Safe in His Arms

Widowed and pregnant, Gianna Costanza comes to Kirkwood Lake with her world in pieces. She’s determined to put her life back together after her cop husband’s death, and romance definitely isn’t part of the plan. But when she meets her new landlord and neighbor, she knows she doesn’t stand a chance. Deputy Sheriff Seth Campbell is strong and kind, and more supportive than she ever imagined a man could be. Soon he’s sweeping Gianna off her feet. But she doesn’t know if he’s ready for an instant family—or if she’s brave enough to love another lawman.

Oh, that smile.

Her heart melted. Her fingers stuttered and a pin bit the tip of her thumb. She jumped back, not wanting to taint the fabric with blood, and Seth moved to her instantly. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just silly.”

He examined her hand, seemed to decide she’d live and dropped it back into her lap. “Sorry. You just looked scared there for a minute.”

“Only because blood won’t wash out of this fabric,” she told him. She pressed a tissue to the tip of her finger.

He smiled again, one that held the warmth of hope. “Well.” He stood and squared his shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Then I’ll get back to work.”

“Me, too.”

As she watched him cross the room, she knew she hadn’t spent time with an attractive man in a long while.

That slow, comforting gaze. The big, blue eyes.

He didn’t need her to impress him. She liked that. And she’d enjoy the opportunity to have a new friend, as long as that was all it was.

RUTH LOGAN HERNE

Born into poverty, Ruth puts great stock in one of her favorite Ben Franklinisms: “Having been poor is no shame. Being ashamed of it is.” With God-given appreciation for the amazing opportunities abounding in our land, Ruth finds simple gifts in the everyday blessings of smudge-faced small children, bright flowers, freshly baked goods, good friends, family, puppies and higher education. She believes a good woman should never fear dirt, snakes or spiders, all of which like to infest her aged farmhouse, necessitating a good pair of tongs for extracting the snakes, a flat-bottomed shoe for the spiders, and for the dirt…

Simply put, she’s learned that some things aren’t worth fretting about! If you laugh in the face of dust and love to talk about God, men, romance, great shoes and wonderful food, feel free to contact Ruth through her website, www.ruthloganherne.com.

Loving the Lawman

Ruth Logan Herne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.

Blessed is the man whose quiver is full.

—Psalms 127:3–5

Acknowledgments

First to Mandy and Paul, who gave me permission to use their experience to help craft this story. I’ve loved them both for decades, and that their love brought us my precious “Mary Ruth” sweetens my days! To my grandmother Myrtle Amanda Herne, whose love for sewing and gardening skipped a generation and settled in me. To Tina Russo Radcliffe and Michelle Pecoraro, whose tales of growing up Italian make me laugh! Huge thanks to Bethany Jamison, who pre-edits, organizes me, gives me time as needed and makes me coffee. She might not think she’s great in the kitchen, but that coffee is huge in my book! And to my son Seth, whose sweet personality shines through the fictional Seth in this book. The love for Lego has morphed into a lovely new sales career. How fun is that? And always to Dave for loving me and working so hard for his family. His strength blesses each of us.

This book is dedicated to Amanda Grace,

for going the distance so often. Her strength and persistence brought me a beautiful grandchild, a treasure of my heart, our sweet little Mary Ruth.

I love you, “Gracie.”

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 Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Checking his watch for the tenth time in an hour didn’t make the minute hand move any faster. Deputy Sheriff Seth Campbell frowned as he started to relock the door of his Kirkwood, New York, rental property. Boxes surrounded him in the retail area, but the person in charge of those boxes—his new lessee—hadn’t appeared as scheduled. And that meant—

“Seth Campbell?”

He turned, surprised, because the back door of the old-world-style building faced the street, which was where he’d been looking. The lakeside door, overlooking the quaint boardwalk lining the sandy north shore of Kirkwood Lake, hadn’t entered into his realm of possibilities as an entrance in January. An icy wind accompanied the woman through the door. She shut it quickly and turned.

Huge, dark eyes met his gaze. Waist-length black curls tumbled from beneath a jaunty cap. A muted knit scarf that screamed money was knotted around the neck of her short wool jacket. Blue jeans and leather boots said she knew how to dress for fun, but one look into the depths of those eyes and Seth knew she hadn’t had a lot of fun lately.

“Gianna Costanza?” He stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Yes.” She gripped his hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you after all our virtual back-and-forth. I tried calling—” she held up a cell phone “—but it appears reception in these mountains is about as spotty as mine was back home in the Adirondacks.”

“Technology is an amazing thing when it works,” he agreed. He swept a hand around the shop interior. “Does it meet with your approval in person?”

Her quick smile said the character and warmth of the vintage space pleased her, and that pleased him. “I should pretend it’s not up to par and see if I can whittle you down on rent, but that would be outright dishonest, because if anything, it’s better than the pictures showed.”

“Not too rustic or old-world?”

“Is there such a thing?” She shook her head, and when she did, the tumble of hair shifted right, then left, untamed by spray, which made him wonder if it could possibly be as soft as it looked. She laughed at his expression, which said there might be such a thing as too old-fashioned, and walked to the nearest wall. “No, this is perfect. The wainscoting. The chair-rail ledge for knickknacks and artifacts.”

“Dust catchers,” he noted, grinning. “My mother’s a big fan of them, too. Can’t reason it out myself. Just more to clean.”

“Must be a woman thing.” She smiled up at him, then motioned to the right. “And the apartment is through here?”

“Yes.” He led her through a curtained door and showed her around the unpretentious apartment. “I had time to upgrade the shopping space, but the living area hasn’t received any intensive attention from my hands or bank account yet.”

“It looks fine,” she told him. “Simple and clean-cut. The furnishings are great. Having them here makes my life a whole lot easier right now. Starting a new business in a new town is work enough. Hauling tons of furniture five hours cross state didn’t make my short list.” She set a small, dark floral bag on the countertop. “The pictures showed a first-floor bedroom and a bath, right?”

“Right here.” He took her into a well-lit room off the living area, and her smile rewarded him when she spotted the lake view. “You like this.”

“My grandmother will love it,” she told him. She pointed east. “I have her enjoying coffee at Tina Marie’s Café. It was a long ride down and I’m afraid I tired her out.” She stepped to the left, opened a door with an unadorned left hand and made a little face. “The bathroom is great, but may I ask one more thing of you?”

As pretty as you are? Ask away, sweetheart.

Reason reined in his teasing reply. He invited her question with a simple raised brow instead. Her smile lit her face in anticipation, brightening those dark, round eyes, and making the gold tone of her skin shine. But hitting on her probably wouldn’t be the smartest move in the book because this was a business arrangement. Doing anything to make it go foul in a small, tight town would be stupid beyond belief, so he shoved the temptation to flirt aside.

“Could we install a bar in the shower? Is that too much work? Grandma gets around great, but I’m afraid she might slip if she doesn’t have something to hold on to.”

“Not a problem,” Seth assured her. “My father owns the hardware store on Main Street. I can get a support bar in place by Monday.”

“That would be wonderful, Seth.” She moved back toward the living space. “Can we see the upstairs?”

“Sure.” He let her precede him up the stairs, and her squeal of delight when she spotted the second floor made him smile. She turned in time to see the grin and made a face again.

“I’m sorry, I sound like a schoolgirl when I do that. It’s utterly ridiculous. But this is so pretty up here.”

Seth considered the two small bedrooms and the open lofted area overlooking the lake on one side and the living room and kitchen below. “It’s loud.”

She frowned.

“When there are people below, it’s loud up here,” he explained. “Terrible for sleeping.”

“Ah.” An understanding look said she was starting to get the picture. “You used to live here.”

“Before I bought my house, yes. It was a great investment. My grandmother’s family owned this building, so I bought it and fixed it up when I was fresh out of college.”

“And your buddies would come to stay.”

He nodded, then grinned, following her drift. “You’re thinking that Grandma might not be as loud and intrusive as a couple of Campbell boys and their partying friends.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Grandma’s knitting will keep me up, but thanks for the warning.”

* * *

He laughed, and Gianna’s heart went soft on the spot. A big laugh, hearty and full. The kind of laugh that saw lots of practice. She’d known that kind of laugh once. The sound of it called to her now, but she wasn’t here for romance....

Not by a long shot.

Although, Gram thought it was time for her to move on with her life, and had spent over five hours of driving time reminding her that when God closes a door, He always opens a window.

Gianna knew that, hence the complete change in her life. Decisions she’d made before her mother and aunt left to spend the cold, long months of an upstate winter in Florida. By the time they came back north...

She shoved that thought aside and smiled up at Seth. “I’ll have the moving van pull around to the apartment door and unload my things. You have keys for me?”

“Right here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two sets. “I keep a master set for myself, so if you ever lock yourself out, I’m just across the street on Overlook Drive.” He pointed through the window. “The white house with the porch on the double lot.”

“A perfect family home.” She smiled at the view and could just imagine a crew of kids racing around the wide, sloped front yard playing tag. Climbing the trees that were to the left.

