The lone cowboy...

Damon Harrison never gets too involved. A cowboy at heart, Damon has turned his commitment phobia into a living—flipping houses. The only exceptions to that rule? His foster family at Thunder Mountain Ranch. And now those “exceptions” have talked Damon into working on a new project with a carpenter named Phil...

Only, “Phil” is a nickname for Philomena Turner. She has a wicked way with carpentry and an even wickeder way of turning Damon’s head. And the chemistry is like a lightning bolt of lust. But Phil wants a family and a home, and no hotshot cowboy—even a tantalizingly sexy one—will change that. All she can steal are a few nights of sizzling passion before she has to set this lone cowboy free...

Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Cowboy Up is a sexy joyride, balanced with good-natured humor and Thompson’s keen eye for detail. Another sizzling romance from the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award winner for best Blaze.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Vicki Lewis Thompson has compiled a tale of this terrific family, along with their friends and employees, to keep you glued to the page and ending with that warm and loving feeling.”

—Fresh Fiction on Cowboys and Angels

“Intensely romantic and hot enough to singe...her Sons of Chance series never fails to leave me worked up from all the heat, and then sighing with pleasure at the happy endings!”

—We Read Romance on Riding High

“If I had to use one word to describe Ambushed! it would be charming.... Where the story shines and how it is elevated above others is the humor that is woven throughout.”

—Dear Author

“The chemistry between Molly and Ben is off the charts: their first kiss is one of the best I’ve ever read, and the sex is blistering and yet respectful, tender and loving.”

—Fresh Fiction on A Last Chance Christmas

Dear Reader,

From the moment I was given a set of Lincoln Logs for Christmas many (cough, cough) years ago, I’ve had a thing for log cabins. I must have some pioneer blood in me because the idea of building a house by fitting notched logs together sounds brilliant. I’ve always longed to try it.

But I live in the desert, and mesquite trees are not log cabin material. So, next best thing, I was able to live out that fantasy while writing Thunderstruck. When you meet Damon, the cowboy who also knows his way around power tools, you’ll realize I lived out a few other fantasies besides the log cabin one. Yes, this is a fun job, and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!

Thunderstruck is the second installment of my new series, Thunder Mountain Brotherhood, so maybe you picked up the first one, Midnight Thunder, which showed up last month. If not, no worries! Come meet the gang in this book and then go back to the other one. I’m sure you can navigate just fine, and I promise you’re gonna fall in love with these cowboys. I have!

Yours in cowboy country,

Thunderstruck

Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A passion for travel has taken New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rain forests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com, at facebook.com/vickilewisthompson and on Twitter, @vickilthompson.

To my sister and brother-in-law, Karen and David Santa Maria. I don’t know the first thing about building a log cabin, but they know the first, second, third and probably the tenth thing! And they shared that knowledge, thank goodness.

Contents

Cover

Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

1

FOLLOWING AN AFTERNOON of painting eaves, Damon Harrison was looking forward to a long shower and a cold beer. Southern California’s current heat wave would make working at his foster parents’ ranch in Sheridan, Wyoming, next week a treat. He peeled off his T-shirt as he walked into the master bedroom on his way to the shower.

This was the room he’d used almost exclusively while living in the house he was renovating. He kept the furnishings minimal—a queen bed on a metal rolling frame, collapsible shelving for his clothes, one floor lamp, a small TV and a computer desk on wheels so he could sit on the edge of the bed to type. He unfolded a TV table for meals.

When he began a renovation, he brought basic furniture, linens and kitchen supplies. All of it fit in his construction trailer once he was finished. Then he’d haul it to the next house and start all over again.

Damon loved flipping houses. He’d always gravitated toward construction work, and turning a trashed house into a showplace was immensely satisfying. The moment when he handed over the keys to the new owner gave him a rush of accomplishment that he hadn’t found in anything else.

Passing the desk, he refreshed his laptop screen out of habit. Sure enough, there was an email from Phil Turner. Phil was a Sheridan carpenter who’d agreed to help him build a log cabin at Thunder Mountain Ranch over Fourth of July weekend.

Ordinarily, he preferred to work alone, but he could only spare a week to build the cabin, which wasn’t enough time to do it right without help. His foster mother, Rosie, had recommended Phil, and Damon had exchanged emails with him for a couple of weeks. Phil was giving them a head start by ordering the materials and preparing the site.

After all their communications, Damon was confident they’d be on the same page and ready to go when he arrived in Wyoming. Working solo meant he hardly ever talked shop with anyone. Until now he hadn’t realized he liked doing that.

He and Phil had discussed the project in depth. They’d settled on a concrete foundation, which would be poured today so it would be cured by the time he got there on July second. Phil seemed to have exacting standards, which made sense. After all, Rosie had recommended him.

When Damon arrived, the building permits would be approved and the electric box installed. All the materials would be on site, along with a rented forklift and a compressor. Phil had been good about sending pictures, so he’d probably emailed one of the concrete foundation.

Damon opened the email and downloaded the attached picture. The foundation looked perfect, exactly as he would have wanted it, with sill logs laid in squared-off precision around the perimeter to anchor the walls. The cabin wouldn’t have any plumbing, the same as three others that had been built on Thunder Mountain Ranch years ago. No plumbing made construction a whole lot easier and cheaper.

Damon had been fifteen when he’d moved into the first cabin along with Cade Gallagher and Finn O’Roarke. About a year after Rosie and Herb Padgett had started a foster program at the ranch, they’d realized that their five-bedroom house would soon be bursting at the seams. Damon, Cade and Finn were the oldest boys and the ones who’d been at the ranch the longest, so they’d had the privilege of occupying the first cabin.

Remembering move-in day still gave him a charge. The three of them had been so excited, even though they’d had to trek out to a bathhouse instead of going down the hall like they’d been used to. The taste of freedom was far more important than indoor plumbing.

A couple of years before that, they’d sneaked into the woods at midnight and enacted a blood brother ceremony around a little campfire. They’d called themselves the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood—still did, in fact—and on that first night in the cabin they’d carved their TMB logo on a beam over the doorway. Good times.

But now Rosie and Herb had financial problems that could force them to sell the ranch. The Brotherhood, along with Cade’s girlfriend, Lexi, had proposed launching Thunder Mountain Academy, a coed residential program for kids sixteen to eighteen who were considering a career involving horses. The seed money was being raised through Kickstarter, a crowdfunding program.

They’d decided a fourth cabin would allow them more housing flexibility when they began accepting students. Damon was the obvious person to build another one, and he was glad to do it. Initially, he’d budgeted two weeks, but the wrong tile had arrived for his current project and screwed up his schedule.

Good thing Phil had been available to supervise the critical first stages of construction. Damon studied the picture again. That must be Phil’s shadow stretched across the troweled concrete. Damon wondered if Phil had long hair. Either that or he’d draped a bandanna over his head before putting on his hat to shield his neck from the sun.

Didn’t really matter. Damon didn’t care if a man had long hair or short if he could do the job. Judging from their email discussions, Phil was competent and thorough.

Clicking the reply tab, Damon crouched down and typed out a response.

Looks great. Never thought to ask. Can you work on the Fourth or do you have plans?

He doubted Phil was waiting for a reply. He’d put in a long day.

But as Damon started to leave, a click alerted him to an incoming email. Phil was probably catching up on email after work the way Damon usually did. With the hour time difference, Phil might have polished off his first beer already.

Assuming he was a beer drinker was a safe bet. Many construction guys were, and Phil seemed to fit the profile. Damon pulled the computer table over to the edge of the bed and sat down to read his reply.

I can work on the Fourth, but Rosie’s planned a big barbecue for that night, so we might need to wrap things up by four or so.

Damon typed an answer.

Suits me. But I’ll be watching my alcohol intake so I’ll be bright and bushy-tailed on the fifth.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Understood. He who drinks a fifth on the Fourth will not go forth on the fifth.

Damon chuckled.

