The one woman he can’t charm

Asking for a favor from a woman scorned isn’t Cisco “Kid” Hardin’s smartest move. But he needs Lucinda “Lucky” Littlefield’s land for his oil company. Surely enough time has passed since he left her—and his promises—behind?

Apparently not, because Lucky still holds a lot of resentment.

Then Kid learns of the baby Lucky lost—their baby—and he’s determined to right his wrongs. He needs to prove he’s a man worthy of her love and trust. And he plans to do it by transforming his sins of the past into the most glorious holiday season she has ever seen.

“What’s so bad about me?”

“Beau, you’ve been married three times. You’re a slick-talking, woman-loving son of a gun with a voice that’d melt stone. I’ve seen your kind before. Shoot, I’ve married your kind before. You’re safe with me.”

“The husband whose, um, grave you wanted to dance on? I remind you of him?”

“You could have given Eric lessons. At least you were smart enough to divorce one wife before you married another. Or am I assuming too much?”

Beau didn’t know whether to be fascinated or insulted by Nancy’s disclosure. “Your husband was a bigamist? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

No wonder she didn’t want another man in her life. It was a damn good thing he had no intention of acting on his attraction to her, because he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like her.

Extending his hand, he said, “We should be safe as buddies, then. Deal?”

They shook. “Deal.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of their situation. This would be a first for him since puberty. A woman as a friend. Who’d have thought?

Home for Christmas

Carrie Weaver

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARRIE WEAVER

With two teenage sons, three cats and a dog, Carrie Weaver leads a full life! She loves to wind down by indulging in chocolate and reading a good book. And yes, the pages occasionally get smudged! The stories she writes reflect real life and real love, with all the ups, downs and emotion involved.

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to the Smith family:

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Prologue

Nancy McGuire allowed the strange sound of Russian to flow over her as the house mother and the translator conversed.

Glancing around, she noted the house mother’s office was neat and tidy, but sparse. The translator had indicated the budget was stretched to the breaking point.

Her gaze strayed to a collage on the wall. Hundreds of photos of children, some candid, some posed, most smiling broadly, attested to the orphanage’s success in finding adoptive homes in the U.S.

Nancy shifted, crossing her legs. Her foot bounced as if she were some sort of marionette. How ironic that her husband’s death should have jump-started her decision to adopt a child. Even more ironic that the sale of their house had financed her endeavor.

In some small way, it took away the sting of Eric’s betrayal. And allowed her to heal.

Leaning forward, she doubted her excitement could be contained another second. She’d been waiting for this moment her whole adult life and now that it was here, she could scarcely breathe.

A knock sounded at the door and the house mother rose. Opening the door, she stepped aside as an assistant carried in a toddler.

The assistant placed the child on Nancy’s lap and said something in Russian.

Nancy’s eyes blurred as she cradled the little girl as naturally as if she’d held her every day for the past fourteen months. Her breasts tingled as if responding to memories of breastfeeding this child. Nancy stared into the baby’s solemn brown eyes and time seemed to stand still. There was an instant connection, a peace she’d never known before. It was the overwhelming certainty of being in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. She’d waited all these years for this moment, this girl. Her daughter.

Brushing a silky brown lock of hair from the toddler’s forehead, she stumbled over the Russian greeting, “Zdravstvujte, Tatiana.”

Tatiana smiled shyly, then patted Nancy’s face. “Mama?” The word was heavily accented and probably coached, but it still brought a lump to Nancy’s throat. She’d nearly lost hope of ever hearing a child call her that.

“Yes, Mama’s here, baby. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Chapter 1

Tatiana was mid-temper-tantrum when the new guy entered the Parents Flying Solo meeting. Nancy McGuire didn’t pay much attention. Kneeling by her daughter, she was too busy trying to catch a flailing fist before it connected with her nose.

“Shh, Ana,” she whispered. The plea sounded ragged and desperate, even to her.

Two large, tanned hands grasped Ana beneath her arms and lifted her in the air. “Hey, there, little sweet pea, what’s the problem?”

Ana stilled, probably from the shock of a tall stranger holding her above his head.

Nancy paused, too. The man’s slow drawl brought a longing for home so intense she almost doubled over. And an idiotic longing for a man she couldn’t have. Ever.

Rising, she said, “Please put down my daughter. Now.”

The stranger set Ana on her feet. Tantrum apparently forgotten, Ana zipped off in search of playmates.

Frowning, Nancy wondered if Emily’s son, Jason, would keep as close an eye on the two-year-old as he’d promised.

“Little spitfire, isn’t she?”

“Ana has a mind of her own. I try to encourage her to be her own person.” So she wouldn’t grow up trying to please a man and lose herself in the process.

Tipping his head, he said, “Then you’ve succeeded.”

Nancy wasn’t sure whether his comment was tongue-in-cheek, so she decided to simply take it at face value. “Good. Because children, girls especially, should be encouraged to seek, explore, achieve.”

“I agree with you.” He looped his arm over the shoulder of the thin teenage girl beside him. “I’m Beau and this is my daughter, Rachel.”

The girl stiffened, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him until he released her.

Nancy murmured an acknowledgment as she scanned the room for Ana. She exhaled in relief when she saw Jason helping Ana select a cookie from the refreshment table.

“I agree with you, but I want Rachel to be independent and use good manners.”

Nancy bristled. He was probably another one of those parents who thought she should be able to control her own child. That Nancy wasn’t doing her job properly if Ana didn’t mind her one hundred percent of the time.

Okay, maybe Nancy secretly wondered if she was doing her job properly. She’d be the first to admit to a certain feeling of ineptitude when Ana pitched a public fit. But she was not about to confide in some know-it-all redneck.

Her voice was icy when she said, “She is a normal twenty-one-month-old child, testing limits. I’d appreciate it if you would keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Whoa, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just being friendly, tryin’ to make it to the refreshments without getting nailed in the family jewels. I remember when my daughter was about that height.” He shuddered, his eyes twinkling as he nudged Rachel.

“Daaad,” she whined, and slouched away, slipping into a crowd of kids.

The man’s smile was probably intended to charm, but it merely put Nancy on her guard. Surveying his lanky frame from the tips of his Roper boots to his mussed dark brown hair, she doubted his sincerity. “I think you might want to watch your knees instead. I, for one, am not interested in your family jewels and my daughter isn’t nearly tall enough to damage that area.” Otherwise, she’d be tempted to offer Ana a cookie if she’d make the cocky cowboy sing soprano.

The man shrugged, as if to say there were plenty of women who were downright fascinated by his anatomy. Then he turned and headed toward the refreshment table.

Emily Patterson came up to Nancy and whispered, “He’s a looker, isn’t he?”

“I guess.”

“You weren’t very friendly.”

“I’m here to network with other parents, not to pick up some lonesome cowboy.”

“Oh, I guarantee that one’s not lonesome. Maybe you need your eyes checked.”

