The Start Of A New Chapter?

Braden Garrett felt blessed the instant his adopted baby girl was laid in his arms. Fifteen months later, the widowed CEO feels out of place as the only man at the local library’s toddler music class! Until his gaze falls on the librarian. Beautiful Cassie MacKinnon sparks a desire he’d long forgotten...but why can’t he convince her to go out with him?

After a disastrous broken engagement, Cassie’s given up her dreams of white picket fences. That is, until tall, dark and sexy Mr. Garrett sparks fantasies of a different kind! Tempting as Braden is, though, Cassie is afraid the single dad only sees her as a substitute mommy. Or is the dedicated daddy offering everything she’s ever wanted—true love and family—in one perfect package?

“What do you think we should do about this chemistry between us?”

Cassie choked on her latte. “Excuse me?”

“I’m stumbling here,” Braden acknowledged. “Because it’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to a woman.”

She eyed him warily. “Are you saying that you’re attracted to me?”

“Why else would I be here when there are at least a dozen coffee shops closer to my office?”

“I thought you came to the library to return the train your daughter took home.”

“That was my excuse to come by and see you. When I found the train, I planned to leave it with my mother for her to return. And when I dropped Saige off this morning, I had it with me, but for some reason, I held on to it. As I headed toward my office, I figured I’d give it to her later. Except that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Cassie wiped her fingers on her napkin, then folded it on top of her plate.

“This would be a good time for you to admit that you’ve been thinking about me, too.”

* * *

THOSE ENGAGING GARRETTS!—

The Carolina Cousins!

Baby Talk & Wedding Bells

Brenda Harlen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BRENDA HARLEN is a former attorney who once had the privilege of appearing before the Supreme Court of Canada. The practice of law taught her a lot about the world and reinforced her determination to become a writer—because in fiction, she could promise a happy ending! Now she is an award-winning, national bestselling author of more than thirty titles for Mills & Boon. You can keep up to date with Brenda on Facebook and Twitter or through her website, www.brendaharlen.com.

For Sheryl Davis—a fabulous friend, dedicated writer and librarian extraordinaire. Thanks for showing me “a day in the life,” answering my endless questions and sharing my passion for hockey—which has absolutely nothing to do with this story but needed to be noted!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

By all accounts, Braden Garrett had lived a charmed life. The eldest son of the family had taken on the role of CEO of Garrett Furniture before he was thirty. A year later, he met and fell in love with Dana Collins. They were married ten months after that and, on the day of their wedding, Braden was certain he had everything he’d ever wanted.

Two years later, it seemed perfectly natural that they would talk about having a baby. Having grown up with two brothers and numerous cousins in close proximity, Braden had always envisioned having a family of his own someday. His wife seemed just as eager as he was, but after three more years and countless failures, her enthusiasm had understandably waned.

And then, finally, their lives were blessed by the addition of Saige Lindsay Garrett.

Braden’s life changed the day his tiny dark-haired, dark-eyed daughter was put in his arms. Eight weeks later, it changed again. Now, more than a year later, he was a single father trying to do what was best for his baby girl—most of the time not having a clue what that might be.

Except that right now—at eight ten on a Tuesday morning—he was pretty sure that what she needed was breakfast. Getting her to eat it was another matter entirely.

“Come on, sweetie. Daddy has to drop you off at Grandma’s before I go to work for a meeting at ten o’clock.”

His daughter’s dark almond-shaped eyes lit up with anticipation in response to his words. “Ga-ma?”

“That’s right, you’re going to see Grandma today. But only if you eat your cereal and banana.”

She carefully picked up one of the cereal O’s, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger, then lifted her hand to her mouth.

Braden made himself another cup of coffee while Saige picked at her breakfast, one O at a time. Not that he was surprised. Just like every other female he’d ever known, she did everything on her own schedule.

“Try some of the banana,” he suggested.

His little girl reached for a chunk of the fruit. “Na-na.”

“That’s right, sweetie. Ba-na-na. Yummy.”

She shoved the fruit in her mouth.

“Good girl.”

She smiled, showing off a row of tiny white teeth, and love—sweet and pure—flooded through him. Life as a single parent was so much more difficult than he’d anticipated, and yet, it only ever took one precious smile from Saige to make him forget all of the hard stuff. He absolutely lived for his little girl’s smiles—certain proof that he wasn’t a total screw-up in the dad department and tentative hope that maybe her childhood hadn’t been completely ruined by the loss of her mother.

He sipped his coffee as Saige reached for another piece of banana. This time, she held the fruit out to him, offering to share. He lowered his head to take the banana from her fingers. Fifteen months earlier, Braden would never have imagined allowing himself to be fed like a baby bird. But fifteen months earlier, he didn’t have the miracle that was his daughter.

He hadn’t known it was possible to love someone so instantly and completely, until that first moment when his baby girl was put into his arms.

I want a better life for her than I could give her on my own—a real home with two parents who will both love her as much as I do.

It didn’t seem too much to ask, but they’d let Lindsay down. And he couldn’t help but worry that Saige would one day realize they’d let her down, too.

For now, she was an incredibly happy child, seemingly unaffected by her motherless status. Still, it wasn’t quite the family that Lindsay had envisioned for her baby girl when she’d signed the adoption papers—or that Braden wanted for Saige, either.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised his daughter now. “Daddy will always be here for you, I promise.”

“Da-da.” Saige’s smile didn’t just curve her lips, it shone in her eyes and filled his whole heart.

“That’s right—it’s you and me kid.”

“Ga-ma?”

“Yes, we’ve got Grandma and Grandpa in our corner, too. And lots of aunts, uncles and cousins.”

“Na-na?”

He smiled. “Yeah, some of them are bananas, but we don’t hold that against them.”

She stretched out her arms, her hands splayed wide open. “Aw dun.”

“Good girl.” He moistened a washcloth under the tap to wipe her hands and face, then removed the tray from her high chair and unbuckled the safety belt around her waist.

As soon as the clip was unfastened, she threw herself at him. He caught her against his chest as her little arms wrapped around his neck, but he felt the squeeze deep inside his heart.

“Ready to go to Grandma’s now?”

When Saige nodded enthusiastically, he slung her diaper bag over his shoulder, then picked up his briefcase and headed toward the door. His hand was on the knob when the phone rang. He was already fifteen minutes late leaving for work, but he took three steps back to check the display, and immediately recognized his parents’ home number. Crap.

He dropped his briefcase and picked up the receiver. “Hi, Mom. We’re just on our way out the door.”

“Then it’s lucky I caught you,” Ellen said. “I chipped a tooth on my granola and I’m on my way to the dentist.”

“Ouch,” he said sympathetically, even as he mentally began juggling his morning plans to accommodate taking Saige into the office with him.

“I’m so sorry to cancel at the last minute,” she said.

“Don’t be silly, Mom. Of course you have to have your tooth looked at, and Saige is always happy to hang out at my office.”

“You can’t take her to the office,” his mother protested.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Tuesday,” she pointed out.

“And every Tuesday, I meet with Nathan and Andrew,” he reminded her.

“Tuesday at ten o’clock is Baby Talk at the library.”

“Right—Baby Talk,” he said, as if he’d remembered. As if he had any intention of blowing off a business meeting to take his fifteen-month-old daughter to the library instead.

“Saige loves Baby Talk,” his mother told him.

“I’m sure she does,” he acknowledged. “But songs and stories at the library aren’t really my thing.”

“Maybe not, but they’re Saige’s thing,” Ellen retorted. “And you’re her father, and it’s not going to hurt you to take an hour out of your schedule so that she doesn’t have to miss it this week.”

“I have meetings all morning.”

“Meetings with your cousins,” she noted, “both fathers themselves who wouldn’t hesitate to reschedule if their kids needed them.”

