She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of man she’d expected Evan Graham to be.

Hannah had known he wasn’t a fool when she’d talked to him on the phone. She wouldn’t have invited him out to the house for an interview if she had. Mostly she thought he’d be a little older, and maybe just a little softer and wearier around the edges.

But the man now pausing on the porch seemed not only much too vibrant, but also much too accomplished to be truly interested in the type of work she had to offer him.

She was a thirty-two-year-old widow with a five-year-old son, looking to hire a gardener-slash-handyman to help out on her property, not hoping to snag a boyfriend.

But she couldn’t deny the sight of Evan Graham had awakened something in her.

Dear Reader,

June, the ideal month for weddings, is the perfect time to celebrate true love. And we are doing it in style here at Silhouette Special Edition as we celebrate the conclusion of several wonderful series. With For the Love of Pete, Sherryl Woods happily marries off the last of her ROSE COTTAGE SISTERS. It’s Jo’s turn this time—and she’d thought she’d gotten Pete Catlett out of her system for good. But at her childhood haven, anything can happen! Next, MONTANA MAVERICKS: GOLD RUSH GROOMS concludes with Cheryl St. John’s Million-Dollar Makeover. We finally learn the identity of the true heir to the Queen of Hearts Mine—and no one is more shocked than the owner herself, the plain-Jane town…dog walker. When she finds herself in need of financial advice, she consults devastatingly handsome Riley Douglas—but she soon finds his influence exceeds the business sphere….

And speaking of conclusions, Judy Duarte finishes off her BAYSIDE BACHELORS miniseries with The Matchmakers’ Daddy, in which a wrongly imprisoned ex-con finds all kinds of second chances with a beautiful single mother and her adorable little girls. Next up in GOING HOME, Christine Flynn’s heartwarming miniseries, is The Sugar House, in which a man who comes home to right a wrong finds himself falling for the woman who’s always seen him as her adversary. Patricia McLinn’s next book in her SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW… miniseries, Baby Blues and Wedding Bells, tells the story of a man who suddenly learns that his niece is really…his daughter. And in The Secrets Between Them by Nikki Benjamin, a divorced woman who’s falling hard for her gardener learns that he is in reality an investigator hired by her ex-father-in-law to try to prove her an unfit mother.

So enjoy all those beautiful weddings, and be sure to come back next month! Here’s hoping you catch the bouquet….

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

The Secrets Between Them
Nikki Benjamin

www.millsandboon.co.uk

NIKKI BENJAMIN

was born and raised in the Midwest, but after years in the Houston area, she considers herself a true Texan. Nikki says she’s always been an avid reader. (Her earliest literary heroines were Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden and Beany Malone.) Her writing experience was limited, however, until a friend started penning a novel and encouraged Nikki to do the same. One scene led to another, and soon she was hooked.

For Bert, Geri and Jill Church with deepest appreciation

for welcoming me so warmly into your

lovely Appalachian mountain home.

Special thanks, as well, to Geri and my son, Nick,

for all of your help with Hannah’s garden.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Hannah James heard the crunch of tires on the long, winding, gravel drive that connected her beloved North Carolina mountain home to the longer, even more winding road to Boone with an odd mixture of emotions. Certainly uppermost was a sense of relief.

The man with the pleasant voice who had called an hour earlier in response to her ad in the local paper had obviously followed through with his promise. He had come, as she’d hoped he would, to meet with her in person to discuss more fully the job she had on offer.

But a small measure of apprehension also made Hannah’s stomach flutter. Not all that long ago—almost a year to be exact—she had sworn that she would never allow another man into her life, much less onto her property.

Unfortunately, she had made that vow without taking into account the amount of work necessary to transform the run-down greenhouses and overgrown gardens into the kind of thriving business that had once provided her parents with a source of income. Nor had she fully acknowledged just how alone she was in the world following the death of her husband—she and her five-year-old son, Will.

Her parents had died within a few months of each other almost seven years ago, leaving her with no close family until her marriage to Stewart James. She’d had a small circle of friends in Boone, of course, and she’d always been on good terms with her nearby neighbors. But isolated as she’d been during the last two years of Stewart’s life, she had gradually lost contact with all of them.

She’d had no one to whom she could turn for help. At least no one to whom she could comfortably turn, Hannah amended, remembering the speculative glint she’d seen in Stewart’s father’s eyes whenever his gaze fixed on Will at the funeral service.

Stewart had thwarted his father’s wishes in many small ways over the years, starting long before she had met him. But Randall James had been most incensed by his son’s decision to marry someone as plain and as poor as he’d considered Hannah to be. He’d refused to attend their wedding ceremony and had followed through on his threat to cut off Stewart financially. To Stewart’s credit, he hadn’t minded in the least. He’d said more than once that they were better off estranged from the old man than living under his control.

Randall had chosen to keep his distance even after Will was born. Though Hannah had sent him a card announcing the arrival of his grandson, he hadn’t responded in any way. She hadn’t told Stewart about his father’s frigid indifference. But she’d remembered it well enough that she hadn’t gone to the man for help when Stewart first began to act irrationally. She’d been sure that if the old man acknowledged her at all, it would only be to blame her for his son’s violent mood swings—just as she’d blamed herself.

Hannah hadn’t been able to justify denying Randall’s right to know his son had died, however. Though she might have if she’d known how he’d treat her at the funeral service. He had spoken not a word to her until they were ready to leave the cemetery, but he didn’t once take his eyes off Will. Hannah had found his sudden, intense interest frightening, with good reason, as she’d soon discovered.

Grasping her arm roughly, he’d halted her progress to the waiting limousine. In a voice pitched too low to be heard by anyone else, he had quite calmly, yet quite forcefully told her just how much he was willing to pay her to hand over her son to be raised by him in the luxury of his stately home in Asheville.

His proposal had been so insane that Hannah had laughed in his face. In a fit of rage, Randall had accused her of using Stewart all along to gain financially. He even went so far as to say she had probably allowed him to die just so she could collect on his life insurance policy. Then he had questioned her mental stability in such a sinister manner that a chill had crept up her spine—

“Mommy, Mommy, somebody’s coming up the drive.” Abandoning the tower of wooden blocks he’d been building in the middle of the brightly colored rag rug on the living room floor, Will joined her by the long, wide window that faced east down the gentle slope of the mountain. “Who is it, Mommy? Who is it?” he asked, his high young voice animated with excitement.

Hardly anyone had come to visit them in the past year. To be honest, hardly anyone had come to visit them since Will had been old enough to notice. His enthusiasm at the prospect of their having a guest—any guest, no matter the reason—spoke volumes to Hannah of his obvious need to socialize.

She had been able to justify keeping to herself in the weeks right after Stewart’s death, as well as through the long winter months when snow and ice often made travel difficult, even dangerous. But with the onset of spring, Hannah knew that she could, and should, start taking Will on walks to visit their neighbors and making the drive into Boone with him for more than gasoline and groceries.

“I imagine it’s the man who called about the ad I put in the paper for someone to help with the gardens,” she said as a late-model Jeep slowly rounded the last curve in the drive and came into view.

On the covered porch, sheltered from the drizzly rain, Nellie, the half-grown hound-dog puppy Hannah had adopted in September, scrambled to her feet, claws clicking on wood, and began to woof halfheartedly. Hannah had to admit that she wasn’t much of a watchdog. But Nellie had been very good company on a cold winter night, and she also trailed after Will like a mother hen, keeping a close eye on him during his daily ventures outdoors to play.

“I can help with the gardens, Mommy,” Will said as he slipped one small hand into hers.

“I know you can, sweetie, and you have, especially with the seedlings we started in the greenhouse. But there’s a lot more work to do than I expected, a lot more than we can do on our own. We’re not going to be able to get all the gardens planted as soon as we should without some extra help. You know I put an ad in the paper a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And I told you that a man called about the ad a little while ago, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Mommy. But is he a nice man?”

Will’s grip on her hand tightened perceptibly as he looked up at her with wide, anxious eyes.

“He sounded nice on the phone,” Hannah answered, attempting to reassure not only her son, but herself, as well.

She knew she was taking a chance by allowing a stranger onto her property. She wasn’t being totally irresponsible, though. She had talked to the owner of the small motel outside Boone where the man had claimed to be staying, and had been reassured that he wasn’t a transient. In fact, he checked into the motel several days ago and he’d paid for his room with a classy credit card.

The Jeep pulled to a stop a few feet from the stone path leading to the porch steps and a moment later the driver’s side door swung open.

“Do you know his name?” Will asked.

“Evan Graham.”

“Like graham crackers,” Will stated with a smile. “I like graham crackers, Mommy.”

“I know. So do I.”