Seth’s smile disappeared. His shoulders looked suddenly heavy, and she had the oddest urge to wrap her arms around the big guy and give him a hug. But with her behavior labeled strange if not crazy these past few years, she curbed the impulse. Life had a way of messing people over. She knew that. Lived it. But right here, right now, was the new beginning she’d grabbed hold of a few months back. Months of praying, planning and implementation would come to fruition in Kirkwood, New York, overlooking the lake of the same name. Here she would embrace the life taken from her. The peace and hope of a new day dawning. She’d have the winter to settle in, and by the time the busy season rolled around after an early-April Easter, she’d be facing a new reality.

Would her mother understand? Would she embrace and forgive, or rage on in a mix of Italian and English and then cook pasta for the multitudes of Bianchis?

Time would tell.

Gianna followed Seth down the open stairs. He turned at the door. “Do you have help to unload?”

“I do.” She pointed to the road, where a yellow moving van had pulled up. “My cousin and brother are my slaves for the moment. I promised them food to help me. They’re Italian men so it really doesn’t take much more than that.”

“That works well on us Scottish guys, too,” Seth admitted with a grin. She absolutely, positively refused to label his smile endearing or sweet. A smile was just a smile. Right?

One look up at him told her how wrong she was. Time to change the direction of her gaze. She turned and swung open the door to the small side porch. “The fact that I’m taking Gram off their hands sweetened the deal. Italian women are bossy by nature—something that doesn’t appear to wane with age.”

Seth laughed, understanding, while Gianna looked around the quiet, snow-filled, lakeside town. “She’s going to love it here. I could see that the minute we rolled into town. For Grandma, this is like coming home.”

Seth nodded agreement. “My grandma loved living in Kirkwood. It was her place, her town. Her history, she called it. Will your grandmother miss your old place?”

Gianna shook her head. “Not if there’s a sewing machine handy. I get my affection for old things from her. She taught me to sew when I was barely old enough to thread a needle, and I loved it. So this venture into my own brick-and-mortar business is a big step for both of us, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be content. I know I will.”

“Well, good.” He shoved his hands into his pockets as two dark-haired young men headed their way. “You guys need help?”

The taller one eyed the freshly shoveled driveway and shook his head. “I think we can back her up right here and unload to this porch. That way we can keep the snow and wet out of the house.”

“I agree.” The shorter man stuck out a hand to Seth. “I’m Mauro, Gianna’s cousin.”

Seth shook Mauro’s hand and turned toward the taller man. “That makes you the brother.”

“Joe Rinaldi. Nice to meet you. You’re the landlord?”

“Seth Campbell. I live over there.” Seth indicated his house with a general wave across the street. “If there’s anything your sister or grandmother need, I’m nearby.”

“Good to hear since her entire family and support network will be over five hours away, in good driving conditions. With the exception of my seventysomething grandmother.” Joe’s tone scolded, but Gianna knew he meant well. Protecting her had become the order of the day after she had lost Michael.

You didn’t lose him. He was taken from you. Stolen, in the dark of night. One simple moment of time, a twist of fate, and your life turned upside down.

It had, but she was determined to get her life back, with or without Bianchi approval. And about time, too. “Joe, really?” Gianna motioned to the truck. “Gram can outwork all of us, so it’s great to have her on board with this new venture. Back the truck in here and let’s get this done. We are not having this conversation again.”

“That’s because you don’t have to deal with the multitudes of relatives on both sides,” he called over his shoulder as he and Mauro headed back to the street. “But I’ll run interference for you. It’s what brothers do.”

Seth turned, arched a brow, and the look on his face said she’d just become more interesting. “You ran away from home, Gianna?”

She laughed and shrugged as she stepped back inside. “In a manner of speaking. My family is American by birth but old-world Italian by nature. They like their ducklings to stay close to the nest, marry other Italians and raise a bunch of cute Italian babies within five minutes of the family home. I’m bucking the trend.” She let her smile include the old-fashioned setting surrounding them. “But they’ll all be okay with it once I’m here and settled. The idea that I’m making a move like this while they’re in Florida is giving my mother and aunt agita.”

“Heart palpitations.”

She tipped her face up to him as he moved to the door. “You’re not Italian.”

“No, but I’ve got buddies who’ve caused their mothers a little agita now and again. I get it.”

She nodded as she held the door open. “They know we’re moving here, but I didn’t exactly do this with a nod of approval, if you know what I mean. By the time they come back north, Gram and I will be settled in. We’ll be sewing up a storm of vintage-looking clothing for retail and special orders, we’ll have the gently used clothing part of the store set up for business and all will be well with the world.”

“Spring is a wonderful thing around here.” Seth jutted his chin across the lamplit village road as he stepped outside. “Remember—I’m right over there if you need anything.”

“I won’t forget,” she promised. She watched him walk up the slick black asphalt and thought how solid and safe he looked. Square shouldered, light eyed, brown hair cut short, flat on top, a don’t-mess-with-me set to his jaw, his gaze. But when he smiled or laughed, his joy welcomed like a big, old hug.

And it was nice to know he lived close by. She’d mentioned that her mother was protective, but that was like calling a Category 4 hurricane a minor storm. She’d stretched the truth by minimizing her family’s love and care. She had to, because she’d taken other steps without her family’s knowledge, choosing a path that couldn’t be backtracked.

If Sofia Bianchi—her mother—knew what she’d done, she might think Gianna had totally lost it. And Mike’s mother, her former mother-in-law? Another battle to wage, even more difficult in some ways, but not yet. She’d bought time by moving this far away. Faith and time were what she needed right now. She had until spring to get things in order. Four months to make things happen before the older generation returned. And with Gram’s help, that was just what she intended to do.

* * *

The subzero windchill seemed less irksome as Seth strode toward the café in search of an early supper. The diner would have their every-Saturday meat-loaf special, but he wasn’t in the mood for meat loaf.

Tori hated meat loaf. Remember how often you pushed her to try it? Why did you do that? Was it really all that important?

Seth shoved the internal scolding aside to make room for the greater ache in his heart. Another Christmas gone. Another empty holiday put behind him. In the cold, late-day light of early January, darkness seeped into him.

What was she doing now? Was her mother cherishing her? Or was the girl’s presence cramping her mother’s style? And then what would Jasmine do?

Regret threatened to overtake him, but what would he change? Falling in love with the wild beauty of Jasmine on her good days? Or the grace and peace he found in the short years he’d had to father Jasmine’s daughter from a prior relationship? Tori. Sweet, earnest, yearning for love, happy with the smallest things, not an ounce of greed in her.

You’d change the abandonment, his inner voice scolded. And over two years of wondering where Tori is. What she’s doing. And if Jasmine is taking care of her, or putting herself first in typical style.

He had no way of knowing, and despite being a cop, no way of finding out. So he hoped...and prayed...and tried to leave it in God’s hands. But on quiet afternoons like this one, when there wasn’t enough work to grip his hands, much less his heart? On those days, his mind leaped to various scenarios of where Jasmine was now and who was caring for her beautiful, nearly twelve-year-old daughter.

Not one of the imagined scenes involved a picket fence and regular meals.

He sighed, hauled open the door to the café, forced a smile and hailed the owner. “Tina, how about a cup of coffee and one of your ham-and-Swiss panini?”

“With banana peppers, mustard and extra cheese.” She slid the mug across the counter to him, made a little face of understanding, then reached out and patted his cheek. “Seth, you old bear, you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s plastered across that gorgeous Campbell face of yours for all the world to see.”

“Long day.”

“I see that.” Her look of commiseration said she understood, but she couldn’t. No one could.

If you spend every long, cold, snowy day feeling sorry for yourself, this is going to be one wretched winter. Get a grip.

Seth hauled in a breath and couldn’t disagree with the mental reminder. His mother had framed a solid, plain-font version of the Serenity Prayer and hung it in his kitchen. On dark days like today, its simplicity helped. He still needed to learn to accept what couldn’t be changed, but he was trying harder, and that helped.

He turned to sit at one of Tina’s bistro-style tables and came face-to-face with a miniature woman wearing a black-and-white tweed coat. A bright red scarf lay draped around her neck. Coal-black eyes under a head of short, thick, straight dark hair said this had to be Gianna’s grandmother. Her bright smile confirmed it.

“Company! Just what I wanted!” She pulled out the chair opposite Seth and sat down with the authority of seven decades. “I’m pretty sure I’d be in the way over there—” she hooked a blunt thumb over her left shoulder indicating the western end of Main Street “—so they tucked me here, but winter afternoons in a lakeshore community aren’t exactly teeming with business.”

“Can’t argue that.” Tina smiled at the woman, refilled her coffee cup and set Seth’s sandwich down in front of him. “Seth, this is Carmen Bianchi. She’s moving into—”

“My place on the water.” He reached across the table to shake her hand, and the strength of her grip didn’t surprise him. Her knowledgeable look said she was letting the younger generation think they’d taken control. For the moment, she’d let them live under that illusion.

He liked her straight away. “Are you hungry, Mrs. Bianchi?” Seth indicated his sandwich and the bowl of fries that followed. “There’s plenty here. Or we can order you something.”

“I just finished a piece of Tina Marie’s ham-and-broccoli quiche, and it was excellent,” she explained, with a glance at the schoolhouse-style clock on the side wall. “I’ve already decided I’m going to annoy her by being a regular customer until she gives up the recipe.”