“And maybe you need your head checked.” Nancy smiled to soften her words. “You’ve got four kids to feed already and he looks like he has wild oats to spare.”

Emily winked, her round face and dewy complexion giving the impression she was no more than a teen. A few strands of silver through her brown ponytail were the only signs she was approaching forty. “Well, he can sow those oats at my house any day.”

Nancy chuckled in spite of herself. “You’re an original, you know it?”

“Yes. And I know you need more fun in your life.”

Fun? The concept seemed foreign. Her life revolved around Ana and seeing that her every need was met. “Fun is highly overrated.”

“Just because you’ve been burned once doesn’t mean you have to give up on men completely.”

“I wasn’t just burned, I was roasted, toasted and annihilated.”

“Hmm. Are you sure that’s not just an excuse?”

Nancy shifted. “You sound like my mother. So what if it is an excuse? There are worse things than being single. At least this way I know there are no surprises.”

“Oh, but surprises can be wonderful. Two of my children were surprises.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “My point exactly.”

No, Nancy had lost her taste for surprises the day she’d found out there was another woman who claimed to be Eric McGuire’s wife. The same day, coincidentally, that Eric had turned up dead.

Rachel nibbled on a cookie, watching her dad work the room. The meeting was lame. The people were lame. And Rachel would rather have been anywhere else.

But since her dad didn’t trust her, she was stuck here with the little kids. Like that two-year-old drama queen who watched her with big, dark eyes.

Rachel turned her back on the kid.

Why couldn’t her dad have believed in her enough to let her stay home?

Home. Whatever that meant.

There had been a time when she’d felt like she’d had a home. Not like some kids had—a mom, a dad, brothers and sisters. Meals, picnics, movies, vacations together.

For as long as she could remember, it had just been her and Mom. Every once in a while Dad would blow into town. Laughing, fun Dad. He’d taken her to great places, stuffed her full of junk food, bought her a bunch of things, and then, poof, he was gone. She’d stare at his picture to convince herself that he was real—not just a fabulous dream.

And then two months ago, her mom had sat her down for one of those serious talks. The don’t-do-drugs or don’t-have-sex-till-you’re-thirty kind. But her mom’s ultra serious tone should’ve warned her it was way worse than the don’t-do-drugs talk.

This conversation had started out with her mom telling Rachel how much she loved her. Nothing too scary there. Until she said Rachel’s dad wanted her to go live with him. And Mom thought it was a good idea. Total shocker, but kinda nice to know Dad wanted her. Still, her friends were in Texas, and all she’d ever known was Texas. She’d asked her mom to tell her dad, “thanks but no thanks.”

Mom had made it clear refusal wasn’t an option. A week later Rachel stood in front of a motel-room door, waiting for her dad to answer. And when he did, he’d gone completely pale, as if he’d seen an alien.

Well, it hadn’t taken a brain surgeon, or even an honor student, to figure out Dad hadn’t had a clue she was coming. For the first time since the Easter Bunny, Mom had lied. Lied. And that could only mean one thing—Mom didn’t want her anymore. Nearly as bad, Dad didn’t want her, either.

Rachel was distracted from her moping by a small hand patting her knee.

The little girl with the big, brown eyes murmured, “Sad.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away with her sleeve. “Yeah. Sad.”

Beau knocked on the bathroom door, trying not to lose patience. “Come on, sweet pea, you’re gonna be late for school.”

“I look like a geek. Uniforms are stupid.”

Sighing, he figured he’d have to endure another replay of Rachel’s fashion woes. “You look fine.”

“No, I don’t. I look like some kind of preppy loser.”

“Then you’ll blend in with the rest of the preppy losers.”

“Daaad.”

“If you want a ride, you better get out here in five minutes. Otherwise, you take the bus.”

The bus. A fate worse than death to a high school freshman. Beau didn’t know much about raising a teenage girl, but he had a pretty good idea only the losers, preppy or otherwise, rode the bus.

Sure enough, Rachel was waiting by the front door, backpack slung over her shoulder, expression sullen, when he was ready to leave.

He complied with her request and dropped her off a block from school so he wouldn’t embarrass her. Beau hoped it was just the fact that she was a teen and he was a parent and not that she was ashamed of him. He might be a redneck son of a bitch at times, but he loved his daughter like crazy and would rather cut off his left arm than hurt her.

When ex-wife number one, Laurie, had dumped Rachel and her suitcases three months ago, he hadn’t seriously noted his ex’s muttered threats about sacrifice. The only thing that really stood out in the whole surreal conversation was one sentence. “I raised her the past fourteen years, you can raise her the next four.”

And that’s how he’d become a full-time father and certified lunatic.

Nancy paced outside the dealership and glanced at her watch. Their ad said they opened at 8:00 a.m. It was now ten after eight. She pulled on the door handle one more time to make sure it was locked, despite the low lighting inside and lack of activity.

“Sorry, I’m late, ma’am. I had to get my daughter to school.”

She stifled a groan. The cowboy from Parents Flying Solo trotted in her direction, his boots replaced with athletic shoes.

“You’re late.”

“Are you always this observant?”

Nancy opened her mouth to blister his thick hide, but noticed the twinkle in his eyes. That and his crooked smile defused her anger. “No, usually I require coffee first.”

“Good thing I make a killer cup of coffee.” He stuck out his hand. “Beau Stanton, I believe we met at the Parents Flying Solo meeting?”

She accepted his handshake. “Nancy McGuire.” For some reason, he didn’t seem quite as annoying today.

“Nice to meet you.” He fished a large key ring out of his pocket and opened the glass door. “Let me turn off the alarm and then you can come on in. You can tell me what kind of car you’re looking for while I make coffee.”

Following him into the showroom, she admired a convertible BMW, red of course. It looked like fun.

There was that word again. She needed safety and stability for Ana, if not herself. Lord knew Eric had been fun. Faithful would have been nicer.

Shaking her head, she wandered toward a minivan.

“I never figured you for a minivan kind of woman.”

Turning, she raised an eyebrow. “Oh. And what kind of woman do you think I am?” Damn, it came out almost flirtatious when that was the last thing she intended.

He looked her up and down, much as she’d done to him the night before at the meeting.

Nancy’s cheeks warmed. She was accustomed to male attention, even after she’d traded low-cut T-shirts and jeans for tailored pantsuits. Her conservative look was more consistent with her new life as a successful real-estate broker than aging prom queen trying to hold on to her husband.

Why did this man bring out the extremes in her? Last night, his cocky attitude had made her mad enough to spit nails. Today, she was experiencing the forbidden thrill of the chase. She did not want male attention. She did not need male attention. And if she repeated the mantra to herself enough times, maybe she would believe it.

Beau let out a low whistle under his breath while he absorbed the woman’s sultry question, “What kind of woman do you think I am?” It was a loaded question, a little like, “Do I look fat in this dress?” No matter which way he answered, he was toast. “Darlin’, I tell my daughter women can be anything they want to be. President, rocket scientist or the best damn mom on earth. It’s just a matter of wanting it bad enough. I’m betting you’re a success at whatever you do.”

