“Why are you so mad?” Shana asked him.

He hesitated a few seconds. “I’m not. I’m tired.”

“You’ve become increasingly irritated for two weeks.”

“And you’ve become increasingly calm.”

It sounded like an accusation. “That’s a bad thing?” When Kincaid didn’t answer, she said, “Would you prefer I go back to my own bed?” She could hardly form the words, but she didn’t know what else to do.

“No,” he said, his voice harsh.

“Do you … want me to leave?” She swallowed around the hot lump in her throat.

He finally looked directly at her. “No.”

“Then what do you want?”

Dear Reader,

It’s been said that you can’t go home again. For Shana Callahan that’s a good thing. Home was difficult, so difficult that she ran away and stayed away for ten years. Now she’s back in her small hometown of Chance City, all grown up and wanting to make amends. She’s trying to prove she’s changed and has been walking a gossip-free path for a year now. She is home, but it’s a new kind of home.

Landon Kincaid wants to help the struggling, pride-filled single mother. The way he goes about it, however, puts her squarely back in the gossip zone. But sometimes emotion trumps reputation, and success trumps pride. And sometimes love is all that matters.

I hope you enjoy Shana and Kincaid’s journey as much I enjoyed sending them on it.

Susan Crosby

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey, she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Almost A
Christmas Bride

Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lori and Justin.

You’re proof that the institution of marriage thrives in these modern times. I’m so proud of both of you.

Chapter One

Shana Callahan had learned long ago not to get her hopes up, but this morning butterflies of anticipation were flitting in her stomach. She pressed a hand against her abdomen as she punched the elevator button for the third floor of the downtown Sacramento office building. The elevator seemed to climb in slow motion as her employer’s words echoed in her head again and again. “The job would be long-term, Shana. And it’s in Chance City.”

Chance City, the place where’d she grown up, run away from at eighteen and then finally come back to after ten years away. Home.

No more hour-long commute to Sacramento for whatever temp job she’d been placed in that day or week. No more crossing her fingers that her car would survive the trip. No more worrying about rain or fog or accidents adding extra time to her commute. If it took ten minutes to get across town in Chance City, it was because someone hailed you down to talk.

She tried to imagine anyone from her small town contacting an employment agency instead of just tacking an ad to the bulletin board at the local diner, where most transactions were made, but no one came to mind.

The elevator door opened. Shana followed the hallway to the office of At Your Service, a high-end clerical-and-domestic-help temp agency often nicknamed “Wives for Hire” by clients, and owned by the elegant, unflappable Julia Swanson.

“Hey, Shana,” the receptionist, Missy, called out. “Julia said to send you straight back. She’ll be there in a second.”

Julia’s office was as soothing as the woman herself, the color palette muted, the furniture classic. On the wall behind her tidy mahogany desk hung the company logo, with “When you need the personal touch …” in gold lettering below it. It set the tone for every client or employee who sat opposite her.

Shana made herself sit rather than pace and appear anxious when Julia arrived, but her foot bounced and her stomach continued to churn.

“Hello, Shana,” Julia said from the doorway. “How are you?”

Hopeful. Scared. Excited. “I’m good, thanks. And curious.”

Julia smiled. “Are you ready for your interview?”

“Yes.” Shana stood. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“I prefer to let the client do the talking.”

They left her office and headed to the consultation room two doors down, which held a conference table with chairs on either side. Shana had never been interviewed in that room before, had always been sent to the office or home of the client. It rattled her a little. Plus, the client came from Chance City….

Hope scattered as a man stood—a tall, lean, muscular, familiar man with laser-blue eyes and medium brown hair. Landon Kincaid. Shana had known him for about a year, disliked him for about that long, too—ever since he’d tried to steal her sister away last year from the man she’d always been meant for. He didn’t seem to like her much, either.

“Hello, Shana,” he said, not offering his hand to shake.

“Kincaid.”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Julia said, shutting the door behind her.

Shana stared at the closed door for a few moments, gathering her thoughts, tamping down her disappointment. Would she ever learn not to hope? “We don’t have to go through with the interview,” she said as she turned to face him.

“Why not?”

“Well, now that you’ve seen it’s me Julia lined up …” She shrugged.

“I asked specifically for you,” Kincaid said, gesturing her to a chair.

She frowned. “Why?”

“You have all the skills I require.”

Her head started to pound with confusion. She rubbed her temples and sat across from him. “Why didn’t you just ask me directly? I saw you four days ago at Aggie’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I knew you’d say no.” He sat. “This way you know it’s strictly business.”

“Why would I say no to a decent job offer? You know my situation. To have the opportunity to work in town is a dream come true. You could’ve skipped the agency fees and paid me the whole amount. I’d be better off for it.”

“You would’ve said no,” he repeated, smiling slightly, knowingly.

“Just because we don’t like each other very much doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want the job.”

He leaned back, studying her. “I take it Julia didn’t fill you in on all the details.”

She frowned. “She told me it was in Chance City and long-term.”

“She didn’t tell you it’s a live-in position?”

Shock stabbed her, almost paralyzing her. “She did not. And I have a place to live, thank you very much.” He knew that, of course, since he owned the building and, therefore, her apartment on the second floor.

“Actually, you don’t. Or won’t. I need a place for Dylan to live. He could afford the apartment you’re in.”

Shana stood so fast her world tilted. “You’re evicting me? I have a seventeen-month-old daughter. Where are Emma and I supposed to live?”

“With me.”

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Just when her life had settled down. She had a routine. She’d earned people’s trust again. Yes, she’d had to accept some help along the way, but as little as possible, and only for her daughter’s sake.

Shana had caused enough controversy by running away years ago. She’d atoned. Now she wanted to be accepted and respected. Moving in with Kincaid, no matter how innocently, wasn’t the way to accomplish that.

She headed to the door. “You wasted your time. And mine.”

He beat her there, putting a hand on it to stop her.

Her heart pounded as his chest grazed her shoulder. She was hurt, angry and … something else she didn’t want to identify. “Don’t be childish, Kincaid.”

“I’m asking you to hear me out.”

Shana fought tears—of frustration, of exasperation, of despair. She couldn’t seem weak in front of him.

“Please, Shana.”

“Fine,” she muttered after a minute. “But only because of Julia. I don’t want to tell her I refused the job without having listened to what it actually is.”

Kincaid stepped away, giving her space, keeping an eye on her in case she made a run for it, after all. He watched her raise her chin and return to the chair, where she plunked herself, crossed her arms and gave him a steady, cool, green-eyed stare. That expression wasn’t unusual for her, but the way she’d tamed her long blond hair into a tidy ponytail was. She looked more professional than he’d ever seen her, especially wearing a skirt and jacket, and even high heels. He’d rarely seen her not wearing boots, jeans and a T-shirt that skimmed her slender frame.

