“Caramel.”

The unexpected reference to candy took her by surprise. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re the color of the caramel my mom used to make for dipping apples when I was a kid. My brothers liked the crunch of hard candy, but I always wanted rich, swirling caramel.” His gaze roved over her face, but it wasn’t her eyes he finally homed in on.

Kara swallowed hard, biting back the urge to run her tongue over her lower lip. Not in anticipation of a childhood treat, but with a longing for the sweet promise of Sam’s kiss. The shock of her own desire was enough to lock her trembling knees in place. “My eyes are brown. Plain and simple.”

“Oh, something tells me there’s nothing simple about you.” His voice held a hint of teasing, but something told her he wasn’t joking. That he knew she had her secrets and wouldn’t stop until he discovered them all…

Dear Reader,

Sam Pirelli has been a great secondary character to write. In my first Clearville book, Sam provided some lighthearted moments as the easygoing, never serious youngest Pirelli brother.

In Daddy Says, “I Do!” the challenge was taking fun-loving bachelor Sam and turning him into true hero material. And what better way than to have him discover he’s a father?

Kara Starling is Sam’s opposite in almost every way. Serious and goal-oriented, she isn’t sure Sam is ready to raise her nephew on his own…Maybe because deep down, she’s already decided the three of them belong together!

I hope you enjoy Sam and Kara’s book!

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.

Daddy Says,
“I Do!”
Stacy Connelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my fellow Cherish authors—

Reading your books over the years has been

a true pleasure. I am thrilled to be one of you

and have enjoyed getting to know some of you online

and in person. I wish continued success to you all!

Chapter One

Sam Pirelli grinned as he hit the gas on the classic Corvette he’d finished restoring that morning. The body still needed work—dings and dents on the faded red paint showed a lack of appreciation by the vehicle’s former owners. But under the hood, she was as good as new.

Better than new, he thought, considering the long hours he’d put in to bring her back to her high-speed glory.

On a straightaway, he could push her to the limit and see how fast she’d really fly, but the winding mountain roads leading back to his hometown were a hell of a lot more fun—the difference between riding on a train and riding on a rollercoaster. Of course, he couldn’t go as fast through the twisting turns—he wasn’t a total fool—but he knew these roads. And with the way the car was performing, hugging the asphalt and responding to only the slightest tap on the brake or slide of his hand on the wheel, he would swear she knew the way home, too.

The rush of speed and adrenaline fired his blood like little else could. The towering pines along the side of the road whipped by in a blur of dark green and brown, and the clear blue sky held the promise of a gorgeous summer day. With the wind blowing through the open windows, letting in the warm air and the powerful hum of the engine, Sam felt free.

A feeling he cherished more and more, recently.

Almost against his will, he glanced at the wedding invitation on the passenger seat.

Another freaking wedding.

His little sister, Sophia, had gotten hitched a month ago, but under the circumstances, Sam figured a wedding was for the best. Sophia was pregnant and while her new husband, Jake Cameron, wasn’t the baby’s biological father, everyone in the family knew he was totally committed to being the best husband and father. Jake and Sophia were crazy about each other, and Sam had come to terms with his baby sister getting married and becoming a mom.

He could almost hear her protesting that twenty-four wasn’t that young. And neither is twenty-nine, Sam. So when are you going to think about settling down?

He glanced at the invitation again, already imagining the rented tuxedo’s tight fit, and fought the urge to tug at the invisible noose around his neck.

Settling down? Not for him.

He pressed harder on the gas, leaving that thought in the dust.

Of course, less than two months ago, he would have sworn his oldest brother, Nick, felt the same way. He’d been married before and had his heart broken when his wife walked out on him and their daughter. He’d done a hell of a job as a single father for the past five years, and Sam would have thought he’d be the last guy—okay, second to last guy—to take a walk down the aisle.

But then Nick had met Darcy Dawson, and everything changed. Even Sam could see his brother was more relaxed now, quicker to smile or laugh.

And Sam was happy for his siblings, he really was. He just didn’t get it. Didn’t understand the need to settle down, to take on the responsibility for someone else’s happiness, to give up the freedom of being yourself in exchange for being half of something else….

This time Sam didn’t stop himself from rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

He’d tried talking to his middle brother, Drew, about the crazy rash of weddings striking their family, but when Sam complained about renting a tuxedo again, what had his brother said?

Maybe we should think about buying instead of renting.

It was a logical, cost-efficient suggestion, the kind Drew normally made, but something in his brother’s distant gaze worried Sam. A look that said Drew wasn’t thinking dollars and cents when it came to future weddings but hoping for one of his own.

Sam swore beneath his breath, feeling like the only single guy not to drink the commitment Kool-Aid.

Of course his parents were overjoyed. His mother was in a constant state of motion, helping plan one wedding after another with a baby shower for Sophia already in the works. His father was wise enough to stay out of the way, but he hadn’t stopped smiling—proud and happy with the additions to the family.

Vince and Vanessa were all about family ties and loyalty and responsibility. Yeah, that word had come up more than once recently.

So had love, a voice whispered through his thoughts. A lasting love…A love of a lifetime.

And maybe he had wondered for a lost-his-mind second what it would feel like to have a woman love him the way Sophia loved Jake, the way Darcy loved Nick. But the moment had come and gone faster than the speed limit sign that flew by as he took the next turn.

To have a woman love him that strongly, that completely, well, he’d have to fall for her, too, wouldn’t he? And Sam knew he didn’t have that depth of emotion inside him. Not anymore. Feelings, like women, came and went.

He liked keeping things fast and fun. He never saw any reason to start digging deeper. He certainly didn’t want any woman drilling into him, looking beneath the surface, only to find out what you see is what you get.

Trying to be something he wasn’t would only lead down a road to failure, and Sam hated to fail. Hated the raw disappointment of trying his best and knowing it would never be enough.

Shaking off those thoughts, he slowed as he neared town. The sheriff was a good friend’s father, but that would only make Cummings come down that much harder. He was glad he had slowed to a reasonable speed as he swerved around some debris in the middle of the road—broken bits of a lumber and trash. A blown-out tire was the next obstacle, and he slowed even more.

Up ahead, he could see a driver who hadn’t been as lucky. A light blue minivan was pulled off on the shoulder. It was one of those newer types—the kind meant to fool a family guy into thinking he wasn’t really driving a minivan. Only it wasn’t a guy who’d been behind the wheel.

A blonde woman stood beside the vehicle, holding up a cell phone as if testing wind speed.

Sam didn’t see enough room in the narrow gap between the road and the tree line to pull up behind her, so he drove past. He half expected the woman to try to flag him down—but the blonde stayed fixated to her useless phone, expecting technology to come to her rescue.

Sam grinned as he parked some yards ahead and climbed from the car. He liked rescuing damsels in distress. Broken-down vehicles were his specialty, of course, but he’d helped more than one ex-girlfriend move and had offered strong and silent support as they gave a current boyfriend the boot. He’d even stepped in a time or two when a whiskey-fueled drunk at the local bar started coming on too strong to a pretty waitress.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with a mixed expression of relief and gratitude. But it was not the expression he saw on this woman’s face as he drew closer.

Her hair was cut straight to her shoulders in a style that seemed to defy the possibility of a single strand falling out of place. Oversized sunglasses hid her eyes, but beyond the dark frames Sam could see a straight nose, high cheekbones and soft pink lips. Those features were perfect and perfectly free of makeup—this was a woman who thought she had to downplay her looks for the world to see beyond them. Yet it was the stubborn lift to her jaw and the frustration in this woman’s stance that caught his attention. She might look calm and cool on the outside, but inside…

He didn’t bother hiding a grin as loose gravel crunched beneath his work boots.

The woman was either passing through town or, he hoped, a tourist planning to stay awhile. No way was she local. She was dressed casually enough for travel in dark jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, but even though the soft cotton hinted at curves beneath, the relaxed style didn’t seem to fit her the way a pinstriped jacket and pants would have.

Not the type to normally catch his eye. He went for casual, carefree women who matched him one-on-one when it came to having a good time. Except lately, well, he hadn’t been enjoying those good times as much as he used to. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, exactly. More a sense of something missing.