Which he couldn’t deny was true. “But...Baby Talk?”

“Yes,” his mother said firmly, even as Saige began singing “wound an’ wound”—her version of the chorus from the “Wheels on the Bus” song that she’d apparently learned in the library group. “Miss MacKinnon—the librarian—will steer you in the right direction.”

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll let Nate and Andrew know that I have to reschedule.”

“Your daughter appreciates it,” Ellen said.

He looked at the little girl still propped on his hip, and she looked back at him, her big brown eyes sparkling as she continued to sing softly.

She truly was the light of his life, and his mother knew there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.

“Well, Saige, I guess today is the day that Daddy discovers what Baby Talk is all about.”

His daughter smiled and clapped her hands together.

* * *

The main branch of the Charisma Public Library was located downtown, across from the Bean There Café and only a short walk from the hospital and the courthouse. It was a three-story building of stone and glass with a large open foyer filled with natural light and tall, potted plants. The information desk was a circular area in the center, designed to be accessible to patrons from all sides.

Cassandra MacKinnon sat at that desk, scanning the monthly calendar to confirm the schedule of upcoming events. The library wasn’t just a warehouse of books waiting to be borrowed—it was a hub of social activity. She nodded to Luisa Todd and Ginny Stafford, who came in together with bulky knitting bags in hand. The two older women—friends since childhood—had started the Knit & Purl group and were always the first to arrive on Tuesday mornings.

Ginny stopped at the desk and took a gift bag out of her tote. “Will you be visiting with Irene this week?” she asked Cassie, referring to the former head librarian who now lived at Serenity Gardens, a seniors’ residence in town.

“Tomorrow,” Cassie confirmed.

“Would you mind taking this for me?” Ginny asked, passing the bag over the desk. “Irene always complains about having cold feet in that place, so I knitted her a couple pairs of socks. I had planned to see her on the weekend, but my son and daughter-in-law were in town with their three kids and I couldn’t tear myself away from them.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind,” Cassie told her. “And I know she’ll love the socks.”

Luisa snorted; Ginny smiled wryly. “Well, I’m sure she’ll appreciate having warm feet, anyway.”

Cassie tucked the bag under the counter and the two women continued on their way.

She spent a little bit of time checking in the materials that had been returned through the book drop overnight, then arranging them on the cart for Helen Darrow to put back on the shelves. Helen was a career part-time employee of the library who had been hired when Irene Houlahan was in charge. An older woman inherently distrustful of technology, Helen refused to touch the computers and spent most of her time finding books to fill online and call-in requests of patrons, putting them back when they were returned—and shushing anyone who dared to speak above a whisper in the book stacks.

“Hey, Miss Mac.”

Cassie glanced up to see Tanya Fielding, a high school senior and regular at the Soc & Study group, at the desk. “Good morning, Tanya. Aren’t you supposed to be in school this morning?”

The teen shook her head. “Our history teacher is giving us time to work on our independent research projects this week.”

“What’s your topic?”

“The role of German U-boats in the Second World War.”

“Do you want to sign on to one of the computers?”

“No. Mr. Paretsky wants—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—real sources, actual paper books so that we can do proper page citations and aren’t relying on made-up stuff that someone posted on the internet.”

Cassie pushed her chair away from the desk. “Nonfiction is upstairs. Let’s go see what we can find.”

After the teen was settled at a table with a pile of books, Cassie checked that the Dickens Room was ready for the ESL group coming in at ten thirty and picked up a stack of abandoned magazines from a window ledge near the true crime section.

She put the magazines on Helen’s cart and returned to her desk just as George Bowman came in. George and his wife, Margie, were familiar faces at the library. She knew all of the library’s regular patrons—not just their names and faces, but also their reading habits and preferences. And, over the years, she’d gotten to know many of them on a personal level, too.

She was chatting with Mr. Bowman when the tall, dark and extremely handsome stranger stepped into view. Her heart gave a little bump against her ribs, as if to make sure she was paying attention, and warm tingles spread slowly through her veins. But he wasn’t just a stranger, he was an outsider. The expensive suit jacket that stretched across his broad shoulders, the silk tie neatly knotted at his throat and the square, cleanly shaven jaw all screamed “corporate executive.”

She would have been less surprised to see a rainbow-colored unicorn prancing across the floor than this man moving toward her. Moving rather slowly and with short strides considering his long legs, she thought—and then she saw the little girl toddling beside him.

The child she did recognize. Saige regularly attended Baby Talk at the library with her grandmother, which meant that the man holding the tiny hand had to be her dad: Braden Garrett, Charisma’s very own crown prince.

* * *

A lot of years had passed since Braden was last inside the Charisma Public Library, and when he stepped through the front doors, he had a moment of doubt that he was even in the right place. In the past twenty years, the building had undergone major renovations so that the address was the only part of the library that remained unchanged.

He stepped farther into the room, noting that the card catalogue system had been replaced by computer terminals and the checkout desk wasn’t just automated but self-serve—which meant that the kids borrowing books or other materials weren’t subjected to the narrow-eyed stare of Miss Houlahan, the old librarian who marked the cards inside the back covers of the books, her gnarled fingers wielding the stamp like a weapon. He’d been terrified of the woman.

Of course, the librarian had been about a hundred years old when Braden was a kid—or so she’d seemed—so he didn’t really expect to find her still working behind the desk. But the woman seated there now, her fingers moving over the keyboard as she conversed with an elderly gentleman, was at least twenty years younger than he’d expected, with chin-length auburn hair that shone with gold and copper highlights. Her face was heart-shaped with creamy skin and a delicately pointed chin. Her eyes were dark—green, he guessed, to go with the red hair—and her glossy lips curved in response to something the old man said to her.

Saige wiggled again, silently asking to be set down. Since she’d taken her first tentative steps four months earlier, she preferred to walk everywhere. Braden set her on her feet but held firmly to her hand and headed toward the information desk.

The woman he assumed was Miss MacKinnon stopped typing and picked up a pen to jot a note on a piece of paper that she then handed across the desk to the elderly patron.

The old man nodded his thanks. “By the way, Margie wanted me to tell you that our daughter, Karen, is expecting again.”

“This will be her third, won’t it?”

“Third and fourth,” he replied.

Neatly arched brows lifted. “Twins?”

He nodded again. “Our seventh and eighth grandchildren.”

“That’s wonderful news—congratulations to all of you.”

“You know, I keep waiting for the day when you have big news to share.”

The librarian smiled indulgently. “Didn’t I tell you just this morning that there’s a new John Grisham on the shelves?”

Mr. Bowman shook his head. “Marriage plans, Cassie.”

“You’ve been with Mrs. Bowman for almost fifty years—I don’t see you giving her up to run away with me now.”

The old man’s ears flushed red. “Fifty-one,” he said proudly. “And I didn’t mean me. You need a handsome young man to put a ring on your finger and give you beautiful babies.”

“Until that happens, you keep bringing me pictures of your gorgeous grandbabies,” she suggested.

“I certainly will,” he promised.

“In the meantime—” she picked up a flyer from the counter and offered it to Mr. Bowman “—I hope you’re planning to come to our Annual Book & Bake Sale on the fifteenth.”

“It’s already marked on the calendar at home,” he told her. “And Margie’s promised to make a couple dozen muffins.”

“I’ll definitely look forward to those.”

The old man finally moved toward the elevator and Braden stepped forward. “Miss MacKinnon?”

She turned toward him, and he saw that her eyes weren’t green, after all, but a dark chocolate brown and fringed with even darker lashes.

“Good morning,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for...Baby Talk?”

Her mouth curved, drawing his attention to her full, glossy lips. “Are you sure?”

“Not entirely,” he admitted, shifting his gaze to meet hers again. “Am I in the right place?”

