“Where did you get that?”

Though he was several feet away from the cabin, Rob heard Valerie’s sharp tone, and it surprised him. No one answered, which surprised him even more.

“Ginny, where did you get it?” Hearing the urgency in her voice, he headed toward the cabin. Behind him, around him, and inside the building there was only silence.

After a long pause, Rob heard his daughter say, “At home.”

“And who does it belong to?”

Rob couldn’t hear that answer, even though he now stood right outside the cabin. He put his hand on the screen door handle just as Valerie spoke again.

“Ginny,” she said gently. “Ginny, give me the gun.”

Dear Reader,

I suppose writing a story based on my eighteen years of experience with the Girl Scouts was inevitable. I have nothing but admiration for the goals and values that guided us in our time together. The girls I knew as children have matured into self-reliant, capable young women.

In my new book, Single with Kids, self-reliance is just what Rob Warren wants for his daughter, Ginny, challenged as she is by cerebral palsy. Valerie Manion prides herself on her own independence and her ability to take care of herself and her children without assistance. But Rob and Valerie must discover that life is at its sweetest when we can share the good times and the bad with someone we love. Their teachers for this lesson will be none other than their own offspring.

I’ve smiled a great deal while writing Single with Kids, and I hope you smile as you read. Thanks so much for spending time with me and my story—if you'd like to contact me, I’ll be delighted to hear from you.

As ever,

Lynnette Kent

PMB 304

Westwood Shopping Center

Fayetteville, NC 28314

www.lynnettekent.com

Single with Kids
Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book was written with fond memories of all the girls

from whom I had the chance to learn during my

years with the Girl Scouts.

Many thanks go to the women who worked with me—

especially Susan, Ruth, Karen, Ann and Terri. We met

our responsibilities…and we had a whole lot of fun.

Finally, to Elizabeth and Rebecca, the young women

who continue to inspire me and who make every

effort worthwhile… Love, always.

Acknowledgments:

My Girls Outdoors! group is strictly fictional, based

very loosely on the scouting program in the United States.

Any mistakes or misinterpretations are mine

alone and do not reflect the policy, procedure or

personnel of any existing organization.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

“I WANT TO BE a troop leader.”

At the sound of those beautiful words, Valerie Manion looked up from her paperwork with a relieved and grateful smile. Only as she focused on the person standing in front of the registration table did she acknowledge that the voice volunteering to help her belonged to a male. A tall, lean, corn-silk blond male with a twinkle in his blue eyes and a sweet curve to his mouth.

She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

He grinned at her disbelief. “I signed my daughter up for your Girls Outdoors! program. You said in the parent meeting a few minutes ago that you need volunteers.” A glance around the school cafeteria showed them to be the only adults remaining. “Looks like I’m it.”

“Um…yes. I did. I do.” She was still having trouble with the concept. A dad wanted to help out with the troop? “Tell me your name again.”

“Rob Warren. My daughter is Ginny.” He tilted his head toward the windows where a thin, chestnut-haired girl stood propped on crutches.

“Hi, Ginny,” Valerie called. “We’re glad to have you.”

Ginny’s mouth kinked into a half smile, but she made no effort to come closer or respond in kind.

Valerie picked up the stack of registration papers she’d just collected and paged through them. “Here we go. Virginia Warren, third grade.”

Mr. Warren had meticulously filled in the blanks on the form with small, neat letters. He gave his work address as Warren and Sons Locksmiths, and provided names and numbers for a doctor and a dentist. He listed Carolyn Warren, identified as “Grandmother,” as an emergency contact.

In the space for Ginny’s mother’s name, he’d carefully written “Deceased.” Valerie bit back a small moan of sympathy.

As if that weren’t tragedy enough, the explanation for those crutches came farther down the sheet. In answer to “List any special physical conditions,” her father had written, “cerebral palsy.”

With another glance at the girl by the window, Valerie noticed the braces on the girl’s spindly lower legs. Then she looked up—a long way up—into Rob Warren’s handsome face. “Ginny wants to be in GO! and you would like to work with the troop. That’s terrific. Why don’t you sit down, Mr. Warren, so we can talk? I’m getting a severe crick in my neck, staring up at you like this.”

“Good idea.” He pulled out a chair and folded himself into it. “The name’s Rob.”

“And I’m Valerie. Have you ever worked with a troop before?”

“I was a Boy Scout, if that counts. Got my Eagle award.”

She nodded. “Are you familiar with the GO! program?”

“Only with what you’ve said this afternoon, and what was in the brochure that came to the house. And I did a little checking on the Internet.”

“What is it about the program that Ginny particularly likes?”

Rob hitched his chair closer to the table. “To be honest, the whole thing is pretty much my idea. I think Ginny needs a chance to be with other girls, involved in a group like this. I want her to have these kinds of experiences, even though she’s disabled.”

That was a warning sign if Valerie had ever seen one. “There’s no question that girls of all ability levels are welcome to join the troop. But they have to bring the right attitude with them.”

“I understand. But you have to realize how hard it is for a girl like Ginny to fit in.” Leaning forward, he rested his clasped hands on the table—strong, graceful hands with long fingers. “As a result, she’s shy, a little withdrawn. I’m thinking that once she gets comfortable, she’ll start to enjoy herself and be as enthusiastic as you could ask for.”

“You realize this is an active program? We hike, swim, fish, sail…”

He nodded. “I do understand. And I know Ginny won’t be able to participate in every activity to the fullest. But if I’m there, I can help her get the most out of what y’all do and contribute as much as possible to the group.”

Valerie’s misgivings only increased. A leader should be responsible for all the girls. Chances were good that Rob would focus on his daughter and her needs, leaving Valerie to cope with the rest of the troop.

Without another leader besides herself, however, the troop wouldn’t exist at all. Given the dearth of volunteers, she had no choice.

“Well, Rob, you’ve got yourself a job. No pay, no benefits, lots of overtime.” She grinned at him and offered a handshake. “And lots of fun.”

“I’ll take it.” He extended his hand to take hers. The warmth of his skin left Valerie feeling breathless. Tingly, even. She pulled back as soon as she could manage without appearing to be rude.

To hide her burning face, she bent to the file box beside her chair and began pulling out papers. “You’ll need to complete these forms. GO! rules mandate that a male can only be an assistant—the troop leader must be female. Since no one else has volunteered, I’m the consolation prize. Are you okay with that?”

When she sneaked a look him, she found him frowning down at her. “You’re a good deal more than a consolation prize, Ms. Manion. Myself, I’d say I’m lucky to have you.”

The last thing she expected—or wanted—was a compliment. “Well…well, thanks. I hope we can work together to give the girls a great year in the outdoors.”

“I’m sure of it,” he said, just as a red-headed whirlwind blew into the room, chased by a poster-perfect Girls Outdoors! member in khaki shorts and a vest.

“Connor!” the girl yelled. “Connor, you little twerp, give it back right this minute.”

Her shrill command only made things worse. Connor, a seven-year-old with a freckled face and the devil in his grin, ran up and down the long room holding a bright pink book over his head, always just out of the reach of the girl on his heels.

“Mom,” Grace wailed. “Make him give it back.”

“Excuse me, Rob. My children always pick the worst times.” Valerie sighed and got to her feet. “Connor McNair Manion. Stop. Now.”

Connor stopped running, but twisted his body around the book so Grace, leaning over him, couldn’t get hold. Valerie went to stand in front of him with her hand held out. “I’ll take the book.”

“It’s mine.” Grace kept trying to reach over his shoulder for her property, which Valerie recognized as the diary she’d received from her father for her birthday back in June. He’d stopped by for fifteen minutes to deliver the gift, and they hadn’t heard from him since.

“Yes, I know it’s yours. Connor, give me the book.”

“When she gets off me.”

Once Grace had backed away, Connor looked over his shoulder, straightened up and handed over the diary.

“Thank you. Now, go sit in that chair and don’t move until I tell you to.”

Head down, shoulders slumped, her son went to the table and plopped into the chair she had used. As Valerie watched, Rob Warren grinned at him, but Connor stuck his lower lip out as far as it would go and turned his head away. Typical behavior these days from the little boy who had once been all smiles.

“Grace, have you met Ginny?” Valerie gave her daughter the recovered diary and then led her to the window. “Ginny’s going to join the troop. And her dad will be the assistant leader.”

Grace’s eyes went round. “A man leader?”

“A dad. It’ll be great—he was an Eagle Scout, so there’s lots he can teach us. Why don’t you two get to know each other while we finish up here?”

As Rob worked his way through the required forms, Valerie packed up her supplies, keeping one eye on Connor, sulking at the table, and one eye on Ginny and Grace, who didn’t say a word to each other. She supposed she couldn’t expect much else from a shy, disabled girl and the new kid in the class, though she’d have liked to see something go easily, for a change. Her recent move to North Carolina had been nothing but hassles so far.

Finally, Rob stacked his pages together and got to his feet. “Here you go—I think these tell more about me than even my parents know.” He grinned without malice or sarcasm, and Valerie couldn’t help smiling in response.

“Blame the lawyers,” she told him. “They make the rules. And break them when they want to.” Her own bitterness slipped out before she could stop it.

“That they do.” The look Rob gave her offered sympathy without intruding. His longish hair and slow, sweet drawl made her think of Ashley Wilkes in Gone With The Wind. She’d read the book in the sixth grade and built her dreams of romance on Margaret Mitchell’s foundation.

Then she’d grown up to discover that chivalry, like the antebellum South, was a thing of the past.

Rob was gazing at her with an eyebrow raised in question, and Valerie realized she’d dropped the conversational ball.

“Right. I’ll turn these papers in and we’ll get the troop going.” Flushing, she bent to the plastic box of supplies beside the table and started pulling out the books he would need. “Here’s the handbook, the activities book, the leader’s guide, the safety manual and the regulation notebook.”

“You want to hand me the IRS code while you’re at it?”

She looked up, knowing she would find that warm grin again. “You volunteered. And I’m not letting you back out now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of backing out, Ms. Manion. You’re stuck with me…with us.” He glanced at the girls, silent by the window. “And I’m sure everything will turn out just fine.”

For the first time, his smile was a little doubtful. As she stared up at him, Valerie had to wonder why Rob Warren worried about his daughter getting along in the troop. And how much trouble his worry predicted for her in the long run.

