie, and Nick had immediately agreed. He hadn’t known any women in Clearville he’d want to have a casual fling with then.

You still don’t know any, he mentally berated a libido that had taken immediate notice the very first time he heard Darcy Dawson’s laugh.

He’d been standing one row over at the grocery store, trying fruitlessly to decide on the hair bands his daughter had sent him to the store to buy. But the moment he’d heard that laugh, he’d forgotten all about them. Heaven help him, for a moment he’d forgotten all about being a single father, and before he knew where he was going, he’d sought out the woman behind that laugh.

Fortunately within the first glance, he’d come back to his senses. Well, mostly, since he hadn’t been able to get Darcy Dawson out of his mind since. Still, it had only taken that first look to know Darcy wasn’t the kind of woman he was looking for. Wasn’t the kind of woman a man ever found, not in Clearville, at least.

A pair of expensive oversize sunglasses propped on the top of her head held back a tumble of shoulder-length red hair and she carried a purse that likely cost more than the monthly payment on his SUV. Her clothes—a tailored white shirt belted over narrow black trousers that hugged a pair of legs that seemed to go on forever before ending in spiky heels—spoke of a fashionable, sophisticated woman. Not the kind he was looking for, he’d determined, and that was before he’d learned of her reputation.

Single or not, he didn’t have the freedom his younger brothers did. Sam especially enjoyed the opportunity to have a good time. He’d dive into a fling with Darcy Dawson headfirst and come out smelling like roses on the other side. Women could never stay angry at Sam.

Normally, Nick could never stay angry at Sam, but just the thought of his youngest brother and Darcy Dawson together made his jaw clench tight enough to crack.

“Did Ms. Dawson say what the emergency is?”

“Nope. Her cell phone started breaking up before she could say. Funny thing, I didn’t even know she had any pets.”

Deciding he was having some cell problems of his own, Nick hung up on his assistant’s chortling laugh.

Having his name even temporarily linked with Darcy Dawson’s would only scare off the right kind of woman. His ill-fated marriage to Carol was already something of a black mark against him. He didn’t need to be down two strikes before he even came up to bat.

Maddie needed a positive female influence. Sure, his mother had been around her entire life, and Sophia had recently moved back to town, but a grandmother and aunt weren’t the same as a mother. Someone who could be a constant, consistent, solid presence in Maddie’s life. Someone who was small town, with Clearville roots dug deep in her soul. That was the kind of woman Nick was looking for.

This time, he was going to be damn sure he made the right choice from the start. He couldn’t risk jumping on and off some kind of dating-go-round, asking out any woman who happened to spin by. His failed marriage and Carol’s desertion had made him cautious, but Nick knew once he found the right woman, he’d have to jump in with both feet, hang on and not let go. Because try as he might, after looking at the idea from every angle—up, down, inside and out—he couldn’t work his way around one simple fact.

If Maddie needed a mother, then he needed a wife. Because God help him, he couldn’t figure out how to get one without the other.

The dog hadn’t moved.

Crouched down at the back stairs, Darcy Dawson squinted toward the far side of the crawl space beneath the porch. Every now and then, in the flashes of lightning that lit the darkness, she could see the reflection from the dog’s eyes, her only indication the animal was still there. Worry trickled through her, and she shivered, pulling up the collar of her coat closer around her ears.

She’d tried using the lure of the kibble, but the dog refused to come out of hiding. Refused, too, to eat from the bowl Darcy had shoved as far as she dared in the cramped space. She might have blamed fear of the storm for the dog’s behavior except it had holed up before the lightning and rain had begun.

Even though Darcy didn’t know anything about dogs, she knew something was wrong. But she didn’t know what it was or what she could do to offer any comfort.

Helplessness rose up inside her. “It’s just a dog,” she muttered against the lump in her throat. “You don’t even like dogs.”

The words echoing through her thoughts for the past half hour were a lie, and saying them out loud didn’t help convince Darcy they were true. She didn’t dislike dogs, but she was afraid of them. Had been since she’d been bitten by a neighbor’s dog when she was little.

Her fingers slipped past the collar of her sweater and she traced the scars along her shoulder, reminders from that long-ago day. As a kid, she’d shied away from dogs, and as an adult living in an apartment in Portland, she hadn’t been around them much. She simply didn’t go places where dogs were likely to be, and if she saw one in passing … Well, she just passed quickly.

But her move to the small town of Clearville, California, was supposed to be about making a new start and living in the moment. So when a stray dog wandered into her backyard after she’d left open the gate, she decided that maybe it was time to put her fear of dogs in the past, as well. Not that she planned to keep the dog; she wasn’t that certain of her ability to let go of a twenty-year-old phobia, but something in the animal’s crouched, uncertain posture spoke to her.

And, she had to admit, the dog was … interesting. A mix of silver and black from its alert ears down to its tail with brown and white spots on its face and legs. And its eyes—one brown and one blue—fascinated Darcy with their watchful intelligence. Of course, she’d only noticed thanks to the zoom feature on her digital camera. She hadn’t actually gotten near enough to see the dog’s two-toned eyes up close.

But she printed the pictures she’d taken, placing “Found Dog” posters around town. She’d also bought a bag of dog food and some toys at the grocery store and folded up an old comforter for a bed in the sheltered corner of the porch. None of which nominated her for Pet Parent of the Year, but just knowing the dog was in her backyard pushed Darcy out of her comfort zone.

Still, she’d been certain, in a town the size of Clearville, the owner would come forward in no time. Or that someone would recognize such a unique dog and know who it belonged to. She’d even imagined the scene—reuniting the poor lost dog with its grateful, tearful owners. Darcy would wave off their praise and offer of a reward, content to see owner and pet back together again.

But after a week, no one had called, and Darcy had started to wonder what she would do if the dog’s owner never showed.

Sometimes facing your fears is the only way to escape them. Her mother’s encouragement rang in her head, strong and sure.

But then her mother had always been brave.

The ache wasn’t as sharp as it had been following her mother’s death a year ago, but time had done little to lessen Darcy’s sense of loss. She blinked back tears. Her voice was rough around the lump in her throat as she whispered, “You always did say we should get a dog.”

Alanna had raised Darcy to be confident, strong, proud. Lessons Darcy tried to live by, but ones she’d failed recently. She’d been devastated by her mother’s death. Feeling so alone, she’d reached out blindly to grab hold of the first lifeline she could find. But Aaron Utley hadn’t helped her out of her misery as much as he’d taken advantage of it.

It was the only explanation Darcy had for falling so hard and so fast.

He’d seemed so charming and caring, Darcy somehow missed when that care transformed into control as he tried to mold her into the perfect accessory for an up-and-coming lawyer.

And she’d foolishly gone along. Hoping to ease the ache of sorrow and emptiness, she had convinced herself she was in love. For months, she poured her heart and soul into trying to be the perfect girlfriend and then the perfect fiancée. Only after gaining distance from Aaron had Darcy realized how fully he’d manipulated her. How he’d used her as his emotional punching bag, constantly setting her up simply to knock her down.