“He looks nice, doesn’t he?”

“Very nice,” Hannah acknowledged, an unfamiliar curl of sexual awareness tightening in her belly.

Evan Graham strode confidently around the hood of the Jeep and up the walkway to the porch steps, hurrying just a bit to avoid the rain. He was of medium height, maybe five-ten at the most, which still gave him several inches over her shorter stature. He was neatly dressed in a red plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled a couple of turns to reveal his muscular forearms, faded jeans that fit his slender build to perfection and brown leather work boots that appeared to be almost new. His thick, straight, golden blond hair was neatly trimmed and his angular jaw clean-shaven.

Hannah knew that appearances could be deceiving, but he didn’t seem the least bit threatening as he climbed the porch steps, head down, his tread amazingly light on the well-worn wood. Then he looked up at the house, his gaze shifting slowly left to right. Intelligence evident in the assessing slant of his bright blue eyes, he took obvious note of her and Will standing by the window, acknowledging their presence with a nod and a smile.

Another flutter of apprehension had Hannah’s stomach turning somersaults all over again. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of man she’d expected Evan Graham to be.

She had known he wasn’t a fool when she’d talked to him on the phone. She wouldn’t have invited him out to the house for an interview if he was. Mostly she’d thought he’d be older—closer to fifty rather than forty—and maybe just a little softer and a little wearier around the edges.

But the man now pausing on the porch to rub Nellie’s long, silky ears as the dog wriggled up against him encouragingly seemed not only much too vibrant, but also much too accomplished to be truly interested in the type of work she had to offer him.

“Nellie likes him,” Will said.

“Nellie likes just about everybody,” Hannah reminded her son, smiling at him as she gave his hand a squeeze.

“Are you going to ask him to come inside the house?”

“That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it?”

Prompted by her son’s reminder of good manners, Hannah moved away from the window at last. Having seen her standing there, the man already knew that she was aware of his arrival. There seemed to be no need for her to wait until he knocked on the door.

She smoothed a hand over the wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid as she reached for the knob, and wished for the first time in months that cosmetics were a part of her daily routine.

In the next instant, however, Hannah chided herself for being silly. She was a thirty-two-year-old widow with a five-year-old son looking to hire a gardener-slash-handyman to help out on her property, not hoping to snag a boyfriend. But she couldn’t deny that the sight of Evan Graham had awakened something in her—something that made it all the more disappointing that he would likely turn down the job. Once he had an idea of exactly what it would involve—hard work—and what it wouldn’t—a decent wage—she knew he’d be long gone.

“Mr. Graham?” she asked as she opened the door wide, her tone cool but polite.

“Evan…Evan Graham.” He gave Nellie one last pat on her head, then straightened so that his eyes met hers, again with a shrewdness that gave her pause. Extending his hand, he added with equal formality, “And you’re Mrs. James?”

“Hannah James,” she replied, pleased by the firmness of his handshake, but also relieved that he kept it brief, and eminently impersonal.

“I’m Will,” her son announced, squeezing next to her in the doorway, his dark-eyed gaze eager and inquisitive. “And that’s Nellie, the dog.”

“Well, hello, Will. It’s very nice to meet you.” As Will giggled with delight, Evan Graham turned in Nellie’s direction and made a formal bow. “And hello to you, too, Nellie, the dog.”

“She forgot that she’s not supposed to chew on the corner of the living room rug again, so she’s having a time-out on the porch.”

“Yes, she most certainly is,” Hannah agreed with another smile for her son. Then she glanced at Evan Graham again and noted a similar softening of his expression as he, too, eyed Will with kindly interest. Reassured in a way she couldn’t quite explain, she stepped back and gestured invitingly. “Why don’t you come inside the house, Mr. Graham. It’s much warmer in the kitchen than it is on the porch, and I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied with an appreciative smile genuine enough to chase some of the iciness from his eyes.

“Can Nellie come inside the house, too? Please, can she?” Will pleaded. “I’ll play with her in the living room while you talk to Mr. Graham and I promise, promise, promise not to let her chew on the rug again.”

Nellie gazed at Hannah contritely with her soulful brown eyes, as if aware that her fate hung in the balance.

“All right,” Hannah agreed, sure that she was giving in much too easily when Nellie scrambled past her without a backward glance, ears flapping and nails clicking on the wood floor, Will galloping after her, futilely calling her name.

“Sometimes I wonder who’s really in charge around here,” Hannah admitted in a rueful tone.

“You seem to have things pretty well under control,” Evan said, stepping past her into the house, then pausing to survey his surroundings as she closed the door.

Hannah couldn’t be sure, but she thought she detected the faintest hint of surprise in his voice. She wondered what he had expected to find there as she, too, eyed the neat and tidy interior of her home.

The door to the porch opened directly into the L-shaped living room, dining room and kitchen area. The rooms were all simply furnished with a mixture of recently dusted and polished antique rosewood and mahogany furniture and a more contemporary, comfortably upholstered grouping of sofa, loveseat, chair and ottoman.

Some of Will’s toys were scattered about on the rag rug, and some of her books and gardening magazines were handily stacked on an end table. But there was no real mess in evidence—never had been.

“I learned a long time ago that it takes a lot less energy to keep up with the housework on a daily basis than to let everything go and then have to deal with the upheaval. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to apply the same effort to my greenhouses and gardens during my husband’s illness. Now I need help getting the beds cleaned out and the seedlings in the ground so I’ll have plants and produce to sell at the market this summer.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Evan said.

He followed her lead into the kitchen area and paused by the round wooden table, eyeing her expectantly.

“Yes, well…weeding beds, turning compost into the soil and dividing perennials for replanting is hard, physical labor, and moving dozens of seedlings from their little pots to garden plots can be tedious. I can’t afford to pay you much, either,” Hannah advised, considering it best to be completely honest with him at the outset.

“I understand,” he stated simply.

Turning to take mugs from a cabinet, Hannah was tempted to ask him how he could possibly understand anything about her life when she often found it hard to do herself. Evan Graham didn’t seem the type to let such a question pass, though, and she wasn’t prepared to discuss with a virtual stranger those aspects of her recent past that were better kept to herself.

“Are you still interested in the job, then?” she asked as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He met her gaze and smiled, seeming perfectly at ease in her small kitchen. Her heart fluttered as she realized that he almost seemed to belong there, too.

“In that case, have a seat and we’ll talk some more.”

With a small indrawn breath, Hannah turned away again, reached for the carafe full of hot, fresh coffee and filled both mugs.

“Cream or sugar?”

“Cream if you have it, please.”

“I do, but it’s the real thing. I have skim milk, too, if you’d rather have that.”

Holding both mugs in one hand, Hannah took spoons from a drawer and napkins from a basket on the counter with the other then carried the lot to the table.

“I’ll have the cream,” he said as she crossed to the refrigerator. “Indulgent as it is.”

“It’s a small splurge, all things considered, or so I like to tell myself,” Hannah admitted with a smile.

She retrieved the carton of cream from the refrigerator and set it on the table. Then she went over to the pantry and took the tin can of chocolate chip cookies that she’d baked yesterday afternoon off the shelf.

“Mmm, those look good,” Evan said as Hannah set the can of cookies on the table. “Another small splurge?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he favored her with a teasing smile.

“Only if you eat just one. More than that and you’ll be well on your way to intemperance,” Hannah cautioned in a playful tone—shocked that she was actually flirting with this man.

“And intemperance would be a bad thing?” he countered, bantering back easily.

“Not necessarily.”

Returning Evan’s smile ruefully, Hannah sat across from him, then looked away as she added cream to her coffee and chose a cookie from the can. She sensed his gaze on her, watchful and alert, but instinctively she sensed as well that he meant her and Will no harm. In fact, she felt quite comfortable, sitting with him in her warm, cozy kitchen, sheltered as they were from the cool, gray, rainy day.

He didn’t loom large and threatening in any way. Rather, he sat back in his chair, his posture loose, lazily stirring his coffee with the spoon he held in one long-fingered, masculine hand.

Had he cloaked himself in a brilliant disguise in order to gain entry to her home to commit some dastardly deed, she was sure that deed would have been done and he would have already been long gone.

“I have a feeling you’re rarely intemperate, Mrs. James,” Evan said, setting his spoon on a napkin, then helping himself to one of her cookies.

“Call me Hannah, please,” she insisted, then added after a moment’s thought, “And you’re right—I’m not really the intemperate type. What about you, Mr. Graham?”

“Evan, please, and no, I don’t tend to be intemperate, either, although I’m definitely having another one of these cookies. They’re delicious.”

“Thanks.”