“Of course it will,” she found herself assuring him. “We’ll have a great year.” She bent to pick up the box. “Our first meeting is next Wednesday. We’ll have to get together to do some planning before then.”

“Let me take that,” Rob said, slipping his hands under the front corners of the container.

“I’ve got it.” Valerie backed up, looking over her shoulder for her daughter. “Grace, could you get the other box? And Connor, bring that bag, please.”

But Rob still hadn’t let go of the box she held. “I’ll get this one.”

“No, thanks. I can do it.”

“But you don’t have to.” He took a step forward.

“I want to.” She grinned at him. “Are we going to dance around the room with this between us? Or can I just carry it to my car?”

Shaking his head and frowning, he backed away with his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. “You are one headstrong woman, Valerie Manion. Your husband’s a patient man.”

“I’m divorced.” She said it quickly, flatly. “It’s just me and the kids.”

He gazed at her for a moment with a somber expression. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your problem.” She glanced around the room, double-checking for stray papers, then headed for the door.

Rob followed. “But I’m gonna be working with you. Should I be relieved or worried about this stubbornness of yours?”

“Both. Because I’m committed to making our troop the best it can be. And…” Balancing the box on her knee, she pulled her keys out of her shorts pocket and hit the button to unlock the doors on her van. “And I always get my way.”

Even though he waited for Ginny to leave the building ahead of him, Rob somehow crossed the parking lot ahead of Valerie to open the van’s rear door before she could.

“Always?” He reached out one more time for the box.

“Always,” Valerie affirmed, sidestepping to put the container into the back of the van by herself.

“We’ll have to see about that.” He took Grace’s load and stowed it next to other box.

Valerie managed to capture the bag Connor carried. “I win,” she said, putting the sack next to the boxes.

But Rob beat her to shutting the door. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible. Should I be glad or worried?”

He winked at her. “Both.”

WITH ROB’S FRIENDLINESS to think back on, Valerie found herself feeling more cheerful than usual as she made dinner. After cleaning up, Grace and Connor settled down in front of the TV with a movie while she completed GO! paperwork at the dining room table. The only part she didn’t like about the program was the never-ending reports to be made. Tonight, though, she kept remembering her new assistant leader’s IRS comment and his good-natured teasing about the forms, and the work went quickly.

The phone rang while she took a break with a cup of coffee in the kitchen.

“Good evening, Valerie.” Connor Manion Sr., attorney to New York’s new money, had taken speech lessons to smooth Brooklyn out of his voice.

“Con.” She turned her back to the kitchen door, hoping the kids wouldn’t hear. “What’s wrong?”

“Why should there be something wrong? I called to check on my children.”

“For the first time in three months.”

“I’ve been in Europe on a case.”

“How nice for you.”

“Much nicer than Ohio or—where are you now?— Hicksville, North Carolina.”

“What do you want, Con?”

“You should’ve stuck with the sure thing, Val. You could have been in Paris this summer, too. Great clothes in Paris, and I remember how you like clothes.”

She chose to say nothing and, as usual, silence goaded her ex-husband into some fast talking.

“Anyway, I want to chat with the kids. But first I thought I’d let you know that the check’s coming.”

“In the mail, no doubt.”

“Monday, at the latest.”

“Is this July’s check, or August’s?”

The veneer cracked. “What the hell are you talking about? I sent money all summer.”

“No, you didn’t.”

After a seething few seconds, he recovered. “My secretary must’ve scr…missed some paperwork. I’m sure I directed her to send those checks.”

“That’s what you’d like the court to think, anyway. Don’t worry, Con. I haven’t reported you. Yet.”

“Don’t sound so superior, damn you. You need the money, I know you do.”

“The kids need your money. All I need from you I have in them. Hold on and I’ll bring Grace to the phone.”

The excitement that Con’s phone call produced in her children was depressing, but Val managed to maintain a cheerful expression until they went to bed. Worn out by the effort, she got into her own bed a half hour earlier than usual. Lying on her side, she rested her cheek on her right palm, and then remembered shaking hands with Rob Warren. The thought made her smile.

Maybe tonight, she could look forward to her dreams.

“THERE YOU GO,” Rob told his daughter once they were in their van and headed home. “Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

Ginny shrugged a thin shoulder. “I guess.”

“Aw, come on. You like being outdoors, right? We can go camping and fishing and all sorts of things.”

“We could do that anyway. We don’t need a bunch of girls to go with us.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’ll have fun with those other girls. Grace seems really nice.”

“She talks funny.”

He chuckled. “She has a New York accent, like her mom. Definitely different from Southern English.”

“And her little brother is a pest.”

“That’s what little brothers are for. So big sisters don’t get too comfortable.”

A spark of real interest flared in her gray eyes. “You treated Aunt Jen that way?”

“I’m sure I did. You can ask her tonight.”

Ginny nodded. “I will.”

She got her chance when his sister Jenny came through the back door, just as they finished cleaning up after dinner.

Jen stopped in her tracks, pretending to be surprised. “You didn’t save me any?”

“You hate macaroni and cheese, Aunt Jen.” Ginny gave her a hug. “Was Daddy really a pest when he was little?”

“The worst.” Jen sat at the table and pulled Ginny close to her side. Mat the Cat jumped onto her lap and settled with a purr as Ginny rubbed his ears. “I could never get rid of him. And he would take my stuff and hide it. I still haven’t found my favorite Barbie doll—the one I painted to look like a Shoshone warrior.”

Rob leaned his hips back against the counter, tapping one finger against his temple, as if thinking hard. “Oh, yeah. Where did I put that?” He shook his head. “Nope, can’t remember. It’s gone forever. Ready for your bath, Gin?”

She heaved a huge sigh. “I guess so.”

“Don’t sound so put-upon.” Jen got to her feet, pulling her shoulder-length, silvery blond hair into a ponytail with a band on her wrist. “I brought new bath lotion—bubblegum scent.”

“Cool.” Ginny led the way out of the kitchen. In a few minutes, her giggles floated down the hallway on the sound of water flowing into the tub.

As Rob folded the dish towel and turned out the kitchen light, Jen stuck her head around the doorframe. “You okay?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Sure.”

“You look…tired.”

“Long day.” Weren’t they all?

“Another argument with Dad?”

“Among other things. How about you?”

Her face dropped its smiling mask. “Sure. I’m okay.” Sadness clouded her eyes, but then she shook her head. “We’ll be done in a while. I’ll go through her exercises with her tonight. You take it easy.”

“Thanks, Jen. I’ll be outside.” Rob pulled a beer out of the fridge and carried it to the back porch, shutting the door behind him to keep the cool air in and the hot evening out. Despite the high cost of air-conditioning, he wouldn’t think about turning the thermostat up. Ginny couldn’t sleep if the house got hot. And they both needed her sleep.

As he shook off the disloyal thought, he heard a car door slam out in front of the house. The side gate creaked open, and his friend, Pete Mitchell, came into the yard.

“’Evening,” Rob said, lifting his beer in a toast. “Want one?”

“Sounds great.”

When Rob left the house this time, Mat the Cat came with him. The orange tiger started to rub up against Pete’s leg, then took a sniff and darted down the steps into the grass. “I guess he smells Miss Dixie on my jeans.” Sitting on the step beside Rob, Pete took the beer and cracked open the top. “I stopped to feed her before I came over.”

“Yeah, Mat’s not real fond of the canine club. No classes tonight?” The state trooper organized and managed a nightly school program for teenagers who’d run afoul of the law.

“Friday night doesn’t draw enough kids to make the effort worthwhile. Jen’s inside with Ginny? How’s she holding up?” Pete had been part of the law enforcement procession during the funeral of Jenny’s fiancé, killed in the line of duty back in June.

“She says okay. What else can she say?” Rob took a draw on his beer. “Where’s your better half? And your half pint?”

“There’s a wedding shower for Jacquie Archer at Dixon Bell’s house, so I’m on my own. Mary Rose took Joey with her. I guess babies and weddings kinda go together, don’t they?” Pete leaned back against the step behind him.

“That’s the best way, so I hear.”

“I ate supper down at the diner with DeVries and Bell—both of them making do without wives tonight, like me. But, man, I hate being a bachelor again. Just doesn’t feel right.” After a swig of his beer, Pete threw him a sidelong glance. “That was a dumb thing to say. Sorry.”

“No problem.” Although Rob had been one of the first in their high school class to walk down the aisle, his three best friends and basketball buddies had caught up with him in the last couple of years. Along with Pete, Dixon Bell and Adam DeVries had each found a woman to share their lives with. Now Jacquie Archer, another friend of theirs from high school, had a wedding in the works. “I guess love is in the air these days in New Skye.”

“So it’s your turn.” His friend punched him in the shoulder. “We need to find you a nice woman of your own.”

Rob snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s not that big a town, Pete. I already know every eligible woman—grew up with most of them—and the prospects aren’t good. Besides…” He finished his beer. “I’ve got responsibilities nobody else can take on.”

“Ginny doing well?”

“Sure. We enrolled in the Girls Outdoors! troop at school this afternoon. I’m gonna be assistant leader.”

“Girls Outdoors?”

“Like the Scouts. Camping, hiking, all that jazz.”

“With a bunch of little girls?” Pete shook his head. “Man, that’s gotta be crazy.”

They sat for a long time, talking a little now and then as the August twilight deepened and the air cooled. Just before dark, the door behind them opened and Ginny came out slowly, using her crutches without leg braces.

“Hi, Uncle Pete.”

She couldn’t sit easily beside him, so he gently hugged her around the hips. “Don’t you smell good? Like bubblegum. Be careful—somebody’s gonna chew you up.”

Ginny giggled. “You’re silly. Where’s Joey?”

“His mom has him at a party, and I imagine he’s being spoiled rotten as we speak.” Pete got to his feet as Jen came outside. “So how’s your first month on the EMT service going?”

She smiled, the mask firmly back in place. “Excellent, thanks. I’m sure it’s the right thing for me to do.”

“That’s all well and good, but we sure do miss you in the shop,” Rob said. “You don’t even want to know what your files look like at this point.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “I can imagine. Dad takes ’em out of the drawer and just piles them on the desk when he’s done. I guess he expects the file fairy to come in overnight and put everything back. I’m off this weekend—I’ll take a few hours and straighten up the mess.”