He would’ve pulled up a chair next to her, but figured she wanted the distance of the table between them.

“Here’s what I need,” he said. “My businesses are booming. I don’t have time for the personal attention I used to be able to give my clients.”

“I thought that was why you hired Dylan.”

“I hired Dylan because he needed a place in the world, but he’s an eighteen-year-old apprentice. I spend a lot of time teaching and mentoring him. Eventually that’s going to pay off. He’s learning construction and contracting from the bottom up, but he’s got a long way to go—years. In the meantime, details are not getting handled. That’s where you come in.”

“What details?”

“Sarah McCoy left for college in September. She’d been my housekeeper for two years—personally and professionally. I haven’t found anyone reliable to replace her.”

“I can handle that without moving in, Kincaid.”

He could tell by the way her body moved that she was bouncing her foot under the table, her habit when she was annoyed. “I don’t have time to take care of myself, either. I’m eating out all the time. The house gets cluttered. I don’t like clutter. Laundry piles up.”

“Those are basic household chores,” she said. “It’s not enough to keep me busy all day—and evening. One day a week, maybe. If this is some kind of charity you’re offering me—”

“I need help,” he said, interrupting her before she launched into a speech about how she didn’t need anyone’s help, when, in fact, she did. He’d learned it from a reliable source, her sister, Dixie, who happened to be a good friend of his. It didn’t matter that Dixie was on the other side of the world honeymooning and working. She’d gotten a call from Aggie McCoy after Thanksgiving telling Dixie how stressed-out Shana was, how even counting every penny still left her in the hole every month and how she’d fallen into Aggie’s comforting arms and cried.

Dixie, in turn, had called him, asking if he could help Shana in some way. She would never take money from him, but could he give her work to do?

“Busywork?” Kincaid had asked Dixie.

“It can’t seem like it. And if you even hint that you’re doing this out of charity, she’ll be out of there in a flash, and we just got her home, you know? She could run like a rabbit to who knows where, just like before. Plus there’s the baby to think of. You’d have to handle it carefully. And you have to swear you’ll never let her know I asked you for help.”

“Here’s the deal, Shana,” he said now, looking at her cool expression. “Renovation is my primary work, but I also own thirty-two properties in the area. Not just in Chance City, but in surrounding communities. Tenants come and go, so places need cleaning and repairs have to be coordinated. I also need office help, especially with spreadsheets for expenses and taxes. I’ve got a box with a year’s worth of receipts that need to be entered. Is that something you can do?”

“I’m good at math.”

Which didn’t really answer his question. “Your salary for the work you do for my business will feed through the agency. Beyond that, I’ll give you room, board and a stipend for maintaining my home and, consequently, my life.” He closed his hands into fists, fighting frustration. Dixie had warned him she would balk. “Frankly, I never wanted to be this busy. I’ve turned down more work than I’ve accepted through the years. But with Dylan involved now, it’s different.”

“How?”

“He needs the experience, the variety of work, so that he’ll learn enough to be valuable, and eventually independent. I don’t have the time to spend on frivolous things like cooking and cleaning.” He met her gaze, noted how closed she still looked. “But I haven’t told you the best part—at least for you, I think. I know you want to make a name for yourself in interior design. You’d be part of the package I offer to clients—design help. Not just for the remodeling itself, but for suggestions on how to decorate. You’d be the idea person, and I’d put your ideas into action. We’d make a strong team.”

She finally looked interested. The deep furrow between her eyebrows smoothed out, at least.

“Design work for homes and businesses?” she asked.

He nodded, then he hoped to seal the deal when he said, “That part of the business is strictly yours. You keep what you earn.” As the saying went, it was an offer she couldn’t refuse, and he knew it. “You could probably accrue enough money in a year or two to afford a place of your own, not to mention gathering a client list, something you don’t have yet since you’re new to the design trade.”

“Why are you doing this?”

A big reason why he’d agreed to Dixie’s plea was because of his own past. He rarely thought about it anymore, and gave her only the barest details now. “When I was sixteen, I had to emancipate myself so that I could get away from a very bad situation. I didn’t have a child to provide for like you do, but it was a long, hard road to success regardless. I mostly did it myself, but a few individuals helped me stay afloat, maybe even alive, those first years. I’m paying it back through Dylan, and now you, I hope.” He leaned toward her. “You have pride. I get that, Shana. But don’t let it stand in the way of the opportunity.”

Pride had driven him for a long time, too.

“Emma’s seventeen months old,” she said hesitantly. “It’s a busy, noisy age. Children create clutter.”

Frankly, he hadn’t given that aspect of the deal a lot of thought. He’d wanted to help Shana, and therefore Emma, but the day-to-day sharing of space with a toddler hadn’t been part of his thinking. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said. “My house is large, as you know.”

“Actually, I don’t know. I’ve never been there. I’ve never heard anyone talk about being invited there.”

“I want that to change.” The hermit life had suited him for years, but lately he’d been thinking it was time to embrace his town and its people, not one-on-one as he had for the nineteen years since he’d moved there, but within the entire community. It would help Dylan, too.

“If you’re there to help,” he said, “it will change. I’ve never even decorated for Christmas. Maybe that could be your first job. Emma would like that, wouldn’t she?”

He hadn’t intended to reel her in with a tug on her emotions, but apparently he had. He saw her expression change, softening even more. She wasn’t the same angry, prideful woman as she was when she’d first come into the room. Her daughter would have a Christmas tree. Some things were worth swallowing your pride for.

“Yes,” Shana said softly. “She would like that.”

“She’d have her own bedroom, too. I figure you’ve been sharing with her. So, what do you say?”

A long pause ensued, then she said, “I need to think about it.”

She’d totally caught him off guard. He’d been so sure …

“How much time do you need?” he asked. Really, what choice did she have? Finding affordable housing would be nearly impossible. Why was she stalling?

She stood. “I’ll stop by your house tonight, if you’re going to be home.”

“Anytime after seven.” He followed her to the door, opening it for her.

She didn’t say goodbye but walked straight out of the office, not even stopping to talk to Julia. Bemused, he went to Julia’s office.

“All settled?” she asked, welcoming him in with a gesture.

“She’s thinking it over.”

Julia’s brows raised, then she smiled. “I’ve always admired her spirit.”

“What you call spirit, I call stubbornness.”

“I’m guessing you two tend to clash.”

“We always have. I don’t know why, but she took an immediate dislike to me.” Because of that he hadn’t warmed to her, either. Plus, she was just prickly.

“So, why hire her, especially to live in your house?”

Why, indeed? There was the favor to Dixie, which had also coincided with the fact that Dylan needed to be on his own. And he had some sympathy for Shana’s situation, as well.

“I expect the time will come when she can manage fine on her own, Julia, but for now, she needs someone, and I have the means to help.” He went to shake her hand. “I’ll give you a call when I have her answer.”