Thank God she’d gotten out before trying to be the perfect wife! She didn’t need anyone to tell her what a failure she would have been as Mrs. Aaron Utley.

But the anger following their breakup had been the kick in the butt Darcy needed to put aside her sorrow and recall the wonderful times she’d had with her mother. It had always been just the two of them, and they’d shared everything. Including her mother’s dream of moving back to the tiny Northern California town where she’d been raised and opening a small beauty boutique on Main Street.

Alanna wanted to take the knowledge she’d gained from her years managing a dozen different locations of a major department store chain and focus it on her own business. Moving then opening the shop had always been planned for a distant “someday,” but her death had taught Darcy to take advantage of today, and she was determined to make her mother’s dream a reality.

She refused to consider what she would do if she failed, so she’d handled it all—moving to a town where she didn’t know a soul, renting a century-old house in need of serious updating and planning a grand opening for a new business at a time when many shops were closing. If she had any doubts, any worries, she’d keep them hidden behind a confident facade where no one would see.

Fake it ’til you make it, her mother would say.

The wind shifted again, sending rain pelting against her back and running in icy rivulets down the collar of her coat. Another spark of lightning briefly illuminated the sky, but it was long enough for Darcy to see the dog lying on its side, its watchful gaze still focused on her.

“And we are going to make it,” she said as another clap of thunder rattled the house. “The vet’s coming, and he’ll make everything okay.”

After the agonizing days she’d spent in the hospital at her mother’s side, Darcy was painfully aware sometimes even the best doctors couldn’t help. But what she knew in her head didn’t change what she felt in her heart. She may have only met Nick Pirelli in passing, but the vet exuded confidence and control Darcy envied. He wouldn’t be stuck in the rain at a loss, not knowing what to do or what to say. He was the type to push those kinds of people aside and take over and do what needed to be done.

A low rumble sounded from the front of the house. At first, Darcy thought it was another distant roll of thunder until she heard a vehicle door slam. “He’s here,” she whispered to the dog. “He’ll make everything all right.”

Pushing up from the muddy ground, Darcy felt her heart pound in her chest as she lowered her head against the rain and ducked beneath the shelter of the wide eaves on her Craftsman-style house. She was worried about the dog, afraid Nick Pirelli might confirm her fears that the animal was sick. It was enough to make any compassionate person’s pulse quicken, knees weaken, breath catch.

Who was she trying to kid? She’d felt that same quickening, weakening, catching sensation when she had first laid eyes on Nick Pirelli in the town’s grocery.

He was tall, over six feet, with intense, solemn brown eyes and dark, thick hair. Darcy could tell in that first glance that Nick Pirelli wasn’t a man given to spending much time on his appearance, and why should he when he was as close to masculine perfection as she’d seen? But she could also tell that what time he did spend in front of the mirror was used to try to tame the hint of natural wave in his mahogany hair into some kind of order.

Darcy didn’t know why that had struck her as so endearing, but coupled with the collection of pink and purple head bands he’d been holding, she’d been utterly charmed.

Not that he’d felt the same if his sudden one-eighty and quick disappearance from the aisle where she’d been shopping was anything to go by.

Skirting beneath the dripping eaves as she rounded the front of the house, Darcy ignored the sharp prick of hurt now just as she had then. It didn’t matter if Nick Pirelli had listened to all the rumors around town about her or what the too-serious vet thought. He was here to help, to do his job. The only opinion she cared about was a professional one.

But seeing Nick standing on her porch in a beat-up pair of jeans topped by a red and black checked flannel shirt—looking so strong, so sure, so hands-on—Darcy couldn’t deny the rush of attraction. One she was determined to ignore. If Nick Pirelli was the type of man to judge her based on a bunch of lies, then she could only imagine what he’d think of her if he knew the truth.

Chapter Two

As Nick lifted his hand to ring Darcy’s doorbell, he heard footsteps on the porch behind him. He turned in time to see her rush up the steps toward him. Her dark red hair was caught up in a damp ponytail, and her jacket and jeans were wet. She stopped short, mere inches away, and her feet nearly slipped out from beneath her. Pure reflex had him reaching out to catch her.

And it was reflex that had his hands bracketing her narrow waist, reflex that had him ducking his head to inhale her summery scent, mixed with rain from the storm. Reflex that had him hungering to kiss her, to slide his palms down to her hips, to …

Stay far, far away.

That had been his goal when he’d driven up to her small Craftsman-style cottage at the end of the street. He would be professional and polite—or as polite as he could manage —do his job and get out of there before—before any of this could happen.

Jerking away his hands before he could get burned, he stiffly asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Thanks.” The short, choppy response wasn’t what he expected. It was almost as if Darcy had been just as affected by the unexpected contact as he had been.

Straightening, she stepped back and wiped her face. Her hair and cheeks were wet from the storm, and her efforts left a streak of mascara beneath one eye. He couldn’t imagine why the sight made her seem somehow vulnerable or why it tugged at something inside him, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Sorry. I don’t normally fall over people like this,” she said with a wry enough smile to make Nick wonder if she’d heard the gossip in town. Gossip that said falling all over men was exactly what she normally did.

Shoving aside thoughts of the rumors, he focused on his reasons for being out in the middle of a storm instead of at home with baseball on the TV and a beer in his hand. “My assistant said you have some kind of emergency.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as skeptical to Darcy as it did to him, and figured he must have done a passable job at hiding his doubt when she nodded quickly.

“Yes, and thank you so much—”

“It’s okay,” he said quickly. “Just doing my job.”

“Right. Of course. This way.”

After bending down to grab the well-worn, brown leather bag he’d dropped when Darcy had appeared out of nowhere and stumbled into his arms, Nick followed her around to the back of the house. She must have come from that direction, and yet he was a little surprised. Somehow he’d expected her to lead him inside.

Not that he was looking for an invitation. He was just—He didn’t know what he was right then.

And his confusion only increased when Darcy knelt down before her back porch. The rain had turned the area to mud, and now that he wasn’t so distracted, in the glow coming through the windows he could see reddish-brown mud caked the boots she wore and rimmed the hem of her jeans. She wore a fitted, thigh-length jacket in a rich taupe color, but her choice had little to do with fashion. Whatever was going on, Darcy had been outside in the storm for a while.

“… I can’t coax her out and she’s not eating,” Darcy was saying. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Squatting down on his heels, Nick got his first look at the she in question. A medium-sized dog lay huddled beneath the porch. “How long has she been like this?”

“Since I came home this afternoon.” Darcy crouched down beside him to peer at the dog. The animal had crawled through a hole in the rickety latticework framing the fascia of the porch. A small hole. Small enough that the two of them were nearly cheek to cheek gazing into it.

Focusing on work instead of giving in to the need to study Darcy’s elegant profile, the arch of her forehead, the straight slope of her nose, the tempting curve of her lips, Nick asked, “Has she been out of the yard at all?” An injury might explain the dog’s instinctual need to hide. “Or is there anything she could have gotten into back here? Pesticides? That kind of thing?”