“You are,” she confirmed. “Baby Talk is in the Bronte Room on the upper level at ten.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall, saw that it wasn’t yet nine thirty. “I guess we’re a little early.”

“Downstairs in the children’s section, there’s a play area with puzzles and games, a puppet theater and a train table.”

“Choo-choo,” Saige urged.

Miss MacKinnon glanced down at his daughter and smiled. “Although if you go there now, you might have trouble tearing your daughter away. You like the trains, don’t you, Saige?”

She nodded, her head bobbing up and down with enthusiasm.

Braden’s brows lifted. He was surprised—and a little disconcerted—to discover that this woman knew something about his daughter that he didn’t. “Obviously she spends more time here than I realized.”

“Your mom brings her twice a week.”

“Well, since you know my mother and Saige, I guess I should introduce myself—I’m Braden Garrett.”

She accepted the hand he offered. He noted that hers was soft, but her grip firm. “Cassie MacKinnon.”

“Are you really the librarian?” he heard himself ask.

“One of them,” she said.

“When I think of librarians, I think of Miss Houlahan.”

“So do I,” she told him. “In fact, she’s the reason I chose to become a librarian.”

“We must be thinking of different Miss Houlahans,” he decided.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on something upstairs.”

“Something upstairs” sounded rather vague to Braden, and he got the strange feeling that he was being brushed off. Or maybe he was reading too much into those two words. After all, this was a library and she was the librarian—no doubt there were any number of “somethings” she had to do, although he couldn’t begin to imagine what they might be.

As she walked away, Braden found himself admiring the curve of her butt and the sway of her hips and thinking that he might have spent a lot more time in the library as a kid if there had been a librarian like Miss MacKinnon to help him navigate the book stacks.

Chapter Two

By the time he managed to drag Saige away from the trains and find the Bronte Room, there were several other parents and children already there—along with Cassie MacKinnon. Apparently one of the “somethings” that she did at the library was lead the stories, songs and games at Baby Talk.

She nodded to him as he entered the room and gestured to an empty place in the circle. “Have a seat,” she invited.

Except there were no seats. All of the moms—and yes, they were all moms, there wasn’t another XY chromosome anywhere to be found, unless it was tucked away in a diaper—were sitting on the beige Berber carpet. He lowered himself to the floor, certain he looked as awkward as he felt as he attempted to cross his legs.

“Did you bring your pillow, Mr. Garrett?”

“Pillow?” he echoed. His mother hadn’t said anything about a pillow, but when he looked around, he saw that all of the moms had square pillows underneath their babies.

“I’ve got an extra that you can borrow,” she said, opening a cabinet to retrieve a big pink square with an enormous daisy embroidered on it.

He managed not to grimace as he thanked her and set the pillow on the floor, then sat Saige down on top of it. She immediately began to clap her hands, excited to begin.

Ellen had told him that Baby Talk was for infants up to eighteen months of age, and looking around, he guessed that his daughter was one of the oldest in the room. A quick glance confirmed that the moms were of various ages, as well. The one thing they had in common: they were all checking out the lone male in the room.

He focused on Cassie, eager to get the class started and finished.

What he learned during the thirty-minute session was that the librarian had a lot more patience than he did. Even when there were babies crying, she continued to read or sing in the same soothing tone. About halfway through the session, she took a bin of plastic instruments out of the cupboard and passed it around so the babies could jingle bells or pound on drums or bang sticks together. Of course, the kids had a lot more enthusiasm than talent—his daughter included—and by the time they were finished, Braden could feel a headache brewing.

“That was a great effort today,” Cassie told them, and he breathed a grateful sigh of relief that they were done. “I’ll see you all next week, and please don’t forget the Book & Bake Sale on the fifteenth—any and all donations of gently used books are appreciated.”

Despite the class being dismissed, none of the moms seemed to be in a hurry to leave, instead continuing to chat with one another about feeding schedules and diaper rashes and teething woes. Braden just wanted to be gone but Saige had somehow managed to pull off her shoes, forcing him to stay put long enough to untie the laces, put the shoes back on her feet and tie them up again.

While he was preoccupied with this task, the woman who had been seated on his left shifted closer. “I’m Heather Turcotte. And this—” she jiggled the baby in her lap “—is Katie.”

“Braden Garrett,” he told her, confident that she already knew his daughter.

“You’re a brave man to subject yourself to a baby class full of women,” she said, then smiled at him.

“I’m only here today because my mom had an appointment.”

“That’s too bad. It would be nice to have another single parent in the group,” she told him. “Most of these women don’t have a clue how hard it is to raise a child on their own. Of course, I didn’t know, either, until I had Katie. All through my pregnancy, I was so certain that I could handle this. But the idea of a baby is a lot different than the reality.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, only half listening to her as he worked Saige’s shoes back onto her feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassie talking to one of the other moms and cleaning the instruments with antibacterial wipes, which made him feel a little bit better about the bells that his daughter had been chewing on.

“Of course, it helps that I have a flexible schedule at work,” Heather was saying. “As I’m sure you do, considering that your name is on the company letterhead.”

“There are benefits to working for a family business,” he agreed.

Cassie waved goodbye to the other woman and her baby, then carried the bin of instruments to the cupboard.

“Such as being able to take a little extra time to grab a cup of coffee now?” Heather suggested hopefully.

He forced his attention back to her, inwardly wincing at the hopeful expression on her face. “Sorry, I really do need to get to the office.”

She pouted, much like his daughter did when she didn’t get what she wanted, but the look wasn’t nearly as cute on a grown woman who had a daughter of her own.

“Well, maybe we could get the kids together sometime. A playdate for the little ones—” she winked “—and the grown-ups.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but my time is really limited these days.”

“Oh. Okay.” She forced a smile, but he could tell that she was disappointed. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me on Tuesday mornings.”

“Yes, I do,” he confirmed.

Somehow, while he’d been putting on her shoes, Saige had found his phone and was using it as a chew toy. With a sigh, he pried it from her fingers and wiped it on his trousers. “Are you cutting more teeth, sweetie?”

Her only answer was to shove her fist into her mouth.

He picked her up and she dropped her head onto his shoulder, apparently ready for her nap. He bent his knees carefully to reach the daisy pillow and carried it to the librarian. “Thanks for the loan.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. Then, “I wanted to ask about your mother earlier, but I didn’t want you to think I was being nosy.”

“What did you want to ask?”

“In the past six months, Ellen hasn’t missed a single class—I just wondered if she was okay.”

“Oh. Yes, she’s fine. At least, I think so,” he told her. “She chipped a tooth at breakfast and had an emergency appointment at the dentist.”

“Well, please tell her that I hope she’s feeling better and I’m looking forward to seeing her on Thursday.”

“Is that your way of saying that you don’t want to see me on Thursday?” he teased.

“This is a public library, Mr. Garrett,” she pointed out. “You’re welcome any time the doors are open.”

“And will I find you here if I come back?” he wondered.

“Most days,” she confirmed.

“So this is your real job—you don’t work anywhere else?”

Her brows lifted at that. “Yes, this is my real job,” she said, her tone cooler now by several degrees.

And despite having turned down Heather’s offer of coffee only a few minutes earlier, he found the prospect of enjoying a hot beverage with this woman an incredibly appealing one. “Can you sneak away for a cup of coffee?”

She seemed surprised by the invitation—and maybe a little tempted—but after a brief hesitation, she shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m working, Mr. Garrett.”

“I know,” he said, and offered her what he’d been told was a charming smile. “But the class is finished and I’m sure that whatever else you have to do can wait for half an hour or so while we go across the street to the café.”

“Obviously you think that ‘whatever else’ I have to do is pretty insignificant,” she noted, her tone downright frosty now.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss MacKinnon,” he said, because it was obvious that he’d done so.