LOL.

Then he added a more personal note because he was feeling so good about this collaboration.

It’ll be great to finally meet you.

Same here. Well, I’m off to watch my favorite cop show.

Talk soon.

Damon sent the response and turned off the computer. Now that he’d heard from Phil, he didn’t need to leave it on. This time crunch had played hell with his social life, and he currently had zero women expecting him to call, text or email. Just as well. Time to take that shower, sip that beer and watch his favorite cop show.

* * *

PHILOMENA TURNER SMILED as she shut down her email program and walked into her cozy kitchen to take the tuna casserole out of the oven. Rosie had given her the recipe last year and now she made it at least once a week. Rosie was getting such a kick out of this plan to show Damon Harrison that girls could be professional carpenters, too.

Phil had helped trowel a slab of concrete today with as much expertise as any of the men out there. Then she’d operated the forklift when it was time to lay the sill logs. But after a shower, she’d dressed in a floral silk caftan for an evening at home. If Damon could see the person he’d been emailing for two weeks, his jaw would drop.

She agreed that the shock on his face when they met would be fun to watch, but she wasn’t surprised by his assumption that she was a man. As the only child of her widowed construction-worker dad, she’d spent all her life around guys like Damon. His attitude was typical, and Phil’s choice of profession was not.

In some ways she felt a little sorry for him, but not too sorry. According to Rosie he’d leaped to the conclusion that the local carpenter was a man even before hearing her name. She forgave people who made that mistake when they called Phil’s Home Repair and thought she was the receptionist.

But to give the devil his due, Damon’s idea of exchanging emails prior to his arrival had been brilliant. Not only did they have the preliminary work on the project finished, they’d also developed a mutual respect as professionals. Whatever blind spots he might have about the role of women in construction, he obviously knew his trade. Judging from his comments, he knew that she did, too. That would help erase any potential prejudices about women wielding power tools.

She dished out some casserole and poured the wine before taking both into the living room. Last year she’d refinished a coffee table that could be raised to dining table height. She refused to eat on a fold-up TV tray.

When she’d bought this cabin in the woods on the outskirts of Sheridan five years ago, the place had been a disaster both inside and out. It had sat empty for more than a year while varmints and weather had taken their toll. Now she could look around and feel pride in everything she saw.

The log walls had been recaulked. Because they were a foot thick, they didn’t require insulation, but she’d replaced the single-pane windows and had hung a new door, a hand-carved beauty she’d found at an auction. New appliances, new bathroom fixtures and a bright blue galvanized metal roof had been pricey but worth it.

The rock fireplace had only needed to be cleaned out and capped to prevent critters from getting in. In winter she used it all the time, but in the summer she arranged dried flowers and pinecones on the grate to keep it from looking lonesome. Little touches like that made a house a home, and she’d loved feathering this nest, the first she’d ever owned.

The furniture was secondhand but sturdy. She’d refinished the wood and taught herself to reupholster anything that had a cushion. Because she’d worked so hard on each piece, they felt more hers than if she’d bought them new.

She’d chosen shades of green and blue because those were her favorite colors. Besides, a blue-eyed redhead looked good against a backdrop of those colors, so why decorate her home with something that clashed? She’d considered every aspect of this house carefully, from the area rugs on the wooden floor to the framed photos of the Big Horn Mountains on the walls.

After much inner debate, she’d bought a king bed. Ironically, she’d never shared it with a guy. She’d had two semiserious boyfriends since moving here, and in both cases she’d always ended up at the guy’s apartment whenever they spent the night together.

Each had come up with a different excuse. One had insisted his bed was the best in the universe, and the other one had thought his shower was a great place for sex. She had a different theory, though.

Her construction abilities might be intimidating to some men, and her expertise was very much on display in this house. That insight had come after her last boyfriend had tried to talk her into selling her cabin and moving in with him. No, and hell no.

She’d begun to think of the cabin as a test to find out whether a man could accept who she was. So far she’d had no likely candidate to substantiate her theory. Damon certainly wouldn’t qualify even though she had the distinct impression that Rosie was matchmaking.

Otherwise, why show Phil a bunch of pictures of the guy, who was surfer-boy gorgeous with his sun-bleached hair and laughing gray eyes? Phil appreciated nice abs and a great smile as much as the next woman. But according to Rosie, Damon avoided getting attached to anyone or anything, a trait Rosie had called a damned shame.

Phil loved Rosie, but not enough to tackle her fixer-upper of a foster son. House renovations were one thing. People renovations were a whole other issue, and Phil had no talent for it. Either a guy was right or he wasn’t, and from all indications, Damon fell into Category B.

* * *

WAITING FOR CADE on the sidewalk outside the Sheridan airport felt like déjà vu, but at least the circumstances were better this time. Cade had picked Damon up less than a month ago when they’d all thought Rosie had suffered a heart attack. Fortunately, she’d had something not nearly so critical, a condition called broken-heart syndrome.

Apparently, the thought of losing Thunder Mountain Ranch had created symptoms very similar to a heart attack. Even though the diagnosis had been less dire, everyone who loved Rosie had vowed to do what they could to save the ranch. Consequently, Damon was flying to Sheridan for the second time this summer.

Cade pulled up in his trusty black truck, the same one he’d been driving for at least ten years.

Damon hopped in, dropped his duffel at his feet and grinned at his foster brother. “Are you and Lexi engaged yet, bro?” A month ago Cade had been reunited with Lexi, his high school sweetheart, but there were issues.

“Don’t start with me.” But Cade grinned back and offered his hand for the ritual Thunder Mountain Brotherhood handshake.

Damon closed the passenger door and buckled up. “I have your wedding present all picked out. I’m just waiting for Lexi to pop the question.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Cade tugged on the brim of his battered Stetson and put the truck in gear. “I had no idea what it was like waiting for someone to propose. Every guy should have to go through this, because let me tell you, it’s hell.”

“I’ll bet. She still likes you, though, right?”

“Most of the time. But there’s a lot I don’t understand about women.”

“I’m sure we could all say that.” Damon knew for a fact that Cade and Lexi loved each other, but five years ago Cade had left town after telling Lexi marriage wasn’t for him. Now he was back and ready to tie the knot but Lexi wanted to hold off.

“She might be waiting until after the Kickstarter deadline,” Cade said, “to make sure Thunder Mountain Academy is a go before we make any plans. But September first seems like forever. I almost regret saying the decision was up to her. But I said it, so now I have to stick by it.”

“Maybe you should take her to a fancy hotel in Jackson Hole, drink a bunch of champagne and talk her into it.”

“That’s either manipulation or coercion or both. Not doing it.”

“So maybe I should talk to her and put the bug in her ear.”

“Don’t, bro. This has to be her idea. If you start making suggestions, you could mess things up.”

Damon sighed and leaned back against the seat. “Then I’m out of ideas. I know how to get them into bed, but I’ve never tried to get them to the altar. I only have one piece of advice. Plenty of orgasms.”

Cade laughed. “Got that covered.”

“Then you’re doing all a man can do.”

“In fact, I spend most of my nights at her place, FYI.”

Damon pretended dismay. “Are you telling me that I have to sleep in the Brotherhood cabin all by myself?”

“Ringo will keep you company. You might have to go get him, though. Now that he’s settled in, he spends his nights in the barn hunting mice.”

“Wouldn’t want to deprive him of that pleasure.” Damon had bonded with the gray tabby on his last trip. “But I’ll definitely pay him a visit. I have a can of treats in my duffel.”

“Have you adopted a couple of kittens like Lexi suggested?”

“Not yet. I’ll see about it after I get back. No sense in getting them and then leaving for seven days.”

“True.”

“Any uptick in the Kickstarter contributions?”

“Some, but not as much as we’d like.” Cade paused. “It’s been suggested that I contact the Chance brothers and see if they’ll put the word out.”