“No, nothing. But—You think it’s something serious then?”

The worry in her voice called to Nick. He turned toward the sound, forgetting how close she was. Close enough for him to be in danger of falling into the endless green of her eyes. Close enough to be a breath away from feeling her pale pink lips against his.…

“I, um—” Nick cleared his throat against the sudden lump of lust lodged there. “I can’t tell from here.”

He’d learned his lesson when it came to making promises he couldn’t keep, but he found himself longing to ease the frown between Darcy’s auburn eyebrows.

It’s going to be okay. Everything will work out for the best. You’ll see.

Those were the vows he’d made to Carol years ago, and he’d failed miserably on all accounts. Nick had never been a man to say he hadn’t made mistakes, but he damned sure didn’t repeat them.

“Do you have a flashlight?” He needed to try to assess any injuries before moving the dog.

It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow his words managed to wring a small smile from Darcy. “Living in this house? I have a flashlight in every room.”

He’d heard about the troubles she’d had with the house—faulty electricity, leaky plumbing—typical complaints with a house built at the start of the last century. But it wasn’t Darcy’s wires or pipes people in town were talking about after she went out with part-time handyman, full-time ladies’ man Travis Parker.

No one was surprised when the relationship ended quickly. Travis Parker was known for chasing after a woman only to cut her loose once she was caught. But it was Darcy who kept the rumor mill churning as she seemed willing to give Travis a run for his money as the local heartbreaker, rebounding by going out with two or three other available guys in Clearville.

Not that it was any of his business. Not any of his business at all.

“I’ll need a blanket, too,” he said abruptly, turning back to the dog and away from Darcy’s smile.

He felt the question in her glance as she slowly rose to her feet, but he refused to look her way. He didn’t care who Darcy Dawson dated, he told himself as she quickly hurried up the back porch stairs. Her footsteps were light and quick on the creaky porch floorboards, and he wondered how she did that. How she could make something as simple as walking seem like a graceful, rhythmic dance.

Reaching out, Nick grabbed the lattice work with both hands and tugged hard enough to break free more of the weathered wood from the rusty nail heads. The masculine show of force did little to lessen the irritation building inside him. The last thing he needed was to wind up on Darcy Dawson’s To Do list. And yeah, okay, the trip wasn’t a total goose chase. Darcy really was worried about the dog.

But she’d also really had problems with her wiring and plumbing. That was how things started. Where they ended—Well, Nick didn’t let himself think about that. He’d probably tear down the whole porch with his bare hands if he spent too much time imagining Darcy in the arms of those other men.

He needed to concentrate on the job at hand, and after he’d done what he could to help the dog, he’d turn his attention back to his plan for the future. Finding the right kind of woman.

A woman who was responsible and down-to-earth. A woman who walked with her feet firmly on the ground. If she was pretty, he’d consider it a bonus, but certainly not a requirement, Nick decided. He’d allowed his hormones to overrule his head before and, except for Maddie, the results had been disastrous. He didn’t need to feel that skip in his heartbeat, that quickening of his pulse, the low throb of desire that hummed beneath the mundane sounds of everyday life.

He knew what he wanted and—

“I’ve got it.”

Darcy’s husky voice broke into his thoughts, and Nick could only stare at her. She stood beneath the porch light, so he could see her more clearly now. Even with her thick hair pulled back into a damp ponytail and her makeup mostly washed away by the rain, she was beautiful. Tall and graceful, she definitely had it. She was—She was everything he did not want in a mother for his child. Everything he didn’t want in a wife.

“The flashlight and blanket?” she said, lifting the objects in her arms, her voice hesitant when his silence went on too long.

“Right,” he said abruptly. “That’s—what I need.”

He reached out for the items, careful not to brush his hands against any part of Darcy. Grateful to escape, even though it meant crawling into a muddy hole, Nick ducked beneath the porch and through the space he’d made larger. He half crawled, half slid across the muddy ground.

“Do you need—”

“Just stay back,” Nick answered when Darcy’s voice followed him into the damp, cramped space. Last thing he needed was for her to try to squeeze in behind him. He’d never been particularly claustrophobic, but the idea of being trapped in such close proximity with the woman had sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I need as much room as I can get in here.”

In the glare from the flashlight, the dog eyed him warily. He could see now that she was some kind of heeler mix with a solid, medium-sized build, alert ears and intelligent gaze. He’d always had a soft spot for working-class dogs, admiring their bravery, their intense watchfulness … their loyalty.

And after only a quick examination, he was relieved to discover the reason the dog had sought out some privacy and shelter. “Come on, girl. Let’s find you a more comfortable spot.”

He’d asked for the blanket in case she snapped at him or started to squirm when he moved her. Judging from her quiet, crouched demeanor, she was clearly afraid, but Nick didn’t sense that fear turning into aggression. He kept the blanket away from her head as he wrapped her up and scooted his way back from under the porch.

“What do you think? Is she okay? Are you going to take her to your clinic?” Darcy’s rapid-fire questions were filled with anxiety, and the dog seemed to shake in time with each word.

Keeping his voice monotonous and low, Nick wasn’t sure which female he was trying to calm. “She’s going to be fine. All she needs is a clean, dry place to let nature take its course.”

“Nature?” Darcy blinked up at him as he rose to his feet, and Nick regretted his choice of words. A little too much nature was already coursing through his body for him to be saying anything even slightly suggestive.

“She’s pregnant,” he said.

“Pregnant?” Darcy echoed as she followed him up the back porch steps. “I didn’t—How—”

“That’s what happens when owners don’t have their dogs fixed.”

“I know that’s how. But, see the thing is—She’s really not my dog.”

A high-pitched squeal interrupted, and they both looked down at the squeaky rubber toy Nick had stepped on. From there, Darcy followed his gaze to the bed she’d set up in the corner of the porch, along with the food and water bowls with their paw-print design, and an array of colorful balls and rawhide bones.

“Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard on my trip to the grocery store, but really, she’s not—”

“Not your dog,” Nick echoed. “Right.”

He’d heard the excuse from owners before. Unwilling to deal with the problems their lack of responsibility caused, they dropped off pregnant dogs and newborn kittens at shelters as “strays.”

He tried to help out where he could, working with a shelter in the next town over and volunteering his time with a mobile spay and neuter program. But he’d long ago acknowledged and reluctantly accepted that there were people whose minds he could not change.

Or at least he thought he had. Maybe it was the day he’d had, seeing the horse left to starve by the people entrusted with its care, but he was hit by a wave of disappointment that Darcy was—

What? Not who he thought she was? Not the kind of woman he wanted her to be?

Nick shook off the ridiculous idea. He didn’t know Darcy and he didn’t want to get to know her. She was a city girl who’d quickly tire of playing small-town dress-up and move on when she realized she didn’t belong. But for Nick, Clearville was in his blood.