“I may not be the CEO of a national corporation, but the work I do matters to the people who come here.” She moved toward the door where she hit a switch on the wall to turn off the overhead lights—a clear sign that it was time for him to leave.

He stepped out of the room, and she closed and locked the door. “Have a good day, Mr. Garrett.”

“I will,” he said. “But I need one more thing before I go.”

“What’s that?” she asked warily.

“A library card.”

* * *

Cassie stared at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was joking. “You want a library card?”

“I assume I need one to borrow books,” Braden said matter-of-factly.

“You do,” she confirmed, still wondering about his angle—because she was certain that he had one.

“So where do I get a card?” he prompted, sounding sincere in his request.

But how could she know for sure? If her recent experience with the male species had taught her nothing else, she’d at least learned that she wasn’t a good judge of their intentions or motivations.

“Follow me,” she said.

He did, and with each step, she was conscious of him beside her—not just his presence but his masculinity. The library wasn’t a female domain. A lot of males came through the doors every day—mostly boys, a few teens and some older men. Rarely did she cross paths with a male in the twenty-five to forty-four age bracket. Never had she crossed paths with anyone like Braden Garrett.

He was the type of man who made heads turn and hearts flutter and made women think all kinds of naughty thoughts. And his nearness now made her skin feel hot and tight, tingly in a way that made her uneasy. Cassie didn’t want to feel tingly, she didn’t want to think about how long it had been since she’d been attracted, on a purely physical level, to a man, and she definitely didn’t want to be attracted to this man now.

Aside from the fact that he was a Garrett and, therefore, way out of her league, she had no intention of wasting a single minute of her time with a man who didn’t value who she was. Not again. Thankfully, his disparaging remark about her job was an effective antidote to his good looks and easy charm.

Taking a seat at the computer, she logged in to create a new account. He took his driver’s license out of his wallet so that she could input the necessary data. She noted that his middle name was Michael, his thirty-ninth birthday was coming up and he lived in one of the most exclusive parts of town.

“What kind of books do you like to read?” she inquired, as she would of any other newcomer to the library.

“Mostly historical fiction and nonfiction, some action-thriller type stories.”

“Like Bernard Cornwell, Tom Clancy and Clive Cussler?”

He nodded. “And John Jakes and Diana Gabaldon.”

She looked up from the computer screen. “You read Diana Gabaldon?”

“Sure,” he said, not the least bit self-conscious about the admission. “My cousin, Tristyn, left a copy of Outlander at my place on Ocracoke and I got hooked.”

For a moment while they’d been chatting about favorite authors, she’d almost let herself believe he was a normal person—just a handsome single dad hanging out at the library with his daughter. But the revelation that he not only lived in Forrest Hill but had another house on an island in the Outer Banks immediately dispelled that notion.

“My brothers tease me about reading romance,” he continued, oblivious to her thought process, “but there’s a lot more to her books than that.”

“There’s a lot more to most romance novels than many people believe,” she told him.

“What do you like to read?” he asked her.

“Anything and everything,” she said. “I have favorite authors, of course, but I try to read across the whole spectrum in order to be able to make recommendations to our patrons.” She set his newly printed library card on the counter along with a pen for him to sign it.

He did, then tucked the new card and his identification back into his wallet. By this time, Saige had lost the battle to keep her eyes open, and the image of that sweet little girl sleeping in his arms tugged at something inside of her.

“Congratulations,” she said, ignoring the unwelcome tug. “You are now an official card-carrying member of the Charisma Public Library.”

“Thank you.” He picked up one of the flyers advertising the Book & Bake Sale along with a monthly schedule of classes and activities, then slid both into the side pocket of Saige’s diaper bag. “I guess that means I’ll be seeing you around.”

She nodded, but she didn’t really believe him. And as she watched him walk out the door, she assured herself that was for the best. Because the last thing she needed was to be crossing paths with a man who made her feel tingles she didn’t want to be feeling.

* * *

His daughter slept until Braden got her to the office. As soon as he tried to lay her down, Saige was wide-awake and wanting his attention. He dumped the toys from her diaper bag into the playpen—squishy blocks and finger puppets and board books—so that she could occupy herself while he worked. She decided to invent a new game: throw things at Daddy. Thankfully, she wasn’t strong enough to fling the books very far, but after several blocks bounced across the surface of his desk, he decided there was no point in hanging around the office when he obviously wasn’t going to get anything accomplished.

There were definite advantages to working in a family business, and since his baby wouldn’t be a baby forever, he decided to take the rest of the day off to spend with her. He took her to the indoor play center, where she could jump and climb and swing and burn off all of the energy she seemed to have in abundance. Then, when she was finally tired of all of that, he took her to “Aunt” Rachel’s shop—Buds & Blooms—to pick out some flowers, then to his parents’ house to see how Ellen had fared at the dentist.

“Ga-ma!” Saige said, flinging herself at her grandmother’s legs.

“I didn’t think I was going to get to see you today,” Ellen said, ruffling her granddaughter’s silky black hair. “And I was missing you.”

“I’m sure she missed you more,” Braden said, handing the bouquet to his mother. “She was not a happy camper at the office today.”

“Offices aren’t fun places for little ones.” Ellen brought the flowers closer to her nose and inhaled their fragrant scent. “These are beautiful—what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion—I just realized that I take for granted how much you do for me and Saige every day and wanted to show our appreciation,” he told her. “But now that I see the swelling of your jaw, I’m thinking they might be ‘get well’ flowers—what did the dentist do to you?”

“He extracted the tooth.”

“I thought it was only a chip.”

“So did I,” she admitted, lowering herself into a chair, which Saige interpreted as an invitation to crawl into her lap. “Apparently the chip caused a crack that went all the way down to the root, so they had to take it out.”

He winced instinctively.

“Now I have to decide whether I want a bridge or an implant.”

“And I’ll bet you’re wishing you had oatmeal instead of granola for breakfast,” he noted, filling a vase with water for her flowers.

“It will definitely be oatmeal tomorrow,” she said. “How was Baby Talk?”

“Fine,” he said, “aside from the fact that I was the only man in a room full of women, apparently all of whom know my life story.”

“They don’t know your whole life story,” his mother denied.

“How much do they know?”

“I might have mentioned that you’re a single father.”

“Might have mentioned?” he echoed suspiciously.

“Well, in a group of much younger women, it was immediately apparent that Saige isn’t my child. Someone—I think it was Annalise—asked if I looked after her while her mother was at work and I said no, that I looked after her while her dad’s at work because Saige doesn’t have a mother.”

“Hmm,” he said. He couldn’t fault his mother for answering the question, but he didn’t like the way she made him sound like some kind of “super dad” just because he was taking care of his daughter—especially when they both knew there was no way he’d be able to manage without Ellen’s help.

“And you’re not the only single parent with a child in the group,” she pointed out. “There are a couple of single moms there, too.”

“I met Heather,” he admitted.

“She’s a pretty girl. And a loving mother.”

“I’m not interested in a woman who’s obviously looking for a man to be a father to her child,” he warned.

“She told you that?”

“She gave me the ‘single parenthood is so much harder than most people realize’ speech.”

“Which you already know,” she pointed out.

He nodded again.

“So maybe you should think about finding a new mother for Saige,” she urged.

“Because the third time’s the charm?” he asked skeptically.

“Because a little girl needs a mother,” she said firmly. “And because you deserve to have someone in your life, too.”

“I have Saige,” he reminded her, as he always did when she started in on this particular topic. But this time the automatic response was followed by a picture of the pretty librarian forming in his mind.

“And no one doubts how much you love her,” Ellen acknowledged. “But if you do your job as a parent right—and I expect you will—she’s going to grow up and go off to live her own life one day, and then who will you have?”