“Sounds good.”

He took the stairs to the ground floor and walked to the parking garage. It had started raining since he’d arrived, which meant Shana would be making the hour drive up to their foothill community on wet roads. Her car was held together with baling wire and hope. He didn’t like the idea of her—

He stopped the thought. He’d be a few minutes behind her and would see if she’d had to pull over.

As it turned out, he came up behind her before he’d driven fifteen minutes. He stayed there, going the damn speed limit, annoyed at her for it. Which was entirely unreasonable, he knew, but she generally annoyed him without making much effort to do so.

She also stirred him up, had since day one, but the only thing they seemed to have in common was that they both worked hard. His efforts had paid off. Eventually hers would, too. He admired her for trying to make it on her own, but if she hadn’t had Emma, he never would have made Shana the job offer, Dixie’s friendship or not. Emma would be their buffer. How much could anyone argue in front of a child? He knew firsthand the result of that. It did no one any good.

It was a lot to ask of one so young—being the reason to keep peace between two adults who didn’t like each other much.

But it was the only way he could see this situation working out.

Shana drove home at exactly the speed limit. Every few seconds she looked at her rearview mirror, hoping Kincaid would pull around her and leave her in peace. She needed to think. His being on her tail interfered with that.

If this was the kind of employer he would be, she’d have to say no. She didn’t need supervision or pressure in order to do a job well.

By the time she reached her exit to Chance City, she was beyond irritated, so when he exited right behind her, she pulled over. So did he.

“Are you having car trouble?” he asked, coming up to her as she got out of her car.

She plunked her fists on her hips. “Why are you following me?”

He looked surprised. “Following you? I was driving to the same place, and I figured it was rude to pass you.”

She didn’t know if he was telling her the truth or pacifying her.

“Are you mad at me, Shana?”

The way he angled toward her, almost intimately, lowering his voice a bit, threw her off, but she stood her ground.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my apartment.”

“Technically, it’s your sister’s apartment.”

She frowned. “I clean her spa business downstairs in trade for the rent.”

“But who writes the rent check?”

“Dixie does, because her name is on the lease.”

“She doesn’t have a lease on the apartment, only on the spa.” He gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you think the number of hours you work covers what she pays me in rent?”

“That’s what she told me.” She looked away, tallying up the numbers. “Probably not,” she said finally, quietly. More charity to pay back … someday.

He didn’t say anything.

“Would you really evict me?” she asked.

He seemed to dig deep for patience. “Shana, I’m offering you a chance to do the work you’ve been wanting to do. I’m offering you a home with a yard for your daughter to play in, and the opportunity to make enough money that you could save for a down payment on a house of your own in time. No,” he said as she started to speak. “No, I wouldn’t evict you. Dixie would never speak to me again. But why would you let this chance pass you by?”

There it was at last—the truth. “So you’re doing this because of Dixie?”

He shoved his hands through his hair, fully regretting his decision now. “I’m doing this because I need help, and you fit the bill.”

“What will people think, me living with you?”

“Do you really care?”

“Yes. And you should, too.”

“I give up,” he said, walking—stalking—away. “Forget the whole thing.”

Shana saw her future flash before her eyes. “No, wait!” She rushed after him. “I’ll take the job, on one condition.”

“This should be good.”

She almost laughed at his sarcasm. “You have to start dating.”

He stared at her, as if shocked. “How do you know I’m not?”

Good point, especially since he’d said it so fast. “You have to start visibly dating. Or, at least bring your girlfriend to the Stompin’ Grounds on Saturday night or something. No one has ever seen you date.”

“Because I keep my private life private.”

She crossed her arms. “Take it or leave it. I don’t want people to think we’re living together for any reason other than business ones.”

“So, I should lead some woman on instead? Make her think I’m dating her because I’m interested, even if I’m not?”

She despised his logic, especially when she was too emotional to counter it, so she just looked him in the eye and waited. She needed a guarantee from him, although she wasn’t sure whether she could trust it. He hadn’t hesitated to go after her sister, after all.

“All right, Shana,” he said at last. “I’ll date. In public.”

“The first Saturday night after I move in.”

“Okay.”

He said it too easily, as if he was already dating someone. “And you have to look cozy.”

He laughed finally. “What I do on a date isn’t yours to command. I’ll show up with a woman at the Stompin’ Grounds on Saturday night. That’s all I’ll promise.”

She decided not to press. He’d already conceded more than she expected, so she stuck her hand out. “Deal.”

His large, callous, warm hand engulfed hers. They’d never touched before. Bolts of lightning zapped her. He was a strong man. It would be easy to lean on him.

But she wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever. She would just do her job and be grateful. Thanks to Kincaid, she wouldn’t be anyone’s charity case anymore.

Chapter Two

Shana pulled up in front of Aggie McCoy’s house, turned off her engine and just sat, letting her nerves settle. Aggie had become Shana’s rock in the year since she’d returned to town. Aggie was also Shana’s key to success. If she could convince Aggie this was strictly a business deal, word would spread through town and no one would start speculating—or placing bets, a common occurrence.

Shana released her death grip on the steering wheel and headed toward the house and the woman who’d become her refuge. Sixty-nine years old and widowed for over twelve years, Aggie defined the title “Mother,” having raised eight children, who’d given her a whole lot of grandchildren to love. She tended to mother just about everyone who crossed her path, related or not. Plus she gave great big, cushy hugs that Shana’s mother never seemed able to do.

That wasn’t important now, she reminded herself. She had Emma, the only thing that mattered.

Shana knocked twice then opened Aggie’s door. The scent of apples and cinnamon greeted her. Had she made pie or strudel? “Anybody home?” she called out.

“Mama! Mama!” Emma came running out of the kitchen and straight to Shana, who scooped her up and swung her around, her fine blond curls flying behind her, her Callahan green eyes a perfect match for her frilly T-shirt.

“Here’s my baby girl. Something smells good.”

“Apple. Mmm.”

“You’re early,” Aggie said, coming into the room, wiping her hands on her apron. “How’d it go?”

Shana cuddled Emma, who toyed with her pendant. “I got the job. Full-time, right here in town.”

“So, who’s the boss?”

“Kincaid.”

Aggie’s black-penciled brows shot up. “Doing what?”

“Jill-of-all-trades. Housekeeper, property cleaner, office help, designer.”

“Sounds like more than forty hours a week.” Aggie headed toward the kitchen. “I need to take my pie out. Come on back.”

“I’m not sure about the total hours, but it’s a mixed bag of work. And it’s live-in.”

Aggie spun around but, uncharacteristically, said nothing.

“It’s all on the up-and-up, Aggie. He needs my apartment for Dylan, and he needs a housekeeper, so Emma and I are moving in with him. This little peapod will have her own room for the first time, and a yard to play in.” She rubbed noses with Emma, who flattened her hands on Shana’s cheeks and gave her a big, wet kiss. “He’s also dating someone.”