Rob nodded. “That would be a godsend. I’m getting so many calls these days I don’t have time for paperwork except at night. I hate having those files piled high and getting mixed up or, worse, lost.”

Jenny put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, bro. You don’t have to do everything.”

“Amazing how many people get locked out of their houses or cars, isn’t it?” Pete shook his head. “I did it myself just after Joey was born. Walked out the door to visit the hospital and left the house keys inside.”

Rob thought back seven months or so. “I don’t remember getting a call from you.”

“I climbed in through a window.” The state trooper winked at Rob. “And you don’t need to tell me about home security, or being sure your windows are shut and locked. That’s my line. I am thinking about an alarm system, though. That way, I’ll feel better about Mary Rose and Joey at home without me. Can you give me a good deal?”

“Don’t I wish. I keep nudging Dad toward the security business—electronic locks and alarm systems. But he digs in his heels every time. ‘Three generations of Warrens have made locksmith work their life.’” Rob imitated his dad’s gruff tone. “‘It was good enough for my daddy, it’s good enough for me. Why the—’” He glanced at Ginny and changed his words. “‘Why in the world ain’t it good enough for you?’”

“Too bad.” Pete stirred, stood up and stepped off the porch. “I guess I’ll get myself home again. I’m a grown man—I ought to be able to survive an hour or two on my own.” But still he hesitated, a lost look on his face. “How long can a wedding shower last, anyway?”

When Pete had gone, Rob turned to Ginny. “You ready for bed, sweetheart? If you want to go on inside, I’ll say good-night to Aunt Jen and be there to tuck you in shortly.”

Ginny frowned. “Do I have to go to bed? It’s Friday night, and there’s no school tomorrow. We could watch a movie, right?”

The tired ache in his shoulders felt like a boulder sitting on his neck. “I’m pretty much worn out, Gin— I don’t think I’ll make it through a movie, starting this late. How about we plan to watch a movie tomorrow night?”

“I’m not tired.” The crossness in her voice belied her words. “I want a movie tonight.”

Jen stepped up and put an arm around Ginny’s shoulders. “Come on, Gin-Gin, I’ll tuck you in. We can read abou—”

“No.” Ginny couldn’t stomp her foot, so she banged her crutch on the porch floor, scaring Mat the Cat back into the grass. “Other kids get to stay up late on Fridays and watch movies and eat pizza and candy. I never get to do fun stuff like that.”

Rob put up a hand. “Ginny, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I get boring dinners and a bedtime like I was a baby. Joey’s not in bed yet and he’s only seven months old. He’s at a party!” She maneuvered around to face the door and fumbled with the door handle. When Jen reached out to help, Ginny slapped her aunt’s arm away. “I can get it myself. I’m not a total freak. I can open a door.”

Jen stepped back. “I was just trying to help.”

Ginny was past noticing anybody else’s feelings. “I don’t need help. I need a real life.” She got the door open, propelled herself into the kitchen and then managed to slam the panel behind her. Rob chuckled as he heard the lock click.

Jen looked at him, her eyes round. “She locked you out?”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “She does, every once in a while.”

“But—”

“It’s okay. After the first time, I made sure never to leave the house without my keys, even to take out the garbage.” Putting his arm around her shoulders, he gave her a hug. “Thanks for helping out tonight. Sorry you got such lousy feedback.”

She shook her head and started down the steps. “You know I love being with Ginny—even when she’s throwing a tantrum. Mom said to tell you she’d be over tomorrow night as usual.”

“I might call and ask if she can make it earlier, so we can have this movie night Ginny wants.”

“I’m sure that’ll work. ’Night, Rob.” She crossed the backyard to the stand of yellow oak trees they’d planted between his house and hers. “Get some sleep yourself.”

“I will.” He raised his hand in return to Jen’s wave, until she disappeared into the shadows under the leaves.

After another minute of peace and quiet, Rob dug his keys out and unlocked the kitchen door. Inside the house, the television was defiantly loud. A ghostly flicker filled the living room. Ginny had put on her movie.

His little girl lay in front of the TV on top of her big soft floor pillows, with her crutches discarded nearby. Her eyes were open, but she pretended to ignore his presence, punishing him for the treachery of exhaustion.

With a sigh, Rob sat in the recliner in the corner. The cool leather embraced him, molded to his body by years of use. He’d slept in this chair many an hour, holding his daughter through a long, disturbed night. He could do it again. Even with loud cartoon voices and sound effects in his ears.

Along about midnight, though, when the movie had ended and the videotape had rewound, and when Ginny had fallen fast asleep, he got up and knelt to lift her from the floor. She hardly weighed a hundred pounds, no burden at all for him to carry. He set her gently down on the bed in her room and pulled the covers close—she would be chilled if she didn’t use the blankets. After a return trip to the living room for the crutches, he stood for a little bit watching her sleep.

The daytime lines of effort and disappointment vanished from Ginny’s face when she slept, so she appeared carefree in a way she never did when awake. He could see her mother in her thick reddish hair, the soft rose tint of her cheeks. Leah had been beautiful, enthusiastic, vibrant with life. If she had lived, she might have helped them discover the joy amidst all the compromises, limitations and accommodations. Rob knew they were lucky—Ginny’s disabilities could have been much worse.

As things stood, though, Ginny and he had struggled from the very first time he’d heard the words “cerebral palsy” applied to his child. Rob had long since given up believing that one day the struggle would end.

In his own room, he dropped his jeans and shirt onto the floor and fell facedown on the bed. He was on call for the shop tomorrow, which would keep him tied to his pager and cell phone all day long. And he had a basketball game at 7:30 a.m. Getting some more sleep tonight would be a really good idea…

Only minutes later—or so it seemed—a small fist pounded at his shoulder. “Daddy? Daddy, wake up. It’s the phone.” Ginny stood by his bed. “I let it ring a thousand times.”

Rob ran a hand over his face and realized it was daylight. “Man. I didn’t know I was asleep. Sorry.” He picked up the phone Ginny had dropped on the bed. “’Lo?”

“Rob? This is Valerie Manion.”

With an effort, he pulled himself together and sat up in bed. “Hey, Valerie. How are you?”

“I’ve been better, actually.” Her Yankee accent seemed sharper than he remembered. “I hate to bother you so early, but I need a locksmith as soon as possible.”

He glanced at the clock. Damn. He’d slept through the basketball game. “What’s the problem? Keys locked in the car?”

“Nothing so simple. I need to have all the locks changed today. According to the police, this house was previously used as a dope distribution center. The Realtor didn’t tell me that, of course—just fixed the place up and sold it for a good price.”

“You talked to the police?”

The deep breath she drew definitely sounded shaky. “I called them last night when someone tried to break into the house.”

CHAPTER TWO

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Rob said. “Are your kids all right?”

Hearing the concern in his voice, Valerie felt the tension inside her relax a little. “We’re fine. The police arrived while the guy was still trying to jimmy the back door lock, so they caught and arrested him on the spot.”

“Thank God. You spent the rest of the night with a neighbor, right?”

“Um…no. We don’t really know our neighbors yet—we only moved in last week.”

“You went to a motel?”

“We stayed here, and I pushed a couple of pieces of furniture in front of the doors.” Valerie thought back to the struggle of sliding the kitchen cupboard across the floor. “Heavy furniture.”

By his stunned silence, she could tell Rob thought her choice a poor one. Who made him the expert, anyway? She could take care of herself and her kids without a man’s input.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Well, you’re right about one thing—you do need your locks changed this morning. That’s no problem—I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thanks.” She set the phone down, propped her chin on her knuckles and closed her eyes. Grace and Connor were still asleep in her bed, where they’d all cuddled once the police had left and the doors were blocked. Valerie had stayed awake, listening to the multitude of night sounds and wondering about the windows, which were locked but vulnerable nonetheless. She’d never been quite so glad to see a sunrise as she was this morning.

Before she could give in to the need for a nap, the black van Rob had driven yesterday pulled into her drive. Blue and white lettering on the side advertised Warren and Sons Locksmiths. Somewhere in the middle of last night’s terse police questions and frantic children’s tears, her brain had latched on to a fact she’d only skimmed yesterday afternoon—Rob Warren was a locksmith. His phone number on Ginny’s information sheet had relieved at least one of her worries.

With a strength that seemed to come out of nowhere, she pushed the TV cabinet away from the front door. “I’m so glad to see you,” she called as he and Ginny crossed the grass. “Thanks for coming out this early.” Her pleasure in seeing him was totally out of proportion to the occasion. He was coming to do a job. Right?

Rob stopped at the foot of the porch steps and grinned at her. “You’re more than welcome. I’d have come last night, if you’d called. I hate to think of y’all barricaded behind furniture to stay safe.” He looked the way a man should on a hot Saturday morning in August—relaxed and comfortable in a dark blue T-shirt and faded jeans that hung a little loose on his long legs, with his hair combed back and damp from a shower.

“Grace and Connor are still asleep,” she said, willing her pulse to slow down. “But it’s good to see you, Ginny. Come in and make yourself at home.”

Ginny moved ahead of her dad, who waited behind her as she slowly climbed the steps—one crutch, then the other and then her braced legs. Her face was a frozen blank, as if she was trying to deny her own effort.

Valerie held the door open, then followed father and daughter inside. “I apologize for the place being such a wreck. We just moved in last week, and I’m still unpacking boxes at night after work. The kitchen’s the neatest, Ginny, if you want to sit in there.”

Unlike her dad, Ginny did not have a ready smile. “Whatever.”

Rob glanced at her with lowered brows, but didn’t comment. “Which locks did this guy mess with?”

“The front and back doors. He wasn’t a pro, obviously, because he didn’t get through either one, and started pounding away with something, trying just to break the door open. The police said he used a tire iron.”

Nodding, Rob turned back to the front door and squatted down to examine the deformed dead bolt and splintered wood around it. His long fingers moved lightly across the different surfaces. He clicked his tongue. “This lock was no great shakes to begin with. But he’s pretty much destroyed your door.” In a clean, easy motion, he straightened to his full height. “How about the back?”

“This way.” She led him through to the kitchen and heard Ginny follow them across the wood floor with a thump of crutches.

“Oops, I haven’t moved that cupboard yet.”

