“Okay, it’s a deal….”

Ben held out his hand for Clair to shake, and she took it without thinking.

But that perfectly innocent handshake made her extremely aware of the heat of his skin, the strength of his grip, the sensuality of his touch—things she didn’t want to be aware of at all. And just the fact that she was, spurred her to say, “I don’t think you should walk me to the cottage. I’ll just slip out as if I was never here, and we’ll be that much closer to putting the reunion behind us and starting over.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She smiled and left. Somehow she’d gone from nearly hyperventilating at just the thought of seeing Ben Walker again to actually being tempted to linger a while with him. He had an effect on her like no other man ever had.

Although maybe his having unusual effects on her shouldn’t have come as such a surprise under the circumstances….

Circumstances in which he’d managed to conquer her infertility!

Dear Reader,

Well, we hope your New Year’s resolutions included reading some fabulous new books—because we can provide the reading material! We begin with Stranded with the Groom by Christine Rimmer, part of our new MONTANA MAVERICKS: GOLD RUSH GROOMS miniseries. When a staged wedding reenactment turns into the real thing, can the actual honeymoon be far behind? Tune in next month for the next installment in this exciting new continuity.

Victoria Pade concludes her NORTHBRIDGE NUPTIALS miniseries with Having the Bachelor’s Baby, in which a woman trying to push aside memories of her one night of passion with the town’s former bad boy finds herself left with one little reminder of that encounter—she’s pregnant with his child. Judy Duarte begins her new miniseries, BAYSIDE BACHELORS, with Hailey’s Hero, featuring a cautious woman who finds herself losing her heart to a rugged rebel who might break it…. THE HATHAWAYS OF MORGAN CREEK by Patricia Kay continues with His Best Friend, in which a woman is torn between two men—the one she really wants, and the one to whom he owes his life. Mary J. Forbes’s sophomore Special Edition is A Father, Again, featuring a grown-up reunion between a single mother and her teenaged crush. And a disabled child, an exhausted mother and a down-but-not-out rodeo hero all come together in a big way, in Christine Wenger’s debut novel, The Cowboy Way.

So enjoy, and come back next month for six compelling new novels, from Silhouette Special Edition.

Happy New Year!

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Silhouette Special Edition

Having the Bachelor’s Baby
Victoria Pade

www.millsandboon.co.uk

VICTORIA PADE

is a bestselling author of both historical and contemporary romance fiction, and mother of two energetic daughters, Cori and Erin. Although she enjoys her chosen career as a novelist, she occasionally laments that she has never traveled farther from her Colorado home than Disneyland, instead spending all her spare time plugging away at her computer. She takes breaks from writing by indulging in her favorite hobby—eating chocolate.

NORTHBRIDGE NEWS

The bad boy is back…

and better looking than ever!

The one-time bad boy of Northbridge is back in town, but is it for business, as he claims—or for pleasure, as it seems? After taking a quick drive by the old Northbridge School for Boys, the discreet reporter noticed just how many changes Ben Walker already made to the place…and how close he seemed to previous owner Clair Cabot. Rumor has it that Ben and Clair got awfully cozy a few months back at the Northbridge High School reunion. And since I’m sworn to report the full story… A source has revealed she recently spotted a trench-coated Clair skimming the titles in Bella’s Books—in the childcare section! So how cozy did they get that night? Looks like only nine months will tell!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter One

“Northbridge. Thirty miles. Thirty short miles…”

Clair Cabot was talking to herself. But reading the sign above the highway out loud as she drove underneath it didn’t ease any of the tension she was feeling. In fact, the closer she got to her destination the more her stress level increased.

Northbridge. The small Montana town where fifteen-year-old Clair and her father had moved when her father had purchased a ranch to turn into a school and quasi-boot-camp for troubled preadolescent boys.

The small Montana town where Clair had gone to high school and met and married her high-school sweetheart before moving with him to Denver.

The small Montana town she’d last visited for a single night in June to attend her graduating class’s tenth reunion.

The small Montana town where, for the second time in her life, a man had altered her course….

“Take a deep breath and blow it out. Take a deep breath and blow it out,” she recited, performing the relaxation technique advised by her doctor when she’d passed out in her office a week ago.

The deep breathing helped a little. Only a little. Because after all, she was still getting closer and closer to Northbridge with every passing minute. To Northbridge and to the Northbridge School for Boys…and to the school’s new owner—Ben Walker.

Clair had to do the deep breathing again at just the thought of Ben Walker.

Ben Walker—Northbridge’s bad boy.