“Is he, now?” Aggie pulled the apple pie out of the oven and set it on a metal trivet.

Shana inched closer. “I want people to know this is all business. Can you make sure that happens?”

“Are you accusing me of spreading rumors?”

“I’m thinking this is more like damage control. I’ve worked hard to get this town to accept me again. And there are never any rumors about Kincaid. This is a great opportunity for me. I can even afford to pay you and all the other babysitter volunteers for watching Emma.”

“We’ll talk about that some other time. I’m happy for you, honey. It sounds like a real good solution to all your problems. That Kincaid. He must have a crystal ball, hmm? He sure came up with a solution just when you needed it the most.”

She gave Shana an odd look, as if she knew something Shana didn’t know. “Things happen when they’re supposed to. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“That, and timing is everything.”

There was a twinkle in her eye that made Shana wonder if she’d known what Kincaid was going to offer. “Will you try to squelch any rumors that pop up, Aggie? Please?”

“I’ll try, honey, but you know the town has a lifeblood of its own when it comes to other people’s business. Somebody’s bound to start a pool or two.”

Shana had known that, of course. She’d just hoped otherwise. “Well, maybe when they see Kincaid’s girlfriend, they’ll change their minds.”

“I find it interesting that he’s never showed up with a girlfriend before but you think he will now.”

“Me down,” Emma said.

Shana took advantage of the moment to formulate an answer. “I do, too, but he told me he would be taking her to the Stompin’ Grounds on Saturday night.”

“Really?” Aggie chuckled. “I haven’t been there in years. But why would he ask you to be his live-in housekeeper if he’s finally serious enough about a girl to bring her to the town’s hot spot and show her off? Wouldn’t having you and Emma around cramp his style with a girlfriend?”

“Who knows how Kincaid’s mind works.” Shana crouched next to Emma as she pulled plastic containers out of a cabinet.

“When are you moving in?”

“By the weekend, I think. The apartment furniture belongs to Dixie, so I’m going to leave it for Dylan, although I may edit a little to make it more suitable for an eighteen-year-old guy. It’s pretty feminine now. I really only have clothes and Emma’s things. A few box loads, probably.”

“Kincaid’s got that big ol’ pickup, so I figure you don’t need me to help.”

“No, but thank you. Here, Emma, stack these up and put them away. We need to get going.” Shana stood. She touched Aggie’s shoulder. “I was so embarrassed for crying all over you at Thanksgiving, but maybe finally saying it out loud, putting it out there into the universe, is what made Kincaid’s offer happen.”

Aggie nodded seriously. “I’m thinking you’re right about that.”

“Because you didn’t tell him, right?”

She held up a hand. “I swear I didn’t say a word to Kincaid.” She swept Shana into her arms. “This’ll be good for you and the little one.”

Shana relaxed into her, eyes stinging. “I just want people to forget who I was before. I’ve grown up a lot since I left home, but especially this last couple of years.”

“Honey, if rumors or betting pools get started, it would be because they like you. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t be worth their time.”

Shana straightened. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Aggie patted Shana’s cheek. “There you go. If you’ve got time, you could stay for lunch. The pie will be cooled enough to eat after that. And maybe Emma could take her nap here, and you could get started packing.”

Everything was happening so fast, Shana almost couldn’t take it all in. But Aggie had allayed some of her fears, and there was the excitement of the work ahead of her.

Maybe she was a late bloomer, but blooming she was—finally—and she owed it all to Landon Kincaid, a man who’d always seemed to just tolerate her. Opportunity really could come from the strangest places—or people.

Hours later, Kincaid had just pulled up in front of the Take a Lode Off Diner to meet Dylan for dinner when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen first, let it ring once more then answered. “I’ve been expecting your call, Aggie.”

“Oh, have you now? Why would that be?”

“I figure Shana already told you about my job offer.”

“She did. Dixie must’ve called you because I told her I was worried about Shana.”

“I promised Dixie I wouldn’t tell Shana how I learned about her situation. You’re the only other person who knows, who might guess at my motives.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Kincaid.”

He relaxed. “Thank you. She’s proud.”

“That she is.”

“And she can get plenty angry,” he added.

Aggie laughed. “Yes, but she’s also worried about her reputation, too.”

“I’m aware of that.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “If I were you, I’d let it be known right away what’s going on. If you try to hide it at all, it’s only going to work against you in the long run.”

“Who should do the telling?”

“You, I think. You might start with Honey. Word’ll spread from there, but it won’t be malicious.”

Honey owned the diner he was about to enter. That was easy enough. “Thanks, Aggie. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Before she hung up, she said, “You know there’s something between the two of you, Kincaid.”

“Yeah. Animosity.”

Aggie laughed a little. “There’s that, of course, but for all that she seems like one tough cookie, she really has a tender soul. Been hurt a lot. Worked hard to recover. Independent as they come. Got it?”

“Don’t mess with her,” he said. “Yes, I got it.”

“Okay, then.”

He ended the call then put one through to Shana. “Aggie advises us to be up front about everything,” he said when she answered. “She says we should start at the Lode, with Honey. Now, I can do it myself, or you could join me and Dylan for dinner and we could sort of announce it together.”

“I’m fine with you taking on that task. If I’m there, we’ll seem like a couple.”

“Okay.” He was both relieved and apprehensive. He just wanted to get it over with. The diner was a microcosm of the town. The initial reaction would represent how everyone felt. “When will you be ready to move?”

“Friday.”

Four days from now. He wondered why she was stalling. She’d already told him she didn’t have much to pack. “How about Saturday, instead? I book as few jobs as possible on weekends.”

“Works for me. Have you lined up a date for Saturday night?”

“I’m thumbing through my black book as we speak.”

She laughed.

“Do you need boxes?” he asked.

“I’m good, thanks. I called Dixie to fill her in, but I had to leave a message and she hasn’t called back. Have you talked to her?”

“We email about the house now and then.” Not only were he and Dixie connected through business, he’d been remodeling and expanding Dixie and Joe’s house for months while they were honeymooning and working overseas.

“I’ll try her again later. Um, would you ask Dylan to call me, please?” she asked. “We can set up a time for him to stop by the apartment and see what he’d like changed to suit him.”

“Sure.” He saw Dylan pull up in his Kincaid Construction truck. “I’ll stay in touch during the week, Shana. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’d like to see your house before I move in. Figure out what I need to buy for our bedrooms.”

“How does tomorrow evening suit you?” They finalized their plans, then he ended the call and walked to where Dylan was parking.

“Hey, boss!” Dylan called out as he hopped down from the pickup.

“How’d the bathroom demo go?”

“All done.”

They went through the diner door. “Even the tub?” Kincaid asked.