Hannah smiled graciously, inwardly pleased with his praise. Then she shifted her gaze back to his hands again. She had expected them to be work-roughened, but they were unmarked by either scars or calluses. His nails were clean and neatly trimmed, as well, not soil-stained or ragged.

“You’re looking rather pensive all of a sudden,” he said, startling her just a little with the depth of his perception.

Though, to be honest, she had never been all that good at hiding her thoughts, more often than not causing herself a great deal of embarrassment as a result. She didn’t blush or stammer now, however. Her concern was completely legitimate.

“You’re not used to working with your hands, are you?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, he looked startled, then smiled sheepishly.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Yes, it is.”

She touched a finger to the back of her hand for just a moment by way of explanation.

“I haven’t done much gardening lately, or any other type of manual labor,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I have a problem with it.”

“What have you been doing lately…Evan?” Hannah asked, giving in to her growing curiosity about him.

“Working for a computer software company in Charlotte that was bought out by a larger company. I was downsized out the door with a moderate compensation package about a month ago.” He reached into the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and pulled out a neatly folded square of paper. “I have a list of references, personal and professional. You’re more than welcome to call them.”

Hannah took the square of paper from him, unfolded it and glanced at the names, addresses and telephone numbers neatly typed on it. Not that the list alone offered verification—she didn’t recognize any of the names on it. Still, the offer of references that she could call added to her inclination to trust in him.

Yet she couldn’t help continuing to wonder why he’d chosen to leave the city—not to mention give up the possibility of securing another lucrative white-collar job in computer technology—to work as a low-paid gardener and handyman on a farm in the mountains of North Carolina.

“So what brings you here, of all places?”

She met his gaze again, making no effort to hide her puzzlement.

“I’ve been wanting a change of pace and a change of place the past couple of years. Being downsized has given me the opportunity to make those changes. I’d really like to find out if I’m any happier working at a different kind of job in a different kind of place than I was putting in twelve-and fourteen-hour days in an office in Charlotte,” he replied without hesitation.

“But you won’t be making nearly as much money working for me,” Hannah pointed out.

“I don’t need a lot of money right now. I do, however, need a place to live in the area, at least temporarily, and your ad did say room and board was included.”

“I can offer you that,” Hannah agreed. “You’d have the room on the second floor all to yourself. It’s furnished, of course, and there’s a bathroom with a shower stall up there, too. It was my room when I was growing up, then my husband used it as his study after Will was born so we could put Will in the spare bedroom downstairs. I can also provide three meals a day as part of the package.”

“Having sampled your chocolate chip cookies, I’d say that sounds very good to me.”

He shot a wry grin her way as he took a third cookie from the can on the table.

“I am a pretty good cook,” Hannah admitted, allowing the slightest hint of pride to edge her words as she smiled, too.

“I’d like to sign on with you, then, Hannah…if you’ll have me.”

“I appreciate your interest, but in all fairness I really should take you for a walk around the property first so you’ll know exactly what you have ahead of you. Do you have any rain gear with you?”

“A jacket in the Jeep. I’ll get it and meet you on the porch, okay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hannah replied as she pushed away from the table and stood.

Evan stood, as well, picked up his mug and carried it to the sink, then started toward the door. Hannah put the lid on the cookie tin, then followed after him to collect her own rain jacket from the row of pegs on the wall.

“Can me and Nellie go with you, too?” Will asked as he scrambled to his feet along with the dog, his blocks forgotten.

“Nellie and I,” Hannah corrected gently. “And yes, you can go with us. But first get a towel from the bathroom cabinet to dry Nellie when we’re ready to come inside again.”

“Okay.”

As Will scampered off, Nellie galloping after him, Hannah turned back to Evan. She saw him watching her son, his gaze intent. The vaguely bemused look in his eyes gave her pause all over again.

Was he as honest and as decent as she wanted to believe he was? Or was he hiding something unsavory about himself and his reason for being there behind a careful facade meant to give her a false sense of security?

“Is something wrong?” she asked him, her voice wavering with sudden uncertainly.

Immediately, Evan Graham focused his attention on her once again, his expression shifting smoothly, softening in the merest blink of an eye.

“Not at all, Mrs. James. I was just thinking how lucky you are to have such a happy, healthy son.”

His friendly, open manner made it easy to shake off her doubts about him. Too easy, perhaps, but the condition of her greenhouses and gardens had turned her into a beggar who couldn’t afford to be a chooser. She wanted—needed—him to check out okay for the sake of her business. It didn’t have anything to do with the way his presence made her feel.

“Yes, I’m very lucky to have such a happy, healthy son,” she said.

Evan Graham nodded once, seeming to confirm something in his own mind. Then he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

“Guess I’d better get my jacket so you can give me the grand tour.”

“You’ll get wet otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Hannah took her jacket from the peg, but made no immediate move to put it on. Instead she lurked by the window, watching as Evan Graham ambled down the walkway to his Jeep. He was an interesting and an attractive man in a lot of ways—probably too attractive to her under the circumstances, she acknowledged with a grim twist of her lips.

He was still a stranger, after all. Anyone could adopt a polite, conscientious, ingratiating manner for the short time necessary to get a foot in the door of a trusting woman. How he behaved toward her, and toward Will, on a day-to-day basis would reveal much more about the true nature of his character.

In the meantime, however, there was no harm in being glad that he seemed to want to work with her. After all the months of hurt and fear and loneliness she’d endured, she realized she was as much in need of companionship as any other living, breathing human being would have been. And she couldn’t see any harm in cautiously enjoying Evan Graham’s company.

“We’re ready,” Will announced, joining her by the window.

He’d put on his rain jacket and had a towel clutched in his arms. Beside him, Nellie wriggled excitedly.

“Let’s go then,” Hannah said as she moved away from the window.

Slipping into her jacket, as well, she savored for a long moment the sense of an adventure about to begin—small, and perhaps silly, as it might be.

Chapter Two

Evan took his rain jacket from the backseat of the Jeep and put in on slowly, giving himself a little time to organize his thoughts. Not an easy task, he admitted, considering his current state of confusion.

He had rarely been as disconcerted by anyone’s appearance or behavior as he’d been by that of Hannah James. She hadn’t been anything like the kind of woman Randall James had described to him less than a week ago. With her long, dark hair pulled back in a single, simple, neatly twined braid and not an ounce of makeup on her face, there had been no outer artifice about her at all. And although the jeans, red sweater and low-heeled, ankle-high boots she wore hadn’t been new, they were most certainly neat and clean.

Nor had Hannah acted in any way like the evil, avaricious and unfeeling person her former father-in-law had accused her of being. For someone who had supposedly allowed her husband to die in order to collect money from his life insurance policy, she seemed to live a very simple, very quiet life.

Either Hannah James had magically transformed herself into a warm, kind, honest, loving mother, her home into a serene and orderly haven and her son into a normal, happy, healthy five-year-old, or his client had lied to him point-blank.

Years of working as a police officer and then as a private investigator had honed Evan’s ability to read people. He was successful enough to choose his clients, and he did so based largely on his belief that they were being honest with him.

He rarely missed the signs that someone was lying to him. In fact, he couldn’t recall one time that he’d taken on a new client only to discover that he’d been grossly and very likely intentionally misled.

Granted, there were always two sides to any story. People seldom viewed the same situation in exactly the same way, and when the people involved were also adversaries, there was an even greater chance of disparity between them. Evan had learned that accusations could sometimes be wrapped in exaggeration.

A lonely, insecure wife would paint her friendly, mildly flirtatious, desperate-to-meet-a-deadline-at-the-office husband as a carousing ladies’ man who cheated on her regularly. The owner of a small company, upon seeing an occasionally rabble-rousing employee driving an expensive new car, would assume the employee was stealing from him in some way.

Or a wealthy man who had recently lost his only son would insist without the slightest hesitation that his grandson’s life was being endangered by a scheming, psychotic mother who insisted on forcing the child to live in poverty, isolation and quite possibly even degradation.

Evan had talked to Randall James first by telephone and then face-to-face when he had met with the man at his office in Charlotte. Evan had asked questions and Randall had answered in a seemingly forthright manner, his gaze direct, hands resting quietly on the arms of his chair. Not once had he resorted to histrionics. Yet Randall’s concern had been more than evident, and understandable, as well, to Evan.

Quite understandable, in fact, considering the kind of childhood he’d had, living in debilitating poverty in the so-called care of a mother who had been anything but loving and protective, especially when she was busy drinking herself into oblivion. Rescuing children from similar circumstances involving parental abuse had been a top priority of Evan’s for many years.

But Hannah and her son weren’t living in debilitating poverty. Her home was warm and inviting, as well as sturdy and secure, not some run-down shack barely providing a roof over her head. He wondered if Randall James had ever actually been there, then decided he couldn’t possibly have been and still describe the place in such a derogatory way.