Or at least that’s what he’d been as a teenager. So bad that by the time Clair had arrived in town he’d already been sent to Arizona for a program for adolescents in trouble. Which meant that even though Clair’s best friend through high school had been Ben Walker’s twin sister, Cassie, Clair hadn’t even met Ben until the last semester of senior year when he’d been allowed to come back to graduate with his class. And by then Clair had been so involved with Rob Cabot she hadn’t even noticed Cassie’s hardtack twin.

Until the reunion in June.

“Stupid reunion,” Clair muttered.

But the reunion wasn’t to blame for what had happened the last time she was in Northbridge, she thought, contradicting herself. It was Rob Cabot who had set the wheels into motion. It was his fault.

Her ex-husband.

She’d asked him if he was going to the reunion—not face-to-face, she hadn’t wanted to ever see him again after the divorce. But she’d e-mailed him and asked him.

And that’s all she’d done—she’d asked him. Nicely. Politely. She hadn’t goaded him or challenged him or done anything to provoke him. She hadn’t even let him know that if he was going, she wasn’t—although that had been her plan. She’d only e-mailed and asked him if he was going. A simple question that had only required a simple, straight-forward, honest answer.

And that’s what she’d thought he’d given her.

He’d said there was no way he was going, that he and his new wife—the woman he’d married less than twenty-four hours after his divorce from Clair had been finalized—had better things to do.

So naturally Clair had figured the coast was clear and she could go. She could go without worrying about seeing Rob. Without worrying about seeing his new wife. Without feeling uncomfortable. Without having to relive the pain of the past eleven months. She could just go and have fun.

Which was all she’d intended to do.

But she should have known better. She should have known that Rob wouldn’t forgo anything so anyone else—especially Clair—could have free rein with it.

So of course, who had she met at the sign-in table within five minutes of arriving at the Northbridge High School gymnasium?

Rob.

And his new wife.

His pregnant new wife.

And as if that hadn’t been enough salt poured into Clair’s wounds, Rob had seized the opportunity to place his hand on his new wife’s belly, smile smugly and say, “So now we know I wasn’t the problem.”

The memory of that moment still hurt. It was one of the worst of Clair’s life. She’d whispered, “Congratulations,” in a shocked, choked voice, and then she’d made a beeline for the ladies room to hide in one of the stalls and sob.

That was where she’d been when her old friend Cassie had found her.

Poor Cassie had spent an hour standing outside the stall door to talk her through her misery until Clair managed to muster enough courage to finally come out.

“I’m going home,” she’d announced then.

But Cassie wouldn’t hear of it. “I won’t let you do that,” Cassie had said. “You’re here, and you can’t just turn around and go back to Denver before we’ve even had a chance to say hello. It’ll be okay. I’ll stay right by your side and I won’t let Rob get within a hundred yards of you again.”

It had taken more talking on Cassie’s part to convince Clair, but in the end she’d succumbed and agreed to stay.

But not without a stiff drink.

The problem was, one stiff drink had become two. Then three. Then Clair had lost count.

And although Cassie had tried to be good to her word and remain close by, she’d been the head of the reunion committee and had had other responsibilities and duties that had made that impossible.

Instead, Cassie had sent her twin brother to act as a buffer.

Her twin brother, Ben. Reformed town bad boy. Hunk extraordinaire.

Clair had not minded that Rob had gotten to see her with the best-looking man in the room.

And since one semester at Northbridge High hadn’t left Ben a lot of things to reminisce about, once Cassie had turned Clair over to him, Ben had stayed by Clair’s side from then on.

Of course even though Clair didn’t know it for a fact, she’d assumed that Cassie had told Ben about her situation and, looking back on that night, Clair thought he’d probably just taken pity on her. But it hadn’t seemed that way at the time. At the time he’d been disarmingly sweet and charming. His wry observations of their classmates had made her laugh. He’d somehow managed to actually lift her spirits. To put her at ease. To make her feel good about herself again. To help her rise above the low blow her ex-husband had struck and make her completely forget Rob and his pregnant new wife were anywhere around.

And all the while he’d kept both her and himself well stocked with margaritas.

Yes, he’d had a whole lot to drink, too. Which had no doubt contributed to the fact that they’d ended up together…for the entire night.

“Northbridge. Fifteen miles,” Clair read aloud.

Take a deep breath and blow it out. Take a deep breath and blow it out….

It would have been so much easier if she hadn’t let Cassie talk her into staying at that reunion, Clair thought now. Or if, once she’d stayed, she’d continued not knowing Ben Walker existed—the way she’d hardly known he existed ten years ago.

But oh, brother had she known Ben Walker existed. With those smoky blue-green eyes and that deliciously wicked quirk that curled the corner of this mouth when he was showing that hint of devil that still lurked beneath the surface.

Clair had most certainly known he existed that night in June.