Tina grinned from behind the counter. “We love regular customers. Annoy away.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re ever an annoyance, Mrs. Bianchi.” Seth handed over the basket of fries, smiled when she helped herself, and added, “Unless you’re bossing folks around who think they’re running the show.”

“I like a man who reads things well. You’re a cop, right?”

“A sheriff’s deputy,” Seth replied. “How’d you know?”

“You sat facing the door. You’re carrying a weapon in your back right waistband. Your eyes say gentle but your chin says you’ll do what needs to be done. My husband was a state trooper for thirty years.”

“You’re not too shabby at reading people yourself, Mrs. Bianchi.”

“Call me Carmen,” she told him, and helped herself to another fry. “And Tina Marie, you should come over here and chat with us until it gets busy.”

“Add matchmaker to her list of attributes,” Tina joked from where she was washing stoneware in the small, double sink. “I learned a long time ago to steer clear of the Campbell boys, though, so thanks anyway. Heartbreakers, every one.”

Seth pseudowhispered after swallowing a bite of his sandwich, “That means she’s still pining for my brother who’s stationed in Fort Bragg.”

“As if.” Tina frowned at him, then winked at Carmen. “Max had his chance. What normal woman would find a big, rugged special forces operative appealing?”

Carmen laughed out loud. “What woman wouldn’t? I love young people.” She leaned forward, still smiling. “I’m so glad Gianna and I have moved here. Our little mountain town is lovely, but so lonely in winter. And winter wears out its welcome long before the thermometer brings us a reprieve.”

Seth knew the truth of that, but the café door opened before he could reply, and when Gianna Costanza breezed in with a gust of fresh, cold air, his need to talk disappeared.

The softly lit café brightened in her presence. Snowflakes dotted her shoulders, her cap and the spill of curls falling down her back.

“Gram! I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it would take this long to get all of our stuff moved inside. But you’ve found friends, I see.” She flashed her smile to Seth and Tina Marie as she arched a brow. “And if that’s a panino right there, I’d love one to go.”

“Or you could take a breath and eat right here,” Carmen said.

“I’d do that except that Mauro and Joey need to be on their way,” Gianna answered. She turned more fully toward Tina. “Actually, can you make it three panini? With fries like the big guy has?” She smiled at Seth, then extended her hand across the counter to Tina. “I’m Gianna Costanza. Gram and I are opening the vintage clothing store in Seth’s rental space on Main.”

“Wonderful.” Tina gripped her hand with an answering smile. “This town needs more women in charge.”

“Or just more women in general.” Seth stood, grinned, then tweaked Tina’s short brown hair as the other ladies laughed. Tina gave his arm a friendly whack before turning her attention to Gianna’s order. He turned back toward Gianna and Carmen. “If you ladies need anything, I’m just across the road.”

“Thank you, Seth.” Carmen’s smile said she appreciated his offer.

“Actually, there is something else I meant to ask you about.” Gianna moved a step closer. “I need to install rack holders on the exterior walls to display the used clothing. And hooks above to showcase styles or finish a ‘look.’ Can you give me the names of carpenters I might be able to hire?”

“Sure. Give me your phone.”

She looked puzzled, but handed over the phone. It took Seth mere seconds to pull up his name. Under the “notes” section he put carpenter and renovator. He handed the phone back and waited to assess Gianna’s reaction.

He might crash and burn.

Or win the day....

She burst out laughing, and Seth notched a mental x into the “win” column.

“Do you actually have time to do this?” she asked. “And are you really a carpenter?”

Carmen inhaled sharply.

The older woman’s dark expression surprised Seth. “I’m a deputy sheriff by day and a guy who loves to work with wood on my days off. With Dad in the hardware business, do-it-yourself became a required phrase for Campbell kids to learn in preschool. But mostly, I love that old building and would rather do the work myself,” he explained. “Draw me a sketch of what you’re thinking, and I’ll get the supplies this week. I’ve got next weekend off, so if I gather what I need in the next few days, I can probably have the job done by midmonth, in plenty of time for your opening.”

His words dimmed her expression, as if he’d lowered a shade over a lamplit window. Regret tightened her pretty features. “I’d hate to put you out. Let me call around and see if there’s anyone who can jump right on this for me. With your approval as property owner, of course.”

Seth went straight from the “win” column to “crashed and burned” in the space of a few seconds. That made Carmen’s expression more noteworthy, but Seth could read the writing on the wall. He had no intention of crashing or burning ever again. Not on purpose. The last time took his heart and nipped his soul.

Keeping his face relaxed, he shrugged one shoulder toward her new shop. “Just let me know who you get so I can confer with them. That old building was built strong, but I’m partial to it, so TLC is important to me.”

“Will do.” She offered him a quick smile and moved to the counter, waiting for her to-go order.

He’d been dismissed. So be it.

He turned to say a quick goodbye to Carmen, but the look on the Italian woman’s face as she gazed at her granddaughter, a look of anguish mixed with love—

Seth’s heart melted. He was a peacemaker, by birth and profession. He championed the underdog, helped the oppressed, carried a gun and wore a badge because it fit his nature. Carmen’s look of concern said these women had a story.

So did he.

And if they respected his right to privacy, he’d do the same, because life was better when compassion ruled the day. But he still wanted to know who would be working on his grandmother’s building, because family legacies were important.

People matter. Buildings can be rebuilt.

While that was true, Seth shrugged off the internal warning. He knew how to control a piece of wood and a hammer. Years of being Charlie Campbell’s son meant the entire clan understood at least the elementary skills of building and refurbishing.

Women?

He’d been put through the wringer in the past and had no intention of risking a similar fate anytime soon.

Chapter Two

“I’m not saying you should marry the guy.” Carmen dipped her chin and sent Gianna an exasperated look over her reading glasses. “But you haven’t found anyone to do the wall braces, and you’ll end up running out of time for a pre-Easter opening.”

“Then we’ll open for May instead,” Gianna retorted.

Carmen lifted a silent, knowing brow.

Gianna huffed, tossed her work onto the table and picked up her phone. When she got Seth’s voice mail, she left a terse message and hung up, then went to make tea, an annoying replacement because what she wanted was a tall, hot mug of coffee, but coffee didn’t make the list of desirable beverages for the moment.

She missed coffee, but the rich scent of a robust blend turned her stomach, so tea had become the drink of the hour, a sorry replacement for an espresso lover. That thought darkened her already feisty mood.

Four separate remodelers had been unable to do the job she needed done. Calling Seth after dismissing his offer? That rankled. While the town of Kirkwood was small, she’d thought someone in the little city of Clearwater might have been looking for a quick job, but no. Her job wasn’t big enough for anyone to make repeated drives to the north tip of the long, tapering lake midwinter, and none of the more local renovators were available.

Which made her grandmother correct again and pushed her to call her landlord after rudely dismissing him the week before.

The apartment’s doorbell rang while the tea steeped. She spotted Seth’s profile and wished her heart didn’t jump.

But it did.

She reached for the doorknob with damp palms.

Ridiculous.

And when he turned and met her gaze as she swung the storm door his way, a tiny sigh got trapped somewhere between her heart and lungs. She choked it back, motioned him in, then noted the tape measure he hauled out of his jacket pocket. “You came prepared.”

He didn’t smile like he had last week.

Why would he? You cut him down like sharp scissors to cotton. Quick and precise.

Because she’d had to. She knew that. But knowing didn’t make it any easier, not now, in his presence. A waft of something deliciously spicy came her way as she followed him into the shop.

“Carmen, how are you?” He gave her grandmother a long-lost-friend greeting, and Gram had the nerve to pop up from her chair and hug him.

“Good! I love this place, Seth, it is perfetto for our shop, for the work Gianna and I do. Even the snow I do not mind. Its beauty is of nature and God, and everything is so close to walk to. And the view.” She clapped a theatrical hand to her heart, and Gianna couldn’t help but smile. Her grandmother was never afraid to let emotion rule the day. “I could look upon this beautiful lake forever.”

Gianna had learned the hard way to shield her emotions. How many family and friends had advised her to grab hold of her life and move on? To go back to New York City and immerse herself in the hectic lifestyle she’d embraced for years before she’d met Michael and fallen in love?

She’d kept hold of her life. What she’d lost was her husband, gunned down on his day off. The irony of that bit deep. A New York State trooper on a convenience store run for his pregnant wife, stumbling onto a robbery in progress.

Gone, just like that, and then the miscarriage a few weeks later.

Emptiness had consumed her. Some said for too long, but what did they know? Had they suffered her loss?

No. So they could—

“Do you have a sketch?”

She stuffed the backward trail of thoughts aside and picked up a sheet of paper from the counter. “Right here.”

“Thanks.” Seth didn’t say any more. He simply took the sketch, crossed to the east-facing wall, then measured repeatedly between the red cedar beams.

“I was thinking four-foot sections here, here and here.” Gianna pointed out the separated wall areas for him. “If we leave every third or fourth area free, I can strategically place mannequins to display complete outfits.”

“Those headless things give me the willies,” he muttered as he penciled numbers. “Although the ones with heads aren’t much better.”