“Excuse me.” His warm hand on her shoulder gently set her aside.

Valerie made sure Ginny took a chair at the kitchen table and then went to join him in pushing the big, heavy piece.

Rob shook his head. “I’ll get this.”

She put her hands on the oak frame. “I can move my own furniture.”

“I see that. But you don’t have to while I’m here. Just step back.”

“All you have to add is ‘little lady’ and I’ll believe you’re John Wayne.” She didn’t smile as she said it.

His eyes widened and his mouth firmed into a straight line. “Well then, since I’m not the Duke, I guess we’ll do it your way.”

“I will admit,” Valerie said when they’d shoved the cupboard against the wall, “that putting this thing in place again with you took a lot less time than moving it by myself.”

Rob gave her a wink before turning to the back door. This time, he didn’t need to bend over to see the damage. “Looks like he went at this one harder ’cause he didn’t figure he’d be seen in back. This is another new door and lock. And the door frame’s damaged, too. Before you can put in a decent lock, that’ll need to be replaced.”

Valerie dropped into a chair at the table. “So we really can’t stay here another night. I know a carpenter won’t come out on Saturday.” On top of a sleepless night—and Con’s phone call—the whole ordeal pressed down on her shoulders with the weight of a millstone. “I hate leaving our stuff at the mercy of whoever comes by. But—”

“Hold on a minute.” Rob sat down across from her, with Ginny between them. “We can do better than that. I’ve hung a few doors in my time, but I’ve got a couple of friends who are professionals. Let me see what I can rustle up.”

“You don’t—”

He didn’t wait for her protest, but whipped out his cell phone and punched in a number. “Hey, Adam. Yeah, I actually did. Sorry ’bout that. Listen, have you and Dixon got plans this morning? I have a lady in distress here, and I think you could help.” After an explanation and a few quick words, he closed the phone. “There you go—they’ll be here in about an hour. They were just sitting down to breakfast.”

Valerie set aside her irritation at the “lady in distress” description and got to her feet. “Speaking of food, have you eaten anything, either of you?” She looked at Ginny, who pouted and shook her head. “Well, that’s a problem I can solve right away.”

Rob put up a hand. “Why don’t I just go get some doughnuts, or—”

“Not a chance.” She, too, could boss people around, including this smooth-talking, dictatorial Southern gentleman. “I’ve got a decent breakfast in the fridge and it won’t take long to put together. Do you drink coffee?” she asked, with her head inside the refrigerator. “I try to avoid the stuff on the weekends because I live on it all week, but I can make a pot.”

“I’m a tea drinker, myself.”

“I have some tea bags.” She pushed the refrigerator door closed with her hip. “I’ll make you a cup.”

“Well, actually—do you have any iced tea?”

She stopped in front of him, a carton of eggs in one hand and a jug of milk in the other. “Iced tea? At breakfast?”

“Lunch, dinner and bedtime, too.” His eyes twinkled, reminding her of Connor at his most mischievous.

“I don’t know how to make iced tea.”

“I could show you.”

“You make tea?”

“My daddy makes the best,” Ginny put in. “He learned from my grandmama. When our family gets together for a picnic, everybody wants Daddy to make the tea.”

Valerie gestured toward the pantry with the milk. “Well, clearly I’m in the presence of a master. Be my guest.”

By the time she’d scrambled eggs and broiled bacon, Rob had produced a pitcher of tea and Grace stood at the door to the kitchen with Connor behind her, blinking at their early guests. “Mom? What’s going on?”

“Good morning, sleepyheads. Come to the table. Mr. Warren and Ginny are here for breakfast, and then Mr. Warren is going to fix the locks on the doors.”

Not budging a step farther, Grace glanced at the back door. “Did that man come back?”

“No. No, he won’t come back. The police took him away, remember?”

“C’mon, dummy, move!” Connor pushed from behind and stomped past his stumbling sister into the kitchen. “I’m hungry.” In the middle of the room, though, he stopped short and pointed at Ginny. “She’s in my chair.”

Valerie nodded at the space next to Rob. “We brought in a new chair for you. Grace, come sit beside me.”

“I’m not sitting next to her.” Connor walked around to his usual place. “Give me my chair.”

Ginny stared at him with a challenge in her eyes. “No.”

“Ginny—” Rob started.

“Mommy,” Connor whined, “I want my chair.”

She took his hand and led him to the other side of the table. “You will sit here. Or you won’t eat.” Her son slouched into the disputed seat. With his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks puffed and lower lip stuck out, he resembled a grouchy frog.

Ignoring him, Valerie looked at her daughter. “Come sit down, Grace, before the food gets cold.” After another moment of hesitation, Grace sidled in behind the table to sit next to her brother, who promptly blew a raspberry at her.

“Hey.” Rob’s hand closed over Connor’s shoulder. “That’s no fair.”

Connor turned his freckled face toward Rob. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t blow raspberries without a reason.”

“Who says?”

“It’s the rule.”

“Whose rule?”

“Everybody knows raspberries don’t count unless the other guy—or girl—did something to you first.” With a shrug, Rob sat back in his seat. “That’s the law of the land.”

With eyebrows lowered and lips pursed, Connor stared at him for a long time. At last, he turned to Valerie. “Can I have some eggs now?”

“Please,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “Can I please have some eggs now?”

“Good man,” Rob told him with a grin.

Valerie watched as Connor started to smile back, then quickly reverted to his standard belligerent attitude. After a year of his moods, she’d begun to wonder if the cheerful little boy she’d once known would ever reappear. Thanks to Rob Warren, she now saw that he still lurked beneath the mask—daunted but not gone forever.

Once the kids cleared the table after breakfast, Ginny returned to her chair and Grace and Connor went to get dressed. Valerie attempted to load the dishwasher without Rob’s help.

“I can do that,” he insisted. “You cooked. I want to clean up.”

“I will finish the kitchen,” she said through gritted teeth. “Sit down and drink your tea or go for a walk around the block. But don’t stand here in my way.”

A knock at the front door forestalled his answer. She started to leave the kitchen, then turned back. “Don’t touch the dishwasher,” she warned. “Or heads will roll.”

He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Ginny and I will come along so you can keep an eye on me.”

“Good idea.” When she reached the door, she found two good-looking guys in shorts, T-shirts and sneakers standing on the porch.

The taller one spoke first. “Ms. Manion? I’m Dixon Bell, and this is Adam DeVries. Rob Warren gave us a call about your doors?”

Rob stepped up behind her. “About time y’all showed up. I was beginning to think I’d have to hang these doors by myself.”

“God f-forbid,” Adam DeVries said. “You’d never get them square.”

“Wait a minute.” Valerie shook her head. “I thought I read in the paper…saw somewhere…that the name of the mayor is DeVries.”

The dark-haired man smiled at her. “That’s me. And on b-behalf of New Skye, I’d like to w-welcome you and your f-family to the city. We’re glad to h-have you.” His gaze dropped to the doorknob and he scowled. “Although this is not at all the kind of reception you should have gotten. I’ll be talking to the police chief.”

“Adam owns a construction business,” Rob said over her shoulder. “And when he’s not putting down other people’s best efforts, he does a good job. Dixon has done a lot of restoration work on his own house, so he’s another one you can trust to get your doors hung right.”

She felt as if she was being swept along by a river of masculinity. “I really don’t want to bother you—”

“It’s no bother.” Dixon smiled, and she realized he was nearly as handsome as Rob, with a moonlight-and-magnolias accent all his own. “We’re glad to help a new neighbor.”

Adam pulled a tape measure out of his pocket and reached to the top of her door. “All we have to do is m-measure, then we can get the right-size d-doors and get on with the j-job.” The mayor seemed quieter than his friends, but his steady gaze was reassuring. Valerie decided he had her vote.

“We’ll need to measure the back door and check out the frame,” Rob warned. “That’s got to be replaced, too.”

The men were soon deep into a cryptic conversation involving tools, wood and screws. Valerie stood her ground, trying to understand, hoping to remain an active part of the process. In the end, however, she assured Rob that Ginny was welcome to stay with her while he went for supplies and then watched helplessly from the front porch as the three of them got into a white pickup truck and drove off.

When she turned back into the house, Ginny stood nearby. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Valerie called up her most encouraging smile. “Well, let’s go find out what Grace is up to.” She led Ginny down the hallway to Grace’s bedroom, only to find the door closed. “Grace, are you okay?”

Her daughter opened the door to create a narrow crack she could peer through. “Yes.” Her glance flicked to Ginny and then away.

“Ginny’s here while her dad has gone to get the new doors. I thought the two of your might find something to do together.”

The hesitation in Grace’s face was easy to read, and Valerie felt sure Ginny saw it. But after a long moment, the door opened all the way.

“Sure,” her daughter said, with a marked lack of enthusiasm. “Come in.”

Valerie stepped to the side, giving Ginny room to pass. She could practically feel the temperature drop below freezing. “I’m going to help Connor unpack his room,” she told them. “He’s been waiting all week. So, you two…um…have fun.”

The two girls stared at her, their expressions a similar mix of impatience, resentment and uncertainty. Valerie turned her back and escaped to the simple world of the seven-year-old male. Maybe there she could establish a position of authority.

As she reached Connor’s door, a foam missile hit her in the face.

Then again, maybe not.

GRACE RETREATED to her bed, leaving the other girl the rest of the room. After a couple of minutes, the girl came in—you couldn’t call it walking, exactly, with the crutches. She stopped in the middle of the rug, looked around but didn’t say anything.

“What do you want to play?” Grace said at last, just to end the silence.

“I don’t care,” the girl said without looking at Grace.

“Do you like dolls?”

“Dolls are for babies.”

Grace glanced at her favorites, all lined up on the bed. She hoped they hadn’t heard. “Um…I have puzzles.”

“Boring.”

She didn’t see how they could play dress up. And she didn’t want to play dress up with the girl, anyway. “We could build with Lego’s. Or play Life.”

The girl sighed, went to the chair at the desk and sat down. Grace gasped when she remembered that she’d left her diary there, open. She started to jump up and grab it out from under the girl’s face.

But the girl didn’t seem to notice the diary. “So what happened last night? Did some guy really try to break down your door?”

“Yes.” She shivered when she thought about it.

“Did he make a lot of noise?”

“N-not at first. It got louder, the more he tried.”