“There’s a shelter the next town over.” Even in the dim light from the back porch, Nick could see Darcy flinch. A twinge of guilt pricked his conscience for making her feel bad, but he ignored it. He was simply explaining the reality of the situation. “They might have a foster available to take the dog and her pups until they’re old enough to be adopted.”

Darcy shook her head even as she caught herself raising her left arm over her chest, reaching for the reminders of the old injury. She stayed the motion when she saw Nick watching her closely. “No. I won’t take her to a shelter.” Crossing her arms instead, she said, “I—I’ll keep her.”

The vet arched an eyebrow, his doubt as obvious in the faint lighting as his disbelief had been moments earlier. She could have tried harder to convince him the dog wasn’t hers, she supposed. But words could be meaningless, empty things. If he hadn’t believed her the first time, why would he the second or third? Darcy refused to argue her innocence with someone who’d predetermined her guilt.

He’d judged her and found her lacking. Well, so what? She had nothing to prove to him. She had nothing to prove to anyone but herself.

Nick Pirelli could believe what he wanted. She didn’t care. Or at least she wouldn’t … as soon as she convinced herself that was true.

“You really think you can handle this?”

With the dog cradled in his arms, Nick never raised his voice above that low murmur she’d heard coming from beneath the porch. A sound that, at that time, had washed over her and soothed away her worry. It hadn’t even mattered that he’d been talking to the dog. That mellow, hypnotic baritone would have had her willingly climbing into his arms.

Now, with the same tone of voice doing little to disguise his doubt, Darcy’s cheeks started to heat. Her instant attraction to the dark-haired vet was as unexpected as it was embarrassing considering his own less-than-flattering opinion of her. But she had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Or rather several little things.…

“I’ll have to handle it, won’t I? Wait … Where are you going?” she asked when Nick awkwardly reached with one hand for the screen door while still carrying the dog wrapped in the blanket.

For a split second, she thought she saw something soften in Nick’s expression, but then his gaze dropped to the dog in his arms. When he looked up again, his dark look was remote. “She needs to be someplace dry and warm and quiet. Someplace inside.”

Inside? She was going to have—Her mind blanked at the sheer number of potential dogs inside her house.

“Where do you want me to put her?”

For a brief moment, Darcy panicked. She wouldn’t take the dog to a shelter, but Nick was a vet. Surely he could find someplace else. But then she looked at the poor dog who seemed to be quietly waiting for her decision, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t turn her back now.

“There’s a laundry room right off the kitchen.” Other than housing her washer and dryer and storing products for her boutique until she was ready to open, the laundry room was empty. Darcy led the way through the country-style kitchen and into the other space.

Hurriedly, she tried to scoop up the bras and panties she’d left folded on top of the dryer. Heat flooded her face, though she didn’t know why. Nick Pirelli wasn’t the least bit interested in her or her underwear. After stuffing the pieces of lace and satin back into the dirty clothes hamper, she pushed some boxes out of the way.

“I’ll go—” Her words cut off as she tried scooting around Nick to head back to the patio for the dog’s blanket and bowls. The laundry room that had seemed plenty spacious before was suddenly too crowded for her to take a single step without bumping into the exasperated vet. And wouldn’t you know that the frown on his face didn’t take away one iota from his good looks? If anything, the brooding intensity only added to his appeal, making Darcy suddenly understand women who fell for the dark, dangerous hero.

She’d never been the type. Aaron had been an all-American golden boy—blond hair, blue eyes, with an aspiring politician’s practiced smile. So different from Nick.

Darcy cut off the pointless comparisons. When Nick inadvertently countered her slide to the right with his own move to the left, she finally grabbed him by the shoulders. Ignoring the sudden flutter in her belly when her hands encountered warm male muscles through the damp softness of his flannel shirt, she led them both in a pirouette that would have done a dance teacher proud.

“I’ll be right back with the other blanket and her water bowl. Is there—Should I do anything else?” Darcy asked as she backed out of the room.

Nick knelt down to place the dog on the floor and glanced at her over his broad shoulder. “What? Like boil water?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Only if you feel like having some tea.”

He turned back to the dog before Darcy had a chance to see his expression. Had Nick Pirelli just told a joke? Darcy almost hoped he hadn’t. Grumpy and grouchy, he was hard enough to resist. Throw in a sense of humor, and she might be in some real trouble.

Half an hour later, Nick stepped out of the laundry room and joined Darcy in the kitchen. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she held out a steaming mug.

“Chamomile?” she offered, the challenging spark in her green eyes catching his attention and refusing to let go.

For all the talk he’d heard about Darcy Dawson, how was it no one had mentioned her quick wit or her sense of humor? The dangerous combination already had him lowering his guard and regretting his earlier behavior.

“How’s she doing?” Darcy asked with a glance over his shoulder at the narrow doorway.

“She’ll be fine.” In fact, now was a good time for him to go. Even though the dog was young and likely a firsttime mama, nature would tell her what to do. But he hadn’t missed Darcy’s reaction when he had first told her the dog was having puppies. Her face had gone white, and she’d looked ready to faint. What if Darcy actually did pass out and the dog needed help? Sticking around and making sure the delivery went smoothly was part of his job.

Joining Darcy in the small, intimate kitchen for tea was not part of his job, but even as the warning was drifting through his mind, Nick stepped closer and accepted the cup. His jeans were weighted down by mud, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, and his shirt was soaked through, thanks to the rain. It might have been the end of July, but the sudden storm had dropped the temperature, and he took a minute to warm his hands around the mug. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you. I’m sure you had better things to do than make a house call on a night like tonight.”

Nick shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

“So what’s it like?” Darcy had stripped off her jacket at some point, revealing a pale green knit sweater that hugged the curves of her breasts, but still wore the dark, wide-legged jeans. Her feet were bare, cherry-red toenails peeking out from beneath the mud-splattered hem. He tried not to notice how small and delicate they were, just as he tried not to notice how his own scuffed and scarred size-eleven work boots had tracked mud across the white tile floors.

Darcy leaned back against the butcher block counter, her hands cradling her own mug. Her gaze was open and interested, easily sucking him in until he could barely remember what she’d even asked. “What’s what like?”

“Being a small-town vet?”

Small town. Two simple words that had his hackles standing on end. Yeah, that was what Carol had accused him of being more times than he could count, and the insult had hurt. But Carol had been his wife. He’d felt frustrated and at a loss to keep her happy, and he’d failed her as a husband with his lack of ambition to move to a big city where he could make more money.

Darcy, though, was a stranger, a woman he’d just met. What difference did it make how small town she thought he was?

“I love it,” he answered, a hint of defensiveness undercutting his words. “Ever since I was a kid, it’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.”

“Really?”

Nick’s lips twisted. “You sound surprised.” Like she couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t want something more.

“Not surprised. I guess, I’d say … envious.”

“Envious?”

Darcy shrugged. “That you’ve always known without a doubt what you wanted to do.”

He’d always known what he wanted, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t questioned what was best for his family. After Carol left, he’d gone to see her in San Francisco, willing to give up everything—his house, his practice, his hometown—to keep their family together. Only to discover his everything still wasn’t enough for her.