Mentally congratulating himself on his smooth escape, Beau poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her.

She crossed her arms. “Why couldn’t I be president and the best damn mom on earth? The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

Uh-oh, they were back in dangerous territory. He was supposed to sell her a car at a hefty profit, not debate women’s rights. “Darlin’, let’s go look at that minivan.”

Two hours later, Beau was sweating bullets and crunching numbers like crazy. “Lady, there’s no way I can sell the minivan to you for that price. We’d lose money.”

“No, you won’t.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from her cavernous purse and showed him the reasons he could sell her a minivan at that price.

Running a hand through his hair, he did some quick mental calculations. His commission would be practically nonexistent, but it was nearing the end of the month and one more sale would pretty much clinch Salesman of the Month. The prize, a big-screen TV, would more than make up for the lost commission.

“You drive a hard bargain. But you’ve got a deal.”

She smiled. Not the tight, polite smile she’d given earlier, but a joyous, triumphant smile that lit up her face like a Christmas angel.

Beau sucked in a breath. If she’d smiled like that in the beginning, the minivan would have been hers in half the time. And that was a very, very bad sign.

Beau reminded himself of his responsibilities. There was only one female in the whole wide world he could allow himself to obsess over these days, even if his body told him otherwise.

Chapter 2

Beau sidled into the Parents Flying Solo meeting almost a week later and scanned the room. He exhaled with relief. Nancy McGuire wasn’t there.

He’d have been able to spot her halo of long, blond hair anywhere. Or her smile. Or her extremely lovely body.

Beau shook his head. He had a young, impressionable daughter to raise. His playing days had to be firmly in the past. But Nancy made him respond physically whether he wanted to or not. Worse, she challenged every brain cell he had. Contrary to his rough exterior, he read voraciously and could carry on a conversation about world politics or great philosophers as well as the next guy. He just chose not to let on most of the time.

No, it was better if he didn’t run into Nancy. A man had only so much self-control, and he, it seemed, had less than most. He had three ex-wives to prove it.

Beau absently fingered the business cards in the breast pocket of his western shirt. His reason for joining Parents Flying Solo was to network, plain and simple. If he wanted to hang on to the job that allowed him to stay in town with his daughter, he needed to keep generating more sales than the owner’s cousin.

So Beau concentrated on his personal three Ms: mix, mingle, make eye contact. “Hey, how’s it going?” He greeted a man he’d met the week prior. Chip? Trey?

They chatted for a few moments when the group leader, a balding, middle-age man, signaled for quiet. “I attended a Parents Flying Solo summit last weekend and gleaned a few tips on increasing participation. It’s been brought to my attention that some of the members are too shy to utilize the group phone list. This is an important resource during those times when you need to talk to another adult or you think you’ll lose your mind.” The leader chuckled and so did Chip or Trey or whatever his name was.

Beau found himself nodding. He sure could have used another adult to talk to when he’d first found himself the sole parental unit responsible for a teenage daughter.

“A few other groups in the region have had success with the buddy system. Each member is assigned a buddy to help him or her through the rough spots.” He picked up a basket and held it aloft. “Here are names of all our members. Pairs will be assigned randomly. I’m asking you to leave personal likes and dislikes at the door and make the buddy system a success. Each and every member has the potential for learning and teaching.”

Glancing around the room, Beau was relieved Nancy still hadn’t appeared. And a little disappointed, too. But that was the old Beau. The new Beau was all business.

Yeah, right.

The group leader pulled names from the basket. Some announcements were met with dead silence, as if Snidely Whiplash had been paired with Dudley Do-Right or worse, the lovely, innocent Nell. But nobody protested aloud.

“Beau Stanton.”

Beau glanced around and mentally catalogued the people still available. Emily Patterson hadn’t been paired yet and seemed relatively safe. Maybe he’d get her. He liked her cheerful, down-to-earth attitude. And there was an underlying layer of steel that might be helpful when dealing with Rachel. Somehow, he knew Emily could whip Rachel into shape in five minutes flat.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels while he waited for the other slip of paper to be drawn.

“Two cookies,” a child screeched from the direction of the ladies’ restroom.

Beau was pretty sure he recognized the voice.

An adult female admonished the girl to be quiet as they exited the restroom.

He would have known that honeyed accent anywhere.

“Nancy McGuire,” the leader read from a slip of paper. “You’re buddies with our newest member, Beau Stanton.”

Beau cleared his throat. “Um, are you sure that’s right?”

The hostile glances sent in his direction would have wilted a lesser man. But Beau was a three-time loser fighting for his life. “I mean, um, my daughter’s fourteen. It might be more beneficial if I was paired with another parent of a teen.”

He could feel the crowd turning on him. They’d stoically accepted their fate, why couldn’t he accept his?

“Certainly not. Again, all members have the ability to teach and learn. Our next name is....”

The roaring in his ears drowned out most of the rest. He was aware of Nancy handing him her business card, as if he didn’t already have access to her phone number from her loan documents. As if he hadn’t copied it to his desk calendar, toying with the idea of asking her out.

He automatically withdrew a card from his pocket and handed it to her. She mouthed something about calling him later and pulled Ana, kicking and screaming, toward the door.

He was a dead man.

Beau had a vision of God somewhere above, laughing his ass off.

Nancy held Ana’s warm, little frame close to her chest and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo and freshly scrubbed little girl. Her heart did a flip-flop of joy. These were the times to be treasured.

Easing into the antique bentwood rocker, she sighed at the pure luxury of sitting. She pushed gently with her foot.

Ana snuggled close and murmured, “Mama.”

“Yes, sunshine, Mama’s here.”

She continued rocking long after Ana’s eyes had fluttered closed and her breathing slowed. Having a child was a miracle Nancy had given up on long ago.

Sighing, she rolled her neck to work out the kinks. The power struggles and tantrums would ease in a few months. Tatiana would grow out of them, she was sure. Nancy just wished she was half as sure she’d survive her first year of motherhood. Nobody had told her how all-consuming it was. And rewarding. And frustrating. And how she wouldn’t change a minute of it.

She’d joined Parents Flying Solo at the urging of Ana’s pediatrician. After two sleepless nights for both mother and daughter, and one ruptured eardrum for Ana due to an infection, Nancy had surrendered to her doubts. Would she ever get it right?

The kindly doctor had told her there were no right or wrong answers with parenting. Children, even children who weren’t adopted from a foreign country, didn’t come with instruction manuals. With the initial cultural and language barriers and the fact that Nancy was single and had no one to help pick up the slack, she had been severely in danger of burnout. And what would have happened to Tatiana then?

That’s how he’d convinced her to join the support group for single parents. For Ana, not for herself.