“Were you awake the whole time?” The girl seemed really excited. She hadn’t said this much in the entire first week of school.

“I don’t think so. Mom came to get us and took us to her room, then called the police.”

“And you just sat and listened until they came?”

Grace nodded, then swallowed the lump in her throat at the memory.

“Scary, huh? What were you going to do if he got in before the cops came?”

“My mother—” She remembered just in time. Tell nobody. Absolutely no one. “I don’t know.”

But the girl didn’t believe her. “What were you going to say? Your mother…?”

“My mother locked the bedroom door. We were safe enough until the police came.”

The girl’s pale eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s what you meant. I think you were going to say something else.”

She gripped her bedspread with both hands. “No, I wasn’t. That’s all.”

Now the girl did turn to the desk, and she picked up the diary. “I could keep this and give it to your little brother.”

Grace jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that. It’s mine.”

“And if you try to take it away, I’ll tell your mother you were hitting me.” The girl gave a fake smile. “Nobody likes it when you beat up on a cripple.”

“Please, give it back.”

“Tell me what you started to say.”

“I—I can’t. I promised not to.”

“Okay.” She shrugged and then wiggled to her feet, with the diary caught in her hand next to the crutch. “I’ll go see your little brother.”

“Wait. Stop.” Grace took a deep breath. It wouldn’t hurt to tell what. She wouldn’t say where. “I’ll tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I—” She glanced at the door, as if her mother could hear.

“Well?”

“My mother has a gun.” Grace dragged in a deep breath. “We sat on the bed facing the door, and she loaded and cocked the gun. If the guy had come in, she was going to blow his head off.”

“Could she do that?”

“She took shooting lessons. I think she could.”

“Wow.” The girl set the diary on the desk. “That’s cool.”

Grace reached out and grabbed the little book, hugging it close to her chest and ran back to her bed.

“But she didn’t get to shoot him, did she?”

“No.” She finished stuffing the book under the mattress, then turned and sat down on top of it. “The police came.”

“Can I see it? The gun?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

This time, she had an answer ready. “My mom hides it. I don’t know where she keeps it.”

“We could look for it.”

“She’d figure out pretty fast what we were looking for. And then we’d get in trouble.” Major trouble, since Grace wasn’t supposed to have said anything in the first place.

“Too bad.” The girl sighed. “That would have been fun.” They both sat and did nothing for a few minutes. “Does your boom box work?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have any decent music?”

“What do you think is decent?”

“Canned Tin?”

Grace couldn’t help releasing a smile of relief. “Have you heard their latest CD? It’s awesome.”

“I know. And my dad won’t get me the disk—he says it’s not good music.”

“Your dad’s crazy out of his mind.” She expected to be slapped for the words.

But the girl smiled again—a real smile, this time. “I know.”

DIXON AND ADAM got the doors hung around midafternoon, and shared a glass of iced tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies with Valerie and the kids before going back to their own families. Then Rob went to work on the locks.

After only a few minutes, he felt eyes boring into the back of his head. A glance to the rear showed Connor standing behind him. “Hey. Want to watch?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Rob turned back to his work, but the sensation of being observed didn’t go away. “Since the other door was about twenty years old,” he said conversationally, “the lock hole on a new door wouldn’t have been in the right place. So we got a door without a pre-drilled hole and I’m gonna make one that matches the old door.” He picked up his router and set the point on the door. “This’ll be loud.” The high-pitched roar of the tool took over for a few minutes.

With the hole drilled, Rob popped out the plug of wood. “That’s all there is to it.” He set the plug to his side and a little behind him, where a small hand promptly snatched it up. “Now I need another, smaller hole for the tongue to go through.”

Step by step, he talked his way through the dead-bolt installation, without ever seeing Connor face-to-face. “All that’s left is to tighten these screws.” He suited actions to words, then stepped back. “Now there’s a good strong bolt on this door, at least.” With the door shut, he locked both the dead bolt and the knob. “I bet nobody’s gonna get that door open without a key any time soon.” Gathering up his tools, he headed for the kitchen without a glance around.

But he paused in the dining room and grinned as he heard the distinct sound of a little boy rattling a doorknob.

By dinnertime, both the front and back doors of the Manion house boasted state-of-the art brass doorknobs, plus heavy-duty dead bolts.

“That’s a start.” Rob surveyed the finished back door from inside the kitchen. “No junkie’s gonna get through steel and brass before the cops get here.”

“Fantastic.” Valerie stood beside him, her dark, curly hair barely level with his shoulder. “I miss the windows in the door, though. I liked looking out onto the backyard while the kids played.”

“You still can—that’s why we’ve got the storm door, here.” He reached around her shoulder to open the inner panel. “When you’re home, you can leave the door open and look through the glass. Come nighttime, or when you’re away, this thick metal door will keep you safe.”

He followed Valerie out onto the deck, where Ginny sat with a book. Connor and Grace were climbing on the play set in the shade underneath a grove of pines, but Rob didn’t like Ginny using a swing unless he was nearby.

“What I really need is a security system, with all the doors and windows wired.” Valerie rubbed her hands up and down her arms, though the evening was far from cool. “My last two houses had one. Does your company install alarms?”

Rob blew out a deep, frustrated breath. Another potential sale he had to turn down. “No, we don’t. I can send you to a couple of good companies up in Raleigh. But there’s nobody local who installs and monitors alarms yet. I’m pushing my dad, but…” He shrugged. “Mike’s a little set in his ways.”

Valerie looked at him curiously. “Do you like working with your family?”

“Has its ups and downs.” Mostly downs, lately.

“I know I couldn’t work with my dad. He still can’t believe I actually read the financial pages and run whole departments in big companies. And whenever we go home, he tries to tell me how to parent my kids.” She made a wry face. “I don’t go home very often.”

“The grandparents think they know best, don’t they?”

“Of course. And it’s worse since the divorce. He’s sure I don’t know what I’m doing with Connor.” It was her turn to sigh. “Unfortunately, half the time I think he’s right.”

“Don’t give up yet. I imagine it’s hard on a kid, losing his dad. Does he get to see your ex often?”

She turned away to fiddle with the leaf of a potted plant. “No. Con Sr. doesn’t do kids anymore.”

Rob had a word for men like that, but he kept it to himself. The sun had dropped behind the treetops, leaving the deck and the entire backyard in shadow. Valerie lifted a hand to the nape of her neck and massaged the muscles there. He knew she had a headache, from the tiny line between her brows.

“You must be tired,” he said. “I doubt you got much sleep last night.”

“None.” She looked up, smiling. “But tonight I can sleep safe behind my strong new doors.”

That smile was a killer—sweet and saucy, with the dimple, and yet a little shy. He got hit by the strangest need to trace the shape of her mouth with his fingertip. Or to sample the taste of a kiss.

In his head, bells clanged and a siren screamed. Rob backed all the way to the rail of the deck. “I…think Ginny and I had better be getting home. Leave y’all in peace.” Even an argument with his daughter would be preferable to the wild ideas currently racing through his brain. “Ginny, time to go.”

“I really appreciate all you’ve done.” Valerie followed as he wrangled a protesting Ginny to the front door. “I expect a bill for your time and all the materials.”

“You’ll get one,” he promised. “Or my dad’ll be on my back.” He reached the car without further temptation. “’Night,” he said, as Valerie stood by his open window. He pressed the brake and shifted gears, almost escaped.

Then she placed her hand on the door—a capable hand, with well-tended nails and soft-looking skin. “Rob, we need to get together to talk about the first GO! meeting. I’ve got a general plan, but I want you to contribute. When are you free?”

He’d forgotten GO!. “Anytime,” he said, relaxing in the seat, accepting his fate.

“How’s tomorrow afternoon? Around two?”

“Fine. Shall I come here?”

“That’s good.”

“Okay, then. Y’all have a peaceful night.” He couldn’t help adding, “And call me if you need help this time.”

“Sure.” That reassuring smile meant Not a chance.

“Promise.” He glared at her. “Let me hear you say it.”

Valerie put her hand over her heart. “Okay. I promise.”

Rob nodded. “Right.” She stepped back and he made his getaway. Only for a brief reprieve, though. Tomorrow, he would come back…to a woman who inspired ideas he hadn’t allowed inside his brain for years.

Maybe by tomorrow, he’d have recovered from this temporary insanity. Tomorrow, she’d look like every other woman he’d met in the last eight years. Nice. Ordinary. Right?

Yeah, right. Sunday afternoon, Valerie met him at her new front door, wearing a light-blue sundress. Her shoulders were bare and tan, as were her long, smooth legs.

At the sudden spike in his heart rate, Rob acknowledged the fact that this woman might turn out to be the exact opposite from nice and ordinary, after all.

CHAPTER THREE

VALERIE LOOKED BEYOND him as he stepped onto her porch. “Where’s Ginny?”

Before he could answer, though, she gasped. “What a gorgeous car! Is it yours?” Leaving the front door wide open, she rushed out to the driveway. “A ’55 Thunderbird, right? I love the turquoise and white. Oh, and it’s a manual transmission. How cool is that? Aren’t those whitewalls just to die for?”

“Uh…yes.” Rob grinned and leaned a shoulder against the porch post while she circled around his car, making little noises of pleasure. He’d hadn’t seen a woman as cute as Valerie Manion in a long, long time. “Glad you like her.”

She glanced up from her intense study of the taillights. “I know, I’m crazy. My granddad had one of these, and my dad dated my mom with that car. By the time I could drive, though, they’d retired the Thunderbird to a place of honor in the garage. Never took it out, just kept it polished for nostalgia’s sake.” Shaking her head, she backed away. “I used to sit behind the wheel and pretend to drive. But I never got the chance.”

A pretty woman in a sexy sundress, driving his precious ’Bird on a sunny summer day…not an offer a guy could be expected to pass up. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger. “Well, then, let’s go. It’s a nice afternoon.”

For a second, her face brightened. “Could we?”

Then a kid’s voice called out something from the backyard, and Valerie shook her head. “No, with only two seats there’s not enough room for Grace and Connor, and I can’t leave them home by themselves. Another time, maybe?” Her hopeful expression convinced him she really meant it.

“Sure. We can park your kids with Ginny at my parents’ house, and take off for a couple of hours. Just say the word.”

