He grinned as he realized a bed wasn't required.
He'd been pretty creative in his dreams. Based on what he remembered, he could happily make love
with her just about anywhere. One particularly vivid
nocturnal event had been of him holding her up
against a wall. She'd wrapped her bare legs around
him and he'd
He groaned as heat and pressure poured into his
groin. Determined not to arrive back at the B&B
with a hard-on the size of
Argentina
, he concen
trated on the road and forced himself to think about
how the houses lining the streets would look if they
were all painted green.
The distraction nearly worked. By the time he
pulled up in front of the B&B, he was no longer
hard, although a dull ache lingered. It throbbed in
time with his heartbeat. Experience told him it
would go away... eventually.
He climbed out of his rental car and started to
ward the large house. As he walked along the path,
he heard sounds coming from a small gatehouse by
the driveway. The front door was open.
Nash changed directions. When he reached the
gatehouse, the faint sounds became a song on the
radio. He followed the music into an empty living
room in the midst of being sanded and patched. Stephanie stood in a doorway about fifteen feet
away. She had a piece of sandpaper in each hand.
That morning she'd been dressed in what he
thought of as her "public" clothes. Tailored slacks,
a dark pink sweater. While he'd been gone, she'd
changed into jeans and a T-shirt. A scarf covered
her head.
As he watched, she reached up and rubbed at a
spot well above her head. Her T-shirt rode up, ex
posing a bit of stomach. Instantly his groin sprang
to life. What was it about this woman and her belly?
Shouldn't he be finding her breasts erotic, or even
her legs?
“
You need a ladder," he said conversationally.
She jumped and squeaked, then glared at him. "I
have to go to the grocery store in the next couple
of days. I swear I'm going to swing through the pet department and buy you a collar with a bell."
“It's not going to fit."
“I'll put it around your wrist."
“
You'll have to wrestle me into submission
first."
He'd meant the comment as a joke, but at his
words, her eyes darkened and awareness sharpened
her features. Tension crackled in the empty room.
So this attraction wasn't all one-sided, he thought
with satisfaction. Not that the information meant
anything. Stephanie was a single mom with three
kids. Which meant she wasn't exactly the kind of
woman looking for a good time with no commit
ment. Too bad.
He might want her, but there was no way he
would take advantage of her. He'd grown up with a
single mom and he knew how hard that life could
be. He wasn't there to contribute to the problem.
He ignored the tension and the need snapping between them and pointed to the bare walls.
“
Is this going to be the presidential suite for Se
renity House?" he asked.
Stephanie blinked slowly, as if coming out of a
trance. "What? Oh. No. It's for me and the kids."
He glanced around at the old gatehouse. It wasn't
huge, although there was a second story. "Why
would you want to move?"
“
It's always been the plan." She rubbed a piece
of sandpaper against the door frame, then shook her
head and leaned against the wood. "When Marty
and I bought the property, we'd intended to fix this
place up and move here. That way there would be
more rooms to rent out. When he died, my first priority was to get rooms ready for paying guests and
this project got put on the back burner. I'm hoping
to get it done by midsummer."
“
Isn't there more room for you and the kids at
the main house?"
“
Technically, yes, but when we have a lot of
guests, the boys have to be quiet. We're on the third floor with guests underneath. They really try to co
operate, but they're young. Plus I hate reminding
them all the time. I don't want their only memories of their childhood to be 'stop making noise.' We're
all willing to sacrifice space for privacy."
“Makes sense. Mind if I look around?"
“Help yourself." He walked through the living room. There was a
fireplace at one end, with built-in bookcases on ei
ther side. Large windows opened up to the street.
The door on the right led to a short hallway and the
stairs. There were two bedrooms in back, a bath
room, a kitchen that led to a small dining room,
which opened onto the living room. Stephanie stood
in that doorway. At the very rear of the house was
a utility room with washer and dryer hookups.
Nash climbed the stairs and found a good-size
master bedroom with a private bath. The ceilings
were high on both floors, and the rooms had big
windows, molding and lots of painted wood trim.
He returned to the living room. "Very nice," he
said. "Only three bedrooms, though. Will the twins share?"
“
They already do and they love it, so that's not
a problem." Nash watched her work for about thirty seconds.
When she stretched up past her reach again, the flash
of belly skin hit him like a sucker punch.
“
Go sand something closer to the floor," he
growled and grabbed a piece of sandpaper.
She spun toward him. "What?"
“You're not tall enough. I'll do that."