But then she’d met Emily and a few other parents and she’d enjoyed talking with people who understood what she was going through. No one seemed to look down on her because she, a single woman, had chosen to adopt a child and now was experiencing the trials that went with it.

It was a much different scenario from some of the people back home in McGuireville, Arkansas. Many of those had made veiled comments about her suitability as a parent. As if having a man in the house would guarantee a bright, normal, carefree childhood for Ana. She’d be willing to bet those narrow-minded folks would feel she deserved to struggle in her new role as a mother.

So how to handle her new parenting buddy? Her concentration had been so focused on getting Ana outside before a full-blown tantrum, she’d barely heard her name and the fact she’d been paired with Beau Stanton. She’d only had time to fling her business card in Beau’s direction, accept his card and leave.

As she placed Ana in her crib, the phone rang.

It was Beau.

His accent brought memories of another man, another place. And a sense of loss so intense she sucked in a breath. No, she couldn’t allow memories of Eric to somehow get tangled up with Beau, urging her to rewrite history by trying to get another restless man to change.

Beau’s words seeped through her distraction. “I’m quitting.”

“You’re dropping out of the group?” Her voice was shrill.

“I’ve given it some thought. I, um, joined the group under false pretenses and it wouldn’t be fair for me to be a buddy to anyone.”

Just as she’d suspected. Beau was a lying, cheating charmer, just like Eric. Her voice was cool when she said, “Oh, and what false pretenses would those be?” A wife at home?

“Um, well, I figured it would be a good way to meet people.”

“There are bars and singles groups for that.”

“No, not that way. Lord, no.” His voice held a convincing note of horror. “It seemed like a good way for the new guy in town to drum up business leads.”

Nancy couldn’t help but chuckle. “If that’s the case, I joined under false pretenses, too. I only went because Ana’s pediatrician suggested it. I did it for Ana, not me. And I have to admit, I always make sure I have plenty of business cards in my purse before I leave for the meeting. Hey, it’s a reality of sales.”

“But you see why it’s not a good idea for us to be buddies?”

The man was giving her an out. So why didn’t she pounce on it? Because she was afraid her unofficial buddy, Emily, might not have as much time for her now that Emily had an official buddy. And that made her feel terribly alone. “I appreciate you being honest with me. The brochure says honesty and trust are the key components to a successful buddy friendship.”

“But it doesn’t say how often we have to talk.” He hesitated. “Maybe we could ease into this whole thing?”

Nancy smiled. She’d had several impressions of Beau and easing into things wasn’t one of them. The man jumped into life without worrying about consequences. “Yes, we can ease into it. We don’t even have to see each other face-to-face except for meetings.”

She could hear the relief in his tone, when he said, “Yeah, that’s right. We just call each other once in a while, no big deal.”

“No big deal.”

Nancy was still smiling after he ended the call. Beau Stanton was afraid of her. The thought lifted her most pressing doubt about him. He wasn’t about to try to seduce her. As a matter of fact, he seemed to prefer not to be anywhere near her.

Shaking her head, she realized her analysis of him remained sound—Beau would definitely be bad news in the romance department. But since she seemed to scare the heck out of the man, it wasn’t a problem.

Nancy led Ana by the hand. “You’ll get to play with the other kids. It’ll be fun.”

They entered the Parents Flying Solo meeting and Ana made a beeline for the toys. As usual, children were everywhere. It was one of the things she liked about the group. Children were always welcome at the meetings. Otherwise, she might have hesitated to take the time away from Ana.

The group was small enough, though, that she could keep an eye on her daughter as she joined some little friends.

“There you are,” Emily said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Curiosity shone in her friend’s eyes. “So dish. How’s your buddy?”

“Beau is fine. We’ve decided to be phone friends.”

“Oh.” Emily sounded disappointed.

“What did you expect? Wedding bells? Fireworks?”

“I was hoping you’d had great sex. Since I don’t get any, I figured I could live vicariously through you.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever trust enough for that kind of intimacy again, so you’d better live vicariously through someone else.”

Emily patted Nancy’s arm. “I have confidence in you. I took a vow of celibacy after Jason was born.” She winked. “And you see how well that worked.”

Jason was Emily’s oldest, followed a year later by Jeremy, with a gap of several years before two little ones stair-stepped behind him.

Nancy frowned. “I mean it though.”

“Ah, yes, the widow in mourning. I know you too well, Nancy McGuire. I know for a fact there’s a part of you that would dance on your husband’s grave.”

Fanning herself with a napkin, Nancy deepened her accent to Gone With the Wind proportions. “Ah’m shocked. Genteel Southern ladies do not dance on their husbands’ graves.” Nancy chuckled. “At least not while anyone’s looking.”

“I’ll second that.”

Nancy turned to see Beau approach. He looked amazing. His smile was wide and infectious, his hair slightly damp from a shower. She inhaled. And he smelled absolutely wonderful. Some sort of subtle aftershave with a hint of danger.

Emily nudged her with her elbow.

Yikes! She’d been caught staring. Emily would never let her hear the end of it. There was absolutely no reason she couldn’t have a good-looking male friend, Nancy reasoned. Shoot, she could pretend he was gay.

Except for the testosterone that seemed to ooze out every pore.

He said, “Family legend has it that my great-aunt Charlene poisoned her husband, and every full moon she tiptoed out to the family cemetery and waltzed on his grave. Or did the Lindy or whatever dance they did.”

Nancy pursed her lips. “And your point is?”

“Great-Aunt Charlene would have been drummed out of polite society if she’d danced on his grave during daylight hours. But at night, well, that was a different matter. My grandpa always said what went on after dark was nobody’s business.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I married into the same family. Your grandfather’s name wasn’t McGuire, was it?”

“Nope. He was a Stanton.”

Nancy waited for the overwhelming sense of betrayal she normally felt when recalling her late husband. When it didn’t come, she murmured, “That’s the first time I’ve been able to laugh about Eric. I do believe you two helped me reach a milestone today.” Raising her plastic cup of soda, she toasted, “To friends.”

Emily smiled. She knew the whole story and undoubtedly realized what an important step this was for Nancy. She raised her cup and touched it to Nancy’s. “To friends.”

They both turned to Beau and waited. He looked like he didn’t feel well. “To friends,” he added weakly. Then he turned and strode from the meeting room.

Emily shrugged. “Must’ve needed some air.”

“Must have.” Nancy thought of following him, but decided against it. When he hadn’t returned ten minutes later, she knew she had to do something. What if he was ill?

After making sure Ana was with Jason, Nancy worked her way to the door. She hoped Emily wouldn’t notice; her vivid imagination would be off and running.

Crisp air and a hint of snow tickled her nose as she went out to the garden. She didn’t see Beau anywhere. But as her eyes adjusted to the dusk, she located him seated on a bench in the butterfly garden.

His shoulders hunched, he was staring off into the forest beyond the property.

Stepping close, she tentatively touched his shoulder. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah.” His voice was husky.