She came back to the porch and opened the door again. “I’ll do that. Meanwhile, come in.”

The moving boxes stacked in the living room yesterday had disappeared overnight. Books and pottery and candles filled the shelves on either side of the fireplace, a nice rug covered the floor, and the blank walls displayed photographs of Connor and Grace, along with a couple of signed and numbered prints.

“This looks great,” Rob commented, studying the framed landscape hanging above the couch, as an alternative to staring at Valerie. “Is this one by Stephen Lyman? That’s Half Dome mountain in Yosemite Park, right?”

She came to stand beside him, which defeated the whole exercise. “You know his work?”

How long had it been since he noticed a woman’s scent? Valerie, he’d just discovered, smelled like fresh summer grass. He shifted his weight to put more distance between them. “I was really into the outdoor life when I was in high school. A friend and I had this goal to head out to California on motorcycles and spend a summer camping. I guess I came across one of Lyman’s pictures somewhere and incorporated him into the plan. Those images of firelight in the dark wilderness always appealed to me.”

“And did you get to California?”

“Nope. The friend took off before graduation, I got married and settled down. Have you been out there?”

“We spent our honeymoon in San Francisco.” To his relief, she went to sit in the armchair beside the couch. “My ex-husband wasn’t a camper, but he did agree to spend a couple of days in Yosemite on a driving tour. So I’ve seen it, at least.”

Rob dropped onto the end of the couch nearest her chair—too close for comfort, but he didn’t want to be rude. “Maybe we’ll have to get this troop experienced enough so that we can all go out to Yosemite together.”

“Definitely. Older GO! girls are encouraged to set their sights on a big project like that, develop a plan for earning the money and then follow through on the arrangements. It’s a great learning tool.”

Her smile brought the dimple into play. “In the third grade, though, we’re not quite so ambitious. Have you had a chance to look at the books I gave you? There’s some information about the general organization of a meeting.” She pulled out a clipboard and balanced it on her knee…after crossing her legs with a smooth motion that raised his blood pressure ten points.

“I…uh…paged through last night. Sad to say, I fell asleep over the chapter on Safety At The Meeting Place.”

To his relief, she laughed. “I’m not surprised. It’s all pretty basic, commonsense stuff. Let me tell you about some of the ideas I’ve been working on for this first meeting.”

In the next hour, they created a detailed meeting agenda and a rough outline of the first three months’ activities. As they talked, Valerie realized that Rob consistently understated his talents and his preparation for the role he’d assumed as assistant leader. She didn’t have to explain why she made certain choices of activities—he understood what she wanted to do, and his suggestions improved her plans.

“This looks great,” she said, surveying her notes. “A couple of hikes, two cookouts and then the overnight camp before the weather gets too chilly. When the weather changes, we can switch to more indoor activities.”

A glance at the empty coffee table in front of them reminded her that she hadn’t even offered him a cup of coffee. “You must think I’ve got the manners of a carpetbagger. I didn’t ask you if you were thirsty or hungry. I’ve still got some cookies…”

Rob shook his head as he stretched to his feet. “No problem. My mom makes a big Sunday lunch, so I’ve had plenty to eat and drink.”

“I’m well aware of the Southern tradition of hospitality, not to mention great food. I hope it’s contagious.”

Rob chuckled. “I think we figure if somebody’s stuffing their face, they can’t be disputing what we’re trying to say.” He accentuated the drawl, and then gave her a wink. “Pretty wily, us Southerners.”

“Outrageous might be a better word.” She followed him onto the porch. Her new neighborhood wasn’t quite the peaceful setting she’d hoped for—there seemed to be a lot of engine noise in the air, and more traffic than she liked in front of her house. “I guess it’s a good thing the backyard is fenced,” she said, as a car drove by at a speed considerably over the limit. “Connor would be out in the street with his ball before I could sneeze.”

“Yeah, this isn’t the neighborhood I would’ve steered a single mother and her kids to, if they had other options.” He winced as a pair of Harleys roared past. “Or maybe I’m just used to my part of town, where it’s quiet and a lot less hectic. My sister, Jenny, and I bought a big lot that stretches from one street to the next, and put a house for me and Ginny on one end and a house for Jen on the other, with a nice stand of trees between the backyards. Works really well.”

“Your wife didn’t live there with you?” The question was out before she realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry, Rob. It’s none of my business.”

He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I don’t mind telling you. Leah and I had an apartment across town. I didn’t want to live there after…” He swallowed hard. “Her labor didn’t go well, and Ginny had the cord wrapped around her neck. Just real bad luck altogether.”

She put a hand on his wrist. “You must have been devastated.”

“I didn’t get to think about that aspect of things too much. Babies take a lot of time and attention. I was pretty busy.”

“My husband left on a business trip two weeks after Connor was born. I know exactly what you mean.”

“We’re a pair then, aren’t we?” His gaze held hers, and his arm turned under her fingers until their hands closed upon each other, palm to palm. Not a simple handshake, but a deeper, warmer connection. She felt the texture of his skin, felt the strong dome of muscle at the base of his thumb, the deep valley over his life line. They held each other so tightly, a single pulse beat through both of them…or so it seemed.

In another instant, though, he had released her and dropped off the porch steps into the grass. “If you think of anything else you need before Wednesday, just call me,” he instructed, walking backward toward the driveway. “And be sure you use those new locks.”

“I will. Thanks for everything.” She waved to him as he pulled out of the drive, and should have gone inside at that point. Instead, she stayed on the porch, watching the Thunderbird drive down the street until it was lost from sight.

A very nice guy, she thought. A good friend, a great father.

And the sexiest man she’d met in…well, ever. She’d thought she preferred dark, compact professional men, until Rob. Now, tall and blond and lean was her idea of perfect. Forget the business suits and ties—give her a guy in a baseball cap, a black T-shirt and jeans faded to nearly white, with a rip across the knee and frayed hems. Let him drive a 1955 Thunderbird, turquoise and white. Her heart pounded just remembering how great he looked in that car.

Grace joined her on the porch. “Mr. Warren’s nice, isn’t he?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You could go on a date with him. Ginny said her mom died a long time ago.”

“I don’t think Mr. Warren and I will be dating, Gracie.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” She gave in to a moment of temptation and imagined Rob with her on a date. Specifically, the end of the date, where he would reach across that white leather seat, take her in his arms and lift her chin up, then press his mouth to hers…

“We work together, and that’s all. For the troop. There can’t be any other complications.” She shooed Grace into the house and followed close behind, hoping she could heed her own sensible advice.

Otherwise, she had absolutely no doubt that indulging her attraction to Rob Warren would qualify as the most colossal complication of them all.

AS SOON AS HE opened the shop door on Monday morning, Rob heard his dad’s voice rumbling in a constant stream of complaints. When he looked in the doorway of the office, he found Mike Warren standing in front of the file cabinets with half the drawers already open. A pile of folders and a messy stack of loose papers on top of the desk reversed all the progress Jen had made during the weekend.

“What’s going on, Dad?” Rob stepped into the small room and noticed—again—the dusty window and blinds, the worn paint on the walls, the outdated calendar. The place needed a serious face-lift. If only he had the time…

“I was lookin’ for the invoice from that latest order we placed for lock sets. I know I laid it on the desk here last week, but I’m damned if the whole place wasn’t straightened up, so this morning I can’t find a damn pencil, let alone the papers I need.” Mike paged through one folder, pushed it aside and started on another as the papers in the first folder slid toward the edge of the desk and then the floor.

“Jen came in to do some organizing.” Rob caught the papers just before they fell, stacked them together and put them back into the folder. “Maybe what you’re looking for is in a file.”

“Yeah, well, why do you think I’ve got this stuff out on the desk?” His dad made a helpless gesture with his hands. “But the only folder I can find with the company name on it is catalogs. I don’t need the catalog, I need the damn invoice.”

Rob went to the far right file cabinet and pulled out the top drawer. “As I recall, she files the year’s invoices by month received, and month paid. We got that shipment…what? Two months ago?” He checked the June folder, then July. “Here it is. Those locks came in at the beginning of July.”

“Well, thank God you had some idea of where to look. This whole system is just a mess.” His dad tugged the paper of out Rob’s hands. “How’m I supposed to remember what month the damn locks came in?”

“There’s a logbook, Dad.” Rob took the journal from the left drawer of the desk. “We record the deliveries.” He didn’t mention that his sister simply did what their dad had told her to with regard to the paperwork. Mike wouldn’t want to hear that the system he despised this morning was his own invention. “So what’s the problem with the invoice, anyway?”

“I keep taking down locks that don’t work right.” His dad left the office and went into the workshop. On his bench was a stack of six boxes containing brand-new locks. “Gotta send ’em back.”

“That’s a good company. It’s hard to believe they’d distribute defective merchandise. Have you tested every lock in the shipment?”

“That’s your job today.” Without so much as a glance in Rob’s direction, his dad started checking over his toolbox, getting ready for the day’s work.

Rob stood still for a minute, unwilling even to breathe for fear his temper would get the best of him. “My job?” he said, finally. “You want me to test five hundred locks?”

Mike nodded. “That’s right.”

“And I get this job because…?”

“Who else? Trent’s on call today. Smith is working on that office building project, which leaves you.”

“I’ll take call again. Let Trent test the locks.” He sounded like a whiny teenager. But he wasn’t an errand boy or an apprentice. “Or let Smith stay here and work with the locks. I should be doing the office project, anyway.”

“You weren’t able to stay until six in the afternoons, like they needed. So Smith took the job. And you test the locks.”

“Why don’t you test the locks?” Absolutely the worst thing he could’ve said.

Mike looked at him, then—Rob felt like he was staring at his older self in a mirror—and straightened up to his full height. “I run this business. I make the decisions and I assign the jobs. Nobody argues. That’s the way it is.”

And I quit, Rob said, but only in his mind. He’d had the thought a thousand times in the last fourteen years, and never acted on the impulse. Quitting his job would cause havoc in the family. More importantly, the insurance he carried through the business handled Ginny’s medical bills. He couldn’t afford to give up the insurance unless he had a better policy to replace it with. And these days, getting new insurance for a child with a preexisting condition was about as easy as changing his dad’s mind.

So he swallowed the words, along with a few choice phrases he would like to have used. “Yes, sir.” He headed toward the storeroom and the boxes of locks. “Whatever you say.”