Not that she had a vivid memory of too much more than that when it came to Ben Walker, though. Beyond the way he looked and being with him during the early portion of the evening, she hardly remembered anything. She definitely didn’t recall how they’d gotten to her room at the local bed-and-breakfast where she was registered. And from that point, the rest of the night was just a blur she couldn’t bring into any kind of clear focus no matter how hard she tried.

But the next morning? Now that she remembered.

She’d been mortified to wake up in bed with a man she barely knew.

So mortified that while he was still sleeping, she’d run out on him without a word, without leaving him a note, without a remnant of herself left behind—as if that might erase what had happened between them. She’d left him in her room, thrown her suitcase in the back seat of her car and driven straight home, hoping she would never have to see Ben Walker again.

Hoping she could just forget that reunion, that trip to Northbridge, that one night. Hoping she could just forget it all.

And wouldn’t that have been nice….

But instead, a month after the reunion the Realtor who had been trying to sell the Northbridge School for Boys on her behalf had called to say he had a buyer. A buyer named Ben Walker.

Okaaay, she’d said, hoping the transaction could be done by proxy, that she still wouldn’t have to face him.

There was just one glitch.

Since her father was no longer living and able to turn the place over to the new owner himself, Clair had told the Realtor she was willing to do it. Only she’d told the Realtor that before there was even a buyer and before she’d had any idea that that new owner would be Ben Walker. And he was taking her up on the offer.

The offer to personally return to Northbridge to orient him on the workings of the place and the social service requirements he would have to meet for a placement facility of that nature.

So there she was, the week before Labor Day, once again on her way to Northbridge. Embarrassed that she’d had a few too many drinks and spent the night not only with a virtual stranger, but a virtual stranger who was her friend’s brother. Embarrassed that she’d ditched that brother the next morning. And carrying with her the consequences of her actions.

“Welcome to Northbridge, Montana,” she said sarcastically, once again reading a sign as she turned right, off the nearly deserted rural highway.

It was two more miles down a road that ran between matching fields of cornstalks that formed tall walls on either side and cast long shadows in the late evening light. Then the fields gave way to ancient oak trees lush with green leaves before she actually reached the town itself. And Main Street.

Clair pulled into the first place she came to on Main Street—the service station, which, along with the bus station across the street, was the beginning of that end of the town proper.

She didn’t need gas. She just needed to stop. So she parked alongside the station rather than at the pumps and got out.

The front door to the station was open, even though it was long after the scheduled 6:00 p.m. closing time, and so was the big garage door where a truck with its hood raised was apparently being worked on in the mechanic’s bay. But no one was anywhere to be seen. Clair headed for the restroom, which she knew would only be locked if someone else was using it.

No one was, so she stepped inside and turned on the light before she leaned back against the door, closed her eyes and once again advised herself to breathe.

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to work out, she couldn’t help thinking as it began to sink in that she really was in Northbridge again.

Her dad was supposed to live to a ripe old age and go on running the school until he was ready to turn it over to someone else himself.

She was supposed to be married. She was supposed to have a big family to bring back and raise in Northbridge so her father could be included, so her father could revel in his role as grandfather. She was supposed to finish her own life here in Northbridge. And she was supposed to do it all with Rob.

But that wasn’t the way things had worked out.

And if there was one thing she’d learned in the last year of having her whole life turned topsy-turvy, it was that she had to deal with whatever came of the latest topsy-turvy turn.

“So deal,” she told herself. But that was easier said than done.

Still, she was determined to manage to the best of her ability.

So she took one more deep breath, blew it out and opened her eyes.

If there was a cleaner gas station bathroom in the country, Clair had never been in it and just the sight of that spotless space made her smile.

Northbridge.

Where else would the station owner’s mother come in to personally scrub the restroom and keep a crocheted doily across the top of the toilet tank?

Clair pushed off the door and after using the pristine facilities, she grabbed the heart-shaped, strawberry-scented soap from a ceramic dish on the edge of the sink to wash her hands. Then she dried them with paper towel taken from a roll held on the wall by a dispenser with two brown bears perched atop either end of the bar.

And all the while she kept thinking, only in Northbridge….

She tossed the used paper towel into a wicker basket, and glanced at herself in the mirror above the sink.

It had been a long drive from Denver, through Wyoming to Montana, and she’d been traveling since dawn. It was now after eight o’clock, and she decided she looked like someone who had been behind the wheel of a car all that time.

Some repair work was in order, she decided.

She grabbed a tissue and blotted her face, paying particular attention to her forehead since she’d just had her very wavy, honey-blond hair cut short—including the bangs that were now barely below her hairline and left most of her brow showing.