“Who suggested that?” It had to be a touchy subject for Cade. Until last month he’d thought he was alone in the world except for his foster family. Then a cousin had shown up. Molly Gallagher Radcliffe, now married to a saddle maker in town named Ben Radcliffe, had informed Cade that he was related to her family in Arizona and the influential Chance clan over in Jackson Hole.

“Molly, for one. She’s been at the ranch a lot to discuss the curriculum for the academy so the kids will get class credit.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky that she’s a college professor and knows about these things. But she’s a cousin to the Chances just like you are. Why can’t she tell them about the Kickstarter project?”

“She thinks that would make it seem like I don’t have the cojones to say something, since it’s a Thunder Mountain Ranch project, and I’m more directly involved than she is.”

Damon took off his Ray-Ban sunglasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “That makes sense, I guess.” He put the glasses back on. “So who else is after you to buddy up to the Chances?”

“Lexi is, sort of. She figures they’d want to know because they’re civic-minded and ready to help anybody, and there’s a family connection through me, which makes it more likely they’d want to help. I admit that’s a good point, but she’s not pushing me to do it.”

“Have you and the Chances talked at all?”

“Not yet. But I promised Lexi I’d go with her when she conducts a riding clinic over there on the fifteenth.”

“That’s less than two weeks away.”

“It sure as hell is, and I still don’t know what to do. That would be the time to mention Thunder Mountain Academy if I’m ever going to, but...”

“I get it.” Damon wondered if anyone who hadn’t been a foster kid would, though. “You don’t want to meet them and immediately ask a favor.”

“Right.” Cade blew out a breath. “But I finally called Molly’s dad last week because I thought I should start with Molly’s side of the family. So here I was on the phone with an uncle I’ve never met, and we’re talking about my mom dying, and he starts to cry.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Can’t blame him. She was his sister, but I got choked up, too. I thought I was over it. It’s been fifteen years.”

Damon nodded in understanding. “Stuff can come back to bite you. I still have that same nightmare. Not as much, but I had it again last week.”

“Yeah, sometimes I have bad dreams about my dad, too.” As Cade left city traffic and continued on to the highway that would take them to the ranch turnoff, they stopped talking. Damon appreciated that about his brothers. They all had demons of one kind or another, and they sensed when to end the chitchat and devote some time to just being quiet.

Cade had his load to carry. Abandoned by his abusive father, he’d lost his mother to cancer. By then his mom had changed all their records from Marlowe to her maiden name of Gallagher. Cade had assumed her family had turned their back on her, but really she’d been too ashamed of her situation to notify her family of her illness. Now Cade had suddenly been thrust into two extended families, which could be good once he got over the awkward parts.

Damon had no illusions that he was connected to any reputable families. He’d run away at twelve and had concocted an elaborate story that had landed him a temporary home with the family of a kid he’d known at school. By the time CPS had been called in, his parents had left town without a trace, probably relieved that he was gone.

In his recurring nightmare, he was a kid barely existing in the pigsty of whatever cheap housing his parents had found. While they were passed out drunk, he searched the cupboards for something to eat, and nothing was ever there. He woke up shaking and sweating.

When he’d lived in the cabin with Cade and Finn, they used to tell him jokes until he’d settled down. And they’d always kept snacks around for those times, too, because he’d wake up starving even if he’d had a good dinner that night.

To calm himself these days, he got up and walked around whatever house he was renovating. He kept his surroundings neat. He put away his tools, swept up sawdust and closed paint cans at the end of every day. He always had food in the cupboard, too.

Eventually, Cade broke the silence. “Did you ever go to that shrink Rosie recommended, the one the county would pay for?”

“Once. She was okay, but I got more mileage out of mucking out stalls. Did you go?” As close as they were, it was the kind of thing they would have kept to themselves.

“Yeah, five years ago after Lexi and I had our big fight about getting married. Nice lady, and she gave it to me straight. She said marriage would probably be a mistake until I had a better handle on who I was and what I wanted out of life. She was right.”

“I’m sure she was, but at the time I was royally pissed at you for running out on Lexi. Poor girl was a basket case.”

“And now she says I did her a favor.”

Damon chuckled. “The woman has attitude. Is she coming to dinner tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Good. And Rosie told me she’d invited Phil so we can meet each other before we start work in the morning.”

“Yep.”

“What’s your take on Phil?”

“Um...” Cade paused to clear his throat. “I’d rather not say.”

Damon stared at him. “What do you mean, you’d rather not say? Don’t you like him?”

“Look, I can’t talk to you about Phil without breaking a solemn promise to Lexi, and I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why in God’s name would you make such a promise?”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Is he an escaped felon?”

“No.”

“Undocumented alien?”

“No. Did you notice the wildflowers along the road? They’re spectacular this summer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen—”

“Screw the effing wildflowers! Is he gay? I’ll bet that’s it, and if you all think I’m too prejudiced to work with a gay man, you’d be dead wrong. That’s not an issue with me, so—”

“Phil’s not gay.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

“If there’s no problem, why are you dancing all around the subject?”

Cade sighed. “I knew I should’ve had Lexi pick you up.”

“If you’d sent Lexi to fetch me, I would have known for sure something was fishy.”

“Yeah, but Lexi’s better at handling things like this than I am.”

Damon rolled his eyes. This was going to drive him crazy. “I have half a mind to invoke the Brotherhood oath.”

“Please don’t. Then I’m caught between betraying the oath and betraying Lexi. My head will explode.”

“I just bet it would, too, honest as you are. Which is why I won’t do that to you.”

“Damon, it’s nothing bad.”

“It better not be.”

“We’re almost there. In about two minutes this discussion will be irrelevant. Admire the wildflowers until we get there.”

Scowling, Damon glanced out the window. He had to admit that the purple, yellow and occasional splashes of red along the road made a pretty picture this time of year. But what was the deal with Phil?

Cade pulled into the circular drive in front of the rambling house where Damon had spent the happiest years of his life. Fourth of July bunting hung from the porch railing as it did every year. This place gave him such a lift that he couldn’t imagine not being able to come back here. The Kickstarter project just had to work.

Rosie and Herb must have been watching for the truck, because they came out on the porch to greet him. Leaving his duffel, he jumped out, pulled off his sunglasses and jogged up the steps to give each of them a big hug. Damn, but it was good to be home. He’d been at the ranch three weeks ago, but it seemed longer.

“Oh, and Phil’s here,” Rosie said.

“Great!” At last he’d solve the mystery. Tucking his glasses in the vee of his shirt, he looked past Rosie to the person standing in the open doorway. That sure wasn’t Phil, so the guy must have stayed inside.

She was tall, maybe five-nine, and slim. Her shoulder-length red hair made him think of polished cherrywood, and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks added a wholesome touch. In contrast, her full mouth would tempt a priest to forget his vows.

But her eyes were the most striking thing about her. They were the saturated blue of a Wyoming sky on a hot summer day. A shirt in the same shade had been a good choice on her part. He had to drag his gaze from hers. She was just that mesmerizing. She might be Phil’s girl, though, so he’d have to be careful.

Her jeans and boots were the type everybody wore around here, but on her they looked especially nice. If this was Phil’s girlfriend, Damon was impressed. The guy had excellent taste.

But when she walked forward, hand outstretched and mischief dancing in those blue eyes, he suddenly knew he’d been had.

“It’s good to meet you, Damon.” Her voice trembled slightly as if she might be holding back laughter. “I’m Philomena Turner.”

2

PHIL UNDERSTOOD RIGHT away why Rosie had said Damon had his pick of women. His expression when he’d caught sight of her had been filled with enough warm masculine appreciation to coax a response from her normally unflappable libido. All the years she’d spent hanging out with construction guys should have made her immune to such glances. Instead, her hormones were dancing a spirited two-step.

His reaction when he’d realized who she was had been adorable to watch. His gray eyes, much more compelling in person than in the pictures Rosie had shown her, went wide with shock. His mouth dropped open, and his handsome face turned red under his tan.