Nor had Evan been able to detect the slightest sign of either scheming or psychosis in Hannah James. She had seemed a little shy, but in an endearing kind of way. And she’d been wary of him, of course, as any woman living on her own with any sense at all would be wary of a strange man, no matter how presentable he appeared to be.

She would have to take some chances in order to find the help she needed, though. That she seemed interested in taking a chance on him certainly worked in his favor.

But if Randall James had lied to him about Hannah, was there really any need for him to sign on with her in the guise of hired help?

Evan still found it hard to believe that he had been fooled so completely by the man. Had his usually sharp and savvy instincts taken a temporary powder during his meeting with Randall James? Or was Hannah James a highly skilled actress, masterfully hiding her conniving and her craziness behind a mask of normalcy edged with sweetness and light?

It would take a huge amount of talent to pull off such a performance for more than a few days—a week at the most. Though why she would feel the need to impress the likes of him Evan couldn’t say. She knew him only as a man in search of a job and a place to live. And forcing a five-year-old child to appear happy when he wasn’t had to be almost impossible to do.

Seeing Hannah, Will and Nellie the dog step out of the house onto the porch, Evan hesitated a moment longer, eyeing the threesome thoughtfully, trying to decide whether to stay or to go. When Hannah caught sight of him, raised her hand and waved to him, he finished fastening the snaps down the front of his jacket, his decision finally made.

He could see no immediate harm in investigating Hannah James a little further. She had been living with the boy in relative isolation, not only according to Randall, but also according to the few people he’d managed to question in Boone, and that did cause Evan some concern. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t be able to hide her true nature from him for long, living in the house with her, as he’d be. It wouldn’t cost him anything except a week of his time, and Randall James was paying him quite handsomely for that already.

Though Evan wasn’t choosing to continue his charade awhile longer out of any sense of duty to the man. Instead he felt a responsibility toward young Will to determine whether he really was a happy, healthy child, safe and secure in his widowed mother’s care.

Pulling up the hood of his jacket to fend off the heavy mist in the mountain air as Hannah and Will had done, Evan joined them at the foot of the porch steps. Nellie wriggled up to him, poked her cold nose into the palm of his hand, snuffled a moment, then loped off along an overgrown stone path that led around the far side of the house. Will took off after her, as well, calling her name to no apparent good.

“It’s pretty wet out here, and muddy, too. Are you sure you want to risk ruining your new boots?” Hannah asked, peering up at him from under the brim of the dark green hood framing her face.

The hesitation Evan heard in her voice coupled with the concern that shadowed her soft brown eyes reminded him anew of how the real Hannah James didn’t jibe with the Hannah James he’d expected to find there. She was considerate almost to a fault, and in a way that spoke to him of caution. It was almost as if she were trying to guess at what might upset or annoy him so as to avoid having it happen.

“They’re meant to be work boots and I was told they’re waterproof. Might as well put them to the test,” he replied.

“All right, then,” she said with obvious relief. “Let’s start with the greenhouses.”

As Hannah turned and headed down the stone path, Evan realized how easily and how naturally she blended into the lush spring landscape. She moved with grace and confidence, head up and shoulders squared, leading him wordlessly into her world. He followed after her with a willingness that had more to do with her womanly allure than his real reason for being there.

Evan had already noted the sturdiness of her cedar-plank house. He had also seen that although her property was situated on the gentle slope of a heavily wooded mountain, the area around the house had been neatly carved into a series of clearings. These clearings led in terraced steps from the main road to the house, then on past the house for a good way before running, once again, into dense forest growth.

Years of hard work had obviously gone into creating this quiet, peaceful place that seemed to him like a hidden jewel. But the neglect Hannah had mentioned was obvious, as well. Barely able to discern the borders of various beds almost hidden by an odd mix of deadfall and new vegetation now running rampant, Evan understood immediately just how desperate she had to be for help.

“It’s really gotten away from me,” she said, gesturing all around her with one hand as she glanced back at him. “But I guess you can see that for yourself.”

“Everything looks very green and lush to me. But I admit I’m not much good at telling weeds from whatever’s worth cultivating,” Evan replied.

“There are perennials coming up under all the stuff that died off over the winter, but there are lots of weeds, too. We’ll have to clear out the dead stuff first, of course, then get rid of the weeds, divide the perennials for replanting as necessary and turn compost into the soil.”

She gestured again at a large, square, wooden box about four feet tall that Evan assumed held her compost heap.

“The vegetable gardens and apple trees are on the slope down from the house,” she continued. “I’ve pruned the trees already, but the vegetable gardens have to be cleared and composted, as well. Then we’ll have to plant the seedlings I’ve started in the greenhouses.”

“Sounds like you’ve done a lot of work already,” Evan acknowledged.

“Actually, I’ve barely scratched the surface,” Hannah admitted with another glance over her shoulder, concern still evident in her eyes. “The really hard work is yet to be done.”

“I’ve never minded hard work,” Evan said, wanting to reassure her.

Too late he realized that he was actually leading her on. He was only there to find out if she was endangering her son in any way, and he wouldn’t likely need more than a week to make that determination. Then he would return to his office in Charlotte, write up a report for Randall James, collect the remainder of his fee and immediately get busy on another case.

He would only be able to help Hannah make a small dent in all the work that needed to be done before he left her on her own again. The thought didn’t sit well with him.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Hannah said.

Once again, her tone held more than a hint of relief, causing Evan to suffer another irksome twinge of conscience. He could try to justify his reasons for deceiving Hannah James, but bottom line, he knew that at the very least he was going to willfully become a source of grave disappointment to her.

Such a probability left him feeling oddly ashamed and apologetic. Still, he had a job to do—one that involved the well-being of a five-year-old child. For Evan, the good of the boy had to come first. Hannah could take care of herself; Will couldn’t.

As they rounded the house, Evan saw the object of his concern waiting patiently for them, along with Nellie, by the door of one of two small, old-fashioned, glass-windowed greenhouses a few yards ahead. He had expected them to be larger, longer and lower like the commercial greenhouses used by wholesale nurseries. Hannah’s were much more picturesque, adding to the landscape in a most charming way.

The buildings sat side by side just beyond the wide, wood-plank deck built onto the back of the house. Not one of the panes of glass was broken, and all appeared to have been recently washed, allowing a clear view of the long tables filled with small pots within the walls. Vents with fans had also been installed to help with temperature control during the summer months that could be surprisingly warm even in the mountains. Despite the tall trees surrounding the area at a good distance, on a sunny day the greenhouses would get the full benefit of several hours of bright sunlight.

“Can I go in the greenhouse, Mommy, and check on our seedlings?” Will asked.

“Let me grab Nellie first,” Hannah replied.

Joining her son by the door, she wrapped a hand around the dog’s collar and held her back as Will slipped into the greenhouse.

“We made the mistake of taking her in the greenhouses with us when she was a puppy. Now she’s like a bull in a china shop,” Hannah explained. “She doesn’t mean to be, but she gets so excited that she wriggles and wags her tail and ends up knocking over a whole shelf of little peat pots before we can stop her.”

“Poor girl,” Evan said, reaching out to scratch the dog’s floppy ears. “You’re just too happy for your own good, aren’t you?”

Nellie gazed up at him and offered a woof in seeming agreement, making Hannah smile along with him.

She urged him to go into the greenhouse, then to the dog she ordered sternly, “Sit, Nellie and stay,” and followed after him.

Though the greenhouse wasn’t very large at all, the interior was laid out in a surprisingly spacious way. The air was warmer inside than outside the glass walls, but the humidity wasn’t as dense as Evan had expected, and smelled of rich, dark soil and green, leafy things.

The rows of tables were chock-full of little pots and trays filled with small, yet obviously healthy plants, all of which looked about the same to him. Will had no trouble telling one from another, though. Standing by the table against the south-facing wall of windows, he pointed here and there with excitement and delight.

“Look, Mommy, look, Mr. Graham—the tomatoes are really starting to grow now. So are the green peppers and the lettuce and the cucumbers and the squash. We’re going to have to start moving them out to the beds really soon.”

“I know,” Hannah agreed, then to Evan she added, “We’ll have to start clearing out the vegetable gardens as soon as the rain lets up—hopefully tomorrow if the latest weather forecast can be trusted. We’re also going to have to move the seedlings outside to get them hardened off for life in the beds.”

“Hardened off?” Evan eyed her quizzically.

“Seedlings started in a greenhouse are sheltered from the wind, strong sun and varying temperatures. They need to develop tougher tissues gradually before they’re planted in the ground. Otherwise they don’t grow and produce as well as they should.”