Nancy missed his ready smile. This new, somber Beau was an enigma. “The meeting’s started.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Yet he appeared welded to the bench.

Nancy sat next to him. It was a small bench, so she clung to the edge.

“Did I say something to offend you?” she asked.

“Offend me?” He glanced up. “No, why’d you get that idea?”

“Because you left so suddenly. I know some people don’t always appreciate my humor.”

“No, I enjoy talking to you. Your sense of humor is a little screwy, but I can handle that.”

“What, then? Something happened. Is it Rachel? Is she in trouble again?”

He sighed heavily. “It seems like Rachel’s always grounded, but this time it had nothing to do with her. All of sudden, I could visualize each of my three ex-wives dancing on my grave.”

Nancy felt her jaw drop open. “Three.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded glumly. “I saw myself through their eyes and it wasn’t pretty.”

Shaking her head to clear it, she contemplated the number of failed marriages Beau had put behind him. Three. In her book, that made him nearly as bad as a bigamist.

Nancy swallowed hard. She’d been there, done that and bought the T-shirt. There was no way in Hades she’d ever get on that merry-go-round again.

Chapter 3

Nancy’s stunned expression did nothing to alleviate Beau’s misery. She might as well have made an L with her thumb and forefinger and pressed it to her forehead in the international sign for Loser.

He liked Nancy. He didn’t want her to think he was some kind of sleazy guy with an inability to commit. Okay, so he had been a sleazy guy with an inability to commit. But that was in the past. “I’ve changed.”

The disbelief in her eyes told him she’d heard that line before.

“Really. I turned over a new leaf when Rachel came to live with me.”

Nancy raised her chin. “It’s none of my business.”

“Yes, it is your business. You’re supposed to be helping me hang on to my sanity while raising Rachel. The buddy brochure says trust is essential. I need you to trust me.”

“I’m the wrong woman for the job, Beau. I’m not nearly as trusting as I used to be.”

Beau’s heart sank at the bitterness in her voice. Someone had hurt her badly. Maybe the way he’d hurt his ex-wives? He rebelled at the idea. Sure, divorce had been difficult each and every time. Well, except for ex-wife number three. They’d gladly parted ways once they’d sobered up enough to realize what they’d done.

But certainly Laurie and Vivian, ex-wives number one and number two, respectively, hadn’t been scarred for life. Had they?

Nancy stood. “Beau, this isn’t going to work.”

Panic propelled him to his feet. “Look, I know I didn’t think this buddy thing would work, but, um, I have to admit you’ve been a lot of help. You understand teenage girls.”

“Nobody understands teenage girls.”

“Yeah, well, you do a hell of a lot better than I do. All the buddies have already been assigned. You’ll leave me high and dry if you quit.”

“Maybe we can trade.”

“I already asked. No trades.”

“You tried to trade me?” She braced her hands on her hips. “Why?”

Beau sighed. Maybe this was one of those times when honesty was the best policy. “No offense, Nancy, but you’re just too damn good-looking. I’ve promised myself no more women. I need to concentrate on Rachel and getting this dad stuff right.”

Nancy’s lips twitched. She threw her head back and laughed aloud.

Beau smiled in response.

But she laughed so long it started to scare him. Had he completely unhinged the woman by being straightforward?

Finally, she wound down to a chuckle, then stopped altogether. “You’re afraid of me because you’ve sworn off women?”

He nodded.

“Oh, that’s too funny. I’m the last woman in the world who’d want to get involved with you, Beau Stanton.”

That hurt. “What’s so bad about me?”

“Come on, Beau, get real. You’ve been married not once, not twice, but three times. You’re a slick-talking, woman-loving, son of a gun with a voice that’d melt stone. I’ve seen your kind before. Shoot, I’ve married your kind before. You’re safe with me, buddy.”

“The husband you, um, wanted to dance on his grave? I remind you of him?”

“Remind me? You could have given Eric lessons. At least you were smart enough to divorce one wife before you married another. Or am I assuming too much?”

Beau didn’t know whether to be fascinated by her disclosure or insulted. “Your husband was a bigamist? Really?”

Nancy sat next to him. “Yes. Really.”

He whistled under his breath. No wonder she didn’t want another man in her life. It was a damn good thing he had no intention of acting on his attraction to her, because he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like Nancy.

Extending his hand, Beau said, “We should be safe as buddies then. Deal?”

She shook his hand. “Deal.”

Nancy squinted at the alarm clock by her bed. It was almost midnight. Her heart raced. She picked up the receiver. “Mom?”

“No, it’s Beau.” He sounded frazzled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rachel was caught shoplifting.”

She rose, instantly alert. “Is she okay?”

“It’s been a long night. I brought her home about an hour ago. She’s to appear before the judge Monday morning. I’m so wired from coffee, I can’t sleep. And I can’t talk to her because I’m so mad I could wrap my hands around her throat.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I don’t mean that. Oh, I don’t know what I mean. I called her mother. Laurie said Rachel had been rebelling, hanging with the wrong crowd. She hoped the move and having her father around would be a ‘steadying influence.’”

“You didn’t know Rachel was getting into trouble before?”

“Laurie and I don’t talk much. I was so stunned when she dropped off Rachel, I didn’t think to ask.”

“And how about later? After the heat of the moment?”

“I’m, um, not big on long heart-to-heart conversations with my exes.”

“Why am I not surprised? It sounds like you could use someone to talk to tonight, though.” Nancy paused to gather her thoughts. “Ana’s sleeping, so I need to stay home. If you’re comfortable leaving Rachel alone right now, you could come over here.”

“You’re right, I need to talk to a rational adult or I’m going to lose my mind. Rachel’s grounded for life, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to be around me at all tonight. I’ll tell her where I’ll be. She’s got my cell number if she needs me.”

“I’ll have some nice, relaxing herbal tea ready when you get here.”

“Herbal tea? Don’t you have anything stronger?”

“Nope. Take it or leave it.”

He sighed heavily. “I’m desperate. I’ll take it. Your house is on Evergreen, right?”

“Yes.” She gave him the house number and hung up the phone.

Glancing down at her skimpy tank top and flannel boxers, she dashed to the closet and removed a baggy pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt of Eric’s. Why she’d kept it, she didn’t know. Maybe because Eric had been such an important part of her life since high school. It still seemed odd at times, knowing she’d never talk to him again.

Nancy pushed the unsettling thought away and headed to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her hair.

The doorbell rang just as she finished.

She took the stairs two at a time and opened the door. “You must’ve broken a few speed limits to get here this quick.”

Beau shrugged. “Probably.”

“You look like hell. Come on in.”

“Thanks. That NASCAR sweatshirt of yours is really attractive, too.”

Her face warmed. “What were you expecting, a lace teddy?”

There was an evil glint in his eyes. “Now that might just distract me from my problems.”