“Yeah, I’m just lucky that way.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d given away with that comment, but Darcy’s expression softened and she searched his face as if looking for some way inside him. That was not a place he wanted her, so he quickly asked, “What about you?”

He racked his memory for what he’d heard about her reasons for moving to Clearville. He was pretty sure he’d heard his sister, Sophia, talking about the woman renting the space two doors down from The Hope Chest. “You’re opening a shop in town, right?”

As she went on to explain her boutique, a place where she would offer women advice on makeup, skin care and beauty treatments as well as sell the products along with candles and soaps in every scent imaginable, some of his skepticism must have shown on his face. “Why do I get the feeling,” she asked, “that you’re not going to be my first customer?”

Nick shrugged. “Sorry. It’s just—Well, I’ve seen this all before.”

Darcy set her mug on the counter with a dull thud. “Someone else has a shop like mine?”

“Not a shop just like it, but that spot you rented? It’s gone through more changes in the past few years than I can remember. A dress shop, a shoe store, a health food clinic. Nothing stays open for long.”

“So, you’re telling me that the shop I’ve rented has some kind of Clearville Curse attached to it?” Darcy wiggled her fingers in a spooky motion, her teasing smile enough to jerk a rough half laugh out of Nick. But then a rush of heat surged through him when he remembered those same fingers pressed into his shoulders, and he quickly sobered.

“Not a curse, and it’s not just Clearville, either. I’m sure it happens in small towns all over the place. Big-city folks get tired of the traffic and noise and fast pace of the city, so they go off seeking peace and quiet in some small town. Only before they’ve had the chance to even unpack, they start to miss all those same things they left behind. Before you know, they’re gone without a word.”

Darcy wasn’t unaware of the chance she’d taken, and a string of failed stores could give a location a bad rap. Plus, starting a new business was always a risk, especially in this economy. But for as long as she could recall, her mother had talked about moving back to her hometown, only to never have the chance.

Darcy refused to miss her opportunity by waiting for the perfect moment. Instead she was going to make the most of the time she had now. Not that she was counting on blind faith to see her through. She’d done her research. Clearville was a small town, but one with a healthy tourist trade, catering to travelers who came to enjoy the surrounding redwoods, the rugged coastline, the days-gone-by feel of the Victorian Main Street.

The town had its share of bed-and-breakfasts, and Darcy had already arranged for a few of those businesses to carry her beauty baskets in their gift shops. She hoped to start up a buzz about The Beauty Mark before her grand opening.

“Maybe those other shops closed for a reason,” she suggested.

“Such as?”

“So that the space would be available for me.”

Nick stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was for real, and Darcy doubted she’d be able to explain her certainty in the move she’d made. Because even though she’d struggled with turn-of-the-last-century plumbing, ghostly electricity and a car that had turned into a lemon at the stroke of midnight, she refused to allow any of it to shake her faith that she was right where she was supposed to be.

Darcy’s only regret was that her mother wasn’t there with her, but she felt her presence in every decision she made. From their long-ago conversations as they’d imagined the perfect look and feel of the shop to the recent, far-more-practical hand Alanna had given her only child—the life insurance policy that made the dream a reality.

“I would think,” she told Nick, “if anyone would understand, you might.”

Nick’s dark brows arched toward his hairline. Clearly he thought he’d be the last person to understand anything about her. “Me?”

“Yes, you said being a vet, being Clearville’s vet, is the only thing you’ve ever wanted to be. It was the same thing for me the first time I drove down Main Street. I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It might have taken me a little longer to get here, but it’s really the same. We’re really the same.”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Nick wryly countered, “We’re really not. I was born here. I grew up here. This is all I’ve ever known.”

“And I didn’t just stumble across Clearville by accident. I may not be from here, but my family was,” she said, feeling a little gratified by the surprise on his face. “My mother lived here until she and my grandparents moved when she was a teenager. She always dreamed about coming back and opening this boutique.”

“Your mother always dreamed about it?”

“She did.” Darcy didn’t see the knowing look in his eyes until it was too late. “I mean, we did. It was our dream. It just turns out that I’m the one who’s going to make it come true.”

Seeing the unasked question in his gaze, she explained, “She was in a car accident a little over a year ago. Her injuries left her paralyzed. She was making progress, and I really thought if anyone had the strength to recover, she did. But then she suffered from a blood clot, and the doctor said there was nothing they could do.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy.”

Already figuring out Nick was a man of few words, she wasn’t surprised when his condolences ended there. But she was touched when he took the mug she barely realized she was still holding and poured her a second cup of tea from the pot warming on the stove.

She soaked in the comfort of the small, thoughtful gesture and the heat from the steaming mug he handed back to her, but she wanted more. Nick stood close enough for the rain and earth clinging to his clothes to blend with the floral fragrance of the tea. But beneath that was the faint scent of his aftershave and warm male, and she longed to step closer and breathe it in.… To breathe him in.…

He stepped back suddenly, leaving her holding nothing but the cup of tea.

It was only her vulnerability after talking about her mother that made his withdrawal feel like a rejection. It wasn’t like he knew what she’d been thinking.

Please don’t let him know what I was thinking.…

“So your mother wanted to move back,” Nick was saying as Darcy refocused on the words instead of simply following the movement of his lips.

She sighed, unsure why he was so hung up on that point. “This isn’t only about my mother’s last wish. It’s about a new start for me. A chance for me to own the kind of store where I like to shop.” She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by Nick’s lack of interest. He wasn’t exactly the demographic she had in mind for her boutique. “You know your sister’s looking forward to my grand opening. I think Sophia’s almost as excited as I am. And your daughter will love it. Girls always have a blast playing dress-up and having little girl makeovers—”

Warming to her subject, it took Darcy a minute to realize however slightly Nick had relaxed in the last few seconds, that moment was now gone. His expression was closed off, his posture once again rigid. He cut her off saying, “I should go check on the dog.”

“I thought you said she was fine.”

“She is.”

Staring at the straight, unbending line of Nick’s backbone as he walked away, Darcy couldn’t help wondering, if the dog was okay, then what on earth was wrong with Nick Pirelli?

Chapter Three

Darcy bringing up his daughter and the dog’s quick delivery of four tiny puppies could not have happened at a better time, Nick determined later as he watched the new pups, their eyes and ears still closed, their mouths wide open. The mama dog nuzzled them each in turn, guiding them toward their first meal.

“You’re doing great, girl,” he reassured her, and Nick could have sworn the dog responded with a proud smile.

He didn’t know if Darcy truly was squeamish, but she had stayed away from the laundry room during the birthing process, giving Nick time to clean up and toss some of the old rags into the trash out back. She hadn’t been in the kitchen as he’d passed through, and he hadn’t gone looking for her.

“It’s a big responsibility, you know,” he murmured to the dog who’d either grown accustomed to his touch or had better things to worry about than the human petting her head. “Having a child is the most amazing experience and the most terrifying.”