“I see,” Evan said. “I also see that there is a lot more to gardening than I ever imagined.”

“You have no idea.” Hannah rolled her eyes, then met his gaze, her smile questing. “I hope I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not at all. But…”

Evan hesitated, trying to decide how best to word the questions that had sprung to mind as he’d realized just how labor-intensive it was to grow fruits, vegetables and flowers to sell at the local market. He didn’t want to offend Hannah by appearing to doubt the wisdom of trying to support herself and her son in such a way. Nor did he want to make her unduly suspicious of him by seeming overly interested in her financial situation.

“That but didn’t sound encouraging,” she prompted after a long moment, her smile fading. “Especially since you haven’t even seen the vegetable gardens yet.”

“Not to worry. I’m still interested in the job,” he assured her. “I was just wondering if the return is worth all the work involved.”

“I admit I’ll never get rich selling produce at the market in town. But the gardens helped to provide an income for my parents, and I don’t need a lot of money to get by. I own several hundred acres of land and the house free and clear, and I have savings set aside from my husband’s life insurance policy for Will’s education. I’ve also been thinking about going back to teaching since he’ll be starting kindergarten in the fall. In the meantime, it seems a shame not to use the gardens as they were meant to be.

“There isn’t much of a financial return, all things considered. But the real return for me is in having a hand in producing things that give me pleasure. If you plan to stick around, you’ll see what I mean.”

“Sounds to me like it would be a shame if I didn’t.”

Not an outright lie, but still enough of a prevarication to make Evan look away from her sweet, steady, all-too-hopeful gaze. He wondered why there couldn’t be just one thing about Hannah James that he didn’t like. Yet at the same time, he was grateful that there wasn’t.

“I really should let you reserve judgment until you’ve seen the vegetable gardens.”

“Well, then, let’s take a look at them.”

With Will and Nellie again leading the way, Evan and Hannah followed another meandering path set with stones around the other side of the house and across the gravel drive. The vegetable gardens were more easily discernible than the flower gardens had been because they were built-up and partitioned off with foot-high wooden frames. But they were just as badly overgrown as the flower beds.

From beyond the clearing in a place hidden by the forest growth came the musical sound of water flowing.

“Do you have a creek back there?” Evan asked.

“It runs from a spring up above the house. There are actually several springs on the property, one of which also serves as our major source of water.” Hannah pointed up the slope to where the tree line began. “I have a holding tank up above the house. The water from the spring collects there and then it’s piped into the house. I have a water heater, of course, so hot, as well as cold, running water is always available.”

“That’s good to know.” Evan grinned at her, honestly relieved, then turned his attention back to the vegetable gardens, asking, “Do you have any problems with critters getting into the beds?”

“Chicken wire around the beds will keep out the rabbits and the occasional deer that comes to call, and plastic netting keeps out the birds once the little veggies start to appear.”

“We can make a scarecrow, too,” Will advised, flitting to Hannah’s side, then flitting away again, Nellie loping after him. “Just like the one in my favorite storybook.”

“A real scarecrow?” Evan asked in a teasing tone.

“What can I say? The fun never ends around here.” Hannah turned on the path back to the house. “I can show you the upstairs room now, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much,” Evan agreed.

“Come on, Will. Time to go back to the house,” she called out to her son.

“Okay, Mommy.”

“You said something earlier about pruning your apple trees,” Evan said as he walked along the path beside her.

“I have a very small orchard.” Hannah waved a hand at a dozen trees, limbs bright with new green leaves, in a clearing farther down the drive. “The trees have bloomed and tiny apples are already starting to grow. We’ll have to do some composting down there, too. I also have several walnut trees at the end of the drive. They’re big and old and pretty much take care of themselves.”

“That’s a relief,” Evan quipped.

“Oh, it is,” Hannah agreed.

Again Evan couldn’t help but be taken aback by the sheer amount of physical labor necessary just to prepare for the growing season. He didn’t want to even think about what must be involved in maintenance once the plants had been set in the beds, because that would also entail thinking about Hannah either having to look for help again or having to do it all alone.

Tramping along with her in the mist, breathing in the clear, cold air, the dancing waters of the creek providing background music, Evan told himself that he was there only to confirm Will’s safety in his mother’s care. Yet he couldn’t deny that an odd sense of peace had settled over him.

Years had passed since he’d last spent time enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of the natural world. Cooped up in his office, a rented room or a vehicle, and tied to electronic tools of his trade, his experience of the great outdoors had consisted mainly of viewing it from a window. But that was about to change—at least for a week—and he was looking forward to it with a surprising edge of anticipation.

Leaving Will on the porch to towel off Nellie—a task both boy and dog appeared to enjoy—Hannah and Evan took a moment to dry the soles of their boots on the mat, then headed into the house. At Hannah’s invitation, Evan hung his jacket on one of the pegs next to hers, followed her across the living room and up the steep, narrow, creaking flight of wooden steps that led to the second floor of the house.

At the top of the staircase a short hall led to a doorway that opened into a long, spacious room built under the eaves of the slanting roof. One end held a bed piled with pillows in white, lace-edged cases and covered with a patchwork quilt done in muted shades of blue and rose and green. A nightstand beside the bed held a brass lamp and there was also a small dresser with a mirror against the far wall.

At the opposite end of the room sat a chair and ottoman upholstered in blue-and-white striped fabric. A row of built-in bookcases full of books lined part of the wall, and there was also a small rolltop desk and an expensive-looking, black leather desk chair, out of place enough for Evan to conclude that it must have belonged to Hannah’s husband.

On the polished wood floor were a couple of blue-and-green rag rugs. Banks of wide windows—sans blinds or curtains of any kind—were set shoulder-high in the three outside walls, as well. They not only let in the meager light of the gray day, but also framed views of the woodland treetops that seemed closer when seen from this snug and tranquil aerie.

“The bathroom is over there,” Hannah said, nodding toward a doorway that opened into a small, separate area that held a pedestal-style sink, a toilet and a narrow shower stall.

“It’s very nice,” Evan said with honest appreciation.

“Private, too. You can come up here anytime you want and no one will disturb you,” Hannah advised. “You should be fairly comfortable….”

“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable,” Evan assured her.

“So…are you still interested?” she asked as she turned to leave the room.

“Yes, I am. I can plan to be here first thing tomorrow morning, if you want to hire me.”

“I’m very interested. I’ll have to check your references, of course—you understand—but why don’t you plan to be here tomorrow morning around eight o’clock?” She paused by the door to the porch, took his jacket from the peg and held it out to him. “I’ll call you at the hotel if there’s a problem.”

“Eight it is, unless I hear from you otherwise,” Evan agreed.

He had given her the name and telephone number of the motel where he was staying when he’d talked to her earlier. As he put on his jacket and prepared to leave, he wondered if she would call there later that evening to tell him not to come back.

Evan doubted it, considering how much help she needed with her gardens. Everyone on his list of references would cover for him, as well. While all were valid friends and business associates, they had been advised in advance of who Hannah James was and why she might be calling them. Still, the fact that she wanted to check him out more thoroughly rather than blindly inviting him to stay in her home only fed his doubts about Randall’s claims.

“Be careful on the drive back to Boone,” she said, opening the door for him.

“I will.”

On the porch, Will was playing tug with Nellie. The dog had one end of the soggy towel gripped in her teeth and was growling playfully, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

“I’m just about done, Mommy,” the boy said, then shrieked as Nellie pulled the towel out of his hands and took off around the side of the porch. “Come back, Nellie, come back!”

“Looks like I’d better get another towel…or two,” Hannah said with a rueful grin, adding to Evan as he walked down the porch steps, “See you tomorrow, then?”

“Unless I hear otherwise,” he confirmed, then climbed into the Jeep, fit his key in the ignition and started the engine as Hannah reached through the open doorway, grabbed her jacket and went off after boy and dog.

Evan didn’t relish the long journey back to Boone on rain-slick, winding mountain roads. But in a strange way he needed to put some distance between himself and Hannah, physically as well as mentally.

Nothing about her appearance or her manner had been intentionally alluring—not that he could deny finding her that way. Nor had he seen any reason to be concerned about leaving her alone with her son. Yet he didn’t want to leave her, and perversely enough that lack of want made the need even more imperative.

Hannah James had put him at ease with her gentleness and her warmth, her consideration and concern. She had seemed so genuine, so open and so honest that as he guided the Jeep down the gravel drive, fighting an urge to glance in the rearview mirror, the pangs of conscience he’d suffered earlier hit him again at a deeper, more visceral level.

Evan could justify going ahead with his deception, lying to her for Will’s sake for a while longer. But he knew he’d be lying to himself if he said that he was only going back there because of the boy. The real draw was Hannah James, herself.