With that done, she opened her purse and removed a small makeup bag. After applying a light dusting of blush onto the crests of her high cheekbones and into the hollows below them, she passed the brush lightly along the underside of her jawline.

She was grateful to have the skin and the bone structure she had—neither would put her on the cover of a magazine but at least her complexion had always been clear and between her cheekbones and jawline there was some definition.

She wished her eyelashes were longer though, and reapplied mascara to help give the illusion that they were. And as she did, she was glad to see that the whites around her almost-purple irises weren’t bloodshot as they had been the week before when the latest topsy-turvy turn her life had taken had kept her from sleeping for several nights.

A light coating of lip gloss didn’t alter the natural pink of lips that she also wished were a bit fuller. And for about the hundredth time since she’d had her hair cut, she wondered if it had been wise to go so drastically from shoulder-length to a curly cap that the stylist had proclaimed sporty and cute and so much more au courant than the way she’d been wearing it.

Actually, what she was wondering was what Ben Walker would think of her haircut. But she curbed that thought the minute she realized she was having it. Rob hated short hair and would have had a fit—which had probably influenced her decision to do it. But once she had gone ahead with the new style, it had seemed liberating to do something for herself. She certainly wasn’t going to start fretting over the approval or disapproval of another man.

“Sporty and cute and au courant,” she said, finding that repeating the hairstylist’s words and taking stock of her new look somehow helped bolster her. It also helped remind her that she was her own woman now. Strong enough to have withstood a lot in the past year. Resilient. Capable. Competent. She could take care of herself and whatever else she needed to take care of. So what if things hadn’t turned out the way they were supposed to? She could handle it. She could handle anything.

At least she hoped she could when her stomach did the little lurch it had been doing for the past few weeks, and she remembered that the latest topsy-turvy turn was a big one.

But still, now that she had actually arrived in Northbridge, and had freshened up and reassured herself that she would be okay, she felt better than she had driving into town.

Even if she was back in Northbridge to hand over her father’s school.

Even if she was divorced.

Even if she’d made one of the biggest miscalculations of her entire life when she’d spent the night with Ben Walker in June and became pregnant with his baby…!

The Northbridge School for Boys was just outside of town to the west. When Clair turned off the road onto the drive that led up to it, she stopped the car so she could have a moment to look at the place her father had loved.

The original house was a flat-faced, three-story wooden box painted pale yellow and trimmed in white. The building stood about a quarter of a mile from the road in a circle of elm trees that seemed to protect it.

The house and trees blocked the view of the barn, chicken coop, pigsties and paddocks behind the main building that made the school a working ranch. The small caretaker’s cottage where she and her father had made their own home was also to the rear of the main house and out of sight from the front approach.

Clair stopped between two matching white rail fences that bordered the drive on both sides. Within the confines of those fenced pastures there were horses to her right and dairy cows to her left. The fence gave way to a circular drive, and a lush green lawn carpeted the ground to the flower beds that decorated the space immediately in front of the house.

Those who didn’t know what the place was or didn’t get close enough to read the small brass plaque that announced it was the Northbridge School for Boys would never guess it wasn’t merely the pastoral estate of a gentleman farmer.

But that had suited her father. He’d always said that even though it might be an institutional facility, he wanted it to be homey and welcoming and something the boys would learn to take pride in. And because that wasn’t always a simple task with troubled kids, his tool-box had been at the ready to make repairs—always assisted by whoever had wreaked the damage.

This was the first time Clair had been to the school since her father’s untimely death from a sudden heart attack. She hadn’t been able to face staying there alone when she’d come to the reunion, but she’d planned to at least drive out and have a look at things.

Instead she’d made her abrupt departure from the bed-and-breakfast, from Northbridge—and from Ben Walker—without ever doing that.

But now that she was there she was pleased to see that the place the Realtor had said was beginning to show some signs of neglect over the past year, looked as well tended as it had when her father had been at the helm.

No doubt that was thanks to Ben Walker. The Realtor had told Clair that as soon as the sale had closed he’d begun to work on the place so he could open this month.

He’d also moved in—again, according to the Realtor who had told her that Ben Walker would be living on-site just as she and her father had. But the Realtor had also said that Ben Walker would give up the cottage to Clair while she was there, to spare her the expense of the bed-and-breakfast. During that time, he would stay in the main building.

So there she was.

Inside, Ben Walker was waiting for her.

She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her. She was just reasonably sure it couldn’t be anything good. But there was nothing she could do about that now so she decided she might as well get this show on the road.

Take a deep breath and blow it out.

Clair took her own silent advice again.

Then she drove the rest of the way to the building.

Apparently Ben Walker wasn’t watching for her because the big mahogany door remained closed as she parked, turned off the engine and got out of the car with her suitcase.