His deep voice, which she’d liked the minute she’d heard it, grew husky with embarrassment, which made him sound sexy as hell. “I had no idea.”

“Gotcha!” Rosie looked immensely pleased with herself.

Damon turned to her. “Mom, you tricked me! How was I supposed to know that a carpenter named Phil was a—”

“You didn’t know her name when you jumped to conclusions.” Rosie smiled in obvious triumph. “That information came later in the conversation.”

“But hearing it convinced me even more! Why didn’t you correct me?”

Phil began to feel sorry for the poor man, but she was a bystander in this drama.

Fortunately, Herb came to the rescue. “She wanted to make a point, son.” He put his arm around Damon’s shoulders, which required him to reach up a ways. “She wanted to stretch your mind a little, challenge some of your preconceived ideas.”

“Which I did.” Rosie couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

Damon’s gaze swung to Phil. “You had to be in on this. You never dropped the slightest hint. The whole time we were emailing, you sounded like a guy discussing a construction project.”

Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He might be gorgeous, but he could be in need of an attitude adjustment. “And how would a woman sound when she discussed that topic?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure since I don’t normally discuss construction with ladies. Just...different.”

Phil got it now. Obviously, Rosie had been justified in playing this little trick. “Maybe you’re imagining something like this.” She modulated her voice to make it softer and more tentative. “Gee, I can’t decide whether we should order the eight-inch-thick logs or the twelve-inch. What do you think? You have way more experience than I do.”

His jaw firmed. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t expect women to defer to me.”

“How about women carpenters?” She held his gaze.

Defiance flashed in his eyes. “Not them, either.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him. Before this little trick, he might have expected her to let him be in charge. Now he wouldn’t dare. “Good. We should get along just fine.”

Herb clapped his hands together. “Glad that’s settled! Who’s ready for a drink?”

“I’ll take a beer,” Cade said. “Lexi had a riding student this afternoon, but she should be here any minute.”

Rosie linked her arm through Phil’s. “Let’s go toast the construction of Cabin Number Four. I chilled a bottle of that dry white you like.”

Damon frowned. “You drink wine?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, but I thought you drank beer.”

“Once in a while I do, but when someone offers a good white wine, I’ll take that any day.”

Damon waved a hand in the air. “Don’t mind me. I’m still adjusting to the new reality.” His smile seemed a little forced. “You guys go ahead with happy hour. I’m going to mosey down to the construction site before it gets too dark to see how it looks.”

After growing up around testosterone-driven males, she knew that statement for what it was—an excuse that would allow him to retreat, lick his wounds and nurse his grievances. But she wasn’t going to let him brood and build up a potential cache of resentment.

“I’ll go with you.” The trap had been sprung, and he’d been set back on his heels. But they’d be working together for the next week, and the rapport they’d established through emails was probably shot to hell. She should have anticipated that.

“Okay.” He didn’t sound eager to have her tag along.

That was to be expected. She’d just helped deceive him, so she’d have to work to win back his trust. He probably deserved the comeuppance. She didn’t know him well enough to say for sure. Guaranteed he had some outdated ideas about women’s work and men’s work, but so did a lot of guys. She hoped that wouldn’t interfere with this project.

“Don’t be long,” Rosie said. “Don’t want you to miss my famous pot roast.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Damon gave her a more genuine smile before turning to Phil. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He didn’t say anything as they started walking out to the meadow. The earth was spongy from the previous night’s rain, and they had to detour around a couple of muddy spots. The three existing cabins followed a curve that would be a complete half circle when the fourth was built. The bathhouse stretched in a straight line behind them.

“I hope you know that Rosie loves you to pieces,” Phil said at last, to break the ice.

“I know.” He didn’t look at her as he kept walking.

But she could almost hear him thinking, so she waited to see if he’d open up.

Finally, he let out a breath. “And it was a pretty harmless trick. God knows we had practical jokes going all the time when I lived here. Cade had an endless supply of rubber snakes, and I was the master of short-sheeting a bed. We put jalapeño peppers in each other’s food and glued the toilet seats shut. Whatever prank you can think of, we probably did it.”

“But?” She suspected there was more to that little speech.

“But I thought of you as a friend. And now you’re...you’re a woman.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “It sounds as if those two things are mutually exclusive in your world.”

“Well, no, but...” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t find the right words.

“I’m not trying to defend what Rosie and I engineered, but what if you’d known all along that I was a woman? Would you have felt as confident putting me in charge of the foundation, the wiring and the permitting?”

His hesitation supplied the answer.

“Look at all we accomplished before you ever arrived!” She stepped onto the foundation, which gave her an inch or two advantage over him. She was amused when he immediately climbed up on it, too.

Tarp-covered, numbered piles of twelve-inch logs were stacked nearby. A forklift stood ready to move them into position. Everything else was here, too—windows, the front door, roof beams and the hunter-green metal roofing that would match the other three cabins. Power tools and rolls of ceiling insulation were stored in the second cabin because Damon would be staying in the first one.

“You’ve done a great job.” He gazed at her.

“I’m glad you approve. Not to brag, but we had a hard rain last night, and you notice there’s no evidence of water pooling anywhere on this slab.”

“I did notice that. Who did the trowel work?”

“The guys from Rocky Mountain Concrete and Excavating. And me.”

He nodded slowly, as if absorbing that. “So your name’s Philomena, huh?”

“It was my mother’s middle name.”

“Was?”

“She died when I was a toddler.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t really remember her. My dad always says he loves me twice as much since I only have him.”

“He’s in Sheridan?”

“No, Cheyenne.”

“Hmm.” Damon studied her as if trying to decipher a confusing blueprint.

“The point is, I’m qualified to handle the site preparation, but I’m not sure you would have believed that if you’d been dealing with Philomena instead of Phil.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his sun-streaked hair. “Maybe not. I don’t know a lot of lady construction folks, especially ones who are the owner of the company.”

“It’s not a very big company. I’m the only person in it.”

“Even so, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” She looked into his eyes and fought the visceral tug she’d experienced when they’d met. Maybe her attraction to him was partly Rosie’s doing. He’d had a lot of advance billing, and Phil had thought she was taking it all with a grain of salt.

Now she wondered if Rosie’s sales pitch had worked like a charm. She couldn’t deny that Damon Harrison turned her on. Standing here in the meadow surrounded by fragrant pines and wildflowers, she could still distinguish his unique scent. The combination of soap, a woodsy aftershave and a pheromone-laden male aroma excited the hell out of her. She’d only touched him once, when they’d shaken hands, but she wanted to touch him again.

No doubt his skin would be warm and humming with excitement, just like hers. He was one virile specimen, and she was as susceptible as the next woman. Perhaps more so, because she’d been depressingly celibate for the past year.

Sometimes life worked out that way. First you had the dry spell when no eligible males showed up, and then Fate played a joke and brought you a guy who oozed sexuality but had no intention of settling down. She didn’t kid herself that she’d be the woman to change his mind. That kind of thinking led to disaster.

His chest heaved. It was a chest worth contemplating, but she made herself concentrate on his words.

“Listen, Phil.” He sounded endearingly earnest. “I realize that you being a woman shouldn’t change anything, but for me, it changes everything.”

“I don’t know why it should.” She was bluffing. She knew exactly what he meant. They weren’t just a man and a woman working on the same construction project. They were attracted to each other and they were both aware of it.

“You know why it matters.”

She swallowed. “Okay, I do.”

“I’m supposed to view you as another professional, and I’ll try my best to do that, but you’re...you’re beautiful. And I have to ask, because it’s in my DNA, is there some boyfriend or fiancé who’ll clean my clock if I make inappropriate advances?”

“Not at the moment.” She was having trouble catching her breath. “Are you going to?”

“Going to what?”

“Make inappropriate advances.”

“Do you want me to?” He took a step closer.