Her gaze narrowed. "I'm perfectly capable of do
ing this myself."
“
Not without a ladder." He set his hands on her
upper arms and gently moved her out of the way.
For a brief second he had the impression of curves,
heat and feminine scent, then he deliberately turned
his back on temptation and went to work on the top
of the door frame.
“I can't let you do this," she said.
“
Never turn down the offer of free labor. It may
not happen again."
“But you're a guest."
“I'm restless and bored. I need something to do."
She laughed. "Right. How silly. Of course I'm
the one doing
you
a favor by letting you help me.
Why didn't I see that before?"
“Beats me."
He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her chin jut
ted out and she had her hands on her hips, as if
prepared to do battle.
“Just say thank-you and let it go," he told her.
“
But I..." She sighed. "Thank you, Nash. I ap
preciate the help. As long as that's what we call it.
Your attempt to guilt me into this by pretending I
was doing you a favor was pretty pathetic."
“I've always been told I think fast on my feet."
“I'm a mother of three boys. That makes me a
professional in the guilt arena. You're not even close
to my league."
He chuckled and returned his attention to the
sanding. Under the layers of paint was beautiful old wood, still in great shape.
“
Whoever built these houses knew what they
were doing," he said. "Good-quality material and
great construction."
“Whenever I panic about the mortgage, I remind
myself that the B&B will outlast the payments by
at least a century. Not that I plan to be around that
long."
“The boys will appreciate the inheritance."
“I hope so. If one of them wants to take over the
business, that's great. If not, I won't push them.
They can sell the house and split the money."
“You're doing some long-term planning."
“I'm a detail person. I try to be responsible. My
husband used to tell me I was anal. I guess that
comes from being an only child." She knelt on the
floor and started sanding the baseboards.
“Not necessarily. I was the responsible one in our
family," he said. "As my brother and I are fraternal
twins, I can't claim to be the oldest. It's just the way
things worked out. I did the right thing and Kevin
was a professional screw-up. He used to get
grounded about three times a week."
Now Nash could smile at the memory, but when
it was happening, he used to worry a lot about his
brother and how much his mom had to deal with.
“Did he turn out all right?" Stephanie asked.
“
Yeah. When we were still in high school, Kevin
stole a car. He and his buddies were just joyriding, but the owner pressed charges. It was the last straw
for my mom. Kevin was packed off to military
school. Apparently the experience scared some
sense into him. From there he went to college. After
that he became a cop. He joined the
U.S.
Marshals
a few years ago. That's where he is now."
“Talk about a turnaround," she said.
“
He's done well." He was pleased by his
brother's success, if a little surprised by his sudden engagement.
Nash moved to the dining-room side of the door
frame and continued sanding. "Kevin and I had
lunch with two of my half brothers today. Travis
and Kyle Haynes.”
“How did that go?"
“
Okay. They filled us in on all the brothers and
their families. I don't think we're going to be able
to keep everyone straight. They're all married and
have kids."
Stephanie rubbed the sandpaper along the base
board, while Nash tried to keep his attention on his
work and off her fanny. With her kneeling like that,
her butt stuck up in the air. He was charmed.
“
I can't imagine what it would be like to discover
a ready-made family," she said and glanced up at
him. "What? Am I doing this all wrong?"
“No. You're fine."
“You're looking at me."
He couldn't argue with that. "Want me to work
with my eyes closed?"
She rubbed her cheek with her free hand. "Do I
look awful?"
“
That's not possible." Her eyes widened and color crept up her face. She
ducked her head and began sanding with short, in
tense strokes. "Great compliment," she murmured.
"I wouldn't mind that one stitched on a pillow for
my really bad days."
The tension had returned, and with it a longing to
do more than just make love. He wanted to touch
her and hold her. He wanted to connect.
Where the hell had that thought come from? Nash frowned and returned his attention to his work. No connecting, remember? No relationships. No messy emotions. No disasters.
She cleared her throat. "About your family. There
are four brothers and a half sister. At least that's
what I've heard. Wait, if she's a half sister, is she
still related to you?"
He appreciated the change in subject. "Appar
ently. She and the brothers share the same father, as
do Kevin and I."
“
I'd heard that Earl Haynes was something of a
ladies' man. How did he meet your mother?"
Nash sanded harder. "She was seventeen and
working in a concession stand at the convention cen
ter in
Dallas
. Earl Haynes was in town for a few
days. They met, he was charming. Next thing she
knew, she was pregnant and he was gone."
He glanced at Stephanie. She sat back on her
heels.