“Room’s down to the studs. Found a few spots of dry rot.”

“How’d you get the tub out on your own? The thing weighed a ton.”

Dylan grinned. “Guess I’m stronger than you.” He jabbed Kincaid in the arm and danced around as if boxing.

It was hard to believe that until two months ago the kid had been homeless. He’d already packed about fifteen pounds onto his six-foot frame, but still didn’t weigh over one-fifty. He kept his hair a little long, and girls had started giving him the eye.

Kincaid waved at Honey, then they grabbed seats in the only open booth.

“Be right there, boys!” she called out, a plate in each hand, her long salt-and-pepper braid swinging side to side behind her.

“Eric called today,” Dylan said. “He and Marcy are coming up to see Gavin and Becca on Saturday. They invited me for lunch.” He looked away, his attention caught by four girls at a far booth who were sneaking glances at him and giggling.

Eric and Marcy Sheridan had rescued Dylan from the streets a couple months back. Eric’s sister, Becca, had recently married Shana’s brother, Gavin. Almost everyone in Chance City seemed to have a family connection to someone else.

Dylan dragged his gaze back to Kincaid. “Anyway, do you have something lined up for me on Saturday or is it okay if I have lunch with them?”

“You’re going to be a little busy on Saturday.”

Disappointment dulled his eyes, but Kincaid knew he wouldn’t argue about it. Dylan was grateful for the job, and more responsible than most eighteen-year-olds.

“You’re going to be moving,” Kincaid said, timing his words to coincide with Honey coming up to get their orders.

“Moving? Where? Why?” Dylan asked.

“Into the apartment above Respite.”

Dylan frowned. “That beauty shop place downtown?”

“It’s a salon, yes, but also a day spa. There’s a nice one-bedroom above it.”

“Where’s Shana going?” Honey asked.

“I hired her through At Your Service to work for me. I need a housekeeper, for one thing, but more than that. Shana is perfect for the job.”

Honey’s brows rose. “Isn’t that interesting.”

“It’s not personal, Honey. It’s strictly business.”

“I get an apartment all to myself?” Dylan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes. It’s a building I own, so you’ll be paying me rent. I figure you’ve been freeloading off me for long enough.”

Dylan’s grin lit up the space.

“So … Emma, too, I suppose,” Honey said.

“Of course.”

“I’ve never seen you interact with a little one before.”

Probably because he hadn’t. He didn’t have an opinion on children one way or the other, but he also wasn’t going to be taking care of her. “I think she’ll enjoy having a yard to play in,” he said to Honey. “And I know Shana’s happy not to be commuting to Sacramento. It’s a good fit for everyone.”

Kincaid’s nerves settled some. Honey had reacted to the news, but she didn’t turn around and announce it to the crowd to egg on some bigger reaction. She would spread the word without fanfare, he figured.

Kincaid and Dylan ordered their dinners and talked about what it would mean for Dylan to have his own place, and all the responsibilities it entailed. Kincaid wasn’t sure Dylan was completely ready for the move, but it was the only way Kincaid could help Shana—at least, that she would accept. He’d keep a close eye on Dylan, make sure he didn’t flounder in his independence. Being homeless and forced to fend for himself was different from living in an apartment alone, where there were more temptations, not just a need to survive.

“Can we go see the place?” Dylan asked as Kincaid was paying the bill a while later.

“Not tonight. She said you should call her, though, and come over so she can help you redecorate a little. It’s kinda girly right now, I guess.”

The four teenage girls walked past them, each one smiling at Dylan. Kincaid had lived on his own at sixteen. He knew the potential hazards of it, especially when it came to the opposite sex. “We’ll need to have a birds-and-bees talk,” he said.

Dylan rolled his eyes.

“If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll pay attention to what I have to say,” Kincaid said.

“Yes, sir.”

Kincaid laughed at the military tone of voice.

They headed toward the diner door. “So, Shana’s moving in, huh?” one customer asked.

“To work for me,” Kincaid said, not stopping to engage in conversation. Fortunately, he’d never given the town reason to gossip about him through the years. He’d dated women outside of town, asked a fair price for the work he did and completed jobs on time. Still, even after nineteen years as a member of the community, he wasn’t well-known enough to be kidded much.

Which might change now that he’d shaken up his predictable world.

“What’s the big deal about Shana moving in as your housekeeper?” Dylan asked after they’d left the diner. “Lots of people have live-in help.”

“She’s a young, attractive, single woman, and this town loves its gossip.” Kincaid pulled out his keys and toyed with them. “Remember that. And its citizens have long memories, too. It’s like one big family, with its rivalries and devotion.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember.” Dylan looked around. “You know, when you first offered me the chance to come up here and work, I really wanted the job but I wasn’t sure about being so far from city life. But now I like it. It’s old, you know? I love knowing that gold miners settled the town all those years ago, and that the downtown is just a couple of blocks long and has wooden sidewalks that make noise when you walk on them, and people say hello all the time.”

“Even if everyone knows your business?” Kincaid asked.

“People knew who I was right away. That was cool. Plus, I like all the trees and hills and the great view of the Sierras. I can see myself staying here forever.”

Chance City did get into one’s blood, Kincaid thought. He’d felt the same affinity for it when he’d landed here. “You’re right. It’s a good town. See you at home.”

Home. Kincaid’s quiet home had been disrupted by having Dylan live with him, and it was about to be disrupted more. Much more. On the other hand, it should be more organized, too, having Shana around to take over some of his responsibilities. That much was the truth.

He just had to make sure she never found out why he’d offered her the job. He couldn’t be responsible for her running away again.

For someone who’d built his reputation on being a man of his word, that would be a death knell to him.

Chapter Three

Kincaid’s house was set back from the street by at least a hundred feet. Shana maneuvered her car down the long, curving driveway surrounded by pine and oak trees of varying heights and density, which mostly blocked the house from view, at least low to the ground.

“Sure is dark,” she said, then made the final turn and stopped in front of a large lodgelike structure, with a well-lit front porch.

“Dark,” Emma said from her car seat.

“I’ll bet it’s pretty during the day, though. What do you think, peapod? Look at all those windows. The view must be spectacular.”

Emma babbled her response, although “pretty”—her newest word in her rapidly expanding vocabulary—

came through loud and clear mid-paragraph, even if it did sound more like “pity.”

Shana got Emma from the backseat and headed up the stairs of the impressive structure, so suited to its environment. According to Aggie, he’d built the house himself about four years ago. Apparently everyone had talked about it, because his original goal had been to sell it, then he hadn’t, surprising them all. They’d wondered why one man would need a house with five bedrooms. There’d even been a pool going for a while about when he would get married, but it never happened, and the gossip eventually died off, although everyone had wondered if he’d had his heart broken by a rejection.