WHEN HER OFFICE INTERCOM buzzed during her Monday morning staff meeting, Valerie could have sworn in frustration. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

The other department heads relaxed in their chairs as she crossed the room to pick up the phone on her desk. She turned her back to the conference table before she spoke. “Terri, I asked you not to disturb me during the meeting.”

“I know, Ms. Manion. But it’s your children’s school calling. I thought you’d want to know if someone was sick or hurt.” Her secretary had three children of her own, their pictures proudly displayed on her desk.

“Yes, of course.” Valerie sighed, sweeping her fingertips across her own bare work surface. “Put me through.”

After a click, a man’s voice said, “Hello?”

“This is Valerie Manion.”

“Ah, Mrs. Manion. This is Charles Randleman, the principal at Crawford Elementary School. I need to speak with you about your son, Connor.”

“Is he hurt? Sick?”

“Uh, no. Connor is fine. But he’s been causing us a great deal of trouble, and I think it’s time I involve you in the situation.”

Oh, Connor. Not again. “Has he hurt somebody?”

“No, no, not really. But—”

“Is the school building still standing?”

“Yes, of course. But, Mrs. Manion—”

His use of “Mrs.” set her teeth on edge. “Then I’ll have to call you back, Mr. Randleman. I’m in a meeting and I really can’t talk right now.”

“But this is your son, Mrs. Manion. Surely, he’s your first priority.”

“Yes, and if I don’t work, he doesn’t eat, which is a priority for both of us. So I’ll call you when I’m free and we’ll set up a time to talk. Thanks for letting me know there’s a problem.” She hung up on the principal’s bluster, took two seconds to master her worry and then turned to smile at the four men waiting for her. “Now, we were reviewing those production figures for the last quarter, weren’t we? Do we have a good reason for the six-percent drop?”

An hour later, she finally had her office to herself. As she put together the reports she’d received, Terri knocked on the door. “Here’s your lunch, Ms. Manion.” She set a tray on the conference table. “Is there anything else?”

Valerie didn’t glance at the food. “Terri, we need to get something settled. I’m going to notify the school that you are authorized to receive any emergency information about Grace and Connor that needs to be delivered. I don’t want to be interrupted in a meeting unless there’s a really good reason. This morning’s chat with the principal was not a good reason.”

Terri’s pale blue eyes went round with shock. “You want me to…to…to brush off a principal?”

Valerie grinned. “Haven’t you always wanted to?”

But Terri didn’t smile back. “N-No. I haven’t.”

“Oh. Well, yes, I want you to tell the principal that if no one’s life or health is at stake, I will call him when I have a chance.”

“But you’re their mother. You have to care about what’s wrong.”

“I do care. But I care about my work, as well. Do the other vice presidents take personal calls from the school during meetings?”

“I—I don’t know…”

“I’ve been working in management for ten years now, and I’ve never seen it happen.”

Terri couldn’t seem to grasp the concept. She wrung her hands. “Their f-father isn’t—”

“No, he isn’t. And he didn’t take calls when he was. I’m not saying I want to ignore a serious problem, Terri. If Connor’s sick, I want them to tell you and I’ll leave as soon as possible to take him home. I just need to be able to prioritize. That means only bona fide emergencies during the workday. Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

Still looking confused, the secretary went back to her desk. Valerie sat down in front of her salad and crackers, with the production reports in front of her. Work time was for working, or else she’d never get everything done.

The intercom buzzed again before she’d had time for more than a forkful of lettuce. “Yes?”

“Ms. Manion, I’m sorry. But it’s the school again.”

“I—” No, she wouldn’t complain. Her authorization wasn’t in place yet. “Let me speak to them.”

Another click on the line. “Mrs. Manion, this is Principal Randleman. I’m afraid we do have a serious problem this time.”

Valerie waited, expecting to hear about some wrestling match in the library.

“Connor punched his fist through a window,” Randleman said. “We had him taken to the hospital in an ambulance.”

ROB ARRIVED AT the elementary school thirty minutes before the end of class on Wednesday. As early as he was, though, he found Valerie there ahead of him, with her boxes of papers, books and supplies already unloaded and sitting on a cafeteria table.

“You are one organized lady,” he told her, noticing the precut craft supplies, the cookies and juice for snacks already prepared. “I’d have to be a real early bird to get the worm before you do.”

She smiled, but he thought her eyes looked strained. “I like knowing everything is ready ahead of time. Surprises make me nervous.”

“I understand.” He held out the bag he carried. “Twenty-five compasses, donated by Moore’s Outdoor Store.”

“Donated? Really?” She gazed into the bag, then looked up in amazement. “How did you get them to do that?”

“Hank Moore’s a friend of mine from high school. I asked and he said he’d be glad to contribute.”

“That’s terrific. We can do the orienteering activity we talked about.” Valerie set the bag beside her other materials. “I came up with another game to have in its place, but I’d much rather work with the compasses.”

Irritation flickered inside him. “I told you I’d get them. You didn’t need to waste time worrying about another activity.”

She turned away. “Well, yes, but sometimes people don’t get around to doing what they say they will, so it’s best to be prepared.”

He caught her wrist between his fingers and tugged her back around. “Listen, Valerie. When I say I’ll do something, you can count on it getting done. No excuses, no second thoughts.” She still hadn’t looked at him, so he lifted her chin with his other hand. “Got that?”

“Got it,” she said, breathlessly, her brown eyes wide. Rob realized suddenly how close he’d brought her—close enough for a kiss, if he bent his head. Just a touch of his mouth to hers…

The loud jangle of a nearby bell announced the end of school. Before the vibrations had died away, he and Valerie stood a table’s length apart. In the next moment, little girls started pouring into the room, which effectively doused any adult inclinations he might entertain.

In time, Rob supposed, he would learn all their names, but to begin with there seemed to be a hundred of them, all about the same size and shape, all dressed in khaki shorts and vests and dark blue shirts, all running and chattering and in general creating chaos. Talk about safety in the meeting place! Ginny came in last of all, wearing the same outfit but easily distinguished by her crutches.

He met her in the center of the cafeteria. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“Okay.” She looked tired, as she always did after school. “This is really crazy.” As she spoke, a redhead with pigtails flashed by Rob, headed at top speed across the room. Next thing he knew, Ginny cried out and both girls went down in a jumble of legs, arms, and stainless steel.

“Oh, man.” He knelt by his daughter, who was thrashing around. “Settle down, Ginny.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“I am not. She hurt me!”

The redhead was crying, too. “Oww. My arm hurts.”

Valerie knelt on the other side. “Sit up, sweetie. There you go. Let me see your arm.” Rob helped Ginny sit up, and they got the two bodies separated. The four of them were now the center of a circle formed by wide-eyed little girls.

“That was a stupid thing to do.” Ginny had shifted into a high-gear tantrum. “You don’t run around people with crutches—you might hurt them. Can’t you see where you’re going?”

“Hush,” Rob told her. “It was an accident.”

“I think you’re okay,” Valerie told the other girl. “You just fell hard on your hand.” She looked around the circle. “Why don’t we start the meeting? Girls, get your books from your backpacks and sit down here. Grace, would you bring my books over? And where’s Connor?”

“He went outside to the playground,” Grace said as she handed her mother the materials.

“He can’t play outside with his hand in a bandage. Go get him, please, and tell him to come inside.”

“He won’t come if I say so.”

“Tell him I’d better see him in here in one minute or he’ll be missing TV for the rest of the week.”

Grace heaved a big sigh and went toward the door. Rob could sympathize—he had it on Jen’s authority that it wasn’t fun, keeping track of a little brother all the time when you’d rather be participating in your own activities.

Thanks to the planning session on Sunday, he’d brought along Ginny’s floor chair so she could sit with the other girls. By the time he’d gotten her settled, Grace was back with a disgusted Connor. The boy’s hand was bandaged from fingertips to elbow.

“Did you get in a fight with a bobcat?” Rob winked at him. “They’re mean critters, aren’t they?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “There are bobcats around here?”

“Not really. What did you do to your hand?”

But Connor wasn’t volunteering an answer. He turned his head away, just as Valerie officially started the meeting.

“I’m glad to see all of you at our first Girls Outdoors! meeting. I’m Ms. Manion, your leader, and this is Mr. Warren. He’ll be my assistant leader.”

“I didn’t know men could be leaders,” said a little blonde across the circle.

A dark-skinned girl spoke at almost the same time. “I didn’t know men could be assistants.”

Valerie grinned. “Well, according to the rules, men can be GO! assistant leaders. Mr. Warren was a Boy Scout and earned his Eagle award, so he knows lots of stuff about the outdoors he can share with us. Now, let’s go around the circle so each one can tell us her name and one interesting outdoors fact about her. Grace, can you start?”

Rob saw Grace flush, and her eyes looked a little bright. But she knew what to do. “My name is Grace Manion and I like bird-watching.”

Around the circle they went, learning names and hearing about girls who liked soccer or swimming or tennis, who camped with their families or sailed or spent a week at the beach. As the girls spoke, Connor started scooting away from the circle, pushing with his feet and sliding on his backside in an attempt to escape. Rob watched with a smile as Valerie grabbed the leg of the boy’s jeans just before he moved out of reach and pulled him back to sit beside her, all without even glancing in her son’s direction.

Just then, Ginny’s turn to talk arrived. “I’m Virginia Warren,” she said. “I like to ride horses.”

One of the girls on the other side of the circle said, “You ride horses? I don’t believe it.”

“I do ride.” Ginny’s face turned red. “I take lessons, too.”

On Rob’s left, Valerie nodded. “There are riding programs for people with all sorts of abilities. And there are GO! badges for horseback riding, among lots of other things. Open your books right now to page one hundred seventy—that’s the HorseCare Badge. To earn that badge, you have to do six of the activities listed on these pages. And when you do them all, then I can give you a little circle which looks just like the picture. You sew your badges on your vest and everyone can see all the interesting things you’ve done when you wear your uniform.”

She took them through the book as she had planned, pointing out the soccer badge, the swimming badge, the shell-collecting and bird-watching awards, plus cooking and camping and a myriad of other activities. “What you’ll need to do is to look through and decide which badges appeal to you the most. Some you can earn on your own, and some we’ll earn as a troop.”