And there was no place in this assignment for that kind of fascination.

Considering all the lies he had already told her, the only way he could spend time with her was to sign on as hired help. He could stay a day, a week, a month, but eventually he would have only two choices—he could abandon her knowing full well how much she needed help, or he could tell her the truth about himself and reveal just how seriously he’d betrayed her trust. Lying to people was a given in his line of work. He had done it before and he would do it again, especially to protect a child. But lying to Hannah James didn’t sit easy with him.

From what he knew of her now, he believed she deserved better than that from him. But the only real alternative he had was never going back to her house at all. And that, Evan Graham acknowledged as he turned onto the main road back to Boone, he simply couldn’t do.

Chapter Three

Hannah set another tray of peat pots filled with seedlings in the sheltered area on the wood deck that she used for the first stage of hardening off the little plants. Straightening, she tipped her face to the sun, squared her shoulders and stretched to relieve the slight kink in her lower back. The pause also gave her time to realize that she was hungry.

Will and Evan Graham were likely ready for a lunch break, as well, she surmised. They had all been working hard since early that morning, and from the slant of the sun, it had to be at least noon.

Verifying that thought, Will joined her on the deck, set down the tray of seedlings he’d been carrying and eyed her hopefully as he asked, “Do you want me to go inside and make some sandwiches, Mommy?”

“How about if you help me make the sandwiches?”

She reached out and gently ruffled a hand through his thick, dark hair.

“Okay.”

“Round up Nellie, then go in the house and wash your hands while I let Mr. Graham know we’re stopping to eat lunch now.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

As Will tore off up the hill, calling to the dog snuffling at the edge of the woods, Hannah headed around the house and down the path to the vegetable gardens. There Evan had set to work weeding almost as soon as he’d arrived—promptly at eight o’clock as they’d agreed.

She had been so relieved to hear the sound of his Jeep coming up the gravel drive that morning. Until then, she had still doubted that he would actually take the minimum-wage job she’d offered him. Even despite the fact that he had called her early the previous evening and asked if everything went okay with his references, and if she needed anything from town that he could bring with him when he came.

Hannah had not only been surprised by his request, but also pleased. In her estimation, such thoughtfulness on his part boded well for their working relationship. It also made her feel even better about her decision to hire him.

Although his “…that is, if you still want me for the job…” had come back to haunt her later in the night.

She hadn’t given his comment much thought at the time he’d made it, airily dismissing it with her own “of course, I do.” But at one o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep, she had gone over their conversation in her mind and had wondered if he’d had doubts of his own, the source of which she’d only been able to guess at.

Or had he been offering her a last chance to back out of the bargain they’d made?

But then, that hadn’t made sense. Not if he wanted and needed a job and a place to stay in the area as much as he’d claimed he did.

Of course, he could have just told her that in order to get a foot in the door—a possibility she hadn’t even entertained in the light of day.

Was there a reason his references wouldn’t have checked out? Hannah had thought, eyeing the clock on her nightstand grimly. Not that that had been the case at all. Everyone she spoke to had nothing but glowing things to say about Evan Graham. Besides, why would he have offered her references unless he fully expected all of the people he’d listed to vouch for him in a positive way?

Reminding herself that it was important to trust her instincts—and her instinctive feeling about Evan Graham had been good—Hannah had slept at last, soundly enough to awaken at seven o’clock feeling rested and ready for the day ahead. The sunlight peeping through her window had brightened her spirits, as well. They would be able to make the first small dent in all the work that needed to be done—if Evan arrived as planned.

He had pulled up by the porch at eight o’clock on the dot, causing Nellie to bark and wag excitedly and Will, still in his pajamas, to dance around the living room in glee. He had brought along a bag of bagels, still warm from the oven, and a carton of cream cheese from her favorite deli in Boone, and presented both to her with an engaging smile. He’d also looked well rested and more than ready to start work.

“I brought four cinnamon-raisin, four loaded with everything and four whole wheat,” he’d said.

“Mmm, perfect choices,” she’d replied, delighted by the rare treat.

Glad that she’d eaten only a small bowl of cereal earlier, Hannah had helped herself to a cinnamon-raisin bagel as Evan returned to the Jeep and proceeded to move his few belongings to the room upstairs.

He’d had a large, black duffel bag and a laptop computer in an expensive-looking leather carrying case. One trip up the staircase and he joined her in the kitchen, rubbing his hands together briskly to chase away the slight chill of the early-morning mountain air.

Hannah had noted that he was as neat and clean—and attractive—as he’d been the previous day. He’d obviously showered and shaved before leaving the motel, if the slight dampness of his hair and the subtle drift of spicy aftershave she’d caught were any indication. His faded jeans and navy blue sweatshirt appeared older and much more worn than the jeans and flannel shirt he’d had on yesterday, making them more suitable for the rough, outdoor work he’d be doing in the wet, weed-infested beds. She couldn’t help but notice his change of clothes did nothing to temper her feminine response to him, but she pushed the realization aside. Evan was her employee—nothing more.

He had accepted a mug of coffee, but turned down a bagel, saying he’d eaten one on his way to her place. Hannah had savored the last few bites of hers, finished her coffee and sent Will to his room to get dressed. Then she’d led Evan out to the shed where she stored her shovels, rakes, hoes, wheelbarrow and various other gardening tools along with the bags and boxes of organically approved products she preferred to use to nourish and protect her plants, as well as control pests.

She had found a pair of relatively new, heavy-duty gardening gloves for him—originally bought for Stewart who had rarely used them. She’d loaded the gloves, a shovel and a hoe into the wheelbarrow, then turned to Evan.

“I need you to work on the vegetable gardens first,” she’d said as he gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow and guided it out of the shed. “They need to be cleaned out completely. It shouldn’t be too hard since the ground is pretty wet from all the rain, but it will be a messy job for the same reason.”

“What should I do with the stuff I dig up?” he’d asked, looking back at her as they’d headed down the drive.

“You can load it into the wheelbarrow, then transfer it to the compost bin. It’s divided into three sections. The one to the left is empty, so we’ll use it to start a new batch.”

Hannah had met Evan’s gaze, hoping she wasn’t overwhelming him with his morning’s duties. He’d looked amazingly eager to get to work, and she’d smiled encouragingly as they’d continued down the drive, pausing only when they reached the first of the vegetable beds laid out neatly on the gentle slope.

“Be sure to wear the gloves so you don’t get blisters or bug bites on your hands,” she’d advised him.

“I will.”

“I’ll put a jug of ice water on the porch for you, too. You’re welcome to take a break anytime you want and help yourself to anything you need. There’s coffee in the pot on the counter and iced tea in the refrigerator if you’d prefer something besides water. If you have any questions, I’ll be working in the greenhouses, moving the seedlings out to the deck so they can start hardening off. Just give a holler.”

“I’ll do that, too,” he said, parking the wheelbarrow and retrieving the gloves.

“We’ll stop for lunch around noon or so.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He’d pulled on the gloves, picked up the hoe, shot her a smile and immediately set to work.

Hannah hadn’t talked to Evan again in the four hours that had passed since then. She had caught an occasional glimpse of him, however, as he’d wheeled one load after another of leaves and weeds to the compost bin. Once she had also gone to check on his progress, albeit at a distance, and had been surprised at how quickly and efficiently he was getting the job done.

Not wanting Evan to catch her spying on him, Hannah had meant only to watch him work a minute or two. But the sight of him breaking up clods of weed-choked soil with the hoe, an industrious look on his face, his movements spare and sure, had arrested her attention completely.

He wasn’t a big man, bulked up with overdeveloped muscles, but Hannah could easily see the strength and energy in his wiry build. Though he had claimed that he wasn’t used to rough, outdoor work, he hadn’t appeared to have any problem taking to it. Of course, he’d only been at it a couple of hours.

Reluctantly slipping away to continue her own work in the greenhouses, Hannah had wondered how enthusiastic Evan would be later in the day, not to mention later in the week—if he even lasted that long. She didn’t want to be pessimistic about Evan, but with so much riding on his employment working out, she was scared to get too hopeful. Past experience had taught her the danger of that.

Now walking down the drive again, Hannah saw that Evan had finished clearing one of the four-foot by four-foot beds completely and was almost finished with another. She also saw that he’d stripped off his sweatshirt and was about to pull off his white short-sleeve T-shirt, as well. He caught sight of her, paused and smiled somewhat sheepishly.

“It’s gotten warmer out here than I’d expected,” he said, modestly tugging his T-shirt over his bare chest again.

Hannah was sorry to see him do it. He had a very nice chest—again, not bulked up, but definitely well-toned and very lightly tanned. Though she really had no business noticing, she couldn’t stop herself. Acting on her attraction was out of the question, but looking couldn’t hurt, right?