“I don’t know yet.” She sucked in a lungful of air. “I need to think about that, which I can’t do when you’re standing there telling me I’m beautiful.”

He smiled. “Just stating a fact, ma’am.”

Oh, dear God. She could eat him up with a spoon. “I’m going...” She pointed back toward the house. “Back.” Damn, she couldn’t even talk right. If she didn’t vamoose right this minute, she’d do something totally out of character, like grab him and plant a kiss on that smiling mouth.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No!” She backed away. “I mean, you should stay here and...and inspect the site. That’s what you came out here for, right?”

“I came out here to get my bearings.”

“Okay, but you can still inspect the site. You haven’t really looked at it.”

He didn’t let up on that devastating smile. “Too busy looking at you.”

“That’s why I need to leave. See you at the house.” She hopped down from the cement slab and speed-walked back to safety. She wanted to run, but then she’d be out of breath and chances were everyone was sitting on the porch with their drinks. Good thing the cabins weren’t in view of the porch.

Sure enough, there they sat—Rosie, Herb, Cade and Lexi all relaxing in natural-finish Adirondack chairs. Rosie was the first to throw out a comment. “Don’t tell me you had a fight already.”

“Heavens, no.” Her cheeks felt warm, but everyone was used to seeing her blush. It was what redheads did. “He just wanted to walk around the site some more, and I was getting thirsty.”

“Let me take care of that.” Herb left his chair and crossed to the metal ice chest that always made an appearance during happy hour on the porch. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She knew better than to argue about being waited on. For as long as she’d been coming out to Thunder Mountain to handle routine maintenance, Herb and Rosie had treated her more like a guest than a worker. They always offered food, drinks and conversation. Consequently, they were clients who’d turned into friends.

She sat down in one of the two empty chairs positioned beside Lexi. Obviously someone, probably Rosie the matchmaker, had set things up so that Damon would take the other chair. She was determined to be in control of herself when he arrived.

Herb handed her a chilled glass of white. Wiry and fit, he’d had a long career as an equine vet and seemed excited about teaching some basic skills to the teens they hoped to attract to the new program.

“You know, I just thought of something.” Herb gazed down at her with those kind eyes that had inspired confidence in both humans and animals for years. “You could have built that cabin without Damon, so—”

“I could have, but it’ll be faster with both of us working. And he wants to do this. I never once thought you should have hired me to do it alone. He won’t charge a dime, while I plan to take full advantage of the riding lessons Lexi’s offered me in exchange for my efforts.”

“I certainly hope so.” Lexi smiled. “You’ve been talking about learning to ride ever since I met you.”

“And I never seem to find the time or the money. This eliminates the money issue, so I’m determined to make the time right after Damon and I finish the cabin.” As she said that she reminded herself not to ignore the fact that he’d head back to California in seven short days.

Normally she wouldn’t consider getting involved with a guy who was here today and gone tomorrow. But whether it was due to Rosie’s influence or not, she’d been hit hard by his first appreciative glance. And that unrehearsed speech about her beauty hadn’t come across as a line.

A man like Damon didn’t need a line to get a woman into bed. He had the kind of sexual potency that obliterated logic and caution. If she spent too much time thinking about the way he’d smiled at her, she’d end up knocking on his cabin door tonight.

“Phil?”

With a start she realized Rosie had spoken to her. “What?”

“Do you think that you and Damon will be able to work together?”

“Sure.” It was the answer she was supposed to give, but privately she wondered if they’d end up sneaking off to have sex in the woods, which would seriously impact the schedule.

“If you have any doubts, we can still call Gerald. He’s not as good a carpenter as you are, but—”

“You won’t have to do that. Damon and I will be fine.” She flinched at the idea of Gerald taking over. He was a nice enough guy, but he was sloppy. He didn’t charge the hourly rate she did, but given his lack of expertise, he shouldn’t.

Damon would hate working with Gerald. The job would end up taking longer because Damon would have to fix whatever Gerald screwed up. Phil’s work would pass muster, assuming she could keep her mind on it.

She would keep her mind on it. The project was too important to allow an inconvenient case of lust to interfere. And speaking of lust-inducing men, here he came.

Even his walk was sexy, the rat. He’d managed to locate an old straw cowboy hat, and if he’d been irresistible before, now he was deadly.

“I see you found your hat,” Cade said.

“Picked it up when I went down to the barn to pay a social call on my old pal Ringo.” He climbed up on the porch and grabbed a beer from the cooler. “That’s some cat you have, Gallagher. He remembered me.”

Phil didn’t doubt it. Who wouldn’t remember this guy?

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Cade sipped his beer. “He remembers anybody who brings him kitty treats.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have them with me. They’re still in my duffel.” Damon twisted off the cap and took a swig of his beer. “He came right over.”

“So he gave you the benefit of the doubt this time. Keep showing up without treats and see what happens.”

“He’s my buddy. He’d come to see me.” Damon glanced at the Adirondack chair next to Phil. His gray eyes sparkled. “Excuse me, ma’am. Is this seat taken?”

“Be my guest.” Oh, yes, he was charming, and she was more of a sucker for his brand of charm than she’d ever imagined.

“We never drank that toast to Cabin Number Four,” Rosie said. “We should do it now.”

“Absolutely.” Damon raised his bottle. “To Cabin Number Four and the success of Thunder Mountain Academy.”

“Hear, hear!” Herb lifted his bottle, and everyone else on the porch did the same.

After they’d all taken a drink, Damon leaned forward so he could see around Phil. “Catch me up on what’s been going on. Cade said the contributions weren’t coming in as fast as we need them to.”

“They’ll pick up,” Herb said. “It’s only July, and we have until September first to raise the money.”

Phil had only recently learned how crowdfunding worked. “It still doesn’t seem fair to me that you either meet the goal or all the money goes back to the contributors. Isn’t there any wiggle room on that?”

“Not really.” Rosie was looking much better these days. The color had returned to her face, and she’d resumed her regular trips to the beauty salon to have her silver roots tinted their original blond. “That’s the way we set it up. A flexible deadline makes us look as if we’re not sure the project will succeed. It’s better if you state the amount you need and you either get it and the project is funded, or you don’t and the money’s all returned.”

“There’s a risk factor.” Herb looked at Phil. “But that’s true of anything. You took a risk moving here from Cheyenne to open Phil’s Home Repair.”

“I guess so.” But if she’d failed, no one else would have suffered. If the Kickstarter program for Thunder Mountain Academy failed, the ranch would be sold. Herb and Rosie would lose the place they loved, and so would all the foster boys who had been sheltered here.

“It’s going to work,” Damon said. “I feel it in my bones. We have so many elements to offer kids who are considering a career with horses—equine vet experience from Dad, a riding program designed by Lexi, saddle making taught by Molly’s husband, Ben, and horse training taught by our favorite singing cowboy.”

“Don’t make fun,” Cade said.

“I’m not! Rosie said you tamed that black gelding of yours by singing to him.” Damon turned to Phil. “Did you hear about that?”

“I did.”

Cade sipped his beer. “It makes a good story, but it wasn’t quite that simple.”

“Maybe not, but I couldn’t have done it.” Damon glanced over at Phil again. “See, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. If I tried singing to a horse he’d likely buck me off and then trample me to shut me up.”

She laughed. “I doubt it’s that bad.”

“No, he’s right,” Cade said. “He’s terrible. But lucky for you, bro, Hematite is gentle enough now that you can ride him without singing.”

“You’ll let me ride him?”

“I will if you’re nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

Of course he had to say it in that low, sexy voice of his. Phil resisted the urge to fan herself. He might not be a good singer, but she had no trouble imagining that husky voice murmuring to her as they made long, slow love in her refinished sleigh bed. Oh, he’d be nice, all right. Very nice.

And for once, she wouldn’t have to worry about a man being intimidated by the evidence of her construction skills. Damon might appreciate the effort she’d put into her home. She’d have fun showing it off to someone who understood how many hours she’d spent on it.