Kincaid opened the front door and said hello before she could knock. He wore jeans, a plaid flannel shirt and thick socks. His shirtsleeves were rolled up a few turns, revealing muscular forearms. Strong. She associated the word with him more than any other.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Kitty?” Emma asked, looking around. “Me down,” she said, wriggling. “Kitty.” Her tone was the same insistent one she used to say “cookie.”

“There’s no kitty, peapod,” Shana said. “Or is there?”

“No pets at all,” Kincaid said. “Come in out of the cold. I built a fire. Don’t worry. It’s got a large, sturdy screen. I made adjustments to it today to affix it to the stone. There’s no danger to Emma.”

His consideration caught her off guard. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Well, selfish, too,” he said. “I like my fires in winter and didn’t want to give them up.” He turned to Emma. “How are you, Miss Emma?”

“Do you remember Kincaid, Emma?” Shana asked. “Can you say Kincaid?”

Emma shook her head, her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth.

“It’s a new word, isn’t it? Please try, Emma. Say Kincaid.”

She gave Kincaid a long look, then said, “Kinky.”

Shana slapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. “Almost, baby. Try again. Kincaid.”

“Kinky,” Emma said, louder.

“Kinky it is,” Kincaid said, not seeming bothered by it.

“If it’s any consolation,” Shana said, “she started calling Dylan ‘Dilly.’”

“I’d rather be Kinky than Dilly.”

“I’m sure.” She smiled. “Where is he, anyway?”

“He drove to Sacramento to buy some posters, which apparently you suggested for his new place.”

“I don’t think he’s a wildflower-print kind of guy, do you?”

Kincaid shook his head. He led them toward the fireplace, which took up a good portion of one wall and was bracketed by floor-to-ceiling windows, triple-paned, he said, for temperature control. The furnishings were perfect for the lodgelike environment, overscale and masculine, and yet not so masculine as to feel sterile.

“Me down,” Emma said again. Shana set her on the floor, and she toddled closer to the fireplace, coming to a stop several feet from it. “Pretty.”

Shana joined her, taking off her tiny jacket, as well as her own. Kincaid took both and hung them on a rack by the front door.

“Your home is beautiful,” she said.

“Thanks. Would you like to see the rest?”

“Yes. Come on, Emma.”

Emma went ahead of them, so they followed her lead. She took them through the dining area on the opposite side of the living room, which also had a stunning view, then into the most perfect kitchen Shana had ever seen, with maple cabinets, stainless-steel appliances, green-and-gold granite countertops and more cabinet space than one man could ever possibly use, even if he were a professional chef. She’d had jobs as a short-order cook in small towns several times to earn her keep, but she didn’t consider her skills more than basic. Could the right kitchen inspire her to become better at it?

They moved on to two downstairs bedrooms, then upstairs to see two more bedrooms, an office and the master suite, which was about the same size as the one-bedroom apartment she currently lived in. Every room was completely and beautifully furnished. She looked at it all with a designer’s eye and didn’t see a need to change anything, which was a little disappointing. She’d been hoping her talents would be put to use at his house.

“You and Emma are welcome to use the two bedrooms downstairs or upstairs.”

“Thanks. I’ll think it over.” She thought it would be a good idea to keep her distance from him, keep Emma’s noise to minimal disruption, and yet she liked the security of being on the same floor.

“I need you to decide soon. Dylan and I will have to move furniture out of the right bedroom to make room for Emma’s things.”

“Okay. Did you have a professional designer?”

“I designed the house, but I hired a decorator to help furnish it. If you’d lived in town then, I would’ve hired you.”

Shana studied him for a few seconds, then watched Emma, who was standing at the foot of his bed as if plotting how to climb up on it. “This is weird,” Shana said.

“What’s weird?” He crouched to give Emma a boost, but she moved sideways, out of reach. He looked over his shoulder at Shana.

“Us. This. We’re not arguing. We always argue.”

“I wouldn’t call it arguing. No one ever shouts. Mostly it’s just insults. And you usually start it.”

Shana’s mouth dropped open. “I usually start it? You just started it.” She rushed forward to stop Emma, who’d grabbed the deep green duvet and was trying to pull herself up.

“I won’t let her fall,” Kincaid said, as if offended. He reached for Emma.

“No,” she said.

“Emma,” Shana said, caution in her voice

“No Kinky.” She took off running, another recently mastered skill, giggling all the way. Shana was hot on her heels.

He found them in his office, Emma holding on to his desk and moving away from Shana, giggling at the game. Her hands hit the computer keyboard, waking up the monitor, the sudden light startling her.

“You can’t touch the computer, Emma,” Shana said, turning to look at Kincaid. “I’m so sorry.”

He realized then what was on the screen. A spreadsheet of his annual expenses that he’d intended to transfer to a flash drive. She’d glanced at the screen. Would she notice? It had a big heading, in bold. If she read it, she’d know he’d already computerized the work he’d told her he wanted her to do.

Then she wouldn’t believe anything else he said—

“Here’s the box of receipts I told you about. I pretty much just toss them in here all year, then deal with them at the end.”

“I can manage that. I’m kind of surprised you’re that disorganized, Kincaid. You don’t seem like you would be.”

“We all have our flaws.”

“Yes, we do. Let’s go, peapod,” she said.

Kincaid blew out a breath then trailed them more slowly, gauging their location by following the laughter. There hadn’t been much laughter in this house. Not that it was a depressing place to be, not at all, but he’d been alone most of the time. Having Dylan around had been an adjustment, and there had been laughs between them, but nothing like he expected would become the norm with Shana and Emma around.

Kinky. He wondered what people would say once they heard Emma call him that in public, if she ever warmed up to him. The idea that she wouldn’t take to him hadn’t crossed his mind. Until now.

Except, she was Shana Callahan’s daughter, after all. Maybe like mother, like daughter.

He went into the living room and stoked the fire, adding a log, then sat in his chair, leaving the sofa for them. They came running back into the room, Shana scooping her up and whirling her around. It was a homey moment, one played out in houses around the world all the time, but a first for him. They were a family unit, Shana and Emma. Shana would be there day in and day out, taking care of the house, helping with his business, in his line of sight a great deal of the time, and sleeping nearby.

A wife but without the conjugal benefits, he thought.

He’d sort of considered that before, but having her here finally brought it home, the enormity of what he’d offered her—she’d be an almost wife.

And what she considered a negative—their sparring—he enjoyed. A lot. She was usually direct, her honesty startling at times, but he wished he knew why she was edgy around him. He hadn’t noticed her having the same reaction or behaving the same way with anyone else.

“Baby girl, you are wet. You need your diaper changed,” Shana said.

“Diappy.”

“Exactly.” Shana looked at Kincaid. “We should probably go. I’ll change her at home.”

But you just got here. He was caught between relief and disappointment. “Okay.”