“Dream on, buddy. Park your butt at the breakfast bar while I get the kettle going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After she filled the kettle and set it on the stove, she studied him. He had bags under his eyes, a day’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Out with it. The whole story.”

“I wish I knew the whole story. That’s part of the problem. Rachel won’t talk to me. All I know is she went to the mall with her friends and then the police called to say she’d been caught shoplifting.”

“In your limited conversations with your ex, did she say Rachel has shoplifted before?”

He nodded. “Once. Right before she came to live with me. So what sage advice do you have for me, buddy?”

“Ah, grasshopper, when you can snatch the pebble from my hand, you still won’t have a clue about teenage girls.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. What do I do besides ground her? Send her to a convent?”

“Hmm. If you want grandchildren someday, the convent’s out.”

Beau groaned, placing his hand over his eyes. He peered out at her between his fingers. “Don’t remind me. She could end up pregnant if I don’t get her back on the right path.”

“Um, I think you took a gigantic leap there, Beau. A lot of girls shoplift. I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying sometimes it’s a rite of passage.”

“Did you ever shoplift?”

Nancy nodded. “Yep. Makeup. I ended up grounded for a week. What did Rachel steal?”

“Earrings. The stupid part is that she doesn’t even have pierced ears. I won’t let her mutilate her body like that.”

“Hmm. Do you think she was making a statement of sorts?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let me get my ears pierced or I’ll turn to a life of crime?”

“Something like that. Kids can be pretty manipulative.”

“How come you’re so smart about this stuff with Rachel? But then with Ana, you don’t seem to have a clue?”

“I remember being a teen, what I did, how I felt. I can’t remember being a toddler. They’re completely foreign creatures.”

“Exactly how I feel about Rachel. Do you think maybe it’s just our own kids we don’t understand?”

The kettle sputtered. Nancy removed a couple of mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. She poured chamomile tea, added a dollop of honey and handed a cup to Beau.

Sipping her tea, she pondered his theory. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe all parents are baffled by their children. And some are just better at hiding it than others.”

“I figured it was because I was so new at it.”

“You and me both. Didn’t you have visitation while Rachel was growing up?”

Beau flushed and avoided her eyes. “Yeah, um, I did. But I was on the road a lot. I never forgot a birthday or special occasion.” His expression brightened. “And I took her on some scouting father/daughter camping trip.”

“You were the fun parent. Now you’re the mean parent. I imagine that’s a hard transition.”

“I’m not mean.”

“No, you’re just a concerned father, trying to do the right thing. But to Rachel, it probably seems mean. And maybe a little confusing. She’d lived with her mom all that time and then bam, she’s living with a father she barely knows.”

“I guess you’ve got a point.” His voice was glum. “I’d rather be the fun parent.”

“Rachel’s been with you how long?”

“Three months.”

“If she weren’t there every day, for some reason, would you miss her?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Now that you’ve been the mean parent, do you think it would be worth it not to see her every day, even if you got to be the fun parent again? Would it be hard to stay away?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten used to having her around. At least when the police aren’t calling to say she’s gotten into trouble.”

“Mama?” Ana stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her feet poking out from beneath her little flannel nightgown.

Nancy scooped her up. “I’m here, baby. What’s wrong.”

Ana pointed at Beau, her eyes wide. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing men at the house in the middle of the night and Nancy wanted to keep it that way.

“This is Beau. He’s Mommy’s friend. He came over for tea because he was sad.”

Ana nodded.

“Now, let me take you back up to bed.”

Beau watched Nancy’s expression soften when she looked at her daughter. The love shining in her eyes was enough to make a man want to lay down his life for her. He resisted the urge to follow her up the stairs and watch her tuck in her daughter.

Raising his mug, he took a big swallow and sputtered. He didn’t care what anyone said, chamomile tea sucked, big time.

Restless despite his fatigue, Beau wandered around the room. Nancy’s kitchen was large, one wall exposed red brick. Copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling. The professional-size stove led him to believe she liked to cook. Good, he liked to eat.

Heading into the family room, he admired the feeling of warmth and safety she’d created. The oversize couch and love seat were made of soft, dark-brown fabric. Throw pillows in solid red, purple and blue reminded him of Nancy—bright and fun, yet sensual.

Uh-oh. He looked at family-room furniture and thought sensual. Next he’d be wondering what Nancy’s bedroom looked like. No sooner had the suggestion risen than his imagination was off and running. He’d bet his bottom dollar Nancy had an antique four-poster canopy bed with a white eyelet comforter so dense you could get lost in it.

Redirecting his thoughts, he stopped in front of an oak sideboard, where family pictures were lovingly arranged. At least he assumed it was family, because the majority of the photos were of Nancy and Ana. One had been taken in a drab, old-fashioned room, with a stern-looking woman holding Ana. Then there was a photo of Nancy with an older version of herself, probably her mother. The woman’s eyes held a lingering sadness.

“There, I think she’s asleep again,” Nancy said from behind him.

“You’ve got some great pictures. I’d like to get a studio picture done with Rachel if I can ever catch her in a good mood.”

Nancy pointed to the drab photo. “That one’s at the orphanage in Pechory, Russia. Ana’s house mother was saying goodbye. The staff grows attached to the children and it’s hard for them to see the kids go. But they’re happy that the children are headed for a better life.”

“Ana’s adopted?” The realization helped connect a few of the seemingly unrelated dots Beau had found intriguing.

Nancy nodded, moving to the fireplace, as if she needed the additional warmth. “Sometimes I forget it’s not common knowledge like in McGuireville.”

Beau resisted the urge to follow her, to connect with her. He was afraid she’d quit confiding if he got too close. “I didn’t realize Ana came from Russia. She speaks English like any other kid her age. I have to admit, I was curious… You never said how long your husband was dead. But I figured it was none of my business who Ana’s father was.”

“Eric wasn’t in favor of adopting, otherwise I’d probably have two or three children by now. Most people around here probably assume Ana is Eric’s daughter.” She turned, raising her chin. “I guess I don’t go out of my way to correct that assumption until I know someone pretty well.”

The rebellious tilt to her chin and the hurt in her eyes touched Beau. Beau started to reach out to her but let his arm drop to his side. He couldn’t offer more than friendship.

“What made you decide on adopting after he died?”

Seeing Nancy frown, he realized he’d goofed. “Sorry, that’s none of my business, either.”

Nancy’s features relaxed. “Have a seat.” She gestured toward one end of the couch and sat at the other end. “I guess I’m a little defensive. Some of the folks back home in McGuireville were pretty disapproving of a single woman adopting a child. Unfortunately, my mother was one of them. And the fact that I adopted a ‘foreign’ child didn’t help any.”

“That’s too bad.” He sat where she’d indicated. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why?”

“Maybe because I wonder if I’ve been selfish. I adopted because I’ve wanted to be a mom for as long as I could remember. And I guess I felt I deserved to have a child after everything I went through with Eric. We never conceived, though he fathered a beautiful little boy with another woman. So, I guess, I figured he owed me in a way.”