“Need some help?”

Sighing, she dropped her arm but kept her focus on the phone’s tiny screen. “I don’t suppose your phone would find a signal out here, would it?”

“Nope. But even if it did, it wouldn’t do much good since I don’t really need it to call myself.”

“Excuse me?”

Reaching out, he took the phone from her hand. He powered the tiny thing down and gave it back. Their fingers barely brushed, but the jolt Sam felt in that brief moment should have been enough to fire that phone up for life and send a signal clear to Mars, he thought, unnerved by the instant attraction.

The blonde froze in that same moment, too. A flush rose in her cheeks and her pale lips parted on an unspoken word, a silent awareness that he wasn’t alone in the powerful feeling.

Shaking off the crazy thought, he said, “Tow truck, roadside assistance, local mechanic—it’s all me.”

“All…you.” This whispered word held a note of recognition as the woman stepped back. The heel of her shoe landed on a rock, and her ankle twisted. She caught her balance before he could reach out to help, her arms held out almost as if warding him off.

Fighting the urge to lift up his own hands in an innocent-man gesture, Sam took a closer look. He swore that behind the dark shades she wore her eyes had widened almost as if she knew who he was. But he didn’t see how that was possible.

If they’d met, he would have remembered. Her face, her name, everything about her, especially this pull of attraction. He’d always been the type of guy to appreciate women, to recognize instant chemistry and follow wherever it might lead, and yet this felt different in ways he couldn’t explain. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Considering she still looked ready to jump out of her skin, Sam reached for his patented grin, thinking to put her at ease, as he held out his hand. “Sam Pirelli, Clearville’s local mechanic.”

The woman raised her arm automatically, and Sam laughed as he shook her hand around the phone she held. The spark was still there, but he almost breathed a sigh of relief that the wattage was less astronomical this time.

Flustered, she pulled back and slipped the cell into her pocket. “I’m, um, Kara…”

“Well, Kara, this van looks pretty new. I figure you have a spare.”

“Yes, of course. I took the van to the dealership for full service before the trip.”

Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. The woman didn’t look the type to leave anything to chance. No detours or what-the-heck side trips for her. He stepped toward the van, but she countered his move almost as if blocking his path. Or trying to, at least, since five-five and a hundred pounds of feminine curves wasn’t much of a barricade.

“Look, I know what I’m doing,” he reassured her.

The breeze blew a lock of hair into her face, the silken strands catching on her bottom lip, and he rethought his take on her lack of makeup. A light gloss coated her mouth with a hint of color and maybe a touch of flavor. Strawberry, he’d bet. Kara didn’t seem the type to go for something like cherry or bubblegum, his young niece’s favorites thanks to her fashionable, soon-to-be stepmom, who owned a local cosmetics shop.

Without thinking, he reached up to brush the stray strand back behind her ear. “With cars,” he amended, admitting his own reluctance to pull back from the softness of her skin and keep an acceptable, we’ve-just-met distance. “I’ve spent the past few months restoring that beauty,” he added as he finally took that step back and pointed over his shoulder at the Corvette.

“Months, huh?” A world of doubt filled her voice, and his grin came a lot easier this time.

“I know she doesn’t look like much, but it’s what inside that counts.”

Okay, even he had to admit that sounded like a line, but he didn’t think he’d been obvious enough to deserve the sudden suspicion tightening her slender body. It was almost as if she knew what lines he would use and had heard them all before.

Shaking off the odd notion, he gestured to her car. “So, the spare? I can have that flat changed and you can be on your way to…”

“Clearville,” she admitted as she stepped back and let him walk over to her vehicle.

“Hey, what do you know? My hometown.” Sam decided not to think too closely about the hairpin turn of excitement his pulse took when he realized Kara wasn’t simply passing through.

As he walked by the van, a movement in the side window caught his attention. He did a double take when a small face stared back at him from the other side of the glass. A young boy blinked owlishly as if just waking up. He frowned with surprising seriousness, his expression clearing only slightly when he spotted Kara standing outside the vehicle.

She had a kid. Sam supposed he should have expected it, considering the soccer-mom minivan Kara drove, but what he hadn’t expected was the sudden jab of disappointment. Kids meant a level of responsibility miles above what he was used to, so he tended to stay away. From kids and from single moms.

“Cute kid,” he said, almost automatically, before taking a second glance at the boy in the van.

He was cute. All that blond curly hair sticking up in every direction, the dimple in one sleep-reddened cheek, the wide green eyes beneath straight-set brows. That sense of déjà vu tugged at Sam again. Maybe it was the look in the boy’s eyes, he thought. Something a little sad…a little lost, that reminded him of his niece, Maddie, who’d had the same sad, lost look to her eyes when she was that age and still struggling to understand why her mother had left.

Or maybe it was simply the resemblance the boy had to his mother, standing still and silent a few feet away, her arms crossed at her waist. The defensiveness and vulnerability of her stance caught hold of something inside him. An unfamiliar feeling that made him want to shoulder whatever burden she was carrying, break down the carefully constructed walls around her, and let her know everything was going to be okay….

Shoving the crazy thought aside, Sam focused on the one thing he could actually do for the woman and went in search of her spare tire.

Tension had spun her nerves into glass in that brief moment when Sam Pirelli stared at her nephew, and Kara Starling waited for the words that would shatter the last of her composure into a thousand sharp pieces.

Cute kid.

Her breath escaped in a whoosh of sound hidden by the breeze blowing through the pines. Relief left her nearly weak-kneed, and she gave hesitant glance in the mechanic’s direction. A soft whistling came from the back of the vehicle as he worked on getting the spare from beneath the van’s undercarriage. He didn’t seem interested in anything other than changing the tire.

He’d been interested in something more a minute ago, her conscience taunted.

She hadn’t missed the spark of attraction that rocked them both when his hand met hers. Sam Pirelli was a gorgeous guy, but then, she’d expected him to be. Dark blond hair peeked out beneath a backward baseball cap that had seen better days. The same could be said for the washed-out gray T-shirt stretched across his wide chest and the threadbare jeans. But Kara was struck by the thought that even a designer suit would fade a little when a woman was caught by the spark in his green eyes and the bright flash of his smile.

Sam Pirelli wasn’t the kind of man who tried to impress women. He was impressive without even trying. And his charmer’s grin told her he knew it.

And as much as she longed to, Kara couldn’t pretend she’d been unaffected by the brush of his warm, rough skin against hers. With anyone else, that magnetic pull of attraction would have been inconvenient. With this man it stirred up feelings of guilt on too many levels to count and whipped already whirling protective instincts into a frenzy.

This wasn’t how she’d expected her first meeting with Sam Pirelli to go. But then nothing had gone as Kara expected in the month since her sister had been killed in a plane crash.

Opening the side door to the minivan, she kept her smile in place when Timmy scrambled back into the booster chair. He dragged his favorite stuffed animal, a slightly crosseyed green dinosaur, into his lap and hugged it tightly. The boy had always been smart for his age, but also shy and quiet. He’d withdrawn even more since his mother’s death, and despite Kara’s best attempts she’d been unable to draw him out. Her heart ached for the pain he was feeling and at her own inability to make that pain go away.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said softly.

After they’d stopped for lunch at a small gas station restaurant along the highway, the little boy had fallen asleep. She’d hoped he would rest for the final leg of their journey, but this unexpected stop had shot that plan out of the water.

Along with her other plan of how to best handle Sam Pirelli.

Awareness of the man working at the back of the van fluttered through her, but Kara pushed it aside and focused on her nephew. When Timmy stayed silent, staring at his shoes over the dinosaur’s furry head, she said, “We’re almost to Clearville now. Why don’t you come on out and walk around for a bit?”

“Then can we go home?” he asked, a heartbreaking amount of hope filling his voice.

Did he think going home would mean returning to the small apartment he’d shared with his mother? That going home would mean finding Marti waiting for him?

Kara took a shallow breath, aware that anything deeper than the slight, tentative motion would cause more pain to her bruised and broken heart. She’d done her best to explain that his mother was in heaven now, where she would always watch over him. But Kara didn’t know how much the four-year-old boy understood.