When she reached the front door she automatically put her hand on the knob to open it before it occurred to her that the place didn’t belong to her—or to her father—any longer and that she couldn’t just go in.

So she pulled her hand away and rang the bell instead, feeling a whole new layer of awkwardness.

But when the door opened it wasn’t Ben Walker on the other side of it. It was Cassie Walker.

“Hey there, stranger!” Clair’s old friend greeted her with a smile and a big hug. “I was hoping you’d get here before I left, and you just barely made it.”

“Cassie!” Clair responded with a full measure of relief echoing in her voice. She hadn’t expected her friend to be there but the fact that Cassie was helped immensely.

“Come in, come in,” Cassie encouraged. But despite the invitation, she didn’t make way for Clair because, as if the change in Clair had just registered, she said, “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” Clair confirmed, self-consciously fingering the short curls at her nape.

“It’s so cute. I love it on you. Even though I’m still mad at you.”

“You’re mad at me?”

“For the reunion. I can’t believe you left that night without telling me you were going and then didn’t even call before going back to Denver the next day. I don’t care if you were in a hurry to escape before you had to see Rob again.”

A second wave of relief washed through Clair. She’d called her friend a few days after the reunion, worrying that Cassie’s twin might have told her that he’d spent the night with Clair. But when it had become clear that Ben hadn’t said anything about it, Clair had given her friend the likeliest excuse—not wanting to see Rob again—to explain her hasty departure both from the reunion and from Northbridge the following morning. But for just a moment, Clair thought maybe Ben had told Cassie belatedly and her friend was genuinely angry. It was good that that didn’t seem to be the truth.

“Maybe we’ll have time to visit and catch up while I’m here now,” Clair said to appease her friend.

“I’m counting on it,” Cassie said. Then she obviously recalled that they were still standing in the doorway and said, “Oh, look at me—I told you to come in and then went right on blocking the door.” But this time she stepped out of the way.

Clair took her suitcase with her into the foyer and while Cassie closed the door behind her, Clair glanced around.

From what she could see, Ben Walker had left the lower level of the house just as her father had—just as it had been when the building had served as a private home. The large foyer had a hardwood floor and paneled walls with archways cut out of them to connect a living room to the right and a recreation room that housed a reproduction of an antique pool table to the left.

There was also a broad staircase directly across from the door, with hallways leading to the rear of the house on both sides of it. The space above the foyer was open to the second level where the staircase branched off in both directions to rise to the third floor.

Cassie aimed her chin up the stairs then and shouted, “Ben! Are you coming down? Clair’s here.”

He must have already been on his way before that because no sooner were the words out than his voice came in answer from the left branch of the staircase.

“On my way,” he said as work-booted feet and long, jean-clad legs with impressively muscular thighs came into view, followed by a leather tool belt slung low on a pair of narrow hips, a V-shaped torso with muscular chest, mile-wide shoulders and bulging biceps that were all barely contained in a plain white T-shirt.

“It was you who said you heard a car on the drive and then what do you do but disappear,” Cassie said to him as he reached the second-floor landing.

But not even that brought his gaze to them. Instead, stalled on the upper landing, he was so intent on replacing tools in the loops of his tool belt it was as if Cassie and Clair were only incidental.

“I wanted to close that paint can before I forgot,” he muttered.

Both Cassie and Clair stood there watching him, and as she did it struck Clair that he was even better-looking than she remembered—something she hadn’t thought was possible.

And it wasn’t only the bounty of his body that was remarkable. His dark, sable-brown hair was short all over and in a sexy disarray that made it impossible to tell if it was by design or nature. His features were the kind that a camera would love—stark and chiseled, with a square brow, a sharp jaw that cradled a chin with the slightest cleft in the center and a nose that was thin and perfectly aquiline.

His skin was smooth and sun-bronzed, his lean cheeks were shadowed with a day’s growth of beard that made him look appealingly scruffy, and when he finally finished hooking his tools through their allotted loops and cast his attention in the direction of the foyer, the blue-green of his eyes was so intense Clair thought she could feel his gaze settling on her.

But not so much as the hint of emotion was evident in his deep voice when he said, “Hello, Clair.”

Then he finally came the rest of the way down the steps on legs that bowed a little and carried him on a slow swagger that had just a hint of insolence to it.

And all of a sudden Clair found her throat so dry she had trouble saying, “Hi.”

His eyes remained on her but he didn’t say anything else, and Clair wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or if there was a sort of challenge in his expression. In his whole stance.

But if there was she didn’t know what he was challenging her to or how to meet it, and she was grateful when Cassie filled the gap.