But he was determined to do right by Maddie. Which did not mean little girl makeovers. He didn’t want Maddie growing up any faster than she already was, and no way was he ready for blush and mascara and highlights and God knows what else Darcy had in mind.

He’d been fighting with Carol for years about Maddie not being old enough to have her ears pierced. Even his mother and sister had taken his ex’s side on that one.

“I was five when I had my ears pierced,” Sophia had argued.

And she’d been eighteen when she left home.

Nick cringed at his line of thinking. Okay, not even he could make a direct correlation between ear piercing and taking off for parts unknown without admitting he sounded nuts, but still, the idea reinforced his plan to find a solid, wholesome influence for Maddie’s life. Someone who could see his side of things and understand that his daughter belonged with him in Clearville.

Darcy was not that woman. Her decision to move to her mother’s hometown, to make her mother’s dream come true was admirable and touching … and misguided. But she’d have to learn that the hard way. Just as he had when he finally admitted getting married and raising a family in Clearville might have been his dream, but it hadn’t been Carol’s. Her dreams were bigger than small-town living, and Nick was sure Darcy’s were, as well. Once reality set in, she’d figure that out.

Nick caught the scent of something fruity drifting over his shoulder. Was it one of her moisturizers or mud-mask thingies that made Darcy smell like a tropical, sun-kissed beach? If Darcy knew what she was talking about, women loved that kind of stuff. Somehow, though, he didn’t think the explanation was that simple. He’d never had the desire to seek out the scent on any other woman’s skin, to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.…

He knew better than to turn around, feeling her presence there even before he heard her soft gasp.

“Oh, my—They’re so tiny. Are they—?”

“They’re fine. Perfectly healthy and good sized. Two boys and two girls.” The boys took after mom with her blue merle coloring, but the girls must take after dear old dad with their smooth black coats. It was too soon to tell what the mix was, but Nick thought lab might be a good guess.

“Four,” she breathed, and even though it wasn’t possible, Nick swore he could feel her sigh drift like a caress over the exposed skin at the back of his neck. Chills raced down his spine, but he blamed the recent trip he’d made out into the storm. He’d ducked the rain as best he could, but clearly the collar of his shirt had gotten damp. It was the only reason why goose bumps were rising along every inch of skin.

“Better than eight,” he answered, his tone more wry than he’d have liked.

“I can’t even imagine. So what do you think?”

He tried keeping his gaze on the small family on the blanket in front of him, but he couldn’t resist turning in Darcy’s direction. He saw immediately the reason why she’d left the kitchen earlier. She’d changed out of the green shirt and jeans she’d worn into a pink softer-than-soft-looking jogging suit with a zippered jacket and drawstring bottoms. The potential ease of removal for both items was enough to run his mouth dry. To make matters worse, instead of being confined in a ponytail that kept the long strands away from her face, her hair now tumbled in voluptuous waves over her shoulders.

“What do I think about what?”

“What do you think we should name them?”

“I think that’s up to you.”

“But you delivered them. You were here when she needed you.”

Her voice was soft as she gazed at him, and he had a hard time remembering she was talking about the dog. The warmth and gratitude in her gaze made Nick feel like puffing up his chest with pride. He didn’t think he’d moved from his crouched position, but he would have sworn she was suddenly closer. Close enough for him to see her eyelashes were surprisingly, and naturally, darker than her hair. Close enough to see the faintest spray of freckles across her nose. Close enough for him to watch every movement of her tongue sliding across her pale pink lips.

The low rumble of thunder sounded from outside, and Nick jerked his attention away from Darcy’s mouth and back to the request she’d made. “Stormy,” he blurted out. “For one of the girls.”

“Oh, how fitting. You said the girls were the little black ones?” At Nick’s nod, Darcy said, “Then how about Cloud for the one of the gray boys?”

He suggested Rain for the other girl. “Which leaves one boy left.”

Darcy’s smile was full of mischievous laughter simply waiting to be unleashed, and Nick paused with an almost helpless feeling of anticipation to hear whatever she’d come up with.

“Bo,” she announced suddenly.

He shook his head as if the word hadn’t quite penetrated his brain. “Stormy, Rain, Cloud and … Bo?”

This time he had no doubt Darcy had leaned closer as she lowered her voice to share a secret. “It’s short for Rainbow, but don’t tell the other kids. They might make fun of him.”

Rainbow. It was as silly and ridiculous as Nick had feared, still he couldn’t help but give into laughter. Darcy’s joined his, the masculine and feminine sound combining until, at once, all other sounds faded away. So, too, did the lighthearted energy in the tiny room, replaced by a growing awareness of how close they were, how isolated, with only the dogs inside and the lingering storm out.

“I should go.” The statement, if not the words, were firm and decisive and utterly meaningless as Nick still didn’t move.

Darcy swallowed. “You don’t have to. It’s still raining outside. I could fix some coffee.”

But it wasn’t coffee he was craving. Her scent called to him again, and this time Nick thought he recognized the summery mix of coconut and pineapple. He wondered if her skin would taste like piña colada if he kissed her.

He heard the faint catch in her breathing and the quicker rhythm that followed. He was less than a sigh away from claiming her lips with his own when the overhead bulb flickered. The light wasn’t out for more than a split second, but when it came back on, the glare was like a flash of clarity illuminating the huge mistake he was about to make.

He didn’t know if it was the storm, faulty wiring or fate stepping in to save him, but he jerked abruptly to his feet. The unexpected movement almost knocked Darcy back on her heels. He bent halfway—the gentleman his mother had taught him to be insisting he give her a hand, battling the survivor Carol had forced him to be warning him to stay far, far away. In the end he did nothing as Darcy pushed herself to her feet.

“I have to—This can’t—” His mind formed the words, but his tongue tripped over them in his haste to say the exact opposite of what his body was feeling. “Look, I’m not interested in a fling or an affair or—”

Darcy’s eyes widened, at first in shock, then in a growing realization and finally anger. “I offered you a cup of coffee, Dr. Pirelli, not a roll in the hay. You might be right and I don’t know much about small towns, but where I come from coffee means coffee. If I was offering you sex, I would have said sex.” The chill in her voice and fire in her eyes told him sex was nowhere near in the offering. “You can let yourself out when you’re done here.”

She brushed by him on her way through the kitchen and moments later, he heard a door slam somewhere from the back of the house. Nick exhaled a humiliated sigh of regret. Yes, he was definitely done here.

Nick stood in the middle of Darcy’s kitchen feeling like he’d dodged a bullet, but guilty for winding up unscathed all the same. He was positive—almost positive—he hadn’t imagined the heat and invitation in Darcy’s gaze. She’d wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t she? Hell, he’d been out of the game so long, he wasn’t sure he still could read the signs. And damned if he didn’t know if maybe all he saw was his own desire reflected in her eyes. But no matter what he saw or thought he saw, that didn’t give him the right to hurt her with his clumsy rejection.