“That’s not selfish. You needed a baby, Ana needed a home. It’s a win-win situation. You’re a wonderful mother and Ana’s obviously a happy, healthy kid.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to hear someone say that every once in a while. Even though I don’t have a clue what I’m doing at times, as you pointed out earlier.”

Beau stifled a groan. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just a dumb old country boy flapping my gums.” He pointed to the coffee table where several child-development books rested. “You’re learning all you can and you love Ana like crazy. That’s what matters.”

Nancy moved to perch on the front of the cushion. “Sometimes…when it’s been a really long day and everything has gone wrong and Ana’s been like the Energizer Bunny, I wonder if she’d be better off if I hadn’t adopted her.”

“Aw, darlin’, look at the pictures. No matter how much the staff cared about those kids, it’s not the same. You’re giving Ana a chance to live like a real kid, not in some institution.”

Nancy sighed. “That’s what I keep telling myself. But some days, there just doesn’t seem to be enough of me to go around.”

“Most days there doesn’t seem to be enough of me to go around. Staying one step ahead of Rachel is a full-time job. But I don’t know any different—Laurie and I were already separated when Rachel was born. I imagine it’s a little easier with two parents because you can tag-team. But I don’t seriously think having only one parent hurts as long as there’s plenty of love and dedication.”

Smiling, she said, “Did you hear yourself, Beau Stanton? You sounded like you could run for the Parent-Teacher Association.”

Beau flushed. “Well, as the song says, the times they are a-changin’.”

“Folk music, too? What is a good old Texas boy doing listening to anything but hard-core country?”

“I don’t want to scare you or anything—” he leaned closer, watching her sea-green eyes widen when their faces were merely inches apart “—but I like to listen to blues and Motown, too.”

“Beau Stanton, I do believe you’ve been holding out on me,” she breathed, her accent as thick and warm as sorghum on toast.

Lust nearly knocked him off the couch. It had been so long since he’d bedded a woman. Longer still since he’d spent the whole night with one, talking and laughing in the dark.

Nancy had a terrific laugh. And the thought of her seductive voice coming from the other side of the bed had him instantly aroused.

Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Time for you to go, buddy.” Her emphasis on the last word reminded him of his place, which was nowhere near her bed.

This friends stuff was proving to be difficult. Very difficult.

Chapter 4

Nancy caught herself gazing out her office window yet again. In the two days since her midnight chat with Beau, she’d found herself doing that a lot.

Her face warmed as she recalled telling him about Ana’s adoption and some of the disappointing responses she’d received back home. She shook her head, wondering at her own ability to open up to a man who had originally appeared to be only one step up on the evolutionary ladder from Eric.

But Eric had rarely listened to her like Beau had the other night. And a part of her really wanted to believe Beau’s interest had been more than just a ploy to get into her bed. But then she remembered that he’d pretty clearly wanted to seduce her before she sent him on his way.

Sighing, Nancy realized she might never understand the male mind. Worse yet, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

A tap at her open door drew her from her mental maze.

Beau leaned against the doorjamb. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been there?”

“A couple minutes. You seemed lost in thought so I was enjoying watching you. Nice view.” His distracted frown belied his words, telling her he was hitting on her more out of habit than actual interest.

And for some reason, that ticked her off. Her accent deepened, as it always did when she was upset. “Honey, this view is strictly off-limits.” Still, she couldn’t help but smooth her hair.

His grin told her he knew exactly what she was doing. “Don’t worry, I’m here for your business acumen, not to drool over your…attributes. And to thank you for letting me come over the other night. I really did need to talk to someone.”

“I think maybe I needed to talk to someone, too. Thanks for listening.” Her voice was softer than she intended.

“Anytime.” He held her gaze. “And I’ll try not to screw it up by letting my hormones get in the way.”

Nancy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Agreed. Now, you wanted to talk business?”

He took a deep breath, as if he intended to dive into the deep end of a pool—a pool teeming with alligators. “I need a house.”

“To rent?”

“No. I want to buy one.”

Nancy hesitated. “I would have figured you more for a short-term renter. Have you ever owned a home before?”

“Um, no. This is a first. Emily Patterson said you’re the best Realtor in the county.”

“Emily’s kind of a one-woman PR team. She talks me up way more than I deserve.”

“She’s very passionate in describing your abilities. Says you found a five-bedroom fixer-upper for her when she was practically broke and if anyone can find a perfect house for me, it’s you.”

“If she keeps that up, I’ll have to put her on the payroll. Have a seat.” She nodded toward a chair on the other side of her desk. “How’s Rachel? Didn’t she have a court appearance yesterday?”

“Yeah. Fortunately, the whole process scared the living daylights out of her, so she didn’t mouth off at the judge. He gave her a stern lecture and a few hours’ community service in the form of peer mediation training at school.”

“I’m so glad, Beau. Maybe this is just what she needed.”

“I hope so. We had a long, heart-to-heart talk the other night. To make a long story short, she’s trying to fit in. You know how it goes, Rachel’s the new kid in school. And, um, the kids call her names and stuff—about being skinny.”

“Poor thing. Kids can be so mean, especially teenage girls. The peer mediation might give her a way to meet some kids at school, too.”

“I kinda think that’s where the judge was headed. Smart old guy. But I feel there’s gotta be more I can do, too.”

“How about Rachel’s mom? Is she still determined not to be a part of her life?”

“I called Laurie. It’s weird ’cause she’s always been there for Rach. But now, it’s like she’s afraid or something.”

“Afraid of Rachel?”

“No. More like afraid of herself. Says she’s under a lot of pressure at work and financial stuff, so she’s just gotta have some time to get her head straight.”

“So you can’t rely on her to back you up?”

“No. It looks like I can’t rely on her being there for Rachel in any way.” He rested his arms on her desk. “That’s the reason I’m looking for a house.”

Nancy tilted her head to the side. “Oh?”

“Rachel seems to think I’m going to up and leave her and she’ll have nowhere to go. I figured if I bought a house, Rachel’d feel more secure—know she had a place to call home. Some place she’s always welcome, can always count on.”

Funny, for a guy she’d pegged as a redneck wanderer, he sure was astute enough to see the importance of a home and roots. She wondered if he had any idea how attractive his sensitive side was.

Shaking her head, Nancy refused to join a long line of women vying for this man’s attention. If she were ever ready to give romance another try, it would be with a man who thought she hung the moon and the stars. A man who wouldn’t notice if Pamela Anderson walked through the room naked, because he was too fascinated with the color of Nancy’s eyes or her witty observations. Maybe a chubby, bald guy so ordinary no other woman would look twice or, God forbid, pursue him.

“Hey, this is probably a bad idea.” Beau’s voice intruded on her romantic philosophizing.