“Have you eaten? Are you hungry? Thirsty? We had Chinese food and there are leftovers. And I made a pitcher of lemonade a little while ago.”

“Just the lemonade sounds good,” Clair managed.

Cassie checked her wristwatch. “I only have a few minutes before I need to leave for a committee meeting. I’m helping Ben with things around here because he’s down to the wire, but I also have stuff going on for fall semester at the college—although admittedly as a student advisor I won’t be swamped there until the kids show up so I’ll be in and out with you guys the whole time you’re here. Anyway, how about if I pour while Ben takes your suitcase out to the cottage?”

The only part of what Cassie said that registered with Clair was the part about Cassie only staying a few more minutes. And that fact made her suffer a fresh bout of panic. But she didn’t let it show. Instead she said a weak, “Okay.”

Cassie linked her arm through Clair’s then and headed for the kitchen, chattering about Northbridge going international with the opening of Ling’s Chinese Palace restaurant.

It wasn’t like Cassie to be so frenzied, and Clair wondered if her friend was responding to the tension in the air. But she was too on-edge herself to do more than let Cassie carry her along.

And all the while she was watching Ben as he walked ahead of them with her suitcase, knowing she shouldn’t be looking at his great rear end, and that she certainly shouldn’t be trying futilely to remember what it had looked like naked.

But it was only when they reached the large kitchen at the back of the house and Ben went out the sliding door that she managed to stop thinking about his derriere and focus on something else. On the kitchen itself.

The kitchen was as it had always been—a big, wide-open space with commercial-size appliances, and very little in the way of decor—with the exception of the backsplash tiles with the floral motif. There was a marble island counter with barstools on one side of it, and, for dining purposes, there was a long rectangular table with picnic-bench-style seating.

Cassie motioned Clair to one of the barstools, and then went to the refrigerator.

“It’s hard for you to be here again with your dad gone, isn’t it?” Cassie said when her brother was out of sight and earshot, letting Clair know that that was what her friend attributed the tension to.

“A little,” Clair admitted because that was also a factor in her stress.

“Will you be okay alone in the cottage? I really wish you could stay at my place, but with my roommate’s brother sleeping on our couch right now I know you wouldn’t be comfortable. My offer is still good, though, to come out here and stay with you, if you want.”

It was a tempting offer—not only because then Cassie would provide a constant diversion from Ben, but because Clair would have liked to spend time with her friend.

But she had a purpose other than helping Ben Walker get the school started and that purpose would only be served without a diversion.

So Clair said, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“It wouldn’t be baby-sitting,” Cassie assured. “And I don’t mind if you need me.”

“Thanks, but, no. Really. I’m fine.”

Cassie accepted that, brought Clair the glass of lemonade and then pointed to the wall clock. “I hate to rush off the minute you get here but I have to.”

“It’s okay,” Clair lied.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and Ben will take good care of you in the meantime—won’t you?”

Clair hadn’t heard him come back and since she was facing away from the sliding door she had to look over her shoulder to make sure that’s who Cassie was talking to.

“Uh-huh,” he answered.

But apparently it was answer enough for Cassie because it prompted her to say, “All right then, I better go. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Clair and Ben responded with goodbyes of their own and then all of a sudden they were alone. In a silence Clair thought was heavy enough to be tangible.

But she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know whether to launch into an explanation of what had gone through her mind at the reunion and the next morning. Or to make excuses for herself. Or to try to convince him that her actions that night were unusual in the extreme—which they were.

Or maybe she should just act as if nothing had happened at all….

“Long drive from Denver,” he said then, interrupting the silence and her racing thoughts as he went to stand on the opposite side of the island. He stretched his arms wide and grabbed hold of the edges of the countertop.

“It is a long drive,” Clair agreed. “But I got a really early start this morning and it was a nice day for traveling. Sunny but not too hot.”

She couldn’t believe she was actually talking about the weather. Still, she just couldn’t bring herself to delve into anything deeper.

And then he did.

He said, “She doesn’t know—Cassie, that is—about what happened at the reunion. Between you and me. Nobody does.” He paused, made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, and added, “Including me in a lot of respects.”

“I’m not all that clear myself. Even about the parts I remember,” Clair admitted, staring at the beads of water on the outside of her lemonade glass because she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“We did have a lot to drink that night,” he allowed, making it easier for her. At least up to a point. “But the next morning…I was sobered up by then, you must have been, too.”

“In more ways than one,” she said half under her breath.

“What does that mean?” he asked anyway.

Whether she wanted to explain or not, apparently she was going to have to so Clair didn’t see any reason to fight it and merely gave in.