Some days, she still didn’t understand her sister’s death. Not when Marti had been the most alive person Kara had ever known. Her little sister had never done anything half measure. She embraced life and everything in it and rushed into every adventure with a live for the day verve Kara had long admired…and envied. But in the end, that never-consider-tomorrow attitude was partly responsible for her sister’s death.

Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back quickly. Timmy was all that mattered now, and Kara was determined to do right by him and by her sister. Even if it meant taking this trip to Clearville and proving to herself that life in this small northern California town was not in Timmy’s future.

Though she longed to say they’d be back home in no time, she refused to make promises she might not be able to keep. As much as she loved her sister, Kara knew the young boy had heard his fair share of empty words and promises of tomorrows that had never come.

And now never would.

His mother wasn’t going to be there for any of the milestones of his life, or the simple everyday moments so easy to take for granted. The fresh pain of the loss of her sister combined with an old ache Kara refused to acknowledge.

“We’re going to stay for a little while,” she finally told her nephew.

He heaved a huge sigh. “Okay.” And then with the attention span of a typical four-year-old, he scrambled around onto his knees and gazed out the back window. “What’s that man doing to our car?”

That man. Sam Pirelli was a total stranger to Timmy. If she kept quiet, he would stay that way. Indecision and guilt tied her stomach into knots. In the month since the reading of Marti’s will, Kara had done her best to ignore the feeling, but it was back. Stronger than ever, she thought as Sam caught her watching and flashed her a wink.

“His name is Sam Pirelli,” she heard herself say softly before she could talk herself out of it. “He’s a mechanic, and he’s changing out a flat tire for us. Isn’t that nice?”

Timmy shrugged, lacking the interest in cars and trucks that most little boys possessed. Reaching out, she smoothed the cowlick stuck up at the top of his head, her fingers sifting through his curls.

Would the hair hidden by Sam Pirelli’s baseball cap be as soft?

The wayward thought caught her off guard, and she snatched her hand back as if she’d actually touched Sam’s hair. “Why don’t we go take a look?”

Timmy climbed from the minivan, clinging tightly to the stuffed dinosaur and to Kara’s hand as he looked around. “I don’t like it here. It’s dark.”

“Dark?”

“Uh-huh,” he said as he eyed the trees lining the edge of the highway. The thick, dense pines, a far cry from the light, airy palms in San Diego, cast long, jagged shadows and provided a formidable barrier beyond the road. “I think there’s monsters.”

“Timmy.” Kara bit her tongue before she could provide the logical argument that there were no such thing. Monsters might not be real, but the little boy’s fears were, and that wasn’t something she could “reason” out of him, no matter what her parents thought.

You’re only encouraging his fears by pandering to them, her father had argued.

It never failed to amaze Kara how Marcus Starling, a brilliant surgeon, could know everything there was to know about the heart and yet be so clueless about his grandson’s feelings.

Honestly, though, she didn’t know why she’d been surprised. Her father had never made much of an attempt to understand his daughters either. But his own feelings when it came to this trip had been more than clear.

The fall semester starts in two weeks. You have a responsibility to the college and your students.

Fortunately, her boss at the small private college where Kara taught had been more understanding, lining up part-time teachers to cover her classes in case she needed more time off. Explaining that to her father had been as useless as trying to explain Timmy’s fear of monsters.

Have you considered how this leave of absence might affect your chances of being named chair of the department?

Kara already regretted telling her father about the upcoming vacancy. The current chair of the English department was stepping down the next year, and she’d been both surprised and pleased that she was one of the professors under consideration to replace him. But the position was anything but a sure thing and if the faculty chose another teacher…well, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d disappointed her father.

Giving a resigned sigh, Kara gave her nephew’s hand a reassuring squeeze. We all have our monsters, don’t we, Timmy?

Before she could come up with a response to soothe her nephew’s fears, the off-key whistling from the back of the van was followed by a soft thud. Kara turned to watch Sam Pirelli lift the spare. The faded cotton stretched across his wide shoulders, and the bulge of his muscular thighs tested the worn seams of his jeans as he crouched down to maneuver the tire into place.

Kara swallowed, her mouth drier than the mild temperature could account for.

“Wow, he’s superstrong.”

The whistling stopped for a moment at Timmy’s awefilled comment, only to start up again a little louder, and if possible, a little cockier. The flush of embarrassment on her face burned hotter when Sam glanced over his shoulder with a knowing grin. It was almost as if he’d overheard her raving about his super strength, which was ridiculous because she certainly wasn’t impressed with his muscular arms or chest or—

Oh, who was she kidding? She was just as impressed as her nephew, if for very different reasons. She could only hope she was slightly better at hiding it.

“Okay, you’re good to go. You’ll want to replace the spare before you head home…” His voice trailed off as if expecting her to fill in where she was from, but that, like her last name, was information Kara wasn’t willing to give.

“I’ll do that.”

“Here.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “Stop by the shop and I’ll set you up.”

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

He shook his head before she could finish the question. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kara frowned. She didn’t like being indebted to anyone, and she was especially uneasy about owing Sam Pirelli. Maybe because, deep down, she knew what she owed him most of all was the truth. Shoving the thought aside, she said, “I owe you for your time.”

“Okay, then.” The glint in his eyes should have warned her what was coming, but she was still caught off guard when he announced, “Dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you wanted to repay me, so I’m thinking dinner. Nothing too fancy. It was just a tire, not like replacing the carburetor or anything.”

His smile threatened to shake something loose inside her. What would it be like to have those teasing lips flirting with hers? Her heart skipped a beat, but she’d long ago learned the dangers of dancing to that foolish rhythm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Hey, it was your idea in the first place. You’re the one who insisted on paying.”

“And you always take sandwiches over cold hard cash?”

“I was thinking maybe steak and potatoes, but if you’re craving sandwiches—”

Throwing her hands out to her sides, Kara protested, “I did not say I was craving sandwiches!”

Sam grinned again, stopping any further protest as she realized he wasn’t looking at her. Glancing down, she saw Timmy watching the exchange with wide-eyed interest. He looked slightly puzzled, as if wondering what his normally calm, cool and collected aunt was doing standing on the side of the road, arguing with the most infuriating man.

It was a question she had to ask herself, and she felt her face heat as she looked back at Sam. Seeming to realize he’d pushed as far as he should, he flicked the edge of the business card she still held. “Don’t forget to get that tire replaced.”

He turned to walk back to his beat-up-looking car, and Kara knew she should let it go. Just let him walk away. But the words escaped before she could stop them and she called out, “I’m going to pay for the new tire.”

He turned with his hand braced on the driver’s side door. “No problem. I’m all for dessert, too. You know where to find me when you decide what you’re hungry for.”

The ridiculous, arrogant parting line was still ringing in her ears when Sam’s car sped off with a squeal of tires and cloud of dust. What she was hungry for…

Kara snorted in response as she helped Timmy back into his booster seat. When it came to men like Sam Pirelli, she was on a permanent diet!

“What’d you say, Aunt Kara?”

“Nothing, sweetie.” Looking up from snapping the belt at his waist, her heart stuttered as she met the little boy’s gaze. She swallowed as recognition hit hard, and an unwanted thought drifted through her mind for the first time.

He has his daddy’s eyes.

Chapter Two

As Sam walked into his garage later that morning, he spotted a familiar pair of worn work boots and skinny, jeans-clad legs sticking out from beneath a navy sedan. Even though Will Gentry had been working for him since the beginning of summer, Sam still wasn’t one hundred percent accustomed to someone else in his shop.

He had long prided himself on taking care of his customer’s cars as if they were his own—doing all the maintenance and repairs, and not letting anyone else lend a hand. Thanks to that work ethic, he was busier than he could handle, to the point of turning work away. Hiring an employee had been a big step, but it was only the beginning of plans that included the Corvette he’d parked out front.

A grin tugged at his lips when he thought about Kara’s obvious lack of appreciation for the work he’d done on the car. Obviously she wasn’t easily impressed. What would it take, he wondered, to really wow a woman like her?