“I think I’ve got a few years before I need to worry about that,” he pointed out. “And maybe by then, I’ll be ready to start dating again.”

His mother’s sigh was filled with resignation.

“By the way,” he said, in a desperate effort to shift the topic of conversation away from his blank social calendar, “Cassie said that she hopes you feel better soon.”

As soon as he mentioned the librarian’s name, a speculative gleam sparked in his mother’s eyes that warned his effort had been for naught.

“She’s such a sweet girl,” Ellen said. “Smart and beautiful, and so ideally suited for her job.”

Braden had intended to keep his mouth firmly shut, not wanting to be drawn into a discussion about Miss MacKinnon’s many attributes. But the last part of his mother’s statement piqued his curiosity. “She’s a librarian—what kind of qualifications does she need?”

His mother frowned her disapproval. “The janitor who scrubs the floors of a surgery is just as crucial as the doctor who performs the operation,” she reminded him.

“But she’s not a surgeon or a janitor,” he pointed out. “She’s a librarian.” And he didn’t think keeping a collection of books in order required any particular knowledge outside of the twenty-six letters of the alphabet.

“With a master’s degree in library studies.”

“I didn’t know there was such a discipline,” he acknowledged.

“Apparently there are a lot of things you don’t know,” she said pointedly.

He nodded an acknowledgment of the fact. “I guess, when I went into the library, I was expecting to find someone more like Miss Houlahan behind the desk.”

His mother chuckled. “Irene Houlahan’s been retired more than half a dozen years now.”

“I’m relieved to know she’s no longer terrifying young book borrowers.”

“She wasn’t terrifying,” Ellen chided. “You were only afraid of her because you lost a library book.”

“I didn’t lose it,” he denied. “I just couldn’t find it when it was due. And you made me pay the late fines out of my allowance.”

“Because you were the one who misplaced it,” she pointed out logically.

“That’s probably why I buy my books now—I’d rather pay for them up front and without guilt.”

Which didn’t begin to explain why he was now carrying a library card in his wallet—or his determination to put it to use in the near future.

Chapter Three

Cassie stood with her back against the counter as she lifted the last forkful of cheesy macaroni to her mouth.

“You might be surprised to hear that I like to cook,” she said to Westley and Buttercup. “I just don’t do it very often because it’s not worth the effort to prepare a whole meal for one person.”

Aside from the crunch of the two cats chowing down on their seafood medley, there was no response.

“Maybe I should get a dog,” she mused. “Dogs at least wag their tails when you talk to them.”

As usual, the two strays she’d rescued from a box in the library parking lot ignored her.

“Unfortunately, a dog would be a lot less tolerant of the occasional ten-hour shift at the library,” she noted.

That was one good thing about Westley and Buttercup—they didn’t really need her except when their food or water bowls were empty. And when she was away for several hours at a time, she didn’t worry because they had one another for company.

But she did worry that she was turning into a cliché—the lonely librarian with only her cats and her books to keep her company. Since Westley and Buttercup were more interested in their dinner than the woman who fed it to them, she put her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, then went into the living room and turned her attention to the tightly packed shelves.

The books were her reliable companions and steadfast friends. She had other friends, of course—real people that she went to the movies with or met for the occasional cup of coffee. But most of her friends were married now, with husbands and children to care for. It wasn’t that Cassie didn’t want to fall in love, get married and have a family, but she was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen. The few serious relationships she’d had in the past had all ended with her heart—if not broken—at least battered and bruised. When she’d met Joel Langdon three years earlier, she’d thought he was finally the one. Three months after he’d put a ring on her finger, she’d realized that her judgment was obviously faulty.

Thankfully, she was usually content with her own company. And when she wasn’t, she could curl up with Captain Brandon Birmingham or Dean Robillard or Roarke. But tonight, she reached out a hand and plucked a random book from the shelf. A smile curved her lips when she recognized the cover of a beloved Jennifer Crusie novel.

She made herself a cup of tea and settled into her favorite chair by the fireplace, happy to lose herself in the story and fall in love with Cal as Min did. But who wouldn’t love a man who appreciated her shoe collection, fed her doughnuts and didn’t want to change a single thing about her? All of that, and he was great in bed, too.

She sighed and set the book aside to return her empty mug to the kitchen. Of course Cal was perfect—he was fictional. And she wasn’t looking for perfect, anyway—she just wanted to meet a man who would appreciate her for who she was without trying to make her into someone different. He didn’t have to be mouthwateringly gorgeous or Rhodes Scholar smart, but he had to be kind to children and animals and have a good relationship with his family. And it would be a definite plus if she felt flutters in her tummy when he smiled at her.

As she pieced together the ideal qualities in her mind, a picture began to form—a picture that looked very much like Braden Garrett.

* * *

Braden planned to wait a week or so before he tried out his library card to avoid appearing too eager. He figured seven to ten days was a reasonable time frame, and then, if he saw Cassie again and had the same immediate and visceral reaction, he would consider his next move.

He’d been widowed for just over a year and married for six years prior to that, so it had been a long time since he’d made any moves. How much had the dating scene changed in those years? Were any of the moves the same? Was he ready to start dating again and risk jeopardizing the precious relationship he had with his daughter by bringing someone new into their lives?

Except that Cassie was already in Saige’s life—or at least on the periphery of it. And by all accounts, his little girl was enamored of the librarian. After only one brief meeting, he’d found himself aware of her appeal. Which was just one reason he’d decided to take a step back and give his suddenly reawakened hormones a chance to cool down.

But when he picked up his daughter’s clothes to dump them into the laundry basket, he found the red engine that she’d been reluctant to let go of at the train table earlier that day. He had a clear memory of prying the toy from her clenched fist and setting it back on the track, but apparently—maybe when he turned his back to retrieve her diaper bag—his daughter had picked it up again.

Wednesday morning he dropped Saige off at his parents’ house, then headed toward his office as usual. But, conscious of the little red engine in his pocket, he detoured toward the library on his way. He’d considered leaving the train with his mother so that she could return it, but the “borrowed” toy was the perfect excuse for him to see the pretty librarian again and he was going to take advantage of it.

For the first six months after Dana’s death, his mother hadn’t pushed him outside of his comfort zone. Ellen understood that he was grieving for his wife and adjusting to his role as a new—and now single—dad. But since Christmas, she’d started to hint that it was time for him to move on with his life and urged him to get out and meet new people. More recently, she’d made it clear that when she said “people” she meant “women.”

He knew she was motivated by concern—that she didn’t want him to be alone. But whenever he dared to remind her that he wasn’t alone because he had his daughter, she pointed out that Saige needed a mother. Saige deserved a mother. And that was a truth Braden could not dispute.

A real home with two parents.

He shook off the echo of those words and the guilt that weighed on his heart. He wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone right now. He had neither the time nor the energy to invest in a romantic relationship.

Getting some action between the sheets, on the other hand, held some definite appeal. But he knew that if he was just looking for sex, he should not be looking at the local librarian. Especially not when the woman was obviously adored by both his mother and his daughter.

But if he took the train back to the library, well, that was simply the right thing to do. And if he happened to see Cassie MacKinnon while he was there, that would just be a lucky coincidence.

* * *

Cassie didn’t expect to ever see Braden again.

Despite his request for a library card, she didn’t think he would actually use it. Men like Braden Garrett didn’t borrow anything—if he wanted something he didn’t have, he would buy it. And considering how busy the CEO and single father must be, she didn’t imagine that he had much free time to read anything aside from business reports.

All of which made perfect, logical sense. What didn’t make any sense at all was that she found herself thinking about him anyway, and wishing he would walk through the front doors in contradiction of her logic.

She tried to push these thoughts from her mind, annoyed by her inexplicable preoccupation with a man she was undeniably attracted to but wasn’t sure she liked very much. A man who wasn’t so very different from any other member of the male species who came through the library.