They put their jackets on. He followed them out the door and down the steps, waiting as Emma was buckled into her car seat.

“Say bye-bye to Kincaid,” Shana said to her, not shutting the door yet.

“Bye-bye.” She waved. “Kinky! Bye-bye!”

Apparently, she warmed up at the thought of leaving. “Goodbye, Miss Emma. I’ll see you soon.”

Shana shut the door, got in the car and started the engine. She rolled down the window, then she stared out the windshield, as if working up the nerve to say something.

Kincaid crouched and waited.

“Thank you for the job. And I’ll try not to argue with you,” she added with a small smile. “Not sure I can follow through on that one.”

“Baby steps, Shana. Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

“You, too,” she said.

He tapped the car with his open hand to end the conversation, then stood. He could be honest with her—to a point. They both had reputations to uphold, after all. He intended to do just that. “It’s cold. You should get going.”

“See you Saturday,” she said with a wave, then she was gone.

He watched until her taillights were out of sight. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on her face as she’d thanked him. It had humanized her for him in a way that he hadn’t acknowledged about her before. He’d been told she was well liked by many other people, but at times it was as if she’d gone out of her way for him not to like her.

Until now.

He was glad he’d seen it for himself. He saw hope, even that they could become friends through all this.

Time would tell.

Shana carried Emma up the stairs from the salon to her apartment. How tiny the place seemed after seeing Kincaid’s. A few minutes ago, she’d almost told him about her past, but had stopped herself in time and only thanked him. A lot of people knew she’d moved around a lot, but not many other details. She hadn’t wanted rumors to spread, especially since she’d already come back to town as a single mother.

Only her immediate family knew the circumstances—and Aggie. For all that Aggie loved a good bit of gossip, she’d kept Shana’s situation to herself, even quoting her hero, Henry Ford—”‘Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently.’”

Shana hoped she could live up to Aggie’s expectations, and wished her parents had been as generous. They’d been much slower to put the past behind.

Maybe she was being too hard on them. Her mother had come a long way in forgiving Shana for leaving and also accepting her back, but Shana sometimes wondered if it was more because of Emma, not her. Her father, always the strong, silent type, still rarely spoke to her. He’d mostly been the reason she’d run away—him and her own rebellious nature.

She wanted forgiveness from her father for that. Since he wasn’t one to share his feelings, she doubted she would ever hear those words from him.

“I love you, peapod,” Shana said to her daughter as she set her down to change her.

Emma hadn’t learned to say I love you, yet. Shana was looking forward to it. She didn’t have any memories of her parents saying those words.

“How about a bath?” Shana asked.

“Bath!”

That was an enthusiastic yes.

After Emma had a splashy swim and two books read, Shana tucked her into her crib, then she fixed a cup of tea and sat down for what felt like the first time all day. Filled boxes were stacked in one corner of the living room, waiting to be taken to Kincaid’s.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the sofa, then the phone rang. Her sister.

“Hey, Dix! It’s 6:00 a. m. where you are.”

“How do you do that?” Dixie asked with a laugh. “I always have to look at the clock and count the time difference on my fingers.”

“We all have our talents.”

“I guess we do, math whiz. I got your message, but Joe and I were out of cell phone range. What’s up?”

“I have … interesting news. I got a job. A full-time, permanent position, right here in Chance City.”

“That’s wonderful! What is it?”

“I’ll be working for Kincaid.” Shana waited for her sister’s reaction. Dixie knew how Shana felt about Kincaid.

“Really? Is he hiring a bodyguard, too?”

Shana laughed. She missed her sister so much. If only they could be sitting on the sofa together, talking about this situation over tea. “Very funny, Dix.”

“Well, there is the whole I-can’t-stand-Kincaid thing you’ve had going since the day you met him. You two are like oil and water sometimes.”

“I know, but it’s a chance to make a good life for Emma and me. I can’t turn that down.”

“You really have grown up.”

“I hope so. And some of that credit belongs to you. I couldn’t have made it without you, Dix, and that’s no exaggeration. But as grateful as I am, I can’t continue to clean the salon. I’m not going to have enough time.”

“What all are you going to be doing?”

“Everything. Helping with his business, drumming up design work, taking care of his home.”

“His home?”

“I’m moving in. Emma and I will be living there.”

There was a long stretch of silence. “Live-in? Really, Shana, is that wise?”

“I don’t know yet. I guess I’ll find out. But Dix, it means I can save money. In time I can have the life I’ve wanted for Emma and me.”

“But … living together, Shana?”

“He hired me through At Your Service. It’s all on the up-and-up.” She sounded defensive, even to herself. “Look, I know it seems odd, but I’m getting used to the idea. I think it’ll work out fine.”

“What will Mom and Dad say?”

Shana wished she could say she didn’t care, but it wasn’t true. “They’ll probably be embarrassed or offended. I can’t change that.”

“Well, you’re an adult. You get to make your own decisions. As for the job at the salon, Jade could use the money, I’m sure. She’ll take it on, as well as her receptionist duties.” Dixie yawned, then laughed. “Sorry. We’ve put in long hours this week.”

“You were supposed to be home by now. Eight-thousand miles from here to Tumari is way too far.”

“I know. Oh, I’m so homesick, Shana. I’m aiming for Christmas in Chance City. I won’t care if I ever travel again in my entire life, although I wouldn’t have passed up this opportunity for anything. And Joe’s really shined, you know? But he misses everyone, too.”

They chatted a little longer then said good-night. Shana picked up her tea again and sipped it, although it had cooled. She considered reheating it, but her thoughts wandered instead.

Dixie had been gone for over six months. Had Kincaid gotten over her during that time? Or would having her home stir up old feelings? She understood what he’d seen in Dixie. She was smart and confident and beautiful, not to mention all those curves that men appreciated, whereas Shana was just … ordinary, and too thin, lacking curves. At least that should help in keeping things professional between her and Kincaid. Without physical attraction, it wouldn’t be complicated.

She needed this job, and their relationship, to stay uncomplicated. For her sake, for Emma’s sake, for her chance at a happy life.

Nothing mattered more than that.

Kincaid had just said good-night to Dylan, who’d gone off to bed. They’d stayed up later than usual, Dylan too excited about moving into his own place to settle down, so they’d watched a movie and half of another before he yawned and headed to his room.

Kincaid couldn’t settle down, either. Seeing Shana in his house, in his personal space, had been disconcerting. He’d thought since Dylan had been living there for a couple of months, and Kincaid had gotten accustomed to having someone around, that it wouldn’t be difficult to have Shana and Emma move in.

Wrong. He’d hadn’t foreseen how much time he’d be spending alone with a woman he found attractive, if not exactly the kind of woman he usually went for, the fun-loving, easygoing women he tended to ask out.

And then there was Emma. Not just busy but rambunctious. Curious.

His phone rang. It was late, too late for a casual call.