Anticipation fueled the blood in his veins even though he wasn’t sure what to make of his undeniable interest. He didn’t usually go for serious types. Or single mothers, he reminded himself. Knowing Kara had a son should have been enough to keep his mind off the woman, beautiful or not. But she was only visiting. So, it wasn’t as if he was expecting anything permanent. Just a chance to get to know the lady, short-term, until she was ready to move on.

“How’s it going, Will?” Sam asked, turning his attention back to his young assistant. One good thing about having an employee was having someone to talk to. With Will, that meant having someone who listened, but rarely responded beyond a mumbled word or two.

The grunted response from under the sedan was less verbose than usual, but Sam knew the simple oil change wasn’t enough to give Will any trouble. “Come on out for a minute, will ya?”

Moving in slow motion, Will’s scuffed heels inched along the concrete, revealing more of his threadbare jeans, then a ratty yellow T-shirt over a nearly skin-and-bones torso, until finally Sam got a glimpse of the kid’s face—and the black eye he’d been reluctant to reveal.

Sam frowned as the kid tucked his legs up beneath him. “What happened, Will?” he demanded even though the fist-shaped bruising around the boy’s swollen eye told the story. “Or should I say who?”

Smart, skinny and shy, Will could easily be the target of bullies, and Sam felt a protective instinct to step in and defend the kid. By the time he was Will’s age, he’d filled out enough that his size alone silenced the insults that had done more damage than any physical fight.

“It was my fault,” Will mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “I started it.”

“Oh, really,” Sam said, deadpan. Will was a good kid. Not the kind to get into trouble or cause fights.

“Look, if some kid’s been bullying you, you can tell me.”

Will kept his head down, as if Sam might forget about the black eye if he didn’t look him in the face. “It’s not some kid. It’s—Something I can handle.”

“If you want, I can show you some ways to defend yourself.”

“Yeah, right.” Will paused. “The guy’s like twice my size.”

“Self-defense isn’t about being bigger than your opponent, you know.”

Will snorted as he stood and glanced between Sam’s six-foot-three-inch, two-hundred-pound frame and his own five-seven and buck-twenty-five. “Easy for you to say.”

“Hey, I wasn’t always this size, and growing up I had two older brothers who used to gang up on me. It felt like they’d always be bigger and stronger and that no matter how much I grew, I’d never catch up.”

Sometimes it still felt that way. As if his brothers’ successes and accomplishments were somehow greater than his own.

It wasn’t that he was jealous of his brothers. He was proud of them. And, okay, so Nick and Drew had gone to college—Nick to be a veterinarian and Drew to study architecture before he decided he preferred building to designing—while Sam had struggled far more than he’d let on to just finish high school.

His brothers had been the good students, and he’d been the troublemaker, the class clown. All his life he’d heard the same comments from his teachers, his parents, even his high school girlfriend. If you’d just try harder…

The hell of it was, he had tried. He could remember being ten or eleven years old and sweating bullets as he struggled to finish a test or a project or a reading assignment. But he’d been unable to focus, to concentrate. His mind would drift away. Soon his gaze would follow and before long he’d have to escape. To be outside where he could run and play and forget.

By the time he hit junior high, he realized failing without trying was easier. He doubted he could explain it, but to his frustrated, angry mind, it had made sense. If he didn’t study, if he didn’t do his homework, if he didn’t complete assignments, he had a built-in excuse for failing. All it meant was that he was lazy, a goof-off who lacked discipline. If he tried and failed, well, that meant he was stupid, didn’t it?

When he reached high school, he discovered an alphabet’s worth of acronyms for learning disabilities. Part of him had been relieved to discover a reason for his problems, but by then keeping those difficulties a secret for the sake of his social standing had been second nature.

So he’d continued to hide his weakness behind an easy laugh and a what-the-hell smile and managed to get through high school. Barely. God, he’d been so scared, nearly sick to his stomach, his entire senior year. Terrified that he’d fail a class so badly his teachers would hold him back when all he wanted was to get out. Stuck behind a desk, crowded inside four walls, he’d itched for freedom, desperate to escape and unable to sit still.

Even though the worst of his symptoms had faded as he grew older, something his online research had told him didn’t always happen, that same feeling still snuck up on him when he thought about settling down. Trapped by a white picket fence instead of the chain link that circled the high school, but trapped all the same.

Shaking off those memories, Sam told Will, “If you change your mind and decide you’d like some help, let me know.”

“Just forget it, okay, Sam? I can take care of myself.”

Sam recognized the defiant lift to the boy’s chin and knew he wasn’t going to get any more out of Will. But patience had never been Sam’s strong suit. He wanted to push, to keep driving and get to the bottom of what Will had said—and whatever it was he was trying not to say.

Deciding to leave the ball in Will’s court for now, he nodded toward the sedan. “Think you can take care of this oil change?”

Will nodded, relief filling his young features.

“All right, then. Get back to work.”

Following his own advice, Sam checked the inventory for a replacement tire for Kara’s minivan. Even though she hadn’t told him where she’d be staying, he could easily find out. But for now it was another opportunity to play it cool. He’d given her the perfect excuse to see him again. If she didn’t take it—well, then he’d have to come up with an excuse of his own.

Never, in her wildest imagination, had Kara dreamed of being a spy. She’d never tried opening a lock with an unfolded paperclip. Never sent away box tops from sugary cereal for a secret decoder ring. Never tried eavesdropping with a glass pressed against a door.

Just as well, she decided, as she sank further down behind the steering wheel. Because she certainly would have been very, very bad at it. Not that she was actually spying. She’d parked beneath a shady spot across the street from Sam Pirelli’s garage fifteen minutes ago, the windows rolled down to catch a breeze carrying the scent of surrounding pines, but she wasn’t spying.

You aren’t going to find out anything about the man unless you really get to know him.

The voice of Olivia Richards, her best friend, rang in her thoughts. Olivia was a fellow teacher and the only person besides Kara’s parents to know the reason she had made the trip to Clearville.

Unlike her parents, Olivia had supported Kara’s decision to find Sam Pirelli.

“I can’t believe you met him already. What are the odds?” her exuberant friend had demanded when Kara phoned her after checking in at a local hotel and settling Timmy down for a nap. “It’s like fate.”

“It is not fate.”

Olivia snorted. “You break down in the middle of nowhere and the very guy you’ve traveled hundreds of miles to see is there to change your tire. That is fate, Kara-girl.”

“He’s a mechanic. He was doing his job, not riding in to save the day on his trusty steed, okay?” Kara wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. Sam Pirelli’s arrival had very much smacked of a white-knight rescue whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Her friend sighed. “Fine, so he was simply in the right place at the right time. Tell me what he’s like.”

“He’s—he’s like too many of Marti’s past boyfriends,” Kara said dismissively. “Good-looking and out for a good time.”

“How good-looking?” Olivia pressed, curiosity clear in her voice even from miles away.

“Are you even listening to me?” Kara had demanded in a whisper as she glanced to the bedroom door only a few feet away from the suite’s tiny living area.

“I heard you say he was good-looking. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve been blind to the opposite sex.”

“Not blind,” Kara murmured, her friend’s teasing words stinging a little even though she knew they shouldn’t. The truth was, she’d been blinded by love before, and she’d sworn she’d never be so vulnerable again. “And you missed the part where I said Sam Pirelli’s only out for a good time.”

And not father material.

Kara might not have said that last part out loud, but Olivia had been her friend long enough to hear the unspoken accusation. “How do you know after one meeting?”

“I just know,” she argued. When her friend’s silence continued, she blurted out, “He hit on me, okay? Five minutes into meeting the guy, and he was pushing for a dinner invitation. What does that tell you?”

“Um, that’s he’s interested in you?”

“He’s a player, Liv. He’d hit on anything with a pulse.”

“You don’t know that.”

But Kara felt she did. Knew the type, at least. The kind to make promises, to vow to love a girl forever. But she’d learned those words—like those men—were meaningless.

“You have to give him a chance,” Olivia encouraged. “Weren’t you the one who said it was wrong of Marti to keep Timmy’s birth a secret?”

“I know, but Marti must have had her reasons, right?”