Yet what else could he have said? That she was a beautiful, sexy woman and he’d sleep with her in a heartbeat if he wasn’t already looking for an entirely different kind of woman for his wife? A different kind of mother for Maddie? Somehow he didn’t think that would have scored any points in her book either.

He thought briefly about apologizing, in a note left behind for her to find—because no way was he searching her out in her bedroom where he assumed she’d taken refuge—only to decide against it.

It was probably better to leave things as they were. If he’d ticked her off as much as he thought he had, then he wouldn’t have to worry about ending up on her radar again—except maybe for her to shoot some dirty looks in his direction on any rare occasion when their paths might cross.

He checked on the mama dog and her puppies one more time before he packed up his bag and left out the back door, the same way he’d come in. The slash of wind and rain pelting him the moment he stepped outside the warmth and comfort of Darcy’s house felt like punishment, but the sudden chill was just what he needed. He didn’t bother trying to outrun the storm on his way to his truck or duck for cover beneath the arms of the large tree in her front yard. Putting his head down, he methodically trudged along the gravel driveway.

A summer storm might not be what the term “cold shower” usually meant, but it would do.

The baseball game was likely over, but he couldn’t have used a beer more. After fishing his keys from his front pocket, Nick turned the ignition and—nothing. Not a click. Not a flicker of light from the dash. Nothing.

Rain pounded on the roof of his SUV in a constant, unrelenting pattern as he reached for his phone. Cell coverage was always spotty at best thanks to the surrounding mountains. Add in the storm, and Nick shouldn’t have been surprised when he got no reception. Dropping his wet head back on the padded headrest, he seriously debated sitting out the storm and the night in his truck. But what if Maddie needed him? His cell phone was as useless as his dead battery, and he needed to be at home in case she called.

It didn’t happen so often anymore, but there’d been a time when Maddie brought back more than souvenirs and gifts from her trips to see her mother. Her first few nights back home, she used to wake up crying, her nightmares filled with terrors of being lost in the big city, trapped in falling elevators or stuck on escalators that carried her far, far away.

As much as he’d hated to see his daughter frightened, a small—very small—part of him had taken comfort in her needing her dad and the security and familiarity of small-town Clearville.

He didn’t want to be out of contact from Maddie, not even for one night. Not even if it meant facing Darcy Dawson. He was soaked to the skin by the time he reached the front porch and knocked on the door.

“My battery’s dead,” he announced before she had the chance to launch into him for his nerve at showing his face on her doorstep. “I’ve got cables if I could just use your car for a—” He nearly swallowed his tongue to keep from using the word jump.

“Sorry,” she said, arms crossed over her chest, “but you can’t.”

Nick snapped his jaw shut. Okay, so he’d known she might slam the door in his face. Half expected it, but he also thought once she heard what he needed, she’d oblige—just to get him and his vehicle off her property if for no other reason. “Look, I was a jerk.”

“You were.”

“A total jerk.”

“Right.”

His frustration mounting when Darcy refused to bend an inch, he snapped, “I’m trying to apologize here.”

“Really?” Her elegant eyebrows shot upward. “Because—again where I come from—apologies usually start with the words ‘I’m sorry’ and end with ‘Can you ever forgive me?’”

Clenching his jaw, Nick ground out the words from between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry, Darcy. Can you ever forgive me?”

He sounded about as sorry as when he was a kid and his father insisted any confrontations with his brothers ended in a handshake, but it was the best he could do. And he really didn’t expect it to work.

Still Darcy did lower her arms and her posture loosened ever-so-slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

“So does that mean I can use your car?”

“No.” She held up a hand before his head actually exploded. “Because my car isn’t here. My car hasn’t been here for days, ever since I left it at the mechanic’s in town. So good luck getting a new battery.”

Nick swore beneath his breath, but put the problem with his battery on the back burner for a second to address what Darcy had said about the garage in town. First, there was only one car shop in town. And second, it was owned by his youngest brother. Nick might have gotten on Sam’s case over the years about his desire to live his life like Peter Pan, but his Lost Boy brother was a pure genius when it came to anything mechanical.

“Your car’s been in the shop for days? Was there a part that needed to be ordered?” He couldn’t imagine a problem Sam wouldn’t be able to fix blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back.

“The mechanic told me what was wrong and what it would cost to fix it but—” Darcy shrugged as if that was the last she’d heard.

None of which sounded like Sam. His brother always followed through with a client if a job was going to take longer than anticipated. Most of the time, he beat any time frame he gave, especially since he’d recently hired on some help.

“But I shouldn’t really complain. The mechanic has been sweet enough to pick me up when I’ve needed to go into town.”

“He’s been giving you rides?”

That sounded more like Sam. With his teasing smile and lighthearted charm, his youngest brother had always had a way with women. All women. He never seemed to single out one in particular, and for him to put his reputation as a mechanic on the line for the pleasure of driving Miss Darcy—

Jealousy sizzled through Nick, eating away at logic and reason like acid.

“You’re welcome to come in and use my phone. And by ‘use my phone,’ I mean use my phone. That’s not any kind of big-city sexual innuendo.”

The slap of humiliation heated his cheeks, but the only thing worse was knowing he deserved every moment Darcy spent raking him over the coals. “I’d appreciate it.”

The words were too stiff, too formal, but he didn’t know how else to pry his foot from his mouth other than to watch his every word. The same way he had back when his Nana Pirelli was still alive and he wasn’t too big or too old for her to slap upside the head. But despite Darcy’s insistence that her offer had nothing to do with sex, his mind went there anyway as he followed the seductive sway of her hips as she led the way into the house.

It was his first glimpse at the front of the house. Like the laundry area, the living room showed signs that Darcy had yet to unpack. The built-in bookcases flanking either side of the brick-faced fireplace were conspicuously empty. So, too, was the wall above the hearth, a large expanse crying out for a family portrait. Instead, six splotches of paint marred the space as if she was having a hard time deciding on a single color.

He had the feeling the furniture, mismatched floral couches huddled around an old-fashioned steamer trunk, had come with the house. He wondered why Darcy would even bother redecorating. The paint would likely have yet to dry by the time she grew tired of small-town living and headed back to the city.

She handed him a cordless phone and disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen. Nick wasn’t sure if she was trying to give him privacy or she’d simply rather not be in the same room with him. Sighing, he dialed his brother’s number. His brother Drew’s number. Sam would have been the logical choice, but logic wasn’t running real high at the moment. His call went through to voice mail, though, giving Nick little choice but to call Sam who also asked him to leave a message and told him he’d call back lat er.

Swearing beneath his breath, Nick disconnected the call. After his brothers, his soon to be brother-in-law would be Nick’s next choice, but Jake had taken Sophia to L.A. to introduce her to his mother and stepfather. His parents would have gone to bed hours ago, and he’d hate to get them out of bed at this time of night.

“You could always call a cab.”

The helpful suggestion came from the kitchen, letting Nick know Darcy had picked up on his frustration even though he hadn’t said a word. “Clearville doesn’t have a cab company.”