“That’s because you’re working in full sunlight,” she advised, more primly than she’d intended. “It’s still nice and cool in the shade. But vegetables need more sun than shade to thrive, thus the location of the beds.”

“I’m not complaining,” he hastened to assure her. “It actually feels good to be out here with the sun on my face. Although I have to admit I’ve enjoyed the walks to the compost bin since it’s in a shady spot.”

“Only for another hour or so until the sun shifts, but the drive will be shaded by then so the walk itself won’t be bad.”

“In that case, the T-shirt is definitely coming off,” he said with a grin.

“Come up to the house and have lunch first,” Hannah offered. “And you really should put on some sunscreen, too. I keep a tube handy in the kitchen for me and Will.”

“Good idea.”

Evan set the hoe in the wheelbarrow and pulled off his gloves, then joined Hannah on the gravel drive.

“I thought I’d make sandwiches for lunch. I have ham and Swiss cheese and turkey, lettuce and tomato and whole wheat bread. And, of course, the old standby, peanut butter and jelly.”

She glanced at him questioningly, hoping he wasn’t a picky eater. Although he could always munch on one of the bagels he’d brought with him.

“I’m easy where food is concerned,” he said. “I’m also especially fond of ham and cheese sandwiches.”

“That’s a relief.”

As they climbed the porch steps, Will and Nellie jumped off the old-fashioned wooden swing, setting it rocking against the porch rail.

“Can we make the sandwiches now?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, we can. But first be sure to wash your hands. And let’s leave Nellie on the porch, okay? ’Cause her paws are kind of muddy.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“I should probably take off my boots and leave them out here, too,” Evan said.

“Good idea, but put them just inside the door so Nellie won’t chew on them.”

In the house, Hannah headed for the kitchen while Will and Evan peeled off in opposite directions to wash up. By the time they joined her again, she had the sandwich fixings laid upon the counter and was ready to start assembling meat, cheese, veggies, bread and condiments as requested.

“Ham and cheese for you, Evan. Right?”

“Yes, please,” he replied, adding, “I can pour the drinks if you’d like.”

“That would be a big help. Glasses in that cabinet,” she advised with a nod of her head. “There’s ice in the freezer, too. I’ll have tea and I’d like Will to have a small glass of milk.”

“Done.”

“Do you want lettuce and tomato, mustard and mayo on your sandwich, too?”

“Lettuce, tomato and mustard,” he said.

“How about you, Will? Ham or turkey or PB and J today?”

“Turkey…just plain turkey.”

“Okay, just plain turkey for you.”

Hannah put the sandwiches on plates, including a turkey with lettuce and tomato for herself, two each for her and Evan and one for Will. She carried them to the table along with a bag of chips she took from the pantry as Evan set their drinks on the table, as well.

So hungry were all three of them that they ate for several minutes in relative silence. Finally somewhat sated, Hannah looked up to see Evan eyeing her from across the table. He had spiked his short, blond hair with damp hands while upstairs, making him appear a little younger, a little…softer. A slight, quizzical smile also edged up the corners of his mouth.

“What?” she asked, afraid that she might have a bit of bread or a dot of mustard smeared on her face.

“I was just thinking how glad I am that I’m not the only one who’s ravenous,” he replied.

“What’s…rabanis?” Will demanded, stuttering over the unfamiliar word.

“Very, very hungry,” Hannah explained.

“Well, I’m rabanis, too.”

Her son took another big bite of his sandwich.

“Not surprising for any of us. We all worked hard this morning—especially you, Evan. You’ve done an amazing job on the vegetable gardens in a really short time,” Hannah said.

Evan’s full mouth took on a more sheepish slant as he reached for his glass of iced tea, winced, then subtly rolled his shoulders.

“I hope you won’t be too disappointed if I slow down some this afternoon. I’m starting to feel joints and muscles aching that I’d forgotten I even had.”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t slow down a lot,” Hannah assured him. “And it’s perfectly all right. I’d much rather have you pace yourself than burn out in only a day.”

“I don’t think I’ll burn out, but I can see that pacing is going to be a good idea.”

“Maybe you should take a nap like me and Nellie,” Will interjected. “Only I don’t always fall asleep. Sometimes I talk to Nellie. But Nellie’s paws are all muddy today so she might have to take her nap on the porch.”

“I try not to take naps ’cause if I do, I have trouble sleeping at night. Although I have a feeling I’ll be out like a light once my head hits the pillow tonight,” Evan admitted in a wry tone.

“My daddy took a lot of naps,” Will said. “We had to be real quiet so we wouldn’t wake him up ’cause that made him mad. I don’t get mad when I wake up from my nap, though. I get happy ’cause Mommy gives me cookies and milk for an afternoon snack.”

Evan glanced at Hannah, a questioning look in his eyes again. She met his intense gaze for a moment, wondering what he must be thinking of her son’s bald statement. She didn’t want to explain to him about Stewart’s behavior in front of Will—didn’t want to drag that sad, frightening time into the peacefulness of the present moment.

But she should say something to smooth over the awkwardness between them, shouldn’t she?

As if sensing her discomfort, Evan came to the rescue. Reaching out, he tweaked Will on the chin, making him giggle, then said, “Hey, for some of your mom’s cookies, I’d take a nap any day, buddy.”

“You are more than welcome to cookies and milk in the afternoon even without a nap first,” Hannah said, grateful to him for so considerately putting her at ease again.

“That’s one offer I plan to hold you to, regardless,” Evan replied, a purely mischievous twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

“I promise not to renege.” Slightly uncomfortable with the flutter his statement caused, Hannah waved a hand at his empty plate. “Would you like another sandwich or more chips?”

Sitting back in his chair, Evan patted his flat stomach with a hand and shook his head.

“I’m full, as I should be after eating both of those sandwiches you made. They were really good.”

“And you were rabanis,” Will added.

“Yes, I most certainly was,” Evan agreed.

Standing along with Hannah, he picked up his plate and glass and carried them to the sink, his hip bumping gently against hers as they paused there together.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, suddenly embarrassed by their close proximity.

“I’m the one who should apologize for getting in your way. But I didn’t want you to think I expected you to either wait on me or clean up after me.”

“It’s not like my kitchen’s all that small. It’s just that I’m so used to cooking and cleaning up around here on my own that having you help out threw me off just a little. I could get used to it, though,” she acknowledged before she had time to really consider what she was saying.

“That’s good to know because I’m here to help you any way I can,” Evan said, again getting them past an awkward moment in a lighthearted manner. “Which means I’d better head back to the vegetable gardens and go to work again.”

“Let me get the sunscreen for you.” Hannah put a hand on his arm to stop him as he turned away. “You should probably wear a hat, too.”

“Good idea,” Evan replied. “I have a baseball cap in the Jeep. I’ll be sure to grab it on my way down the drive.”

Hannah took the tube of sunscreen off the shelf by the kitchen door that opened onto the wood deck. She had intended to give it to Evan and let him take it with him. But she hesitated a moment, remembering what he’d said about taking off his T-shirt when he went back to work. It was even warmer outdoors now, and without his shirt on, he’d be even more exposed to the more intense rays of the afternoon sun….

“I…I could rub some lotion on your back if you’d like,” she offered in a tentative tone, afraid of appearing to be too forward. “That is, if you’re going to take off your shirt later.”

Evan met her gaze steadily, not saying anything for several long seconds, surprise and something else Hannah couldn’t quite define evident in his eyes. Sure that she’d blundered badly, she felt her face flush. Embarrassed, she looked away and silently moved to set the tube of sunscreen on the table, wishing she could now be the one to think of a clever comment to ease the discomfort she’d caused between them this time. She was a thirty-two-year-old mother—a widow for heaven’s sake—and yet here she was feeling as awkward as if it was her first date. Had the past few years changed her that much?

She already knew the answer.

“Hey, that’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Evan said, his deep voice cutting into her thoughts as he caught her by the hand.

Glancing up at him, Hannah saw gentleness and encouragement in his eyes, as well, and felt her chagrin slowly fade away.

“I prefer working without a shirt when it’s hot outdoors, but I don’t want to risk a bad sunburn, especially on my back,” he added, letting go of her hand to pull off his T-shirt.

“The sun can be pretty fierce up here even when the air is still cool,” Hannah advised, fiddling with the cap on the tube to keep from staring outright at his broad, bare shoulders, smooth, muscular chest and flat abdomen.

Again she realized how strong and fit he was despite his spare build. She wondered if he’d worked out with weights in his other life, but didn’t have the courage to ask. In fact, finding the courage to squeeze a dollop of sunscreen out of the tube and onto her fingertips as he turned away from her, then reach out and begin rubbing it onto his equally smooth and muscular back was about as much as she could handle at the moment.