And what those reasons were…the possibilities made Kara sick to her stomach when she thought of handing Timmy over to the stranger who was his father. As much as she’d loved her sister, she’d never understood Marti’s attraction to rough and rowdy men.

But Sam’s not like that.

The voice that sounded so much like Marti’s whispered through Kara’s mind. On the surface, at least, Sam was more the golden-boy-next-door type than dark and dangerous. He had a quick and easy smile, a good sense of humor and a willingness to laugh at himself.

All…not bad qualities.

Kara could see why Marti would have found him attractive. But her sister had excelled in picking men suited for short-term relationships. None of them had been built for the long haul. Even if he didn’t possess the worst qualities of some of Marti’s previous boyfriends, was Sam Pirelli the type of man to put the needs of a child before his own?

“You may never know what made Marti keep silent in the past. But I think in that letter she was pretty clear about what she wanted for the future.”

The letter. The one that had sent Kara on this mission in the first place.

The shock of her sister’s death in a small plane crash had been like a nightmare. Too horrible and unreal to be true. Kara had sleepwalked through those first days, waiting for someone to wake her up. But reality had set in quickly, forcing grief aside. After all, she had Timmy to think about.

Finding out her carefree sister had a will had come as another shock. And the letter naming Timmy’s father for the first time and asking Kara to take the little boy to meet Sam Pirelli had been the last painful blow.

How could you ask me to do this, Marti? How could you ask me to give up a child I love as if he were my own?

But if Marti’s voice had spoken before, it was silent now, leaving Kara’s raw and aching questions unanswered.

After the reading of the will, Kara had talked with the lawyer. Because Marti had named Kara her son’s legal guardian, he reassured her, in the eyes of the law, Timmy was hers…as long as the boy’s father didn’t sue for custody. Then, the lawyer told her, the courts tended to side on behalf of the biological parent.

She swallowed hard, the sign for Sam’s Garage blurring before her eyes as she blinked away the hot press of tears.

She didn’t know for sure that her sister wanted Sam to raise their son. Didn’t even know if Sam Pirelli would want to take on that responsibility.

Inhaling a deep breath, she forced the rush of emotion aside. She had two weeks to find out. That was the timeframe she’d given herself, one that coincided with the start of the fall semester and also the beginning of the year at the preschool where Timmy was enrolled.

“Aunt Kara.” She glanced in the rearview mirror to meet her nephew’s disgruntled gaze. “I wanna go home.”

That refrain, coupled with “are we there yet?” had repeated with headache-inducing consistency over the past two days. “I know, sweetie.” Turning around in the seat to face her nephew, she said, “Do you remember the man who changed our tire? Well, we need to go to his garage and replace the one that went flat.”

“But why are we just sitting here?” He drummed his heels against the edge of the seat, revealing his impatience.

“Because Mr. Pirelli is…busy.”

And he had been since the moment Kara parked the van across the shop. The prosaically named Sam’s Garage looked like the kind of place that would have a girly calendar pinned to a wall, but it was Sam who could hold his own with Mr. November any day.

Even from across the street, she could see the wink of his dimples, the flash of bright white teeth, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Little wonder women fell for him, and from what she had witnessed, Sam Pirelli did not discriminate.

A tall, stunning redhead had stopped by, followed by a short, curvy blonde. He greeted them with that killer smile and exchanges were made—keys, cars, laughter, embraces. A petite, doe-eyed brunette then brought him a late lunch in a brown paper bag—a huge sandwich he ate with the gusto of a man who was starving. Not that Kara believed it.

With so many women flocking around, going without hardly seemed necessary. Or even possible.

All of which made her wonder again what her sister had been thinking.

It also made Olivia’s advice ring through her thoughts again.

And once the brunette left, Kara decided this might be her best opportunity to get to know Timmy’s father. “All right, Timmy. It looks like Mr. Pirelli has some free time now.”

And as long as no other women stop by, maybe he can squeeze in a few minutes for the son he’s never known.

The thought was more than a little unreasonable, but then again, so was the jealousy she’d felt. She’d told Olivia the man was a playboy, flirting with any woman who crossed his path. That his interest in her and his angling for a dinner date meant nothing. But watching proof of her words brought to light right in front of her made her feel foolish for thinking she might have been wrong.

The motor roared in protest as she turned the key, forgetting she already had the engine running. Even more flustered now, she sucked in a calming breath as she pulled out of her hiding place and drove the minivan the short distance into the garage’s parking lot.

She’d barely set one foot on the ground before Sam appeared, opening the door the rest of the way and offering her a hand.

“Come for that spare?” he asked with enough question in his voice to suggest she might have shown up for another reason. Like the dinner he thought she owed him.

“That’s why I’m here. For the tire.” One that, hopefully, wasn’t as overinflated as Sam’s ego.

Even though they’d only met that morning, Kara had already tried to convince herself he wasn’t that tall, his shoulders weren’t that wide, his smile wasn’t that tempting. That in an effort to distract her emotions, her mind had simply exaggerated, focusing on unimportant details and blowing them all out of proportion. That was what she’d told herself. Unfortunately, Kara realized as she gazed up into his handsome face, she’d lied.

He didn’t give any ground as she stood, keeping her caught between the V of the open door and his body. His eyes searched hers as if looking for answers to questions he’d yet to ask, and Kara’s heartbeat stumbled uncertainly. Standing this close, she could smell the unfamiliar combination of motor oil and machinery, but also the clean, simple, sexy scent of the man beneath.

“Caramel.”

The unexpected reference to candy took her by surprise. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re the color of the caramel my mom used to make for dipping apples when I was a kid. My brothers liked the crunch of hard candy, but I always wanted rich, swirling caramel.” His gaze roved over her face, but it wasn’t her eyes he finally honed in on.

Kara swallowed hard, biting back the urge to run her tongue over lower lip. Not in anticipation of a childhood treat, but with a longing for the sweet promise of Sam’s kiss. The shock of her own desire was enough to lock her trembling knees in place. “My eyes are brown. Plain and simple.”

“Oh, I’d be willing to bet there’s nothing simple about you.” His voice held a hint of teasing, but something told her he wasn’t joking. That he knew she had her secrets and wouldn’t stop until he discovered them all. “You had sunglasses on earlier. For some reason with your blond hair and fair skin, I expected your eyes to be blue.”

Another shock quaked down her spine, and Kara braced a hand against the side of the minivan. Sam stepped back, giving her room to breathe, but she still felt lightheaded after his casual revelation.

Marti’s eyes had been blue.

While Kara had worried about Sam’s paternal instincts coming to the fore and that he might somehow recognize Timmy as his son, she’d given little thought to him realizing she was Marti’s sister. Though the two of them had the same coloring and bone structure, the similarities ended there. Her sister had been taller, blonder, hiding her fair skin behind bronzers and spray-on tans.

“Aunt Kaaaraaaa!” Timmy’s impatient call from the backseat broke through her panic, and she ducked past Sam to open the door.

“Sorry, Timmy. Come on out, okay?”

The boy nodded, but his attention was clearly on the man standing behind her, a mix of curiosity and interest in his green eyes.

Sam’s eyes.

And Kara knew in that moment, everything had changed. Whether or not she told Sam about the boy he’d unknowingly fathered, she would never be able to look at her nephew the same way again. The weight of the secret she kept made her long to jump back in the van and drive as far as she could to escape the responsibility.

If the seriousness of the choice she had to make hadn’t been so great, Kara might have laughed. Running from responsibility. That was something she’d never done as an adult. Reaching up, she touched the locket she wore around her neck. For the past twelve years, she’d lived her life on the straight and narrow, determined to make the right choices. To do the right thing.

But what was the right thing? To tell the truth? Or to keep her sister’s secret?

Realizing she wasn’t going to come to a decision right then, Kara held out her hand as Timmy climbed from the backseat, his dinosaur tucked beneath one arm.

“Aunt Kara?” Sam echoed, a hint of surprise lifting his eyebrows, and Kara realized he must have assumed Timmy was her son.

“Um, yes. It’s—it’s a long story.” One she wasn’t yet prepared to tell. “About that tire—”

“Right.” He nodded once, seeming to accept her desire to get down to business. “Will can change it out for you while we handle the paperwork,” he added as they walked toward the garage.