But in order to do that, she’d have to invite him there. And she knew as sure as her name was Philomena Hermione Turner that once she had that man in her house, she would eventually have him in her bed. So before she issued her invitation, she’d better be damned sure that was what she wanted.

3

THROUGHOUT HAPPY HOUR and dinner, Damon’s mind ran laps like a hamster on a wheel. He’d never had a problem like this. Because he flipped houses and operated alone, he’d never had to worry about mixing business with pleasure.

But here was Philomena Turner with her incredible blue eyes, sexy mouth and lithe body. She was in great shape because she worked her muscles hard just like he did. Now that he was over the shock, knowing that they had essentially the same job might be the most intriguing thing about her.

He envisioned what she’d look like all flushed and sweaty after a day spent using power tools in the heat of a Wyoming summer. Then he stopped thinking about it before he embarrassed himself by getting a woody. If she’d shut him down and made it clear she wasn’t interested, that would have helped. He’d never believed in chasing women who played hard to get.

Instead she’d traded smoldering looks with him in the meadow, and during dinner he’d caught her glancing his way several times. He had no trouble interpreting what those glances meant. She was considering having sex with him. To make matters worse, he was considering having sex with her, too.

That was probably a really bad idea. He had a hunch that Rosie had intended this all along. She’d put them next to each other at dinner around the cozy kitchen table and had kept tabs on them throughout the meal. She was convinced her boys should all settle down with nice women.

She’d be overjoyed if he became seriously involved with Phil, but he’d earn a bunch of demerits if they only had a casual fling. So the best solution to this mess would be finding someone else to help him build the cabin.

Cade was available, but he’d never shown the slightest interest or aptitude for construction. By the time the second and third cabins had gone up, Damon had been working alongside the adults and loving every minute. Cade had smashed his thumb with a hammer and sliced his arm with a handsaw before he’d finally been sent off to groom the horses, instead.

Too bad the old guy who had helped construct all three cabins wasn’t available, but he’d retired long ago. There had to be somebody else in town who would work cheap, though. He’d better have a heart-to-heart with Phil, explain the problem and get her to recommend someone.

He’d talk to her after dinner. They all had coffee and were finishing generous servings of apple pie à la mode—Rosie had made Damon’s favorite dessert and he’d thanked her for it. She really did love him, just like Phil had said.

Rosie also might think she knew what would make him happy. He’d learned that people tended to want for others what they’d always wanted for themselves, without taking differences into account. Maybe during this trip he’d find a private moment to explain to Rosie why flipping houses suited his personality while marriage and a permanent home did not.

When the meal was over, he got up and started clearing the table the way he always had. Rosie understood that about him, at least, and had never tried to talk him out of helping. She’d taught the other boys to pitch in during kitchen duty, but Damon had done it without being told.

Clutter bothered him, but dirty dishes drove him nuts. He didn’t have to worry about that with this group, though. With everyone helping, the dishwasher was loaded and the table wiped down in minutes.

“I have a case of Baileys in the pantry if anyone wants more coffee with a little kick to it,” Rosie said.

Damon exchanged a grin with Cade. The two of them had bought her the booze when she’d been laid up in the hospital. She’d forbidden anyone to bring her flowers because that would imply she was seriously ill. So instead they’d delivered a case of Baileys to her hospital room. She’d gotten the message—she’d have to live a long time in order to drink it all.

“Thanks for the offer,” Phil said, “but I should probably head on home.”

That was his cue. “Before you leave, could I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure.” She walked over to him as if she expected him to blurt it out right here in the kitchen, in front of everybody.

“Let’s go outside.”

She blinked. “All right.”

He was aware of Rosie’s little smile and Cade’s lifted eyebrows. Ignoring their reaction, he ushered Phil out of the kitchen, through the living room and out the front door. Let them think what they liked. He was taking steps to end this potentially explosive situation.

She stopped on the porch. “Okay, we’re outside. What is it?”

“Let’s take a walk down to the barn.”

“Why?”

“Look, I’m not going to jump you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Not that it hadn’t crossed his mind, but he was a more disciplined man than that.

She smiled. “I doubt that’s your style. I picture you getting a woman alone and then charming her until she jumps you.”

“That’s not my plan, either.” Damn, but she looked good with the porch light gleaming on her red hair. “Believe it or not, I have something important to discuss, and I don’t want to do it where someone might come out and interrupt what I have to say.”

“Everyone in the kitchen thinks something is going on between us.”

“Well, it’s not, and if I have anything to say about it, it won’t.”

“Oh, really? When did you—”

“Let’s walk. We can go see Ringo.” He gestured toward the porch steps, and to his relief, she started down them.

“I’ve met Ringo a couple of times. He really is a great cat.”

“And a smart cat, too. He stowed away in the truck when Cade left Colorado to drive up here. He knew who to hook up with for a better life.”

“Cade’s a good guy. I wasn’t sure I’d like him after hearing how he’d run out on Lexi, but now that he’s back it looks like they’re resolving that situation.”

“I hope so. Those two belong together.”

“Seems like it.” She stopped and turned to him. “Okay, nobody can hear us unless we start shouting. Do you really want to pay Ringo a visit or can we just settle whatever’s bugging you right here?”

“I guess we can talk here.” He reached for his hat to tug the brim down, but he’d left it in the living room. Instead he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and that was where they were going to stay. “We need to find you a replacement.”

“Is that right?” She tucked her hands in her hip pockets and rocked back on her heels to look at him. The gesture emphasized the swell of her breasts under her blue shirt. “And may I ask why?”

“You don’t know?” Even now, with his plan foremost in his mind, he wanted to grab her and find out what that tempting mouth of hers tasted like.

“Not for sure. Spell it out for me.”

“I’ve tried to imagine us working together, and it always turns out the same way in my mind.”

“Which is?” A couple of dusk-to-dawn lights kept the inky darkness at bay, but didn’t make the area bright enough to see faces clearly.

That was just as well, in his estimation. He didn’t need to look into her eyes and discover they were hot with desire. “We end up having sex.”

“You could be right.”

He couldn’t see it in her eyes, but he sure as hell heard it in her voice. His fingers curled inside his pockets, and his groin tightened. In any other scenario, he’d haul her into his arms and the game would be on. “We can’t do that.”

“I can’t speak for you, but I’m fully capable of doing that.”

He blew out an impatient breath. “I didn’t mean we can’t, like we aren’t physically able.” He was so physically able. More so with every passing second. “I mean it wouldn’t be good.”

She chuckled.

“I didn’t mean that, either, damn it! Let me just say this. Rosie set us up.”

“I figured.”

“So we agree on that. Good. The thing is, in Rosie’s world, people fall in love and get married. If she figures out we’re seeing each other, then that’s what she’ll expect, but that’s not what I’m prepared to deliver, so the best plan is to find your replacement.”

“Whoa there, cowboy. Back up the forklift. How did we get from I’m not marriage material to you have to be replaced? I think you missed a few key points in the middle.”

He thought through what he’d said. She was right that he’d skipped over the embarrassing part, which was that he didn’t trust himself to work with her, especially knowing that she’d be fine with getting horizontal. “I don’t...” He paused to scrub a hand over his face. “I don’t think I can resist you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?”

“Oh, yes, I heard you. I’m just savoring that last comment. I may have aroused uncontrollable lust in a man before, but he’s never admitted it. I’m having a Cleopatra moment, a Helen of Troy moment, a Marilyn Monroe moment, a—”

“Okay, okay. Let’s get back to the heart of the matter. Who can we call in to take over for you?”

“Nobody.”

“Oh, come on, Phil. There has to be some guy who won’t charge a fortune and can do the job.”

“Not really. We need to be familiar with his or her work, because we can’t be bringing some unknown person in on this deal. It’s too important. That leaves the guy who built the original cabins and is now retired, you, me and Gerald Stiffle.”