Okay, that was a lie. The truth was, she’d never met anyone else quite like Braden Garrett. But there were a lot of other guys in the world—good-looking, intelligent and charming guys. Some of them even came into the library and flirted with her and didn’t regard her job as inconsequential. Rarely did she ever think about any of them after they were gone; never did she dream about any of them.

Until last night.

What was wrong with her? Why was she so captivated by a guy she’d met only once? A man who wasn’t only gorgeous and rich but a single father undoubtedly still grieving for the wife he’d lost only a year earlier.

Because even if he was interested in her, and even if it turned out that he wasn’t as shallow and judgmental as her initial impressions indicated him to be, she had no intention of getting involved with a man who was still in love with another woman. No way. She’d been there, done that already, and she still had the bruises on her heart to prove it.

So it was a good thing she would probably never see Braden Garrett again. A very good thing.

Or so she thought until she glanced up to offer assistance to the patron who had stopped at her desk—and found herself looking at the subject of her preoccupation.

Her heart skipped a beat and then raced to catch up. She managed a smile, determined not to let him know how he affected her. “Good morning, Mr. Garrett. Are you looking for some reading material today?”

He shook his head. “Returning some smuggled merchandise.” He set a red engine on top of her desk. “Apparently Saige loves the trains more than I realized.”

It wasn’t the first toy to go missing from the playroom, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. Thankfully, the “borrowed” items were usually returned by the embarrassed parents of the pint-size pickpockets when they were found.

“Universal toddler rules,” she acknowledged. “If it’s in my hand, it’s mine.”

“Sounds like the kind of wisdom that comes from experience,” he noted, his gaze shifting to her left hand. “Do you have kids?”

She shook her head and ignored the emptiness she felt inside whenever she thought about the family she might have had by now if she’d married Joel instead of giving him back his ring. “No,” she said lightly. “But I’ve spent enough time in the children’s section to have learned a lot.”

“What about a husband?” he prompted. “Fiancé? Boyfriend?”

No, no and no. But she kept those responses to herself, saying only, “Thank you for returning the train, Mr. Garrett.”

“I’ll interpret that as a no,” he said, with just the hint of a smile curving his lips.

And even that hint was potent enough to make her knees weak, which irritated her beyond reason. “You should interpret it as none of your business,” she told him.

Her blunt response had no effect on his smile. “Except that if you’d had a husband, fiancé or boyfriend, you would have said so,” he pointed out reasonably. “And since there’s no husband, fiancé or boyfriend, maybe you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee and apologize for whatever I did that put your back up.”

Before she could think of a response to that, Megan hurried up to the desk. “I’m sorry I got caught up with Mrs. Lynch and made you late for your break, Cassie.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I wanted to finish logging these new books into the system before I left the desk.”

“I can do that,” her coworker offered helpfully.

Cassie thanked Megan, though she was feeling anything but grateful. Because as much as she was desperate for a hit of caffeine, she suspected that Braden would tag along on her break and his presence would make her jittery for a different reason.

“I guess you’re free for that coffee, then?” he prompted.

“I’m going across the street for my break,” she confirmed, unlocking the bottom drawer of the desk to retrieve her purse. “And while I may not be a corporate executive, I can afford to buy my own coffee.”

“I’m sure you can,” he agreed. “But if I pay for it, you might feel obligated to sit down with me to drink it.”

And apparently her determination to remain unaffected was no match for his effortless charm, because she felt a smile tug at her own lips as she replied, “Only if there’s a brownie with the coffee.”

* * *

Growing up a Garrett in Charisma, Braden wasn’t accustomed to having to work so hard for a woman’s attention. And while he was curious about the reasons for Cassie’s reluctance to spend time with him, he decided to save the questions for later.

He pulled open the door of the Bean There Café and gestured for her to precede him. There were a few customers in line ahead of them at the counter, allowing him to peruse the pastry offerings in the display case while they waited. He ordered a lemon poppy-seed muffin and a large coffee, black; Cassie opted for a salted caramel brownie and a vanilla latte.

“How’s this?” he asked, gesturing to a couple of leather armchairs close together on one side of the fireplace, further isolated by a display of gift sets on the opposite side of the seating.

“Looks...cozy,” she said.

He grinned. “Too cozy?”

She narrowed her gaze, but he suspected that she wouldn’t turn away from the challenge. A suspicion that was proven correct when she sat in the chair closest to the fire.

The flickering flames provided light and warmth and the soft, comfy seating around the perimeter of the room provided a much more intimate atmosphere than the straight-back wooden chairs and square tables in the center. Braden relaxed into the leather seat beside Cassie and set his muffin on the small table between them.

“Are you going to let me apologize now?” he asked her.

She eyed him over the rim of her cup as she sipped. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Whatever I said or did to offend you.”

“You don’t even know, do you?” she asked, her tone a combination of amusement and exasperation.

“I’m afraid to guess,” he admitted. But he did know it had happened the previous morning, sometime after Baby Talk, because her demeanor toward him had shifted from warm to cool in about two seconds.

She shook her head and broke off a corner of her brownie. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t still be mad,” he pointed out.

“I’m not still mad.”

He lifted his brows.

“Okay, I’m still a little bit mad,” she acknowledged. “But it’s not really your fault—you didn’t do anything but speak out loud the same thoughts that too many people have about my work.”

“I’m still confused,” he admitted. “What did I say?”

“You asked if working at the library was my real job.”

He winced. “I assure you the question was more a reflection of my interest in learning about you than an opinion of your work,” he said. “And probably influenced by a lack of knowledge about what a librarian actually does.”

“My responsibilities are various and endless.”

“I’ll admit, I was surprised to see so many people at the library yesterday. I figured most everyone did their research and reading on their own tablets or computers these days.”

“To paraphrase Neil Gaiman, an internet search engine can find a hundred thousand answers—a librarian can help you find the right one.”

“My mother’s a big fan of his work,” Braden noted.

“I know,” she admitted. “Anytime we get a new book with his name on it, I put it aside for her.”

“She’s a fan of yours, too,” he said.

Her lips curved, and he felt that tug low in his belly again. There was just something about her smile—an innocent sensuality that got to him every time and made him want to be the reason for her happiness.

“Because I put aside the books she wants,” Cassie said again.

“I think there’s more to it than that,” he remarked. “How long have you known her?”

“As long as I’ve worked at CPL, which is twelve years.”

“Really?” He didn’t know if he was more surprised to learn that she’d worked at the library for so many years or that she’d known his mother for that amount of time.

“I started as a volunteer when I was still in high school,” she explained. “And in addition to being an avid reader, Ellen is one of the volunteers who delivers books to patrons who are unable to get to the library.”

“I didn’t know that,” he admitted. “Between the Acquisitions Committee of the Art Gallery, the Board of Directors at Mercy Hospital and, for the past year, taking care of Saige three to five days a week for me, I wouldn’t have thought she’d have time for anything else.”

“She obviously likes to keep busy,” Cassie noted. “And I know how much she adores her grandchildren. Ever since Ryan and Harper got custody of little Oliver almost three years ago, I’ve seen new pictures almost every week.

“Of course, hundreds of pictures when Vanessa was born, and hundreds more when Saige was born,” she continued. “And I know she’s overjoyed that Ryan and Harper are moving back to Charisma—hopefully before their second child is born.”

“You’re probably more up-to-date on my family than I am,” he admitted. “I don’t even know my sister-in-law’s due date.”

“August twenty-eighth.”

“Which proves my point.” He polished off the last bite of his muffin.

She broke off another piece of brownie and popped it into her mouth. Then she licked a smear of caramel off her thumb—a quick and spontaneous swipe of her tongue over her skin that probably wasn’t intended to be provocative but certainly had that effect on his body and thoughts.