Then he saw the caller ID.

He leveled out his voice. “Hello, Dixie.”

“You’re moving her in with you?” she almost shouted.

He winced a little. “You wanted me to help her. I’m helping.”

“I did not ask you to move her into your house, Kincaid. I asked you to give her a job.”

“You asked, and I quote, ‘Can you please help her in some way?’”

“As in give her a job.”

“I did that. Several jobs, actually, because I can’t give her enough work for one full-time job, so I needed to improvise. I decided I could use a housekeeper more than anything. She won’t have to pay rent, and she’ll have money left over at the end of the week. Now, what’s your objection?”

“If she finds out I had anything to do with this—”

“I already promised you she wouldn’t. What else?” Because he knew there was more. He was just waiting for her to say it.

“You can’t sleep with her, Kincaid.”

“For the sake of argument, why not?” Because the idea wasn’t as impossible as he’d thought a couple of days ago.

“Because you’re not the marrying kind, and she needs a marrying kind.”

“I think that’s up to her, don’t you? Anyway, that’s not on my agenda. I thought you’d be happy. She’ll be in a safe place with plenty to do, and leisure time, as well. No more commuting to Sacramento. A backyard for Emma. I think I hit the ball out of the park for you.”

“I’ll be keeping close tabs. I’ll call her a lot.”

“I’m sure she’ll like that.” He found himself grinning. Dixie could be almost as stubborn as Shana.

“So, I should just say thank you?”

“That would be nice. I’ve disrupted my life a lot for you.”

“Thank you.”

He laughed. “That didn’t sound too sincere.”

“I’m awaiting the outcome. I do appreciate that you are doing something for her. I’m just worried about exactly what that is.”

“You trust me, or you wouldn’t have asked,” he said, taking the stress level down a few notches. “I’ll do right by your sister.”

“Thank you,” she said, a genuine tone in her voice this time.

“You’re welcome. Feel free to call and check anytime.”

“I will.”

He laughed then they hung up. Having Dixie find out about the live-in situation had been his biggest hurdle, and he’d jumped it.

You can’t sleep with her. It hadn’t been on his mind for the past year, yet suddenly the idea of it was there, circling him, burning the image in his head.

He was counting on the fact she would be difficult to live with, which would keep his libido under control. That, and Emma, who would be around all the time, too.

He should be in for one helluva time.

Chapter Four

Respite, Dixie’s day spa, was like most hair salons or barbershops in small-town America—a place where advice was sought and dispensed, problems debated and solved, and gossip spread, true or speculative. As Kincaid pulled into the parking lot behind the building, Dylan in his truck behind him, he anticipated a small, curious crowd inside. There was no outside access to the apartment, so Kincaid and Dylan had no choice but to enter the female-occupied space. Kincaid and a few other men in town got their hair cut at Respite, but he saw only women today.

“Ladies,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Dylan Vargas. He’s the new upstairs tenant. Be gentle with him, okay?”

“Aw, Kincaid, you’re no fun,” Aggie McCoy said, looking like some kind of alien, with foil sticking out from her head and black dye at her roots. “Dylan, have you met my granddaughter, Posey?”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.” Dylan nodded to the cute teenager seated in a chair next to her grandmother, having her hair cut and looking embarrassed about the new boy in town seeing her looking less than perfect. Her cheeks flushed pink.

And so it begins, Kincaid thought, stopping short of heaving a sigh. And he’ll have a place of his own. Great….

They’d had the birds-and-bees talk last night. Kincaid had been direct and graphic with the boy, because apparently his father never had been. Dylan was startlingly naive. Kincaid hoped he’d cured him of that. Being armed with information was a whole lot better than ignorance or guesswork.

“Posey’s seventeen,” Kincaid said as he and Dylan climbed the stairs a minute later.

“Got it,” Dylan said.

Kincaid glanced back down and saw all the women watching them. “I think we’d better design a plan to move your entrance to the outside so you don’t have to interrupt the clients in their private domain.”

“Fine by me,” Dylan said, sounding relieved.

The upstairs door was open, so they climbed the child gate and went inside. “We’re here,” Kincaid called out.

Emma came running. Kincaid crouched down in time to catch her as she neared, but she came to a quick stop, keeping her distance.

“Good morning, Miss Emma.”

“No Kinky!”

Dylan laughed. “Kinky? Seriously?”

“Dilly up!” Emma said, raising her arms.

“Dilly? Seriously?” Kincaid said, feeling rebuffed as Dylan lifted her into his arms, looking only slightly uncomfortable at the nickname.

“Dilly, Dilly,” she said, patting his face.

“Where’s Mommy?” Kincaid asked.

Emma pointed. Shana had come up behind him.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m packed and ready to go, except that I haven’t taken the crib apart. But first, Aggie brought some homemade apple turnovers for all of us.”

She headed to the kitchen, and Kincaid found himself staring at her rear. She was slender but with curves in all the right places. Not that he hadn’t noticed before, but he was finding himself more aware of her than he had been before.

Which probably wasn’t a good thing.

As they dug into the turnovers they talked about the day’s plan of attack. Load her possessions into Kincaid’s truck, unload Dylan’s and haul them upstairs, although he had few possessions. Then they would all head to Kincaid’s to unload Shana’s things and set up the crib.

They traipsed through the salon back and forth, back and forth, until everything was loaded and unloaded. Aggie offered to keep Emma, but Shana thought she should be part of the move. By seeing her crib set up in her new bedroom, she would more readily accept that she would be sleeping there.

“Do you think that’s all it will take?” Kincaid asked as Shana buckled Emma in her car seat to head to his house. “She’ll see her crib and that’s that?”

“I don’t think the house change will be a problem. She’s been babysat by a lot of different people and is used to that. I think the biggest adjustment may come from me not sleeping in the same room with her.”

“She, uh, doesn’t have temper tantrums, does she?” he asked, suddenly wondering what he’d agreed to take on.

“Occasionally.” She shut the car door and faced him. “I know this is going to be a big change for you, too.”

She looked nervous, and he realized he wasn’t the only one worried that they were getting into something neither was ready for. “You already warned me that she’s busy.”

“And noisy. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

He considered that for a moment. “A deal’s a deal.”

“I’ll try to keep her away from you as much as possible,” she said tightly.

She started to climb into the car, but he stopped her by putting a hand on her arm. The electricity of that one touch made him break contact immediately, and confused him.

“I don’t expect you to keep her locked in her room. Just because I’m paying you a salary doesn’t mean you can’t consider my house your home, Shana. I don’t want you to feel like a visitor. I figure I’ll get married someday and have children. Emma will be good experience for me.”

He’d been trying to make her relax, but her expression indicated he hadn’t succeeded. She frowned in that way she had, where her lips pinched together and her nose wrinkled. He fought the sudden urge to kiss that frown away.

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