“Dress forms,” Gianna told him.

He paused and frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Like that.” She pointed out the dress form in her sewing corner. “I’m working on a circa-1940s gown for a customer, and the form is adjustable. When I’m sewing, I use the form to see if I’m nipping and tucking in all the right spots as I create the dress. Out here—” she waved a hand to the stack of boxes and rolling racks clogging the middle of the room “—I can display things in their natural size so that customers have the advantage. What looks great on a size six doesn’t always work for a size sixteen.”

“You’re making this?” Seth stepped closer to the form. He touched the soft, tucked fabric of the sleeve and turned her way. “I thought it was some old-fashioned gown you bought. This is lovely.”

The way he said it, as if he understood the tiny differences between good-and fine-quality garments, made her feel better inside. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t sewing,” he went on as he admired two other outfits on the rack behind Gianna’s sewing corner.

She arched a brow and looked up, waiting for him to finish.

Time stopped. So did her heart, and if the look on his face was any indication, his reaction mimicked hers, so she took a deep breath and a full step back. “It’s not?”

“It’s art. Like a fine painting or a book you can’t put down.”

He needed to stop talking. He needed to stop being so nice, so kind, so capable, so big, strong and handsome. If you weren’t working in the garment district or with a costume designer on Broadway, sewing skills were relegated to the occasional alterations shop these days. Her grandmother’s talent and skill was becoming a lost art, just like Seth said. But not on Gianna’s watch. She may have given up the streets of the Big Apple, but she wouldn’t abandon the God-given artistry of their combined efforts. Their location on the quaint and upscale lakeshore would provide a tremendous tourist trade, while special orders on the internet helped balance the books.

She retreated one more step, but it wasn’t far enough, because the spiced-wood scent of him called to her. She’d answered that call once, to a man who wore a uniform, a man with a badge. She’d loved him, heart and soul.

She’d lost him the same way.

* * *

He’d work when Gianna was out of the shop, Seth decided as he left his father’s hardware store later that afternoon. Charlie Campbell had called in an order to an Illinois supplier. Seth knew what he wanted for the dress bars, stressed metal, old looking, but strong. Racks of clothing were heavy, and even with sturdy wall construction, he wanted to be sure he anchored the racks into solid support beams. The rustic tone he selected complemented the antiquated building, the classic decor he’d labored over when Jasmine had divorced him. Working in the cold, long days of that first winter had been his personal therapy, just him, some tools and a propane heater for long, silent days.

He’d been stupid and foolish, he saw that now. All in the name of love, regardless of his mother’s misgivings, and Jenny Campbell never discouraged casually. Despite that, he wouldn’t regret the time he’d had with Tori. Like that old Garth Brooks tune, if he hadn’t opened himself up for the pain, he might have never gotten the opportunity to be Tori’s dad, to be a father. His heart ached, wondering where she was. What she was doing. And because Jasmine had never allowed him to adopt the girl, he had no legal right to know.

That reality bit hard.

He contemplated grabbing takeout from the diner, but a glance at his watch refuted that thought. He and trooper Zach Harrison were assigned to oversee security and traffic flow for the yearlong bicentennial celebration the town had kicked off in late October. Using both departments, they would coordinate security efforts to cover back-to-back lakeshore activities, and tonight’s planning meeting was important. He put his stomach on hold, grabbed two coffees at the café and headed to the town hall. Zach’s SUV was parked to the right of the building. Seth walked in, saw Zach, strode forward and handed him a fresh cup of coffee, then turned when he heard a familiar laugh.

Gianna and Carmen sat side by side in the third row, center aisle. The wind-driven snow hadn’t kept attendance down tonight. Even with the crowded conditions, the two newcomers stood out like tropical birds in a sparrow’s tree. Nothing about the Italian women said low-key, and speculative brows and whispers crossed the full room. The two seamstresses seemed oblivious, heads bent over a legal-size pad of paper on Gianna’s lap, her pencil moving in swift, bold strokes.

“Zach, Seth, you’re both here, good.” Tess Okrepcki made a note on the pad in front of her before she faced the room full of volunteers and vendors. “And because Zach is on duty tonight, I suggest that we move the security portion of our meeting to the first item on the agenda so he can get back to work. Any objections?” Nods of assent said the people agreed. “Then a show of hands, all in favor?”

Hands shot up all over the room and Seth’s stomach did a happy dance of celebration. If he and Zach could get out of the meeting quickly, he’d find food that much sooner. And a nice big burger might take his mind off the pretty woman seated in the middle of the room. For ten minutes anyway. Until he saw her lights blink on across the street from his home in the middle of the night. Either they were both nocturnal, or she didn’t sleep any better at night than he did. And that made him wonder why she’d have trouble sleeping.

He turned as Tess rambled something about historically correct attire, determined not to think about Gianna Costanza. His resolve lasted about six seconds.

“And I’m thrilled to announce we have two new expert seamstresses in town. Carmen Bianchi and Gianna Costanza have offered their services to help make costumes for our bicentennial volunteers. Carmen is a long-established seamstress from Hamilton County in the Adirondack region of New York State, and her granddaughter Gianna worked on Broadway as a costume maker for six years before moving back to her hometown in the mountains. Gianna and Carmen, would you stand up so everyone can see you?”

See them?

The two well-dressed women had been the topic of room-wide speculation for the past ten minutes, but Tess pretended oblivion.

Carmen and Gianna stood, smiled and waved to the crowd, then sat back down amid a smattering of applause.

“Law enforcement, can you give us your report?”

Seth stepped forward as Gianna turned. Her eyes went wide, seeing him. Her mouth opened slightly, as if his presence affected her. One hand clenched the other. The gesture said he made her nervous.

Welcome to the club. He smiled at Carmen, gave Gianna a polite nod, then delivered his report in quick, crisp terms.

“Wonderful!” Tess scanned the committee members before she moved on. “Questions, anyone?”

“Will the mounted patrol be available for any of our summer activities?” one woman wondered. “They always add a special element to our gatherings.”

“They’re scheduled to help with the Fourth of July festival and the Labor Day waterside celebration,” Seth explained. “But they’re patrolling the park and forest preserve the rest of the summer, and we have to be careful not to short our fellow officers during their busiest time of the year.”

“We’re grateful to have them here in Kirkwood for those two events,” declared Tess. “Zach, Seth, thank you so much for your attention to detail, and please extend our thanks to your departments. We’ve got approval from your captains to allow you out-of-uniform status for several bicentennial functions, so if you could both make appointments with either Carmen or Gianna, they’ve agreed to create historically correct uniforms for you.”

“Say what?” Seth stared at Tess, then switched his gaze. Gianna looked just as surprised as he did.

Carmen didn’t look surprised at all. She stood, waved to Tess and didn’t seem to care about meeting protocol, another reason to love the aged woman. “I’ll set up a time with our officers so they can be on their way. You go right ahead with the meeting,” she advised Tess, as if the committee chair needed permission. “Gianna can offer advice while I’m gone.”

She stepped into the hallway, whipped out a smartphone and flipped to her calendar app with greater speed than Seth had ever been able to muster, then arched a look to Zach. “Would you prefer to come to the shop together?”

“Less scary that way,” Zach muttered. “Do we really have to do this, ma’am?”

“Carmen,” she told him firmly. “And yes, I guess you do. If the captains say do it, the officer does it. At least that’s how my late husband saw it, and he had the promotions to prove he knew how to handle the work and politics of policing a community.”

“Can’t argue that,” Zach replied. “Together’s fine. Then we can complain in unison.”

“I’ll have pizzelles and Italian cookies for you,” Carmen promised. “If the mouth is full, complaints become a nonissue.”

Zach laughed. “I like how you think. Okay, how’s this Saturday? Does that work for you, Seth?”

“I’ll be there working on installing the rack hardware, so yes. But I thought you were planning to be gone on Saturday?” He met Carmen’s gaze straight on. “I distinctly remember you saying that you and your granddaughter were attending an all-day function in Clearwater.”

“When the opportunity to help the town came up, we decided this was more important,” Carmen replied. “Helping with the bicentennial costuming gives us the chance to show off our versatility without spending advertising dollars, and you know how pricey that is for start-up businesses.”

Her reply made perfect sense, but Seth wasn’t a wet-behind-the-ears beginner on the force. He saw the old woman’s ruse and couldn’t fault how she wrapped her matchmaking in a shroud of community outreach. Clever and admirable. And he’d make sure to never underestimate her in the future, which was good since they were neighbors.

“Ten o’clock okay?”

“Fine with me.” Carmen tapped a number into the calendar as the next person filed out of the room to set up a fitting time. “Officers, we’ll see you Saturday morning.” She turned and aimed her bright-eyed smile at the next victim as Zach and Seth left the building.

“Did we just get railroaded into wearing some kind of Dudley Do-Right costume to become laughingstocks of the entire community and thousands of tourists?”

“Yes.” Seth sighed, stared out at the snow, then shoved open the door. “Worse, my Saturday just morphed from a peaceful long day of me, hardware and pre–Super Bowl radio sports chatter to me, them and Italian opera.”

“No way.” Zach’s look of horror matched Seth’s spoken angst. “Take your iPod.”