“I only remember the date because it happens to be my birthday, too,” she admitted.

He sipped his coffee. “As a librarian, how much do you know about chemistry?”

“Enough to pass the course in high school.” She smiled. “Barely.”

“And what do you think we should do about this chemistry between us?” he asked.

She choked on her latte. “Excuse me?”

“I’m stumbling here,” he acknowledged. “Because it’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to a woman—other than my wife, I mean.”

She eyed him warily. “Are you saying that you’re attracted to me?”

“Why else would I be here when there are at least a dozen coffee shops closer to my office?”

“I thought you came to the library to return the train Saige took home.”

“That was my excuse to come by and see you,” he said.

She dropped her gaze to her plate, using her fingertip to push the brownie crumbs into the center.

“You didn’t expect me to admit that, did you?”

“I didn’t expect it to be true,” she told him.

“I was a little surprised myself,” he confided. “When I found the train, I planned to leave it with my mother, for her to return. And when I dropped Saige off this morning, I had it with me, but for some reason, I held on to it. As I headed toward my office, I figured I’d give it to her later. Except that I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

She wiped her fingers on her napkin, then folded it on top of her plate.

“This would be a good time for you to admit that you’ve been thinking about me, too,” he told her.

“Even if it’s not true?”

He reached across the table and stroked a finger over the back of her hand. She went immediately and completely still, not even breathing as her gaze locked with his.

“You’ve thought about me,” he said. “Whether you’re willing to admit it or not.”

“Maybe I have,” she acknowledged, slowly pulling her hand away. “Once or twice.”

“So what do you think we should do about this chemistry?” he asked again.

“I’m the wrong person to ask,” she said lightly. “All of my experiments simply fizzled and died.”

“Maybe you were working with the wrong partner,” he suggested.

“Maybe.” She finished her latte and set the mug on top of her empty plate. “I really need to get back to work, but thanks for the coffee and the brownie.”

“Anytime.”

He stayed where he was and watched her walk away, because he’d never in his life chased after a woman and he wasn’t going to start now.

Instead, he took his time finishing his coffee before he headed back to his own office—where he thought of her throughout the rest of the day, because he knew he would be seeing the sexy librarian again. Very soon.

Chapter Four

When Cassie left work later that afternoon, she headed to Serenity Gardens to visit Irene Houlahan. Almost three years earlier, the former librarian had slipped and fallen down her basement stairs, a nasty tumble that resulted in a broken collarbone and femur and forced her to sell her two-story home and move into the assisted-living facility for seniors.

The septuagenarian had never married, had no children and no family in Charisma, but once upon a time, she’d changed Cassie’s life. No, she’d done more than change her life—she’d saved it. And Cassie knew that she’d never be able to repay the woman who was so much more to her than a friend and mentor.

Since Irene had taken up residence at Serenity Gardens, Cassie had visited her two or three times a week. The move had been good for Irene, who was now surrounded by contemporaries who encouraged her to take part in various social activities on the property. And then, just after the New Year, Jerry Riordan had moved in across the hall.

His arrival had generated a fair amount of buzz among the residents and staff, and Cassie had overheard enough to know that he was seventy-two years old, a retired civil engineer and widower with three children and eight grandchildren, all of whom lived out of state. He was close to six feet tall, slender of build and apparently in possession of all of his own teeth, which made him the object of much female admiration within the residence.

But far more interesting to Cassie was her discovery that the newest resident of the fifth floor was spending a fair amount of time with the retired librarian. One day when Cassie was visiting, she’d asked Irene about her history with Jerry. Her friend had ignored the question, instead instructing Cassie to find To Kill a Mockingbird on her shelf. Of course, the woman’s personal library was as ruthlessly organized as the public facility, so Cassie found it easily—an old and obviously much-read volume with a dust jacket curling at the edges.

“You’ve obviously had this a very long time.”

“A lot more years than you’ve been alive,” Irene acknowledged.

Cassie opened the cover to check the copyright page, but her attention was caught by writing inside the front cover. Knowing that her friend would never deface a work of art—and books undoubtedly fit that description—the bold strokes of ink snagged her attention.

Irene held out her hand. “The book.”

The impatience in her tone didn’t stop Cassie from taking a quick peek at the inscription:

To Irene—who embodies all the best characteristics of Scout, Jem and Dill. One day you will be the heroine of your own adventures, but for now, I hope you enjoy their story.

Happy Birthday,

Jerry

She closed the cover and looked at her friend. “Jerry—as in Jerry Riordan?”

“Did someone mention my name?” the man asked from the doorway.

“Were your ears burning?” Irene snapped at him.

Jerry shrugged. “Might have been—my hearing’s not quite what it used to be.” Then he spotted the volume in Cassie’s hand and his pale blue eyes lit up. “Well, that book is familiar.”

“There are more than thirty million copies of it in print,” Irene pointed out.

“And that looks like the same copy I gave to you for your fourteenth birthday,” he said.

“Probably because it is,” she acknowledged, finally abandoning any pretense of faulty memory.

“I can’t believe you still have it,” Jerry said, speaking so softly it was almost as if he was talking to himself.

“It’s one of my favorite books,” she said. “Why would I get rid of it?”

“Over the years, things have a tendency to go missing or be forgotten.”

“Maybe by some people,” the old woman said pointedly.

“I never forgot you, Irene,” Jerry assured her.

Cassie continued to stand beside the bookcase, wondering if she was actually invisible or just felt that way. She didn’t mind being ignored and she had no intention of interrupting what was—judging by the unfamiliar flush in her friend’s usually pale cheeks—a deeply personal moment.

Years ago, when Cassie had asked Irene why she’d never married, the older woman had snapped that it wasn’t a conscious choice to be alone—that sometimes the right man found the right woman in someone else. Of course, Cassie hadn’t known what she meant at the time, and Irene had refused to answer any more questions on the subject. Watching her friend with Jerry now, she thought she finally understood.

“Are you going to sit down and read the book or just stand there?” Irene finally asked her.

Cassie knew her too well to be offended by the brusque tone. “I was just waiting for the two of you to finish your stroll down memory lane,” she responded lightly.

“I don’t stroll anywhere with six pins in my leg and I wouldn’t stroll with him even if I could,” Irene said primly.

“Thankfully, it’s just your leg and not your arms that are weak,” Jerry teased. “Otherwise you’d have trouble holding on to that grudge.”

Cassie fought against a smile as she settled back into a wing chair, turned to the first page and began reading while Jerry lowered himself onto the opposite end of the sofa from Irene.

She read three chapters before she was interrupted by voices in the hall as the residents started to make their way to the activity room for Beach Party Bingo. Irene professed to despise bingo but she was fond of the fruit skewers and virgin coladas they served to go with the beach party theme.

When Cassie glanced up, she noted that Jerry had shifted on the sofa so that he was sitting closer to Irene now. Not so close that she could find his ribs with a sharp elbow if the mood struck her to do so, but definitely much closer. Apparently the man still had some moves—and he was making them on her friend.

“I think that’s a good place to stop for today,” she decided, sliding a bookmark between the pages.

“Thank you for the visit,” Irene said, as she always did.

Cassie, too, gave her usual response. “It was my pleasure.”

She set the book down on the coffee table, then touched her lips to her friend’s soft, wrinkled cheek.

Irene waved her away, uncomfortable with the display of affection.

“What about me?” Jerry said, tapping his cheek with an arthritic finger. “I’d never wave off a kiss from a pretty girl.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Irene muttered under her breath.

Cassie kissed his cheek, too. “Good night, Mr. Riordan. I’ll see you on Friday, Irene.”

“There’s a trip to Noah’s Landing on Friday,” her friend said. “We’re not scheduled to be back until dinnertime.”