For the first time, Kara noticed a skinny young man bent over an open hood. As Sam spoke his name, the teen looked up with a nod. A dark bruise blacked one eye, and he ducked his head after only a split second of contact.

“I have some toys in the office.” Sam held open the door to a small office that seemed to have been tacked on to the side of the garage like an afterthought. “Bunch of cars and trucks my mom saved from when I was a kid. And then my sister Sophia added some dolls and stuff in case a little girl wanted to play.”

“Girls can’t play with cars and trucks?”

Sam raised a hand as if she’d proved his point. “That’s what I said, but she seemed to think they’d like Barbie better.”

The office was small and crowded with a desk, file cabinets and mismatched chairs, but it was the narrowness of the doorway Kara noticed most as her shoulder brushed Sam’s chest as she passed.

“There’s the toy box right over there, Timmy,” Sam said, gesturing to a box with a monogrammed yellow S on the front nearly faded away.

The boy hesitated, scraping his tennis shoe along the scuffed linoleum floor, and Kara said, “He’s not really into cars and trucks.”

Sam nodded knowingly. “All about the electronics for kids these days, isn’t it? Video games and computers.”

“I suppose, but Timmy likes books and puzzles.” She could sense Sam’s surprise in the look he shot at the boy. Feeling more and more defensive by the minute, she insisted, “He’s very smart for his age. He’s been going to a very prestigious preschool since he turned three. School’s starting again in another two weeks, and he’s looking forward to getting back and seeing his teachers and his friends.”

“Whatever he likes to do, right?”

Kara swallowed and strove for a sense of calm that had completely deserted her. Her heart was racing and she felt out of breath, all without reason. Sam hadn’t challenged a single thing she said, but even though he didn’t know it, he was a roadblock in front of all the plans she had for her nephew. “Right. It’s all about what’s best for Timmy.”

If she could only determine what that was….

“Hey, good choice, my man.” Sam grinned over her shoulder and Kara looked back to see her nephew holding a tiny red metal car in his hand. A car that even she could see looked very much like the one Sam drove.

“Now that is a familiar sight,” he added.

Kara swallowed against the rising panic. Was it only that car Sam recognized, or on some level was he starting to see a younger version of himself in the green-eyed, blond-haired boy?

Her heart tumbled inside her chest as Sam crouched down, folding his big body until he could meet Timmy’s gaze face-to-face. When he held out his palm, the boy’s face fell and he reluctantly handed over the car. “No, Timmy. You can keep the car. I wanted you to give me five.”

He shot a confused look at Kara. “Five what?”

“Give me five. That’s what it’s called when I hold out my hand and you slap my palm with yours.”

Eyes wide, Timmy shook his head. “I’m not supposed to hit.”

“It’s not hitting. It’s…” Sam glanced over his broad shoulder as if looking for some help in this department, but Kara could only shrug.

Clearly both she and Marti had been lax when it came to explaining the high five. The gesture wasn’t exactly one that filled her daily life, though she realized it was a guy thing. High fives. Chest bumps. Those complicated handshakes. They were all signs of male celebration and camaraderie that were completely beyond Kara.

Was that why Marti had asked Kara to find Timmy’s father? To provide the boy the male role model missing from the first four years of his life?

“You know what? Don’t worry about giving me five.” Lowering his voice, he added, “But I want to tell you something about that car. A car like that is super-fast.”

His eyes wide as if understanding Sam was imparting some kind of secret knowledge, her nephew whispered, “How fast?”

“Faster than a bird or a bear or…” Sam’s voice trailed off but not before a look passed between man and boy.

An unspoken communication that shook Kara to the core even as Timmy filled in, “Monsters?”

Sam bumped his fist against the one Timmy had closed around the small car. “You better hold on to that. Just in case.”

A sudden clatter of metal against concrete broke the moment. Sam’s head swung back toward the open doorway to the garage and pushed to his full height with a frown when a muffled curse followed. “Will,” he called, “you break anything important out there?”

At first only a pained silence answered before the teen responded, “Just my foot.”

“In that case, get back to work.”

Kara gaped at the callous response and took a step toward the door. “Don’t you think—”

Reaching out, Sam wrapped a hand around her arm, stopping her progress, her words, her heartbeat. For a crazy moment, she imagined him pulling her closer, his eyes darkening as he kissed her.

“He’ll be fine.”

It took a moment for Kara’s mind to refocus on Sam’s words instead of his touch. “You don’t know that.”

“I know if we rush out there and start hovering over Will, it will only make that bruised foot feel worse.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

He gave a short laugh at that. “Because it’s guy logic. You’ll have to trust me on this one. If we pay any attention to him right now, it’ll hurt his pride and embarrass the he…heck out of him. For a kid like Will, that’s worse than broken bones any day.”

As if proving the truth—logical or not—of his words, the high-pitched whine of machinery resumed as Will went back to work.

“Will’s shy and quiet, but he’s tough in his own way.”

A hint of pride and admiration filled Sam’s voice. Admiration for the teen’s toughness? Kara wondered.

A toughness that Timmy, with his reluctance to hit and his fear of monsters, didn’t possess.

“He’s just a boy,” she protested, not sure if she was talking about Will or Timmy. “Do you really think ignoring pain is the best way to deal with it?”

Half expecting some quick response about rubbing dirt on a wound and getting back in the game, Kara was surprised when Sam gave her question some thought. “Admitting you’re hurting makes you vulnerable. Hiding that pain’s a pretty good way to make sure no one can make that hurt even worse.”

Memories of her own hidden pain pushed to the surface, but Kara forced the thoughts aside even as she wondered if she and Sam might have something in common. “I wasn’t exactly suggesting that you go out there and slam Will’s hand in a car door to make him forget about his foot.”

Sam laughed and the moment was broken, the quick grin on his handsome face almost enough to wipe away the thought of this big, strong man being vulnerable to anything—or anyone. “As far as distractions go, I can think of a few that would be more enjoyable.”

Kara barely had time for a blush to rise to her cheeks before he turned his focus to business. “Now, if I can take a look at your driver’s license, I can use that into to get you into the computer.” Jiggling the mouse on his desk, a screen popped up marked with blanks.

Information Sam was waiting to fill in. Information like her last name and where she was from. Pieces of a puzzle that might become a clear picture if she told him anything more about herself. She glanced over at the toy box where Timmy was carefully guiding his car along the well-worn edge. On some level, Sam had already picked up on her resemblance, faint though it was, to Marti. Add in the last name they shared and the city where they’d both lived, and he was bound to put the pieces together.

“Kara?”

Sam gazed at her from across his desk, waiting for her to hand over her license. Nerves shook her stomach as she realized she’d been wrong. She’d thought telling Sam he was Timmy’s father might be the biggest mistake she could make. But having him figure it out before she told him would be so much worse.

Without letting herself stop to think, she said, “What about that dinner I owe you?”

Her forced smile started to tremble along the edges as Sam’s slightly surprised gaze met hers. Did he see right through to her ulterior motives? Or could she fool him into thinking her nerves were due to accepting his date?

His green eyes lit with pleasure, and Kara’s stomach pitched in a slow, shaky roll. Were her nerves more about going out with Sam than she wanted to admit? She’d have to worry about that later. For now, she breathed a sigh of relief when Sam moved his hand away from the mouse.

“Tonight?”

“Um…” His eager question caught Kara off-guard. If she didn’t know better, she might think this “date” really mattered to Sam. But she did know better, didn’t she?

He’s interested in you.

“Sorry,” he said, his smile turning a little embarrassed and slipping further past her defenses. “I forgot you just got into town. You probably want to take it easy and get Timmy settled. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Hey, I eat dinner every day, so take your pick.”

Kara couldn’t help giving a startled laugh at Sam’s dogged pursuit. With his good looks and quick smile, she’d assumed a man like Sam Pirelli treated everything in life as easy come, easy go. But in the past few minutes, he’d shown a depth and determination she hadn’t expected.

“And I can ask Hope Daniels to babysit Timmy,” he added. “She’s a friend of the family who watches my niece, so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s very reliable.”