“That’s just not something I do—or have ever done— spending the night with someone like that,” she said haltingly because what she’d done was so foreign to her that she didn’t even know how to refer to her behavior. “I…” She had to clear her throat. “Before that I’d only…been…with Rob.”

“Rob?”

“Cabot. Rob Cabot? My husband—ex-husband?”

Ben shook his head and shrugged. “Am I supposed to know him?”

“We all went to high school together. He was there, at the reunion. With his new wife. He wasn’t supposed to be. He said he wasn’t going. It was the first time I’d seen him since our divorce, and the whole thing is still so strange to me and it just hit home and… Well, that’s why Cassie asked you to keep me company,” Clair said, looking for any kind of light to dawn in him.

But it never did. “All I know is that I was having a lousy time that night and never should have let my sister talk me into going. I was like a fish out of water that last semester of school and I was just as much a fish out of water that night. But when I told her I was leaving she said you were having a rotten time, too, and asked if I would sit with you until she could get back to you.”

Which Cassie hadn’t been able to do.

“So you didn’t know—” Clair cut herself off, not wanting to get into the subject of Rob and that night in the middle of the rest of this. “And it wasn’t just a pity—”

She couldn’t believe that train of thought had found voice. Her voice.

But it made him smile. A slow, lopsided, private-joke-kind of smile that somehow managed to instantly dissipate a lot of the tension in the room.

“You thought that whole night was a…out of pity?”

“I thought it was possible,” she confessed quietly.

Now he was trying to keep from grinning and in the struggle his eyebrows arched up over the bridge of his nose in a way that made him look innocent and devilish all at once. “I didn’t know anything was going on that I should pity you for,” he said.

“Good.”

“But I have to admit you have me curious now.”

“Too bad,” she said, her tone making it clear she had no intention of satisfying that curiosity.

For some reason that made him laugh. Which, in turn, helped even more of the tension evaporate.

“Okay,” he said, his stance relaxing, too, as he let his weight shift to one hip and stood up straighter to cross his arms over his chest. “So is that why you disappeared the next morning? Because you thought I’d only been there out of pity?”

“No, I was just… Well, I was crazy that next morning. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done what I’d done. I just…ran.”

He didn’t respond immediately. In fact he didn’t respond for so long that Clair hazarded a glance up at him.

He was watching her. Studying her. As if he were trying to decide whether or not to accept what she was telling him.

Finally he said, “I didn’t appreciate it.”

Nothing like being blunt.

But Clair knew she had it coming.

“I’m sorry. I know it was probably bad etiquette or something. I just didn’t know what to do or say or how to act or…anything. All I could think to do was to go home.”

That sounded lame. But it was the truth.

He either realized that or opted for letting her off the hook, though, because after another moment of studying her he said, “How about we forget the reunion ever happened and start over?”

She couldn’t completely forget it. But, for the time being, Clair thought it might be best to put it on a back burner.

“I’d like to start over,” she said, agreeing to at least that part of his suggestion.

“Then let’s do that.”

Those aqua eyes were warmer than they’d been since her arrival and that warmth made her feel much, much better.

“I can tell you’re worn-out from the drive, and since I want to get an early start tomorrow I told Cassie I’d fix the two of you breakfast at seven-thirty, if that’s all right with you?”

“Sure, seven-thirty is fine.”

“Okay, then, since you’ve had a long trip and we’re starting early tomorrow, how about if I walk you out to the cottage, let you unpack and get some rest? And we’ll consider tomorrow day one?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

He held out his hand for her to shake and she took it without thinking that the feel of it might cause anything to erupt in her.

But it did. That perfectly innocent handshake that any two strangers might have shared made her extremely aware of the heat of his skin, the strength of his grip, the sensuality of his touch—things she didn’t want to be aware of at all.

And just the fact that she was, spurred her to say, “I don’t even think you should walk me to the cottage. I’ll just slip out as if I was never here, and we’ll be that much closer to putting the reunion behind us and starting over.”

“You’re sure?” he asked as she got down from the barstool in a hurry.

“Positive. You don’t know me. I’m not here,” she said on the way to the sliding door.

He followed her that far anyway, reaching around in front of her to open the door, keeping his hand high up on the edge of it and leaning against it as she went outside.

“Okay. See you around, stranger,” he said from behind her.

“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” she countered, stealing one more glance over her shoulder at him and finding him smiling that private-joke smile again.

It made her want to stay.

How did that happen? she asked herself as she gave him a little wave and turned away to head down the short brick path to the cottage.

But she didn’t have an answer. She only knew that somehow she’d gone from nearly hyperventilating at just the thought of seeing Ben Walker again, to actually being tempted to linger a while longer with him. And that the effect he had on her was like no other any man had ever had on her before.