“That was a joke, Doc.” Framed by the doorway, Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. Backlit by the light from the kitchen, her red hair shimmered with an ethereal, almost halo effect. But the gleam in her green eyes was anything but angelic as she added, “You probably won’t find this funny, either, but you’re welcome to spend the night.”

Spend the night with Darcy Dawson.

Proving he was at least smart enough not to make the same mistake twice, Nick didn’t assume she was offering him anything more than a place to crash. But even the thought of sleeping under the same roof, with Darcy only a room away, seemed far too dangerous. It had been a long time, way too long, since Nick had spent the night with a beautiful, desirable woman. If he had any other choice—

Looking down at the phone still in his hand, he said, “My daughter’s spending the night at a friend’s. I need to let her know how to reach me.”

At his words, Darcy seemed to unbend a little, far more so than she’d done at his admittedly lame apology. “Of course,” she said as she backed out of the doorway, leaving him to make the call in private.

Dialing the Martins’ number from memory, he immediately apologized when MaryAnne answered. “Hey, MaryAnne, it’s Nick.”

“Oh, Nick. Hi.” The woman sounded slightly surprised.

“Sorry to call so late. I just wanted to let you know that my cell phone’s reception is down. I don’t like being out of touch in case Maddie needs me, so I wanted to give you a landline number. I’m … taking care of an emergency call.”

“Oh, an emergency. Right. Of course.”

It had to be his guilty conscience that made it seem like MaryAnne had stressed the word, almost as if she suspected he was lying. “Yeah. Anyway, I’ll, um, be at this number for the rest of the night.” He recited the number Darcy had given him and apologized again, saying, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

MaryAnne laughed, sounding more like herself. “Don’t you know by now that the whole point of a sleepover is not sleeping?”

Nick winced at the very idea of being surrounded by half-a-dozen preteen girls, amped up on sugar and a lack of sleep. “I owe you, big-time.”

“Just remember that when Fluffy’s shots come due.”

“You got it,” Nick promised. “Fluffy is on the house.”

He ended the call while a movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention as Darcy stepped into the room, her arms full of sheets and pillows. Her brows rose in question as she padded barefoot across the scuffed hardwood floors and dumped everything on the couch. “Fluffy is on the house?”

“The Martins’ cat,” he explained. The cross-eyed Siamese may well have been fluffy, but Nick had long thought the feline’s name should have been something even more appropriate like “Butch” or “Killer” or “Devil’s Spawn.” Still, he’d rather take on a dozen hissing, scratching fluff-balls than host a sleepover for his daughter and five of her friends.

“Is there a lot of bartering done for work around here?”

“Sometimes,” he answered, feeling defensive even though Darcy’s question had been more curious than amused. It was part of small-town living. Times were hard, and people helped out where they could. That sense of community, of neighbors lending a hand, made Clearville … well, Clearville. Despite the occasional downside of everyone knowing everyone else’s business, Nick had always appreciated how the town’s citizens looked out for their own.

He waited, half expecting, half dreading another sexual innuendo comment. He could see one written in the sparkle of her green eyes, but maybe she’d decided to cut him some slack after all because she simply made up the couch. His gaze locked on every movement—how she bent at the waist and the pale pink material stretched across her perfect backside, how she reached to tuck the sheet behind the couch cushions and the strip of creamy skin peeked out above the hem of her sweatpants, how her hands smoothed over the soft cotton sheets …

If he hadn’t been tongue-tied before, he certainly was now. The last thing he needed was to try to fend off another one of her teasing remarks. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t serious or that he deserved her giving him a hard time. Because even the harmless banter punched holes in the shoddy patchwork job he’d done when Carol had left, revealing the empty, aching hollow he’d been trying to hide—for Maddie’s sake, for his family’s, but mostly for his own almost desperate self-preservation. If no one knew how much Carol’s desertion had ripped away from him, then he didn’t have to admit it—not even to himself.

He didn’t have what it took to laugh with a woman like Darcy anymore—if he ever had. That he shouldn’t want to flirt with her made no difference. Knowing he couldn’t, knowing he’d fail miserably, was what mattered. He’d end up seeing the same pity in her gaze as he’d seen in Carol’s when he had showed up in San Francisco with his offer to move there to keep their family together. The very thought threatened to fill the emptiness inside him with a sickening mix of humiliation and failure until the unfeeling void seemed like a blessing.

So he was glad, really, that Darcy was giving him a break.

But when she gave the floral pillow a final pat and turned to face him, Nick thought maybe he’d breathed a sigh of relief a little too soon.

“So how do you decide fair compensation,” she asked, “for say—the local vet delivering four puppies?”

Refusing to respond to her teasing, he quoted his normal rate for a house call even though it made him feel like an ass. The straight man who couldn’t bend enough to enjoy a joke.

Darcy sighed and shook her head in disappointment, but that was still better than the pity he might have seen. “I was really hoping you might go for some soothing candles or a relaxation massage.”

Yeah, right. Like the very idea of Darcy’s hands on him would be relaxing in the least. He could already feel the tension stretching to all points inside him, warning him that, at some time, his tightly leashed control was going to break. He could only hope he’d be far, far away from Darcy Dawson when it happened.

“I’ll be sure to write you a check then,” she said, a little of her teasing fading away, and damned if he didn’t miss that spark in her eyes already. “I laid out a few things in the bath down the hall for you to get cleaned up,” she added with a nod at his still damp and slightly muddy clothes. “Sleep tight, Doc.”

He thought he might have mumbled a good-night but was too busy escaping into the bathroom to stick around for a more formal response. He felt like she’d given him an out, and he was taking it. Shutting the door, he leaned back against the panel.

Like the rest of the house, the bath showed its age with pale blue throughout—tub, tile, toilet and sink. He might not know Darcy well, but she was clearly a woman of style. A woman like Carol. His ex-wife had insisted he gut the entire interior of the first house they bought in Clearville, enlisting his brother Drew’s help behind Nick’s back when she thought he wasn’t working fast enough. And yes, Drew was a contractor and amazing at his job, but dammit, it was supposed to be their house—Carol’s and Nick’s. Not Carol’s and Nick’s and Drew’s, no matter how much he loved his brother.

Shaking off the memories, Nick reached for the towel she’d left on the edge of the tub and a bundle of clothes fell to the blue and white mosaic floor. As he bent to pick them up, he found a T-shirt and sweats, but nothing like the pink feminine pair Darcy wore. The worn T-shirt was an extra large with the Trail Blazers emblem faded across the front, the pants slate gray and masculine.

Nick’s hands fisted in the soft material. He could tell himself all he wanted that he didn’t care who or how many men Darcy had dated, but when he was faced with the proof, the truth hit like a blow to the gut. He cared too damn much.

The last thing he wanted was to put on clothes left behind by some other guy. His own muddy clothes and, hell, even the bucket seat of his truck were looking better and better. With a muttered curse, he attacked the buttons on his shirt. He was making way too big of a deal out of something that could only amount to nothing.

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