At the first touch of her fingers to his bare skin, Evan flinched, causing Hannah to make a startled movement, as well.

“Sorry—” she began, pulling her hand away. “Did I do something to—”

“Not at all,” he assured her, glancing over his shoulder at her and offering her a wry smile. “The lotion just felt a little cool against my skin.”

“Oh, I didn’t think about that,” she murmured apologetically.

“It didn’t feel bad. It just took me by surprise,” Evan said, glancing at her again, his smile widening. “A little friction between your fingers and my bare skin and I believe that lotion will warm up very nicely.”

It wasn’t only the lotion that warmed up nicely as Hannah rubbed it carefully into Evan’s bare back. Her face grew hotter by the moment as unexpected and quite unseemly thoughts of fingers, friction and bare skin danced unbidden into her head.

Years had passed since she and Stewart had last shared a close, physically intimate relationship. She had learned over time to direct her sexual energy into other things until it dissipated—caring for Stewart, for Will, the house, the gardens when she could. For longer than she could remember, she had been sure that she would never experience sexual desire again.

But obviously the wanting, the needing to be held by a man, to be kissed and caressed with an equally strong want and need hadn’t really disappeared as she’d supposed. Apparently her want and need had simply been sublimated, lurking in her subconscious, ready and waiting for just the right stimulation to come along.

“Mommy, you have a funny look on your face,” Will announced, startling Hannah out of her reverie with the thoroughness of a splash of icy water. “Are you sleepy?”

Aware that she had likely been rubbing Evan Graham’s back far longer than absolutely necessary, Hannah pulled her hand away, blushed even more deeply and gazed at her son with dismay.

“Sleepy?”

“Yes, Mommy. Your eyes were kind of closing.”

“Oh, well, I was just…thinking about…some things,” she said, knowing that Evan was now looking at her curiously, too.

She couldn’t believe she had succumbed so completely to the unexpected allure of his masculinity. He’d only taken off his shirt, for goodness sake, and she’d only been applying a film of sunscreen to his back.

Evan was a nice guy—his kindness in smoothing over their awkward moments had proven that. But nice didn’t equal interested. She couldn’t afford to mistake the two.

Hannah risked a glance at him, and wondered, first, if he had any idea of the trail her thoughts had been taking, then hoped against hope that he hadn’t. He met her gaze, his expression reassuringly bland until Will piped up again.

“Must have been pretty good things, Mommy, ’cause you looked happy, too.”

“Um, yes,” she admitted, focusing her attention on replacing the cap on the tube of sunscreen, but not before she glimpsed the knowing smile suddenly sketched across Evan’s handsome face.

There was no doubt in Hannah’s mind then that the man had been conscious to some degree of how her demeanor had altered. The brisk, businesslike rub of a hand was entirely different from a slow caress—as well as easily discernible by the recipient. And no matter how she wished she could deny it, she had definitely been caressing Evan Graham’s back only a few moments ago.

“Time for me to get back to work,” he said, pulling his T-shirt on again.

“Me, too, after I get Will settled in for his nap,” Hannah agreed. “Take the sunscreen with you and don’t forget your cap.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Evan winked at her as he took the tube of sunscreen she held out to him, then turned to head out the side door.

“Do I have to take a nap today, Mommy?” Will asked as he did most every day, jumping out of his chair.

“Just a short one, okay? Otherwise you’ll be really tired later…cranky, too, and that’s no fun at all,” Hannah reminded him, trying to get Evan’s wink out of her mind.

“Okay, but just one hour.”

“One hour, it is,” she agreed. “Go wash your hands, then take off your shoes and climb into bed.”

“Can Nellie have a nap with me? Please, Mommy, please.”

“Let me see how much it’s going to be to get her cleaned off.” Luckily, the dog had stayed on the porch while they ate lunch. Luckily, too, the mud on her paws had dried enough so that it flaked off easily enough. Thus one less battle before Will settled down to rest was eliminated.

With boy and dog stretched out on Will’s twin bed, Hannah returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes they’d used at lunch. The task usually required only a few minutes of her time. But that afternoon she lingered far longer than necessary, fingers sifting through the froth of soap bubbles atop the sink full of warm water, her thoughts miles away.

Well, not miles away, she acknowledged when at last she pulled the stopper and let the now brackish water drain away. More like a few hundred yards or so—just down the drive to the vegetable gardens where Evan Graham was working, likely with his shirt off, his bare chest bronzing in the sun….

Giving herself a firm mental shake, Hannah left the dishes to dry on the drain board and stepped out the back door onto the deck. She had better things to do than moon over Evan Graham.

Okay, maybe not necessarily better, but certainly more productive. And just then being productive was the best thing she could think of to do.

Chapter Four

“That was an excellent meal, Hannah,” Evan said, trying not to wince too noticeably as he stood, picked up his plate, silverware and glass and started across the kitchen to the sink. “Eggplant Parmesan is a favorite of mine and I haven’t had any as good as yours, even in a fancy, high-priced restaurant. Your Italian salad was wonderful, too.”

“Thanks a lot,” Hannah replied. She paused to collect Will’s dishes as well as her own before joining him at the sink. “I have another pan of it in the freezer so it will definitely be on the menu again. In a few weeks we’ll have lettuce fresh from the garden for our salads, too. You’ll be amazed at how much better it is than store-bought.”

“Worth all the hard work, huh?” he asked.

Turning on the faucet, he rinsed the plates, then taking the initiative even further, he plugged the sink and poured in a dollop of dish detergent.

“Just wait and see,” she said, adding as he put the dishes in the hot, soapy water, “Hey, you don’t have to do the dishes for me.”

Wincing inwardly, this time as a result of the pang of guilt Hannah’s sprightly “just wait and see” had caused him, Evan scrubbed a plate with the dishcloth.

“You cooked. Let me at least help a little with the cleanup,” he requested with a smile.

“I mostly chopped lettuce, sliced onions and tomatoes, and slid the casserole dish in the oven. You worked hard all day, clearing beds and hauling debris to the compost bin.”

“You worked hard, too, moving all those seedlings out of the greenhouses and onto the deck.”

“I worked hard, too, didn’t I, Mommy?” Will demanded, bouncing over to the sink, empty glass in hand. “And I finished all my milk. Can I please watch television now?”

“Yes, you worked hard, too, and thank you for finishing all your milk, and yes, you may watch television, but only for one hour.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

Mother and son exchanged a quick hug, then Will bounded off to the living room, the ever-faithful Nellie close at his heels. Taking a clean towel from the drawer and selecting a dish from the drain board to dry, Hannah seemed to accept his offer without further argument.

“He’s a really good child, isn’t he?” Evan asked, voicing his thought aloud after they had worked together for a few minutes in silence. “Very bright and well-adjusted.”

“Do I detect the faintest hint of surprise in your voice?” Hannah quizzed in return, only half-teasingly.

Glancing at her, Evan saw that beneath her pleasant demeanor, her steady gaze held a very definite challenge in it. He could lie to her, as he already was in so many ways that could prove to be hurtful, or make an attempt at being honest. Since he only lied out of absolute necessity in order to get a job done, he chose now to tell the truth.

“Yes, actually, I’m sure you did,” he said, focusing his attention on the sink full of dirty dishes submerged in the soapy water. “You’re a widow on you own here, raising your son without any help. Both you and Will have had to deal with the death of your husband, his father. That has to have taken an emotional toll on the two of you. Grief can often lead to anger and depression that can then be directed at an innocent party. I’ve seen that happen in the past, but I don’t see any indication of that happening with you and Will.”

Several beats of silence followed Evan’s comments causing him to glance again at Hannah. She wasn’t looking at him, but staring instead at the plate she held, continuing to rub it with her towel though it had already been thoroughly dried. The corners of her mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown, as she seemed to search for a reasonable reply.

“My husband was…ill for a long time,” she said at last, glancing up at him, then quickly away again. “By the time he died…we’d had time to accept that we were losing him.” She hesitated, took a deep breath, then continued quietly. “We did grieve for him. But his death was also a blessing for…all of us. I think that made it a little easier for us to cope with our sadness. It helped, too, that Will was old enough at the time to understand a lot of…things.” She paused again, finally set aside the plate and reached for another. “As you said, he’s very bright and well-adjusted. I’m very lucky in that respect.”

“He’s lucky, too, Hannah—you’re a very bright, very loving and understanding mother.” And a fascinating woman, Evan silently noted.

“I appreciate the compliment, but are you sure you’ve known me long enough to make that kind of assumption,” she asked with another glance at him, half-teasing once again.

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