Damon groaned. “Stiffle would be a disaster. He was incompetent when I left, and I doubt he’s turned into a master builder since I’ve been gone.”

“He hasn’t. I told Rosie he wasn’t an option when she asked whether you and I could get along and accomplish the job. She was ready to take him on if necessary.”

Damon watched his options disappear. “I can’t work with Stiffle. I’d have to go behind him and check everything he did. He’s okay for changing washers on faucets and junk like that, but even then, I’d worry.”

“Which leaves you with me.”

“Damn it.” He couldn’t keep watching the way her breasts swelled under her shirt with each breath, so he stared into the darkness. “Sure as the world I’m going to end up in trouble with Rosie.”

“Would you like me to talk to her, woman-to-woman, and explain the predicament we’re in?”

“No!”

“So you’ll talk to her?”

“I... No. Not about us, anyway. I was planning to explain to her sometime during this visit that flipping houses suits me, especially the way I do it. I live in the house until it’s done and then move to the next one, which isn’t a good lifestyle for a wife and family. I want her to give up on that idea because I like how I run my business and don’t intend to change.”

“So you could start with that discussion and segue into our particular circumstance. Then she’ll know in advance that if we sleep together it doesn’t mean anything.”

That hit him wrong. “Wait a minute. It would mean something, just not—”

“Okay, bad choice of words. It wouldn’t lead to love and marriage. Is that better?”

“It’s better, but I have trouble picturing me having such a conversation with Rosie. For one thing, she won’t believe me. I’m sure she’s convinced that if the right woman comes along, I’ll change my ways.”

“She may think that, but I don’t.”

He stared at her. “You don’t?”

“Why does that surprise you?”

His mind stumbled. “Don’t most women think a guy just needs the love of a good woman to turn his life around?”

“I have no idea. Maybe. I grew up surrounded by my dad’s working buddies. Some of them will never change, no matter what women get ahold of them.”

“You should try telling that to Rosie. I guarantee she’d argue with you about it. Sure, she might give up on the really bad apples, like the SOBs who beat their kids or abandon their families, but if a man’s decent, she wants to find him a soul mate.”

“Like I said, that’s her prerogative. But I don’t believe it. If you tell me you’re happy with your life as it is, I will believe you. I won’t harbor some secret plan to convert you to domesticity.”

“Huh. You’re even more unusual than I thought.”

“Probably. And now that we’ve had this deep discussion, I’m heading home. See you at dawn at the building site.” She turned and started toward her truck.

“Wait.” He followed her. “We haven’t settled anything.”

She turned back to him. “What’s to settle? We have to work together unless you want to trade me for Stiffle.”

“God, no.”

“Then I’ll be here at sunrise, and we’ll see what happens.”

He groaned. “Phil...”

“Look, I want to get this cabin built as much as you do. I love Rosie and Herb, and if Thunder Mountain Academy means they can live out their lives here, I want to do what I can to make that happen.”

“So do I.”

“Then man up, Harrison. We’ll work our tails off during the day, and if the close proximity leaves us frustrated at quitting time, then we’ll figure out what to do about that.”

“You think like a man.”

She smiled. “Spoken like a man who has a lot to learn about women.”

At the moment he had no interest in learning about women in general, but he sure wanted to find out what made this particular one tick. And what made her moan and cry out with pleasure. He stood with fists clenched as he battled the urge to reach out. He itched to make contact.

Her voice softened. “My original plan was to keep our relationship strictly professional. Then I met you.”

That admission snapped what little control he had. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her forward and kissed her. It wasn’t an elegant kiss. Desperation made him clumsy, and he landed off-center.

She adjusted the fit and...he was lost. Her mouth was perfect. He’d kissed more women than he could count, and yet he’d never settled into a kiss that felt so absolutely right. Even more perfect, she tasted of apple pie à la mode, his favorite dessert.

He kept his hands on her shoulders because if he let them stray, the kiss would turn into something else entirely. He didn’t want that. For now, for tonight, he only needed the magic of his lips on hers.

They kissed as if they’d done this before, which was an eerie feeling. He explored with his tongue, and then she returned the favor. The sweet thrust of her tongue in his mouth jacked up his pulse rate. He knew how much he wanted her. To know that she wanted him was enough to make him forget all the complications this kiss would bring.

Gradually their breathing changed and became more labored. She eased away. “Not tonight,” she murmured.

“I know.” He released her because that was the right thing to do.

“We’ll see how it goes.” She backed toward her truck.

“Yeah.” But he knew how it would go. He’d never kissed a woman that passionately without following through. They would be lovers. It was a done deal now.

He watched until her truck’s taillights disappeared around a curve in the road.

“I waited until I heard her drive away before I came out here.” Cade walked up beside him. “I need to apologize.”

“Nah.” Damon turned to him. “I see how it was. Rosie and Lexi ganged up on you. When a guy’s sweetheart and his mom box him in, there’s not much to be done.”

“Even so, it’s put you in a difficult position. I can tell you really like her, but if you do anything about it, Rosie will start planning the wedding.”

Damon glanced at him. “You know all about that, don’t you, bro?”

“’Fraid so. But if you’re not ready for that kind of commitment, then—”

“I’m not. But you want to know the weird thing about this? Phil has no intention of trying to change me. She accepts that I’m a guy who isn’t into the white picket fence routine. She’s a-okay with a temporary arrangement.”

“Wow, that’s kind of different.”

“I know, but she’s different. She’s strong and she’s savvy. I’ve never met anyone like her. She grew up with guys like me and she has no illusions. She’d rather not be attracted to me, but she is.”

“Nothing new there. That’s the story of your life ever since you hit puberty.”

“But Phil’s so practical about it. Instead of trying to make this into something it isn’t, she seems fine with having a great time for a few days and then going our separate ways.”

“But then there’s Rosie, who expects you to ride off into the sunset together.”

“Yeah. So, um...” Damon rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you consider talking to her about Phil and me?”

Cade chuckled and shook his head. “Nice try. That’s your job, and somehow you have to make it stick.”

“Phil understands how it is with me. Why can’t Rosie?”

“Because you’re one of her boys. She has definite ideas about how our lives should turn out. She’s a fixer. That was what got her into social work all those years ago, and what prompted her and Herb to turn the ranch into a foster home.”

“We’re damned lucky she’s a fixer,” Damon said. “She saved my bacon, that’s for sure.”

“She saved all of us, and she...well, she can’t stop trying to help. She thinks matching you up with Phil was a stroke of genius, and before you go blaming it all on Rosie, it was Lexi’s idea to start with.”

“Wait, there’s the plan! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. I’ll talk to Lexi, who should understand given that she’s dragging her feet regarding you.”

“Hey! Tender subject.”

“Sorry. But see, I could talk to Lexi, and Lexi could talk to Rosie. How’s that?”

“It would have sounded great to me when we were in junior high.”

“Shit.” Damon sighed. “You’re right. I have to face Rosie, which will be damned embarrassing, and find a way to explain that Phil and I will be nothing more than friends with benefits.”

“Can I hide in the closet and listen?”

“No. And if there’s a rubber snake in my bed tonight I swear I’ll sneak over to Lexi’s duplex and duct-tape the front door while you two are in there doing it. So watch yourself.”

Cade just grinned at him. “It’s good to have you back, bro. Let’s go have another beer before we call it a night.”

“Sounds fine to me, but Lexi probably wants to take you home and have her way with you.”

“She probably does, but we need to drink another beer so she can slip out to your cabin and get rid of that rubber snake.”

4

PHIL WAS USED to hard work, but she’d never had the mingled pleasure and pain of constructing a cabin with Damon Harrison. The man provided gorgeous scenery, but she barely got to enjoy the view because he never let up. She’d thought her dad was a dedicated construction guy, but Damon had him beat by a country mile.

They started building the walls at dawn, a process similar in principle to the old Lincoln Logs set she’d had as a kid. Except these logs required a forklift to transfer them from the correct pile to the section of the cabin where they belonged. She suggested taking turns driving the forklift and he’d agreed immediately.