“I don’t have an iPod.”

“Borrow one,” Zach advised as he moved to his car. “I get to leave and go home, where our current topic of conversation will be what color to use on the nursery.”

“Piper’s expecting?” Seth clapped the other man on the back. “That’s wonderful news.”

“It’s early, and we’re not saying much yet, but yes, come summer we should have a little Harrison to add to the bicentennial fun.”

“Congratulations.” Seth meant the word sincerely. “There’s nothing like being a dad.”

Zach met his gaze. Seth read sympathy mixed with Zach’s joy. “Thanks, Seth.”

Seth climbed into his car.

He’d been starving when he showed up at the meeting. He wasn’t a bit hungry now. He was thrilled for Zach and Piper. Their fall wedding had been a fun, hometown event. And Seth’s younger brother, Luke, was engaged to Piper’s sister, Rainey. Their wedding would join two families who’d met life’s challenges and clung to faith and hope.

Right now all he could think of was his empty house. No school books strewn here and there. No inane, overacted tween shows on cable. And no one to urge to eat meat loaf...or try broccoli...or teach how to tie flies for stream fishing, or take out in Dad’s boat, watching for nesting water birds. There was just him and eight yawning rooms, a house that felt so empty he could cry. But big, strong men didn’t cry, so he parked the car, grabbed a shovel and spent two hours cleaning out his driveway and then Gianna’s. By the time he completed the job he was tired enough to fall into bed and sleep.

And that was a scenario he’d been practicing for over two years. Work himself so hard that he couldn’t help but sleep, and while he was awake, pray that God watched over the girl he loved as a daughter. Wherever she might be.

* * *

“Police officer uniforms?” Gianna scolded as she grabbed a snowbrush from the trunk after the lengthy meeting. Two hours in lake-effect snowfall had left the car buried. “Really, Gram?”

“I can’t think of a better way to show off tailoring skills than on those two,” Carmen quipped back as she reached for the second brush. “Everyone will notice, guaranteed. Those men are seriously good-looking.”

The thought of Seth in an old-style sheriff’s uniform wasn’t unappealing.

The idea of working with him was, but only because she could deny the attraction when he wasn’t around. In person?

She sighed, swept the snow aside with more vigor than necessary and took out her aggravation on innocent frozen precipitation. By the time she climbed into the driver’s seat, the car had begun to warm. She sent a sidelong look to her grandmother, who waved off her concerns with practiced nonchalance. “We’re here to do a job. A new start. Doing what we do best and having people’s gratitude and awareness is huge, Gianna. You know that.”

“I get that part.” Gianna thrust the car into gear and moved forward carefully, eyeing the thickening snow. “But I wasn’t expecting police uniforms in the deal. Fitting uniforms is a pain in the neck.”

“I found patterns online. They won’t be any more trouble than the long, tucked skirts we’re doing for the ladies.”

Gianna disagreed silently. She’d have no problem working with the ladies. Nipping the waists, adding tucks for proper ease over the hips.

Working with Seth?

That was a problem in itself. Her fault, she knew, so she’d just have to deal with it. Right now she had other things to think about, though. Like how to get the car into the snow-clogged driveway so the overnight plows wouldn’t hit her small SUV and send it into the nearby lake. She turned onto Main Street, put on her signal, then smiled.

He’d cleared the driveway. From side to side and end to end, black asphalt with just a little clinging snow called to her. The crunch beneath the tires said he’d sprinkled salt, too.

Quick tears stung the backs of her eyes.

Mike had taken care of her like this. Always thinking ahead, thinking of others. That warmth and bravery had led to his death. If trouble loomed, he jumped in, wanting to help. Serving and protecting, all of his days.

Maybe Seth wasn’t like that. She hadn’t known him long enough to know. But they shared the caregiver’s urge, the guardian. Looking out for others.

Was she selfish to avoid a repeat of those qualities? To resent what was taken from her? Maybe.

But better selfish than heartbroken again.

As she stepped out onto the firm surface, she reached back to grab her purse and notebook.

Light streamed through Seth’s side window, one single beam from within. Outside, his porch lights glowed all night, a policeman’s first line of defense, she knew. Overnight lights made it tough if not impossible for anyone to creep up on a house. But somehow Seth’s lights didn’t look protective. They looked welcoming. Waiting. As if he turned them on to guide someone home, like that old George Strait song.

But that was silly female imaginings. She closed the car door and followed her grandmother inside, worried and excited about Saturday. And the fact that she was excited to work with Seth worried her even more.

Chapter Three

“I’m not sure where we are, Dad, I just wanted to call and say I love you.” A tiny sound that could have been a choked sob broke through Tori’s whispered phone message. “I miss you so much.”

Seth’s heart ground to a halt as he listened to her plaintive words again on Saturday morning.

Tori was reaching out to him. She’d done this before, but not in a while, and he’d hoped—no, he’d prayed—that the interim silence meant things were going better. The pain in her childlike voice said that wasn’t the case.

The phone call had no return number. She’d blocked it so he couldn’t call her back. That meant she’d be in big trouble if her mother knew she’d contacted him.

A harsh pain in his chest said his heart had started beating again. How could he help her? How could he reach her?

He’d exhausted legal means early on. Because of his nonparent status, he had no recourse. His fault. He should have insisted on the adoption first thing after they’d married. At least then he’d be her legal father. He’d have rights. As it was he had nothing, and when Jasmine had left, she’d taken the most precious thing she’d brought to their ill-fated marriage. Her child.

“Seth, good morning.” Reverend Smith stopped at the road’s edge, his half-grown pup straining at the leash. “Titus. Leave it.”

The dog paused, sighed then sat, obedient, but his expression said he wondered why they were stopping on the cold, wet street when there was a perfectly good rectory a block away.

“Titus is doing well.” Seth leaned down and rubbed the pup’s neck with gentle hands. “Zach’s sister took one of the pups for her boys, and he’s more rambunctious.”

“Living with boys will do that.” The reverend laughed. “I saw your face as I approached. I know that look. You’re troubled about Tori, I’m guessing.”

“She called me.”

“Ah.” Reverend Smith’s gaze shadowed. “And did her phone call leave you a way to reach her or her mother?”

“No.”

“And so your heart was just retorn.”

Seth stared beyond the minister’s shoulder to the flat edge of ice inching across the lake as winter’s cold thickened. “Not like it ever really mended, Reverend.”

“A wound reopened tends to fester.”

“Yes.”

“And winter is a long, cold, dark season sometimes. Not the best for healing.”

Seth eyed the growing snowpack along the lake’s edge and lifted one shoulder. “I don’t mind it. And no, I’m not making excuses,” he added when the reverend arched a brow. He breathed deep and swept his gaze across the lakeside village, quiet and still on a snow-filled weekend morning. “Winter’s peaceful. I like the snow. And I love seeing storms come in, watching them recede. I’ve got a great vantage point up there.” He pointed to his hillside home. “The hard part is that I can see the edge of the interstate as it cuts across the water below the ‘point.’ And when I see that, I think of Tori. There are days when I have to fight the urge to jump in the car and go after her. Find her. Bring her home. I know I can’t do that, but that stretch of road calls to me. And after hearing the sadness in her voice—” he tapped the belt pouch that held his phone “—I’m tempted more than ever.”

The pastor reached out and clapped a hand on each of Seth’s shoulders. “You have a good heart and a strong mind, and I can’t believe God won’t fix this somehow, someway. And that’s what I’m praying for. That God mends this chasm to bring you peace of mind and a healed heart.”

Seth accepted the blessing, but he couldn’t wrap his head around such a thing. Peace of mind would only come if he could keep Tori safe. And a healed heart?

His heart was doing okay. It had healed enough to know he wouldn’t chance getting it broken again. And that was a promise he could make.

* * *

“Good morning!” Gram’s welcome meant the boys in blue had arrived. Gianna took a deep breath, put a pleasant and somewhat blank expression on her face and stepped into the sewing area at the back of the shop. She tried not to stare as Seth settled an armload of tools and boxed braces along the front wall.

“You’ll still be able to do this today?” she asked. She pointed to the equipment he’d brought in. “I was afraid we messed you up with the fitting appointment.”

“Lotta day left,” he told her, then winked.

Her heart did a theatrical spin—most unprofessional. Her face refused to let the attraction show. “That’s wonderful. If you’ll—”

“Zach, come in, thank you for helping your friend. So nice!” Carmen bustled forward as if on cue, which made Gianna figure she’d been watching for Zach’s entrance from the doorway leading to the apartment. “Set those down right here and I’ll take you over by my area.”

“And I’ll send Seth right behind him,” Gianna added. She sent her grandmother an I-know-what-you’re-doing look as Seth organized the equipment into some kind of order.

“If we both measure, we get done in half the time.” Carmen tossed a tape measure across the room.

Gianna caught it in one hand, met her grandmother’s grin and decided to stay mum. There would be no arguing in front of the two policemen, but later?

Gram would get an earful.

“Where would you like me?” Seth faced her with the look of a man doomed, and despite her internal efforts, she had to smile.

“I promise it won’t hurt. Much.”

“The last time I heard that was when the doctor had to reset my broken arm. And just so you know? It did hurt. A lot.”