Valerie got to her feet. “As a matter of fact, we have a couple of badge activities to do this afternoon. On page one-thirty-nine is the hiking badge.” She walked over to the table and took one of the compasses out of the bag. “Anybody know what this is?”

A couple of hands went up, including Grace’s. Valerie called on a different girl. “That’s a compass.”

“Right. And what’s it used for?”

Grace and several others raised their hands. “To find directions,” someone said.

“And which of the badge requirements does using a compass satisfy?”

All heads bowed low over the handbooks, each girl trying to read fast and be the first to answer the question. Grace put up her hand a minute before anyone else. Ginny was next.

“Tell us, Ginny,” Valerie said.

“We’re supposed to use the compass to make a path from one place to another place.”

“Right.” Valerie smiled. “So let’s all get up and Mr. Warren will start teaching us how to do just that.”

Rob thought he’d planned out his twenty allotted minutes very carefully, but he hadn’t counted on the silliness of third-grade girls. His time was up long before he’d gotten everyone to understand which way to point the compass, let alone how to change directions.

Valerie grinned at him as she raised her hand for quiet. “Looks like we’re going to need more than one meeting to understand orienteering. For now, all of you can put your compasses back into the bag, and then sit down at the table for snacks.” The girls stampeded toward Rob as he held the bag, then rushed to the table to jostle for their places. Grace and Ginny brought up the end.

“I understand,” Grace said quietly. “My mom and I have worked with compasses before.”

“I could tell,” Rob told her with a smile. “I saw you trying to help the others. I appreciate the effort.”

Her eyes shone at the praise. “You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me.” Ginny’s voice was at its most impatient. “I want some snacks before it’s all gone.” Grace stepped aside and went to sit at the end of the table.

Rob eyed his daughter with disapproval. “That was not polite.”

“Was I supposed to wait forever?”

“You—” He swallowed the reprimand. “Have a seat so everybody can eat.”

After snack came the craft segment, which had to do with making paper chains to represent the food chains in nature. Ginny’s fingers didn’t maneuver scissors well, so Rob spent most of his time cutting out the pictures she wanted from the pages of animals and plants Valerie had provided.

The meeting ended at four-thirty with another circle, standing up this time. “Link hands,” Valerie said. “Like this.” She crossed her arms and reached for the hands of the girls on either side of her. Everyone else followed suit…except Ginny, who couldn’t hold her crutches and cross her arms.

“Just take my hand,” Rob told her. “Don’t worry about it.” But he could tell by the set of her mouth that another storm was brewing.

As they all held hands, Valerie taught them a song about friendship. “This is how we’ll close every meeting,” she told them. “As friends and as a troop. Remember the GO! motto—All for one, and one for all!” At the words, she turned in place, uncrossing her arms as she did so. The girls—except for Ginny, and Rob—followed suit.

Then there were parents arriving to pick up their daughters, book bags to gather and chains to collect, and more excited chatter than Rob had ever imagined.

Finally, the room grew quiet, with only three children left to deal with. Ginny had made her way to a chair and sat there twirling her paper chain around her wrist. As Valerie packed up her supplies, Grace gathered trash from around the room and under the table where girls had let their scraps fall.

Connor had subsided onto the bench of a table and put his head down on his unbandaged arm. “What did happen to his arm?” Rob asked Valerie. “Is he okay?”

She put the last of the construction paper away. “He and another boy got into an argument at school on Monday. When the other boy teased him from behind a window, Connor…” She closed her eyes, then shook her head as if she still couldn’t believe it. “Connor punched his fist through the window.”

“Ouch.” Rob winced. “That had to hurt really bad.”

Valerie nodded. “He’s winding down on the pain medicine now. He didn’t damage anything badly, but he’s got several cuts with stitches and lots of others that just burn.”

“Did the other guy get hurt?”

“No, thank goodness. Then we’d be in an even bigger mess. As it is, they want me to take Connor to the doctor. The psychiatrist, actually.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “They say his behavior is unmanageable. The school nurse suggested medication might help.”

Rob glanced at the little boy. “Do you want to go that route?”

“Of course not. And he’s not unmanageable to me. But I can’t be with him every day, every minute. He’s got to be able to control himself.” Valerie sighed. “He’s so angry.”

“Does he have friends? Play sports?”

“Two weeks in town isn’t long enough for friends.” Her shoulders slumped. “And I haven’t had time to investigate sports programs. I imagine it’s too late to join a team now.”

“I don’t know about that.” Rob picked up the box she’d packed before she could. “What does he like to play?”

“Soccer, of course. Doesn’t everybody?” Valerie reached out to take the box, but stopped when Rob frowned at her. “Fine. I’ll let you carry that one. I’ve got several more.”

“Why don’t you just unlock the car and open the door and let me do the carrying?”

She went to the door of the cafeteria and pointed the remote lock control at the van across the parking lot. After a pointed glance in his direction, she went to pick up a different box of supplies. “You see—I can compromise.”

“Stubborn,” he muttered as he walked past her.

“Independent,” she countered, following him.

The afternoon breeze carried a hint of autumn, and Rob stood still for a second after they’d loaded the van, appreciating the difference. “Every so often we’ll get a day like this, where the humidity is low and the shadows are crisp. Fall comes to this part of North Carolina, but it’s slow.” He looked at Valerie, noticing how the wind brushed her curls back from her pretty face. “I’ll bet you’re used to early autumns and cold winters.”

“Ohio, the last place we lived, had its share of winter weather.” She shook her head. “I won’t miss shoveling snow in the least.”

“We had a big storm here last winter—New Year’s Day, to be exact. We got almost ten inches of the white stuff. But it didn’t stay long.”

“That sounds good to me.” She shut the rear door of the van and turned back toward the school.

But Rob held his ground. He’d got her talking about herself, and he wasn’t about to give up now. “You aren’t from Ohio, right? Your accent says New York.”

“Brooklyn, actually.” She hesitated, as if unwilling to elaborate. “Before Ohio, though, we lived in Maryland for a couple of years.”

He leaned back against her van and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why so many moves? If you don’t mind telling me.”

“Those two moves were both promotions within my company. Great opportunities that I couldn’t turn down.” Valerie looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “And before you ask, I’ll say that my husband refused to leave New York. Since he’d already moved out, there didn’t seem to be much point in trying anymore, and we filed for a divorce.”

“Ah. How long were you in Ohio?”

“Five years.”

“And now you’re in New Skye. Because…?”

“Because I got a job with a different company.”

“Another offer you couldn’t turn down?”

“Exactly.” Hands propped on her hips, she faced him. “Why is that so hard to understand? If I were a man, nobody would question my desire to succeed, to excel. A man is supposed to take the chances that come along for a better job, more money, more authority. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t have the same ambitions.”

Rob held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say—”

“My husband, weasel lawyer that he is, managed to construct a settlement that benefited him while shafting me and his kids. I am our sole support. I’m going to be responsible for their college money. I’m responsible for my retirement income. And I have every right to be just as damn successful as I want to be.”

“Valerie.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Hush.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but he shook her slightly and she backed down. “I’m not attacking anything you’ve done. I admire your gumption and your achievements. So relax.”

“That’s not what it sounded like,” she mumbled, staring down at the ground.

“You didn’t listen—just went off half-cocked.”

“Sorry.” When she looked up at him, her big brown eyes had a suspicious shine to them, as if she’d fought back tears. “It’s been a hard couple of weeks.”

“I’m sure it has.” He still held her shoulders, and he really liked the feeling of having her this close, which was as good a reason as any to let go. After a moment’s struggle, he managed to step back, putting her out of reach. To be safe, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “So I have a suggestion. How about dinner out tonight?”

Her eyes widened. “I…” She swallowed. “I don’t think so, Rob. I mean, I don’t have anything to do with the kids.”

He grinned. “I like the way you think. But I’m suggesting we bring them with us.”

“With us? You mean, to a restaurant?”

“Yeah. I know a place they’ll really like.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I do not want to eat at some fast-food joint.”

“Nope. Not fast, not a joint. Just the best place in New Skye for a laid-back, delicious dinner.” Ginny had come to stand at the door to the school, no doubt wondering what could be keeping him so long. He called across to her. “What do you think, Ginny? Dinner at the Carolina Diner tonight?”

His daughter pumped her right arm in the air. “All right!”

Rob looked at Valerie. “See? What more testimony do you need?”

She smiled, setting those cute dimples on display. “Lead the way. I’m suddenly very hungry.”

CHAPTER FOUR

VALERIE FOLLOWED Rob Warren’s shiny black van out of the school parking lot, reflecting that she had a perfectly good jar of spaghetti sauce at home on the pantry shelf. There really was no need to make the effort to go out, though he’d promised her a restaurant with good food and a casual atmosphere for the kids. She had to admit, relaxed would be a welcome change of pace in her life.

“Where are we going?” Connor piped up from the back seat. “McDonald’s?”

“I don’t think so. Mr. Warren says this place is one of a kind.”

“Do we have to go?” Grace sounded tired. “I’ve got a lot of homework.”

Valerie glanced into the rearview mirror, but Grace avoided her eyes. “We need to eat. This won’t take any longer than cooking our own dinner. And you can get to know Ginny a little better.”

“Great.” The one word was not enthusiastic.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s in my class at school, Mom. And she’s…hard to talk to.”

“Her dad says she’s shy.”

“What’s wrong with her, anyway?” Connor wasted no time on tact. “She crippled or something?”

“Cerebral palsy is a birth defect,” Valerie explained. “Sometimes it happens when the baby is being born and doesn’t get enough oxygen to breathe. That causes problems with their nerves and muscles.”

“Can I catch it?”

“No, Connor. And I expect you to be polite while we’re at dinner—don’t stare, don’t ask questions. I’m sure that in most ways, Ginny is just an ordinary kid, like the two of you.”

She thought she heard Grace’s hmmph from the back seat, but she decided to ignore it. This dinner really was a good idea—as the new kids in school, both Grace and Connor were still trying to adjust and make friends. If Grace and Ginny could connect, that would be a start.

At the high school, the blinker on Rob Warren’s van signaled a right turn, and then an immediate left into the gravel parking lot of a bright yellow, concrete block building hung with a blue-and-white awning. The neon sign over the door identified Charlie’s Carolina Diner.

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