“Then I’ll come Friday night,” Cassie offered.

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Jerry protested. “You can’t ask a beautiful young woman to spend her Friday night hanging out with a bunch of grumpy old folks.”

“I didn’t ask, Cassandra offered,” Irene pointed out. “And she comes to visit me, not any other grumpy old folks who decide to wander into my room uninvited.”

“Well, I’m sure Cassandra has better things to do on a Friday night,” he said, glancing at Cassie expectantly.

“Actually, I don’t have any plans,” she admitted.

He scowled. “You don’t have a date?”

She shook her head.

“What’s wrong with the young men in this town?” Jerry wondered.

“They’re as shortsighted and thickheaded now as they were fifty years ago,” Irene told him.

“And on that note,” Cassie said, inching toward the door.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” Irene said.

“Don’t come on Friday,” Jerry called out to her. “I’m going to keep Irene busy at the cribbage board.”

“I have cataracts,” she protested.

“And I have a deck of cards with large print numbers.”

Cassie left them bickering, happy to know that her friend had a new beau to fill some of her quiet hours. And eager to believe that if romance was in the air for Irene, maybe it wasn’t too late for her, either.

Of course, if she wanted to fall in love, she’d have to be willing to open up her heart again, and that was a step she wasn’t sure she was ready to take. Because what she’d told Braden about her struggles with chemistry was only partly true. About half of her experiments had fizzled into nothingness—the other half had flared so bright and hot, she’d ended up getting burned. And she simply wasn’t willing to play with fire again.

* * *

While Braden wouldn’t trade his baby girl for anything in the world, there were times when he would willingly sacrifice a limb for eight consecutive hours of sleep.

“Come on, Saige,” he said wearily. “It’s two a.m. That’s not play time—it’s sleep time.”

“Wound an’ wound,” she said, clapping her hands.

He reached into her crib for her favorite toy—a stuffed sock monkey that had been a gift from her birth mother—and gave it to Saige. “Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.”

She immediately grabbed the monkey’s arm and cuddled it close. Then she tipped her head back to look at him, and when she smiled, he gave in with a sigh. “You know just how to wrap me around your finger, don’t you?”

“Da-da,” she said.

He touched his lips to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her baby shampoo.

She was the baby he and Dana had been wanting for most of their six-year marriage, the child they’d almost given up hope of ever having. In the last few weeks leading up to her birth, they’d finally, cautiously, started to transform one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery. They’d hung a mobile over the crib, put tiny little onesies and sleepers in the dresser, and stocked up on diapers and formula.

At the same time, they’d both been a little hesitant to believe that this time, finally, their dream of having a child would come true. Because they were aware that the birth mother could decide, at the last minute, to keep her baby. And they knew that, if she did, they couldn’t blame her.

But Lindsay Benson had been adamant. She wanted a better life for her baby than to be raised by a single mother who hadn’t yet graduated from college. She wanted her daughter to have a real family with two parents who would care for her and love her and who could afford to give her not just the necessities of life but some extras, too.

Within a few weeks, Braden had begun to suspect that he and Dana wouldn’t be that family. For some reason that he couldn’t begin to fathom—or maybe didn’t want to admit—his wife wasn’t able to bond with the baby. Every time Saige cried, Dana pushed the baby at him, claiming that she had a headache. Every time Saige needed a bottle or diaper change, Dana was busy doing something else. Every time Saige woke up in the middle of the night, Dana pretended not to hear her.

Yes, he’d seen the signs, but he’d still been optimistic that she would come around. That she just needed some more time. She’d suffered so much disappointment over the years, he was certain it was her lingering fear of losing the child they’d wanted so much that was holding her back. He refused to consider that Dana might be unhappy because their adopted daughter was so obviously not their biological child.

Then, when Saige was six weeks old, Dana made her big announcement: she didn’t really want to be a mother or a wife. She told him that she’d found an apartment and would be moving out at the end of March. Oh, and she needed a check to cover first and last month’s rent.

And Braden, fool that he was, gave it to her. Because they’d been married for six years and he honestly hoped that the separation would only be a temporary measure, that after a few months—or hopefully even sooner—she would want to come home to her husband and daughter. Except that a few weeks later, she’d died when her car was T-boned by a semi that blew through a red light.

He hadn’t told anyone that Dana was planning to leave him. He’d been blindsided by the announcement, embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to hold his marriage together. As a result, while his family tried to be supportive, no one could possibly understand how complicated and convoluted his emotions were.

He did grieve—for the life he’d imagined they might have together, and for his daughter, who had lost another mother. But he was also grateful that he had Saige—her innocent smile and joyful laugh were the sunshine in his days.

If he had any regrets, it was that his little girl didn’t have a mother. Her own had given her up so that she could have a real family with two parents. That dream hadn’t even lasted three months. Now it was just the two of them.

“Well, the two of us and about a thousand other Garretts,” he said to his little girl. “And everyone loves you, so maybe I should stop worrying that you don’t have a Mommy.”

“Ma-ma,” Saige said.

And despite Braden’s recent assertion, he sighed. “You’ve been listening to your grandma, haven’t you?”

“Ga-ma.”

“You’ll see Grandma tomorrow—no,” he amended, glancing at his watch. “In just a few hours now.”

She smiled again.

“And I bet you’ll have another three-hour nap for her, won’t you?”

“Choo-choo.”

“After she takes you to the library to play with the trains,” he confirmed.

She clapped her hands together again, clearly thrilled with his responses to her questions.

Of course, thinking about the library made him think about Cassie. And thinking about Cassie made him want Cassie.

The physical attraction was unexpected but not unwelcome. If anything, his feelings for the librarian reassured him that, despite being a widower and single father, he was still a man with the usual wants and needs.

Unfortunately, Cassie didn’t seem like the kind of woman to indulge in a no-strings affair, and he wasn’t prepared to offer any more than that.

* * *

Cassie had updated the bulletin board in the children’s section to suggest Spring into a Good Book and was pinning cardboard flowers to the board when Stacey found her.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” her friend and coworker said.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothing aside from the fact that I’m dying to hear all of the details about your hottie,” Stacey admitted.

“Who?”

“Don’t play that game with me,” the other woman chided. “Megan told me you went for coffee with a new guy yesterday.”

Cassie acknowledged that with a short nod. “Braden Garrett.”

“As in the Garrett Furniture Garretts?”

She nodded.

“Not just hot but rich,” Stacey noted. “Does this mean you’ve decided to end your dating hiatus?”

“Not with Braden Garrett,” she said firmly.

“Because hot and rich men aren’t your type?” her friend asked, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Because arrogant and insulting men aren’t my type,” Cassie clarified, as she added some fluffy white clouds to the blue sky.

“Which button of yours did he push?” Stacey asked, absently rubbing a hand over her pregnant belly.

“He asked if this was my real job.”

“Ouch. Okay, so he’s an idiot,” her coworker agreed. “But still—” she held out her hands as if balancing scales “—a hot and rich idiot.”

“And then he apologized,” she admitted.

“So points for that,” Stacey said.

“Maybe,” Cassie allowed. “He also told me he’s attracted to me.”

“Gotta love a guy who tells it like it is.”

“Maybe,” she said again.

Stacey frowned at her noncommittal response. “Are you not attracted to him?”

“A woman would have to be dead not to be attracted to him,” she acknowledged. “But he’s also a widower with a child.”

“And you love kids,” her friend noted.

“I do.” And it was her deepest desire to be a mother someday. “But I don’t want to get involved in another relationship with someone who might not actually be interested in me but is only looking for a substitute wife.”

“You’re not going to be any kind of wife if you don’t start dating again,” Stacey pointed out to her.

“I’m not opposed to dating,” she denied. “I’m just not going to date Braden Garrett.”