“Aw.” She made a face of sympathy up at him and touched his arm. “I’m actually sorry you had to go through that.”

“I was, too. But we got the bad guy and he’s doing time, so justice prevailed.”

Her heart longed to protest his easy take on an uneasy topic. He’d gotten one bad guy and a broken arm. But there were bad guys everywhere. And not all the good guys walked away with just a cast. Some never walked away at all.

“What do we do first?” He tipped his gaze down to her and for just a moment she let herself get lost in those clear blue eyes. His hair was rumpled from wearing a hat, but the tight Scottish curl didn’t allow hats to crush his hair, so she found herself looking up at a modern-day Celtic warrior with a great smile.

Focus. You’ve got a job to do. So does he. And that’s it.

“All you have to do is stand there for a minute today.”

“Can do.”

She unwound her measuring tape as her grandmother chatted with Zach about his family and farming and all the innocent things Gianna could discuss if she was doing the state trooper’s measurements.

But no, she was measuring the single sheriff’s deputy with the great chin, and for the life of her, she couldn’t find a thing to say that didn’t seem flirtatious or mention his job. And she refused to do that. She reached up and measured from his neck to where his wrist met strong, broad hands.

Do not think about his hands. Their strength. That scar on the back of his left hand that looks fairly new. Eyes on the tape measure. Got it?

Oh, she got it, but it was impossible when she had to go eye to eye with him to measure his neck. The scent of fresh outdoors mingled with guy soap, a combination that made her long to draw closer for one more whiff....

So she stood back, jotted 17.5 in her notes and moved to measuring his chest. While doing so she decided that life was not fair, men shouldn’t be so amazingly well built and she’d probably have to resort to bodily harm of her conniving grandmother for putting her in this situation. At least she was experienced enough to be able to discern his measurements without needing him to remove his shirt. Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have known how to adjust for the slight difference.

Now she did, although seeing Seth in a T-shirt couldn’t be considered punishment.

Waist...a trim thirty-two.

She finished her task in a matter-of-fact manner, jotted numbers into her sizing notepad, then closed the small notebook. Done.

“No hip measurement?” he wondered.

“Not for men.” She shook her head as she looked up, and the gleam in his eye said he was kidding.

“Jerk.”

He laughed and tugged a lock of her hair as he stepped back into his shoes. “Couldn’t resist. I’ve been measured for monkey suits for way too many weddings. No one’s ever gotten quite this nervous about it, though. Although you hid it well.”

The fact that he recognized her nervousness meant she hadn’t hidden it well. The blush she’d tried to control steamrolled her cheeks, but she made a concerted effort to keep this exchange strictly business. “Measure twice, cut once. I expect you employ a similar ethic when working with wood.”

“I do. And just like good fabric, certain grains give me more trouble than others.” He arched an innocent brow, but she was fairly sure he lumped her in the “certain grains” category. “We’re done for now?”

“Yes. I will turn this—” she patted a bolt of tan cotton “—into this.” She held up a pattern of an old-style sheriff’s uniform and grinned when Seth looked reassured.

“That’s actually kind of cool.” He touched the fabric lightly, and there was no mistaking the relief in his tone. “I like that Andy Griffith look. I was afraid we’d have to wear some overblown thing with ugly brass buttons.”

Gianna sent Zach a look of sympathy. “That would be his.”

“Ha.” Seth laughed and clapped Zach on the back. “You’ll look like a band leader in a parade. Perfect.”

“I’ll still be carrying a gun,” Zach warned, and Seth laughed again.

“I’m going to leave off some of the braid,” Carmen told Zach. “The state police dropped the braid and the tails on the coat fairly early, so I’ll do the same. I promise you will not be a laughingstock.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “My husband gave decades to the troopers. I treat his counterparts with utmost love and respect.”

“Thank you.” Zach smiled down at her as he lifted his leather jacket from a hook behind her work area. “I’m going to head back home and help my wife and my father compute how many cows are too many.”

Seth offered a quick retort as Zach moved toward the door. “Knowing your wife and father, I don’t think there is such a thing.”

“I can’t disagree.” Zach sent him a rueful look. “And with the new barn nearly complete, I see a busy season ahead of us. But truth be told, I couldn’t be happier, so bring on the cows. Ladies.” He turned and tipped his cap in their direction. “Thank you for making this relatively painless.”

“You’re welcome.” Gianna smiled at him, then turned toward Seth. “Is it easier for you to work on the clothing racks if we’re not here? If it is, Gram and I can make ourselves scarce. I know we said we’d be gone today, and sometimes it’s a pain to have people underfoot while you work.”

* * *

Would it be easier to work if she disappeared behind that long, rippled curtain?

Definitely.

Then he wouldn’t have to pretend she wasn’t there. Breathe her amazing perfume that was nothing like anything he’d ever smelled before. But they were neighbors. Moreover, he was her landlord, so he had to get used to working with her. Or at least working near her. And while he hadn’t thought he was in the market for anything romantically inclined, when Gianna drew close, it wasn’t close enough. And he was old enough and mature enough to know that meant his interest extended beyond a friendly handshake.

Hers didn’t. Correction: she was tempted, but determined to remain off-limits, and he’d had enough of difficult women with Jasmine, so he was all right with maintaining distance. He respected lines drawn in the sand. So be it. He set up his saw at the north end of the building and flexed a shrug. “I can ignore you if you can ignore me.”

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed, and Seth was pretty sure the thought of being ignored didn’t sit well with the Italian princess at the opposite end of the room. He didn’t like it all that much either, so he’d wait and see what she’d do. Eyeing the long expanse of walls, he had plenty of work to keep him busy. And at least they weren’t playing that horrible, boring—

Orchestral strains broke into his train of thought, deep strings with a slow, haunting percussive backbeat. He could bang his head against the wall right now, or man up and pretend he didn’t notice, but when some guy began belting out all the angst of the world in some foreign language, he reached for the earplugs he’d brought along and almost hugged the packaging. Some guys used earplugs for the most minute sawing jobs. Not Seth, but Gianna and Carmen didn’t know that.

Let them think he was protecting fragile eardrums. And he was, in a way. Because his eardrums would be okay if he never listened to opera again.

* * *

She’d redone the side seam twice, a ridiculous novice mistake because it was a simple seam, straight and thin.

Easy when there isn’t a wonderful man working ten yards away, wearing well-washed Wranglers and a perfectly fitted dark knit turtleneck.

He was humming something, too, something that didn’t meld with Pavarotti’s majestic tenor, and as Gianna plied her seam ripper for the second time, inspiration hit.

Seth was wearing earplugs. For the drill’s noise?

Or the opera?

Chagrined, she realized that just because she was a huge fan of the singing stage, a guy like Seth might want to tear his hair out rather than hear the deep operatic tones and strings repeatedly. She moved to the apartment, spotted her grandmother catching a midday catnap in the living room overlooking the snow-swept frozen water and turned off the music feed to the shop. When she came back through the curtained door, the only noise was his slightly off-key rendition of “Fields of Gold.”

Seth liked Sting.

So did she.

She retook her seat in the well-lit sewing corner and hummed along with him. The new quiet bathed her in peace, the melding of her voice with his soft and unassuming. The duet was broken from time to time as he mounted the bars high enough to avoid street-length dresses grazing the floor. Just before he turned on the drill to set bracket holes in the next section, he turned, frowned, then smiled.

Oh, that smile.

Her heart melted. Her fingers stuttered and the business end of a pin bit the tip of her thumb. She jumped back, not wanting to taint the gauzy fabric with a prick of blood, and Seth moved to her side instantly. Concern erased the smile, and he grabbed for her hand. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just silly.”

He looked puzzled momentarily, then awareness dawned. He snatched the earplugs from his ears and pocketed them. He examined her hand, seemed to decide she’d most likely live and dropped it back into her lap. “Sorry. You just looked scared there for a minute.”

“Only because blood won’t wash out of dry-clean-only fabric,” she told him. She pressed a small pad of white cotton to the tip of her finger and nodded toward the far wall. “The brackets look good. I love that stressed bronze color.”

“It fit.”

“Yes.”

He started to turn back to his work, then swung around again. “You turned off the music. You can listen if you want. This is your place now.”

Add considerate and self-sacrificial to the list of attributes she liked about this man. She shrugged, checked her finger, then reapplied the pad to make sure she’d stanched the tiny cut. “Compromise is a good thing when people work together. You’re not an opera fan, I take it.”

His face said more than his reply. “No.”

She laughed. “Well, did you know that Pavarotti and Sting have sung together?”

“I’m not sure I believe it, but I’ll ask—when?”

“On Pavarotti & Friends,” she explained. “The producers arranged for all kinds of musicians to perform with him. Rockers. Jazz. Classical. My father was highly insulted, but I loved it.” She sent him a pointed look and added, “Pavarotti and Sting sang ‘Panis angelicus.’”

“I love that hymn,” Seth admitted. “It’s majestic.” He drew up a chair, pretended to check a nonexistent watch and said, “Break time. Is it a rule that if you’re Italian you must love opera?”