She cleared her throat. “No, not at all. Tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll check the Multiple Listing Service, see what’s available. But before we do that, I better get you prequalified so we can see how much house you can afford.”

“Not very different from qualifying for a car loan, I hope?”

“No, just a little more paperwork.” She opened her desk drawer and withdrew a packet of papers. “Here, why don’t you fill these out and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nancy found herself watching him while he completed the paperwork, as if looking for clues to his real personality. The strokes of his pen were firm, decisive. He rarely paused, except to refer to information contained in a small phone book in his wallet. “Is it going to be a problem that I’ve only had this job for six months?”

“It depends. We’ll go back to your previous employment, just in case. Let me run some figures and I can give you a pretty good ballpark idea of what you can qualify for.”

He slid the completed paperwork across the desk, his movements strangely tentative for a man who seemed so confident in most other areas.

Smiling, she tried to put him at ease. “It’s painless. Really. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Nancy could have kicked herself.

But Beau didn’t seem to notice the double entendre. “Um, I’d pretty much rather have a root canal than think about buying a house. I mean, it’s so permanent.”

“If it makes you feel any better, most people live in their homes an average of five years.”

His face paled a little beneath his tan. “Yeah, um, five years.”

“I’m telling you so the thought of a thirty-year mortgage won’t freak you out.”

Beau turned positively green. She wasn’t sure whether it was the thirty-year part or the word mortgage that made him ill.

“Anyway, I’ll get right on this. There’s some coffee over on the table.”

“Maybe I’ll get some air.”

“I won’t be but a minute.” Nancy could sense the sale evaporating. She wasn’t normally so tactless. She’d always prided herself on being adept at saying the right thing to close the deal. But with Beau, she was off balance.

While he paced the room, Nancy concentrated on running the figures—something she should have been able to do in her sleep. But today, her fingers and her brain couldn’t seem to connect.

When she was done, she gave him a figure that made him blink. “I qualify for that much? I don’t need anything huge, just a normal house with a backyard and all that.”

“This is what it takes to buy ‘a normal house with a back yard and all that.’”

Whistling under his breath, he said, “And to think I got sticker shock when I started selling new cars. This is unreal.”

“Oh, it’s very real, I assure you.” She pulled up a list of possibilities. “There are eight homes in the area I can show you. What time would be best for you?”

“Now.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Three hours later, they pulled into the driveway of the eighth house—a roomy ranch-style house purported to be immaculate inside.

God, she hoped so. Because Beau had found something wrong with each house they’d visited. She could feel a tension headache start at her temples and work its way down her neck, contracting her shoulder muscles into tight little knots. She supposed it was their semipersonal relationship that made this so difficult.

“This is like taking Goldilocks house hunting.” Nancy smiled to soften her words. “This one is too small. That one is too tall. Too hot, too cold, too old, too new. Is there something specific you have in mind that I should know about?”

“You’ve been reading way too much Dr. Seuss lately.”

“Sorry, I start rhyming when I’m stressed. I promise not to offer green eggs and ham if you tell me exactly what it is you’re looking for in a house.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’ll know it when I see it, though. It’s gotta feel like home.”

“What do you go by, if you’ve never owned a home? Your parents’ house?”

Beau hesitated. “No. My parents weren’t the warm, fuzzy kind. They wanted everything perfect. Carpets, furniture, kids.”

“Carpets and furniture are rarely perfect. And as for kids, well, they’re by nature imperfect.”

“Don’t tell my folks that. Because they’re certain they raised one perfect son. And it wasn’t me. Now, let’s see this house.” His voice was grim.

Nancy processed Beau’s admission while she retrieved the house key from the lockbox. Maybe he had a good reason for avoiding roots and everything that went with them.

Opening the door wide, she asked, “What means home to you then?”

Beau glanced around the entryway. “This isn’t it, either. Home is…the way I feel when I walk into your house.”

Nancy wished she hadn’t asked. Because the thought of Beau Stanton making himself at home was only slightly scary. And she should have been terrified.

Nancy slid into a booth at the little Italian restaurant downtown. “Sorry I’m late. I was with a client.”

Emily Patterson winked. “I heard. Beau Stanton. You’ll have to find him a big house, ’cause each room will need to be christened. And I think you’re just the woman for the job.”

“Christened?” Nancy frowned. Realization dawned. “No way. Not me. I have no intention of getting horizontal with Beau Stanton, particularly not on a kitchen counter.”

“Did I say anything about horizontal?” Emily’s eyes widened innocently. “Or a kitchen counter?” She leaned over and whispered, “It’s way more fun to get vertical in the shower together, if you know what I mean?”

Nancy choked on a sip of water. “Emily, you’re bad.”

“As Mae West said, ‘When I’m good, I’m very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better.’”

“Okay, friend, I know you have my best interests at heart. And someday I might date again. But not now and not with Beau Stanton. Did the waiter say what today’s special is?”

“Veal Parmesan. I’ll allow you to change the subject, but only for a while. Then I want all the details.”

Opening a menu, Nancy hoped Emily would forget about Beau. “How are the kids?”

“Bickering and fighting nonstop. Ordinary kids. They’re anticipating the first snow and Thanksgiving break. I promised them a day trip to do some sledding.”

“Is it almost Thanksgiving already? It hardly seems possible,” Nancy murmured, disturbed by a trace of wistfulness.

“Probably because you’ve been working so hard. How’re things going at the real-estate office?”

“Not bad, considering it’s my first year. And by the way, thank you for referring Beau, even if he is a pain in the rear at times.”

Emily beamed. “My pleasure. Are you going to your mother’s for Thanksgiving?”

Sighing, Nancy wished the holidays were as simple as when she’d been a kid. Things got so complex in adulthood. “I’d considered making the trip, but I think we’ll stay home this year. My mom’s pretty outspoken in her opinions about foreign adoptions.” She selected a bread stick from the basket and started tearing it into little pieces. “I’d love for her to be a grandmother to Ana, but she just can’t seem to accept her. This is Ana’s first holiday with me and I don’t want her to feel rejected by Mom in any way. Our Thanksgiving can be kind of quiet, but I want to make her first Christmas magical. I intend to research Russian orthodoxy and see if I can incorporate some of their traditions for Ana.”

Emily squeezed Nancy’s hand. “That sounds terrific. If anyone can do it, you can. How about coming to our house for Thanksgiving?”

“But—”

“No buts. That’s an order. We have so many people coming, nobody will notice two more. Besides, I need you to show me how to do some of that fancy presentation stuff with food. You know, where you make radishes look like roses and all the other ways you create a beautiful meal. My great-aunt Beatrice will be there, and it will hack her off no end if I suddenly seem domestic. She’s the one who said I’d never amount to anything and calls my children little heathens.”

Nancy chuckled. “In the interest of hacking off Great-Aunt Beatrice, I’d be delighted to spend Thanksgiving at your house. And I’m sure Ana would love to tag along with your kids.”

“It’s settled then. I can hardly wait.”

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