But as they finalized plans for their date the following night, Kara was already worried. She just couldn’t decide what concerned her more—the idea of Sam’s single-minded focus on Timmy…or on her.

Chapter Three

“Hey, Sam!”

Pausing outside Rolly’s Diner after closing up his shop for the evening, Sam turned to see Billy Cummings climb from his truck. An old friend from grade school, the two of them had shared a friendship and rivalry for the past two decades.

“Someone said they saw a piece-of-crap ’Vette limping down the highway this morning. You didn’t get that pile of junk running, did you?” Challenge rose in the other man’s expression, and Sam knew the sheriff’s son was ready for anything—a hearty slap on the back or a sharp jab to his jaw.

Sam went with his first instinct and chuckled even though he hadn’t completely forgiven the other man. “If you knew a thing or two about cars, you would have realized what a prize that ‘piece of crap’ really is.”

The car’s original owner had first contacted Billy, knowing how Cummings liked fast cars, but Billy didn’t have the skills needed to get the Corvette back in prime condition and he knew it. When he passed on making an offer, the owner had called Sam. He’d jumped at the chance to buy the classic only to end up in a bidding war with Billy, who might not have wanted the car but didn’t want Sam to have it either. In the end, Sam bought the ’Vette, but thanks to Billy, at a much higher price.

“Have you decided what color to paint it?”

“I’m sticking with red.”

Billy shook his head. “You might as well paint it black now, since you’re gonna end up selling it to me.”

“Yeah, right.” Sam scoffed. He had bigger plans for the car than handing it over to his friend. The year and model were rare enough that he had a good idea what the restored car would draw at an auction. He wasn’t new to auctions or the kind of crowd and car enthusiasts they attracted. As much as he liked working at the garage, restoring classic cars was his true passion and his dream for the future.

Clearville was home, and he had no plans to leave, but the thought of traveling around to car shows throughout the state, buying “pieces of crap,” restoring them and then selling them for a small fortune…yeah, he liked that idea a lot.

“You missed your chance to own that car, my friend,” he told Billy. “You’ll be lucky if I even let you ride in it.”

Climbing back into the cab of his truck, Billy vowed, “Just wait.”

“For what? A cold day in hell?” Sam laughed as his friend pulled away with an obnoxious honk of his horn. He was still smiling as he pulled the door to the diner open and walked into the familiar scents of fried food and strong coffee.

A waitress greeted him and asked, “Your usual table, Sam?”

The back corner table at Rolly’s might not have had the Pirelli brothers’ names on it, but all the staff and locals knew it was theirs. The “newer” section of the restaurant, added on some twenty years ago, was filled with large-sized tables. And the Pirelli brothers were large-sized men. Guys who didn’t do booths.

It was one thing to be on a date, sitting close to a pretty girl, thigh touching thigh, holding hands beneath the privacy of the table. He had no trouble with the idea of sharing a booth with Kara.

But a couple of broad-shouldered guys crammed together like that? No way.

He started to nod to the waitress when a familiar face caught his eye. Nadine Gentry, Will’s mother, had worked at Rolly’s for almost as long as Sam could remember. “I’ll take one of the booths tonight, thanks.”

Will hadn’t said anything more about the fight, but Sam sensed something was on the kid’s mind. Sam had few rules, but keeping your mind on the job was one of them. Not paying attention was a surefire way to end up hurt.

Sam had promised he’d let Will handle his own problems, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask Nadine if she was worried about her son.

An older, feminine version of Will, Nadine’s black T-shirt and denim skirt hung from her slender frame, the dark color stark against her pallid complexion and fair hair. “Hey, Sam, what can I get you?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad from her red apron and fiddling with her pen instead of meeting his gaze.

Pretending to hesitate over the menu, he said, “I need just a minute. How are things going?”

She shrugged a narrow shoulder. “Busy. Tips have been good.”

“And Will?” Was it just his imagination or had the woman tensed at the mention of her son’s name?

“You’d know that better than I would, Sam. He’s at your place more than he’s at home.”

With school still out for another few weeks, Will had been spending a lot of time working. For the first time, though, Sam wondered if it wasn’t something other than a need for extra cash that had the teen spending so much time at the garage. “He didn’t get that black eye at my shop.”

Nadine paled slightly, but she defiantly held his gaze. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Sam didn’t pay much attention to Clearville gossip, but he had heard that Nadine had hooked up with a younger man. Sam had never liked Darrell Nelson, a grudge that went back to their days on the playground, when Darrell had taken pleasure in picking on anyone weaker than he was. Unease twisted inside Sam as he realized Will would make an easy target, but so too would Nadine. Throwing around accusations wasn’t going to help if the woman was trapped in an abusive relationship.

“I’m not saying anything, Nadine. I’m asking. Is everything okay at home? Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“And Will?” Sam couldn’t resist asking.

“That was…an accident.”

“Nadine—”

“Please, Sam. Just leave it alone.” She rushed off before taking his order, but it was just as well. Sam had lost his appetite.

He wished there was something more he could do, but thanks to his friendship with Billy, Sam knew enough about law enforcement to realize the sheriff would need proof. More than that, he would need Nadine or Will to press charges.

He’d talk to Will again, he decided, and if that didn’t work, then maybe he’d have a talk with Darrell Nelson.

The bell over the diner’s door rang, and Sam looked up in time to see an already familiar blonde step inside. Kara slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pushing her straight hair back from her face. She glanced uncertainly around the crowded diner, and he had the feeling that holding Timmy’s hand was giving her as much reassurance as it gave the little boy.

Her nephew. Not her son. Single moms had always been off-limits, and even though something about Kara tempted him to break that rule, he was glad he wouldn’t have to. Glad he wouldn’t have to look too closely at the reason why he would have been so willing to cross that line.

A hint of weariness seemed to tug at her shoulders, something he hadn’t noticed before. She was tired after her trip from—

He frowned. Where, exactly? he wondered, as he realized she hadn’t told him where she was from. Or what had brought her to Clearville. Or how long she was staying. True, they hadn’t had much chance to talk, but weren’t those simple facts ones that normally came up right off the bat?

As Kara paid for a to-go order and reached for the bag, Sam was tempted to cross the diner and offer to carry it for her, like some kid with a crush on a pretty girl, willing to cart around an armload of books if that was what it took to have her smile at him.

She held out her free hand to her nephew, who’d wandered a few feet away to crawl into the booth closest to the front window, but Sam stayed put as the two of them left the diner. No need to push his luck when he could bide his time. After all, he already had a date with the lady the following night.

Thinking he might find out something about the woman who had him so intrigued, he made his way to the front counter. “Hey, Rolly, the blonde who came in for take-out, what did she order?”

“Why is that any of your business?” the other of the diners demanded.

“Give me a break,” Sam said, familiar with the older man’s soft spot for young women. Kara must have quickly made an impression on Rolly, just as she had on him. “I’m just trying to get an idea of the lady’s tastes.”

The former army cook eyed Sam as if he’d never seen him before. “Not someone like you.”

“Is that right?”

“Sure is.”

Certainty rang in the older man’s voice, taking some of the fun out of the game. The attraction was mutual, Sam would stake his reputation on that. But even though he’d seen the spark of awareness in Kara’s gaze, the slight blush on her cheeks, he also sensed a wariness in her. A deer-in-the-headlights hesitation that warned him she’d be more likely to run away from him than rush into his arms.

“What makes you think a lady like that wouldn’t want to go out with me?” he asked Rolly.

“You are something else, Sam.” A familiar female voice had him turning to face Debbie Mattson. Judging by the smirk bringing out the dimples in her round cheeks, she’d been standing behind him all along. “All a woman has to do is cross the town line and you start sensing fresh meat.”

Annoyance flickered through Sam. Not so much at the baker’s pointed barb. That was the kind of relationship they had after knowing each since grade school. It was more the way Debbie had lumped Kara in with all the other women he—okay, he had to admit it—all the women he’d chased after.

He couldn’t come close to putting a finger on what made Kara different. But he’d long ago perfected the ability to hide his true feelings. “My radar must be working overtime, seeing as I met Kara even before she hit town.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, met her when she ended up with a flat on the side of the road.”