“It should be,” she teased. “I love the rise and fall of voices, and I don’t care if it’s opera, a barbershop quartet or a strong choir. The synchronized timing of music and voice calls to me.” Memories swept her. Made her smile. Broadway. The Met. Concerts in Central Park. “I worked in New York after college, and I had the opportunity to see all kinds of things, a multitude of cultures. An amazing experience.”

“Will you go back?”

The question hung between them, suspended in midair, as if her answer meant a great deal, as if their casual conversation could lead to something stronger. More permanent. But that was silly. “Just to visit,” she told him. “My home is here now.”

He smiled again, but it wasn’t the amused smile of moments ago when he’d realized she’d switched the music off. This smile held the warmth of hope and the promise of spring. “Well.” He stood, brushed his hands against the sides of his thighs and squared his shoulders. “The finger’s okay?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Then I’ll get back to work.”

“Me, too.”

Everyday words, simple and sweet. But as she watched him cross the room, his gait relaxed, she knew she hadn’t shared easy conversation with an attractive man in a long time.

She’d dated occasionally after losing Michael. And she’d had fun from time to time, but she’d worked to have fun, putting forth concerted effort so her dates wouldn’t think she was a total waste of time.

Enjoying moments with Seth required no work. That slow, comforting gaze. The big, blue eyes. The firm chin with the tiniest cleft when he smiled.

He didn’t need her to impress him. She liked that. Too much, most likely, but since there was nothing to come of it, she’d enjoy the opportunity to have a new friend, as long as that was all it was.

* * *

Old-world beauty.

The phrase struck Seth when he pictured her, tucked in the corner behind him, the whir of the pricey sewing machine a soft hum beneath her hands. A cloud of delicate fabric covered her lap, and she’d clipped her hair back, away from her face. The combination of the curls and the puffs of gray fabric were a Renaissance painting come to life.

He kept his eyes on the wall and the drill, his gaze focused on the sturdy brackets needed to brace the movement and weight of hanging garments.

But his thoughts? Those were ten yards back, on the pretty girl sitting at the pale blue machine, the motorized pause and go of intricate work keeping her in his mind.

The scent of something amazingly delicious captured his attention midday, about the same time as a knock came at the street-side door. Gianna started to stand, but Seth waved her back down. “I’ll get it. You keep working.”

He didn’t wait to see if she obeyed him, but when he opened the door, his mother stood on the snow-crusted sidewalk. “Mom.”

“Hello.” She breezed in, flashed him a smile, then held a basket high. “Gianna?”

“Yes.” Gianna stood, settled the fabric onto the chair and rounded the sewing table. “I’m Gianna Costanza.” She put out her hand in welcome. “You’re Seth’s mother.”

“Jenny Campbell.” Jenny handed off the basket and waved toward the kitchen in the apartment beyond. “I wanted to welcome you and your grandmother to town. I’d have been here sooner but one of our grandsons was sick and I took over with him the past few days so his parents could work.”

“Is he doing better?” Gianna asked, and it didn’t surprise Seth to see genuine concern in her eyes. “I hope so.”

“Much,” Jenny told her. “He had fifth disease, nothing major, but I wanted to keep him away from Piper if possible because she’s quietly expecting.”

“Not so quiet if half the town knows,” Seth scolded.

“This isn’t half the town. It’s you and Gianna. And Zach was in here earlier and I expect he said something.”

“Nope.”

“Oops.”

His mother looked chagrined. Seth laughed and looped an arm around her shoulders. “We won’t tell. Will we?” He shifted his gaze to Gianna. She shook her head, but a hint of worry glazed her eyes. “You okay?”

“Fine. Yes.”

Carmen bustled in from the apartment side of the building. “Hello! You’re Seth’s mother?”

Jenny introduced herself. Gianna handed Carmen the overflowing basket and watched as her grandmother led Jenny into the kitchen. But when she turned, worry creased her brow.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Tired, I think.” She made a face at the chair. “Too much sitting work makes me sleepy. I think I’ll take a quick walk.”

“Sleepy equates walk?” Seth stepped closer. “Usually the way to conquer tiredness is to nap.”

“Fresh air works, too.” She grabbed a thick jacket from a hook around the corner and donned it quickly. “I’ll be back soon.”

She was out the door in a flash, and when Carmen poked her head through the connecting door, Seth just shrugged. “She went for a walk.”

Carmen waved it off as if it wasn’t outrageously rude behavior. “She can’t sit too long working. She’s an action-motivated girl.”

“Who sews for a living.” Seth hiked a brow in Carmen’s direction. “Odd, right?”

“Not at all,” Carmen answered smoothly. “Come on in here, I’ve got chicken soup, and your mother brought homemade bread. We’ll have a quick lunch before we get back to work.”

He shouldn’t, even though Gianna had left. He’d promised himself he’d keep their relationship professional. Distanced. Being caught in the shop with Gianna so close showed him the unlikelihood of that. Just knowing she was there, sewing, humming now and again, made him feel at home.

He couldn’t afford to feel at home here.

Why not? His conscience scoffed. She’s nice, funny, talented and creative. Did I mention drop-dead gorgeous?

Seth got all that. What he didn’t get was the vibe she emitted, keeping him at bay. He’d obey his instincts—his other instincts—and maintain degrees of separation, no matter how much his heart softened in her presence. Soft hearts led to one thing: soft heads. And he’d been in the fire too much of late. He had no desire to get burned again.

* * *

Fifth disease.

Gianna hurried across the road, turned left at the first of two traffic lights and climbed the steps to the library. Warmth greeted her.

She barely felt it.

Children laughed in a semicircle off to her right as the librarian held up a funny-looking puppet and squawked, “Hi! I’m Skippy Jon Jones!”

The children giggled as the librarian continued the story. The puppet interrupted regularly, his raucous voice teaching on a kid-friendly level. Their joy of learning without knowing they were learning flooded Gianna with anticipation, but the thought of this childhood disease concerned her.

She sat at one of the computer screens, clicked it on and waited until she could do an internet search, then sighed in relief when she saw that most people contracted the virus as youngsters and carried that immunity into adulthood. A simple blood test would tell her if she was susceptible to the disease or had already had it.

That meant she needed to find a doctor, and that was something she would do first thing Monday morning. She’d relocated her grandmother and herself by promising her family that she’d look after Grandma. None of them were aware that Grandma was currently the caretaker of the two.

They’d know soon enough. She shut down the computer, then grabbed a couple of books so she wouldn’t look like a complete idiot when she walked back into the shop. She signed up for a new library card and headed back down the road, wondering if Seth would think she was totally whacked.

Some days she wondered herself.

“You’re back!” Her grandmother’s bright smile said everything would be fine. Just fine. “Jenny has brought us homemade bread, and I just put on water for tea. And I do believe there’s a tray of chocolate-walnut brownies in that pretty basket.”

“My weakness. Well. One of them,” Gianna admitted as she slung her jacket back onto the hook. She set two books down on the counter, trying to make it look like her trip to the library had been crucial.

“Raised Bed Planting and Turn-of-the-Century Patterns, Volume 2.” Seth surveyed the books once he stood up. He pulled out a chair for her, then carefully slid it in behind her as she sat. “No time like the present to ponder June’s gardens, I guess.”

His gaze skimmed the snow-filled front window.

He wasn’t buying her library excuse for ducking out. He might not know why she’d left in a hurry, but he wasn’t about to believe it was to grab two obscure books before the midafternoon library closing.

He probably thought she was darting away from him. And since that was exactly what she should be doing, she let it go. “This looks wonderful,” she told Jenny as she reached for a thick slice of fresh bread. “And Grandma made herbed oil to dip it in? This is a treat.”

Seth started toward the door.

Gianna turned, surprised. “You’re going back to work already?”

He indicated the wall clock with a jut of his chin. “Play-off game today at four. I’ve got a date with my recliner.”

“Of course.” She smiled, and didn’t think of how nice it would be to spend the late afternoon watching football with him while the current storm blustered outside. She wouldn’t think about the coziness of a shared afghan or steaming hot coffee and a big bowl of chips.

She’d sew.

That was what she’d come here to do after all. To build a business with her grandmother’s help, to work toward summer with one eye on the clock and one foot on the sewing machine treadle. She had goals. Timelines. Objectives. Nothing could get in the way of that. But seeing Seth move into the shop area to continue his work made part of her wish she’d been invited to watch the late-day game with him.

Would she have said yes?

Probably not, although she’d like to.

But she would have enjoyed knowing she’d been welcome.

Chapter Four

“Oh!”

“Easy now.” Seth gripped Gianna’s arm to keep her from falling, fairly certain that if she went down on the icy walk, he and Carmen would most likely follow. “Keep hold of Carmen, there.”

“I’ve got her.” Gianna huffed a breath up to get a stray lock of hair out of her face, one arm clutching her grandmother, the other held tight in Seth’s grip. He used his free hand to tuck the errant curl back behind her ear, and if his hand lingered there a few seconds too long, well...

He smiled down at her because her expression said she got what he was doing and didn’t mind it near as much as she made out, even if she meant to offer total resistance to his charm. “Better?”

He released her arm and indicated the hair by switching his gaze. “It seems to have a mind of its own.”