In general she had no complaints, except the man seemed to have no Off switch. She was determined to work at least as hard as he did, so they kept up a steady pace. First they put down a layer of caulk along the flat side where the logs joined. After they positioned the next log, they drove spikes through predrilled holes to make sure the walls were rock-solid.

They ran the electrical wires between the logs for a cleaner look, and Damon’s exacting measurements guaranteed they never drove a spike through a wire. When Phil had worked for her dad, they’d sometimes run into careless builders. She’d guessed from Damon’s emails that he wasn’t at all careless, but after the first few hours, she knew it for a fact.

Rosie brought them lunch at noon, and talking with her had been the only time Phil had been able to sit down all day. By the time they stowed the tools at six o’clock, they had walls that reached to her waist. At this rate Damon would be able to go back to California early if he chose to.

Any worries that she’d be distracted by the way his sweat-dampened T-shirt clung to his muscled chest or how his jeans cupped his firm ass when he leaned over to pick up a drill bit were pointless. She’d had no leisure time to enjoy those things, not unless she wanted to look like a slacker.

“Good.” Damon took off his straw cowboy hat and mopped his face with a bandanna as he gazed at the walls rising from the foundation. “This was the height I wanted to reach today.”

Phil stopped drinking water from a large jug and looked at him. “I didn’t know you had daily goals for this project.”

“It didn’t seem necessary before, when I thought...”

“When you thought I was a man?” She was hot and tired and in no mood. “But with a woman you need daily goals? What the hell is that about?”

“Hey, hey, hey. That’s not what I meant at all. You’ve worked faster and more efficiently than any guy I know. I’m blown away by what you can accomplish.”

She was somewhat mollified. “So I guess you can forget about the goal thing, now that you know I can cut it.”

“Nope.” He put on his sweat-stained hat. “I set up ambitious production goals to keep me on track. Thinking about the job last night, and knowing how you affect my concentration, I decided some benchmarks would help me stay focused.”

“You didn’t seem to lack concentration today.” A breeze wafted through the meadow, and she fanned her damp T-shirt to take advantage of it. “I’ve never worked with anyone who concentrated on the job as hard as you do.”

He gave her a long, slow grin.

“What?”

“Then I must have hidden it well.” His smile widened. “Props to me.”

“Hidden what well?”

“You didn’t catch me watching you?”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

“When were you watching me?”

“A lot. Whenever you leaned over to spread the caulk, and especially when you drilled holes for the spikes.”

“There’s nothing sexy about using a power drill.” Not true. Damon with a power drill would have been extremely sexy if she’d had the luxury of watching him.

“That’s what you think. When you use the drill your breasts quiver.”

That movement would have been subtle. He’d definitely been paying close attention. “I can’t imagine where you found the time to notice things like that. I’ve been going full throttle all day and barely glanced at you.”

“And consequently, I’m pretty sure you got more work done than I did.”

“Really?” That was a gratifying thought.

“Yep, I’d bet on it. I have the feeling you were out to prove something to me today.”

“I thought you were trying to prove something to me!”

“I was, but then you’d do something sexy and I’d forget about my macho image and stop working so I could stare at you.”

“I totally didn’t notice.” No doubt because she’d been determined to show him that she could work rings around any man doing the same job.

“You were pushing pretty hard.”

“We need to get this done.” But that hadn’t been her motivation.

His soft smile told her he knew that. “Let’s make a deal to take it easier tomorrow.”

“That’s a given. It’s the Fourth. We’ll need to quit early so we can get cleaned up for the barbecue.”

“Yeah, right. I forgot.” He glanced at the water jug in her hand and held up his empty one. “Can I have some of that? I’m out.”

“Sure. Let me pour you some.”

“Not necessary.” He set his jug on the wall. “I’ve kissed you, remember?”

As if she’d ever forget. But she’d pushed it to the back of her mind today to make sure she didn’t lag behind. But now that kiss was all she could think about. He walked over, took the jug and tipped it up so he could drink.

Maybe if she hadn’t been dazed by hours of physical labor, she would have maintained her cool. Or not. He’d been staring at her all day so why not return the favor?

He was an arresting sight, and she couldn’t manage to look away. She took it all in—the flutter of his blond lashes as his eyes drifted closed, his full lips circling the mouth of the jug, the tendons tightening on the back of his hand as he grasped the jug and the movement of his tanned throat as he swallowed.

He lowered the jug and glanced at her. His breath caught. “Good God, Phil. Don’t look at me like that unless...”

“Unless what?”

“You want me to show up at your door tonight.”

She held his gaze as her heart thumped in an urgent rhythm. She imagined him at her door, in her house, in her bed. “As it happens, I do want that.”

“You’re absolutely sure.”

“Yes.”

“Then count on it. I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I—”

“Hey, kids!” Herb’s cheerful voice blasted through the mounting tension, scattering it.

He was quite a distance away, and Phil wondered if Rosie had cautioned him to make his presence known well in advance, in case something significant was taking place in the meadow. Turned out it had been.

Damon returned the greeting and stepped away from Phil. “Hey, Dad! Come see the progress we’ve made.”

“Whoa!” Herb came close enough that he didn’t have to shout. “You two accomplished a heck of a lot.”

“Phil gets the credit. The woman’s amazing.”

“I think you’re both amazing.” Herb beamed at them. “Rosie wants to know if you’re ready for some lasagna, so she sent me to check on things.”

Phil made a decision. “You know how I love Rosie’s lasagna, but I’m sweaty and tired. I want to go home, take a cool shower and put on my silk caftan before I even think about food.” She took satisfaction from Damon’s quick gulp when she’d mentioned the silk caftan.

“I completely understand,” Herb said. “Damon, do you want to hit the showers before dinner? There’s time. Lasagna will keep.”

“I definitely need to do that.” Damon flicked a glance at Phil. “Enjoyed working with you today. Looking forward to the next round.”

She smiled at him. “See you then.” Could be tonight, could be at dawn in the morning when she returned to the building site. If Damon wanted to keep their potential rendezvous a secret from Rosie, he wouldn’t have complete freedom of movement.

As she drove away, she realized he didn’t know her address. He could probably get that from...someone. But then she thought of something else. He didn’t have his own transportation. If he wanted to keep his visit on the down-low, he couldn’t borrow Herb and Rosie’s truck, so that left Cade’s. She wasn’t clear on how Cade and Lexi were working out their situation, so his truck might not be available, either.

Damon couldn’t very well walk to her house, although he might be motivated enough to do that. The scenario was fun to contemplate but unlikely to happen. By the time she reached home, she’d decided the chances of seeing Damon tonight were slim to none.

Her routine wouldn’t change much regardless, so she proceeded the way she always did on nights when she’d worked up a sweat doing her job. After a long, cool shower, she smoothed lotion over her tired muscles. Then she slipped into one of her three silk caftans, all in shades of blue and green.

In winter she wore flannel and slippers, but in summer she spent her evenings in caftans—and nothing else. The silk felt sensuous against her skin, especially without underwear.

Her dinner was a salad topped with fresh veggies. She opened a bottle of white wine. As she settled in front of the TV, she remembered to be grateful for the life she’d created even if she didn’t have a special someone sharing it.

Even if Damon showed up, which he probably wouldn’t, he’d only be around for less than a week. Maybe she’d be better off if he didn’t come over tonight, or any night. She talked a good game, but she might not be as happy about the temporary nature of their connection as she’d said.

She wanted to be happy with it. Intellectually, she accepted the idea of taking pleasure where she could find it, specifically when no Mr. Right happened to be on the horizon. A woman had needs.

Logically, if she could release some of the tension from those needs with Mr. Wrong, she wouldn’t be in deprivation mode if she met Mr. Right. She’d also be less likely to mistake Mr. Wrong for Mr. Right. Not everyone was as honest about their intentions as Damon.

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