Aware of the narrow mountain roads leading to town and the lack of cell coverage, Debbie’s smirk faded some. “She was lucky you happened by.”

“That’s what I said!”

She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Why do I have the feeling you’re not joking? Honestly, Sam, when the right woman comes along, how is she going to take you seriously?”

Serious relationships led to serious heartache, and that was something he could do without. “My right kind of woman is all about having a good time.”

They might just have met, but his first glance had revealed that Kara wasn’t the “girls just want to have fun” type. All that meant, though, was that whatever relationship they had wouldn’t last, already a guarantee thanks to Kara’s temporary status in his hometown. He had nothing to worry about.

“Well, I wish you and your good-time girl good luck,” Debbie said as a waitress waved her over to a table she’d just cleared.

Sam doubted Debbie’s wishes had much to do with it, but luck was definitely on his side, he decided, as he spotted a furry green leg sticking out from the corner booth. He grinned as he picked up the familiar stuffed dinosaur. It looked like Kara needed rescuing a second time.

Kara collapsed onto the small sofa in the tiny living area of the hotel’s two-room suite. Exhaustion pulled at her until she thought she might sink clear through the too-soft navy brocade cushions and never get up again. The two-day drive had taken a lot out of her, but the last half hour had completely worn her out.

How could she have lost Timmy’s stuffed animal? It wasn’t like she didn’t know how much the dinosaur meant to him. Losing that dinosaur, one of the last connections to Marti…it felt like another part of her sister had just slipped away.

As soon as Timmy had climbed into the unfamiliar bed and realized the toy wasn’t waiting there for him, they’d searched the minivan, checking between and beneath the seats. She’d tried asking him the last time he remembered having the dinosaur, but Timmy had started to cry, and Kara had been too upset herself to push him harder.

She didn’t know what to think about Timmy’s last tearful request to sleep with the tiny car Sam had given him. She should have been grateful that the little boy had taken comfort in the toy. But she only felt like that much more of failure, so much so that she wondered if Marti hadn’t had the right idea.

Maybe Timmy would be better off with Sam.

A knock on the door pulled her from those heartbreaking thoughts, and Kara wiped her eyes as she pushed off the sofa. The dinosaur would turn up. It had to.

“Who is it?” she called out softly as she reached the white paneled door.

“Room service.”

“I didn’t…” Her voice trailed off as she recognized the masculine voice and the already too familiar skip in her pulse. Sam…

Opening the door without removing the safety chain, she met his gaze through the narrow gap in the door. “I didn’t order room service.”

“You didn’t order dessert at Rolly’s either, which is a real shame because they have the best chocolate silk pie around,” he said, holding up a clear plastic container with a huge slice inside.

“You brought—wait, how do you know what I ordered at the diner?”

“I’d stopped in there. You didn’t see me, but—”

“You noticed I didn’t order dessert,” she filled in, “and brought me pie?”

Kara didn’t know what to think about Sam making such an effort to see her again. After all, she could hardly tell him she wasn’t interested when she’d already asked him out for a date! And she could hardly tell herself she wasn’t interested when her racing heartbeat and the heat rising to her cheeks would have labeled her a liar.

“Yep. Figure this way, you’ll owe me…dinner and two desserts.” He paused as he pretended to tally up her debt.

“What if I don’t like pie?”

“Everyone likes pie.” Confidence rang in his voice and casual posture, leaning against the side of the recessed doorway, offering up the rich, decadent, tempting dessert. “And then there’s always my other special delivery.”

Kara gasped as he brought his other hand into sight and quickly slammed the door shut. She slid back the security chain and opened the door all the way to reach out for the stuffed dinosaur Sam held. Sinking her fingers into the soft green fur, she pulled the toy to her chest. “Where did you find him?”

“Timmy left him in the booth at the diner.”

“But I called! They said he wasn’t there.”

Sam flinched a little. “Yeah, that’s probably because I’d already taken him with me. I was planning to come straight over here, but then I got a call about a motorist who’d broken down on the highway. Sorry about that.”

“You had a job to do. That’s more important.”

“More important than reptile relocation?”

“Yes,” she said with a laugh at his teasing. “You know how these stuffed dinosaurs make nuisances of themselves in urban areas.”

“We’re lucky he didn’t destroy Tokyo. He’ll be much happier in his natural habitat.”

“Timmy will be thrilled to have him back. Thank you, Sam.” Kara dropped her gaze, mortified to feel the sting of tears burning her eyes.

He’d brought back a stuffed animal, not a lost child….

“Hey, are you okay?”

Blinking quickly, Kara glanced up to find Sam watching her, concern creasing his forehead. It was the first time she’d seen him without his charmer’s smile. A shield, she realized suddenly, for his true feelings. It was enough to make her wonder if he was the carefree womanizer she’d immediately pegged him as. If he might be so much more than he let people see.

“I, um, I’m fine. It’s just been a long few days.” Curiosity had his green eyes narrowing, and Kara’s pulse took a slightly panicked leap. She wasn’t a good liar. She prided herself on being honest by nature. But she wasn’t ready to tell the whole truth.

She hugged the dinosaur tighter to her chest. Nowhere near ready.

“Hey, look, it’s getting late, so why don’t I head out?”

She should let him go. He was offering, so all she had to do was thank him again and send him on his way….

But instead, she heard herself say, “I always have liked chocolate silk pie.”

Sam grinned as if he’d known that all along. “The pie is a given, but my staying doesn’t have to be.”

“No, please stay,” she said as she stepped back to let him into the small living area of the room.

It was better this way, Kara told herself even as Sam opened the container and removed two plastic forks—a sign he’d hoped to share her dessert all along. She wanted to get to know him and it might be easier in this casual setting rather than trying to learn everything she could on their date.

But what questions could she ask that would determine whether or not Sam would make a good father? And how was she supposed to decide what answers would be right or wrong?

Past mistakes proved she wasn’t the best authority when it came to judging a man’s character. What if she trusted Sam to be a good guy, to do the right thing where Timmy was concerned? And what if she was wrong?

Unlike her previous relationship, this time it wasn’t her trust that would be betrayed, her heart that would be broken. This time, Timmy’s future was at stake.

Hoping she could pull this interrogation off without gaining Sam’s suspicion instead of his confidence, she settled back on the sofa. The piece of furniture seemed so much smaller now with Sam taking up the second cushion. His booted feet rested on the floor, his muscular, denim-clad thighs spread wide as he leaned forward and dug his fork into the piece of pie.

He leaned back, his shoulders angled toward her as he held out the fork. “You get first bite. Only fair since I bought it for you.”

The crisp, buttery crust and rich chocolate filling melted on her tongue, but it was the heat in Sam’s eyes as her lips closed over the plastic fork that made Kara feel like she was dissolving. Everything from her willpower and determination to keep Sam at a distance, to the future she pictured for herself and Timmy, was disappearing like sugar in water. Soon there’d be nothing left.

Pulling back quickly, she busied herself reaching for a napkin and her own fork. “It’s, uh, very good. Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat to get the words past the lump of chocolate-coated desire lodged there. “You said before that Clearville’s your hometown, right?” Striving for a casual, let’s-get-to-know-each-other tone, she added, “Tell me what it was like growing up here.”

Marti had once laughed at her nervousness on first dates. “Dating’s a piece of cake,” her sister insisted. “Guys love to talk about themselves. All you have to do is pretend you’re interested.”

But as Sam talked about his childhood in the small community, Kara didn’t have to pretend. He was great storyteller, and she was reluctantly fascinated at his antics as the youngest son with two big brothers who were as likely to stick up for him as they were to knock him down.

“Not that I didn’t deserve it,” he reassured her with a grin, the closeness he shared with Nick and Drew and his little sister, Sophia, evident in his tone of voice. And his parents…Kara didn’t think she’d ever met anyone who spoke with more love and respect for his parents.

Not once did he mention his parents using the natural rivalry that could exist between siblings to make them try harder or push themselves further. Not as her parents had with her and Marti.

“Sorry, I think I’ve bored you with stories about my family long enough. I’ve monopolized the conversation without giving you a turn.”

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