“I should cut it,” she grumbled as she tested the footing beneath them. “I had no idea this was black ice.”

“Don’t cut it, it’s gorgeous. And this side of the street is notorious for black ice this time of year because the sun hits it just long enough in the late afternoon to melt things and leave the surface slick. Then it takes its own sweet time to melt the following morning.”

“Seth, thank you.” Carmen aimed a bright smile up at him. “We could have fallen.”

“My pleasure.” He fell into step beside them and touched his hand to Gianna’s elbow a couple of times, ready to grab hold if she faltered again. She didn’t, and that made it tough to figure out a reason to hold her in the short minutes before church services began. “Would you ladies like to sit with me?”

“We’d love it!” declared Carmen. Her decisive nature sounded a great deal like his late Grandmother Campbell. Tough, strong, caring, the kind of woman who did what was needed, whatever it took.

“But we can’t.” Gianna refused his offer with a slight frown at her grandmother.

“There’s no harm in sitting with a neighbor to share the Lord.” Carmen met Gianna’s grimace with a wise smile that only made the younger woman’s frown deepen. “Seth, do you sit on the right or the left generally?”

“The right, but I’m becoming a creature of habit too much of the time.” He pointed to the church and then stepped back. “You pick. No one in their thirties should be this predictable already. It’s wrong on multiple levels.”

“Gianna said that exact thing before we moved here,” Carmen agreed. “How about this? Right in the middle. And I did like Reverend Smith’s sermon last week about allowing children to grow. Stretch. Reach.”

“Taking chances worries parents,” Gianna reminded her.

“Taking chances once you’ve hit thirty shouldn’t worry anyone,” Carmen retorted. “God gives us one life, one vessel. Our job is to live it well and take care of ourselves.”

“I can’t find fault with that,” Seth told her. He allowed the ladies to enter the pew, and wasn’t sure how Carmen maneuvered it, but he found himself sitting on the aisle next to Gianna, with Carmen tucked to her right.

Candlelight flickered across the front of the historic church. The Christmas decorations had been removed. Part of Seth liked the uncluttered look of the sanctuary and altar, but another part lamented one more holiday gone. A Christmas past.

A light tap on the shoulder pulled his attention. His parents slipped into the pew behind him, followed by his brother Luke, Luke’s fiancée, Rainey, and three five-year-olds. His mother tempted Dorrie to her side with a book about Noah’s Ark. Aiden snugged himself between his father and his future stepmother, still looking a little peaked from the virus he’d had that week. Sonya spotted Seth and crept around the edge of the pew. “May I sit with you, Uncle Seth?”

Her endearing entreaty made his heart stretch open. So did his arms. She climbed onto his lap and slanted an uncertain smile toward Gianna and her grandmother. She blinked twice, slow and sweet, then snuggled into his chest as the music began.

Gianna smiled back at her. Carmen did likewise, her broader face crinkled in joy. The joy of a child, a gift from God. Holding Sonya made his heart ache more and his soul ache less, his very own personal enigma.

Seth lifted her as he stood, holding her close to his side, not caring that she was five years old and perfectly capable of standing, sitting and kneeling as the service required. It felt right to hold her, to show her the correct passages and tilt the hymnbook just so, as if she could read the words with him. She couldn’t, but she liked pretending, and that was okay by Seth.

* * *

Joy and sorrow, seamed together. Gianna read Seth’s expression as he held the little girl, and she wondered what created the mix of emotion. Would he tell her if she asked?

Maybe. Maybe not.

And yet she longed to know. Longed to soothe, to comfort. And when a miniature quarrel broke out between the two little kids behind her, this little girl burrowed farther into Seth’s shoulder.

Endearing.

Her head filled with what-ifs. Thoughts of boys and girls, babies and children, cradles and car seats vied for mental attention. And when a baby started crying at the back of the church during the kind reverend’s sermon, the comforting sounds of the mother’s murmur made her wonder if she truly had what it took to be a mother.

Her phone vibrated on the short walk home after the service. She pulled it out, recognized her former mother-in-law’s number and was tempted to let it go to voice mail, but she couldn’t. She stepped to where a parking lot met the freshly plowed sidewalk and said hello.

“Gianna, how are you? How is your grandmother? Is everything well, everything all right?” Marie Costanza spoke in rapid-fire sentences 90 percent of the time. The other 10 percent was spent sleeping.

Gianna drew a breath and offered reassurance. “We’re good, Marie. In fact, we’ve just finished church and we’re heading home so it’s not a good time to talk. The walkway is icy, and I need to hold on to Grandma. How is Fort Myers?”

“Cold! Wicked cold. I wonder what I’m thinking spending all this money to come down here and it’s cold, no matter! What about there? Is it bad? Snow? Ice? Cold? Too cold?”

Gianna had learned that when Marie fired too many questions, the best line of defense was to attack the middle ground. “To be expected, right? It’s winter, this is Western New York. One plus one equals cold around here. But I hope it warms up there for you. And you’ve got friends around, right?”

“Friends, yes, friends are good, but they are not the same as famiglia. Not the same as being around my brother, my sisters—although all they do is yak, yak, yak! And you, my Gianna. Whenever I think of my Michael, on those nights when I miss him so much I cry, I think of you and how happy you were together. That wedding, so beautiful. Never have I seen a happier bride, and why not?”

Her words claimed Gianna’s heart because she’d been absolutely blissful back then. So much change, so much gone, a bend in the road she’d never expected. And now another.

“And you made Michael happy, you made his life good.” Marie put heightened emphasis on the word good. “This is what a mother wants for her son, what we pray for, night and day. A woman who will stand beside him and love him all the days of her life, no matter what. I thank the good Lord that he had that with you, Gianna. If only...” Her voice trailed off.

Gianna understood “if only.” If only she hadn’t miscarried twice. If only Michael hadn’t made a convenience store run to buy ice cream for his pregnant wife. If only he’d been home asleep, in bed, like most people were at eleven o’clock at night.

But no, he’d taken her request to heart and drove five miles to get her a quart of her favorite flavor, mint chocolate chip.

He’d lost his life trying to keep her happy, and it had taken a long time before the heavy guilt of that eased. And she hadn’t eaten ice cream since. “I know.”

“Ach, I should not speak of sadness, I know. I know. I just wanted to see how you are, how your grandmother is doing. You will open your store soon, I think?”

“Six weeks, give or take.”

“So long? Why?”

“We’re getting things set up in the shop and we’ve gotten some special orders to do for a local celebration. But most of my vintage-look stock has arrived, we’ve got the wall-mounted display bars in place and I can start unpacking boxes and racks soon.”

“I should come back. Help you.”

Gianna’s heart jumped into high gear. The last thing that could or should happen would be to have Marie here, now. “No, no, no. I won’t hear of it. Grandma and I are doing just fine and there’s only so much room, Marie. You’ll be back before you know it and then you can come visit. Enjoy your time in the sun. Once it shines again, that is. And we’ll be here waiting to see you in the spring.”

Please don’t come, please listen to me, please don’t—

“You’re right, of course. I have Bella with me and I can’t leave her here alone while I run back there.”

“Of course not.” Bella was Marie’s aunt, a nice woman, but she’d never have gone to Florida alone. For Marie to leave meant Bella would leave, too. Or be desperately unhappy.

“I’ll call, then.”

Relief flooded Gianna. “Anytime, please.”

Phone calls she could handle. Having Marie there, in person? She needed more time before facing that reality. Michael’s mother wasn’t a bad person, but life had soured her on some things and jaded her on others. When it came to family matters she was strong, assertive and somewhat aggressive. Losing her only son, the only child God had gifted her, had broken Marie’s heart. Gianna understood that quite well. “Talk to you soon.”

“Goodbye, Gianna. God bless you.”

He had.

Gianna wanted to whisper those words. Better yet, she longed to scale snow-filled peaks and shout them from the tallest mountain. Maybe take out an ad in USA TODAY and announce her blessings to the world, but not yet. Right now she needed to plan, focus and bide her time.

As they passed the family diner, a horrid scent accosted her, assailing her senses.

Her mouth began to water. Her throat constricted, and the rise of nausea quickened her steps. The plowed sidewalks had the familiar crunch of fresh salt to melt ice and aid traction, but even with that, Gianna wasn’t sure she’d make it home before she got sick.

“Gianna?”

Seth’s voice, coming from her right.

“Honey, are you all right?”

Carmen’s tone, warm and solicitous, to her left.

She didn’t dare open her mouth to speak, or turn either way. She hurried into the house, glad they’d left the door unlocked, and rushed to the downstairs bathroom.

Cooking meat hadn’t sat well for weeks, but she’d been better recently. Today?

Not so much.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, Carmen sent her a mixed look of love and sympathy. “My precious girl, I am so sorry. Here.” She took Gianna’s arm and led her to the gray tweed couch. “You sit. Put your feet up. Rest for a while, okay?”

Gianna sent her a watery smile. “I’m okay, Gram. You know how it is.”

“I remember well,” Carmen agreed. “It is not something one forgets.”

“They say it’s a good sign.”

“A well-set pregnancy makes its presence known,” agreed her grandmother. “But, bellisima, I would love for you to just be comfortable and then have this baby. That is my wish.”