Although maybe his having unusual effects on her shouldn’t have come as such a surprise under the circumstances.

Circumstances in which he’d managed to conquer her infertility.

Chapter Two

Ben hadn’t gone for a run in a while. He’d been too busy getting the school ready to open. But the following morning he was up earlier than usual anyway, and he decided it might do him some good.

So he pulled on a pair of cutoff jeans and his ratty old gray sleeves-torn-out T-shirt and, after some stretches to warm up, he set off just as the sun was making its first appearance.

He’d started running for exercise as a teenager. Exercise itself was something the ACA—the Arizona Center for Adolescents—had required. One of the many things required there. But running had given him the only sense of freedom he’d had in placement—even though he’d had to do it with a staff member along. So it had been something he’d adopted early on, something he’d stuck with ever since.

It just felt good. It helped him ease stress. It helped clear his head.

And right now he needed his head cleared. It was full of lists of things he had to get done so the school could open in the next two weeks. Full of guidelines, codes and requirements he had to meet. Full of questions he had for Clair Cabot.

Full of Clair Cabot…

Okay sure, she was really what had him up and running this morning. Thoughts of her. He might as well admit it. Why not, when thoughts of her weren’t such a strange occurrence since the reunion anyway? Since he’d woken the next morning to discover she’d left him behind like a dirty shirt. In fact she’d been on his mind so much that trying not to think about her almost seemed like his new hobby.

But now that he had a glimmer of an idea of what might be going on with her, he really wanted her cleared out of his mind.

Damn Cassie for setting him up like that, he thought as he increased his speed a little.

His sister hadn’t told him that Clair was divorced—let alone newly divorced.

And she should have. Cassie, of all people, knew how he felt about playing rebound guy for anyone. She knew he’d learned the hard way not to get within a hundred yards of any woman not long—long—past a breakup. Which was probably why she hadn’t told him that the reason that her friend was having a lousy time at the reunion had something to do with an ex-husband and his new wife. Cassie had to have known that if he’d had that fact at his disposal there would have been no chance in hell that he would have helped Cassie out by trying to cheer up Clair Cabot that night.

Let alone gone back to her room with her.

Or slept with her.

And opened himself up for something like what had happened when she’d hightailed it out of that room in the cold light of day. Hightailed it completely out of town without so much as a note or a phone number written in lipstick on the mirror or an it’s been nice knowing you….

Yes, it was good to finally find out that he hadn’t done something wrong that night. Not that he’d been able to figure out how that might have been the case when it had actually seemed like they’d both had a pretty fantastic night together.

But he had had a lot to drink beforehand and when Clair had disappeared on him like that it had left him wondering if he’d been mistaken, if things between them hadn’t been as amazing as he’d thought.

That was the point in situations like these though, he reminded himself. The point was that no matter how fantastic, how amazing things were, when one person was fresh out of another relationship, it just didn’t matter. A rebound was a rebound was a rebound.

And now even just assuming that that was the case with Clair, he wished he’d left that reunion before he’d ever set eyes on her.

Or at least before Cassie had teamed him up with her—he’d actually noticed Clair well in advance of his sister’s request to keep her friend occupied.

He’d noticed Clair in the school parking lot when she’d first arrived at the reunion. Cassie had forgotten the yearbook and sent him to her car to get it. As he was leaning inside the open passenger door trying to find it, Clair had pulled into the spot in front of Cassie’s, nose-to-nose, which had started a series of glances at her from Ben—one, two, three glances….

He hadn’t recognized her or had any idea that she was the friend his sister was excited to see. During those last few months he’d been home before graduation he’d probably only crossed paths with her a few times. And that had been ten years ago. Besides, he’d been so busy trying to toe the line then that he hadn’t had time to be involved with his sister’s active social life.

But that evening at the reunion had been different.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe she hadn’t looked the same ten years ago. Or maybe she had and it just hadn’t struck him then. But in that initial glance at her in June he’d liked the look of her. Which was a little odd in itself when he ordinarily went for dark-haired women.

But the sun had hit her just right when she’d pulled into that parking spot, shining through her side window and glimmering in the golden-blond streaks of her hair. And all of a sudden glistening blond hair had looked uncommonly good to him.

So uncommonly good to him that he wasn’t sure he liked that she’d cut most of it off now.

He remembered her flawless skin—he guessed the shorter hair did show off more of that, anyway. Flawless skin with healthy pink tones dusting high cheekbones that somehow gave her an air of exotic innocence—if there was such a thing—then and now.

But it hadn’t only been her shiny blond hair, fine bone structure and porcelain skin that had spurred him to take a second glance at her that night in June.

He’d stolen the second glance when she’d opened her car door and long, shapely legs had made their appearance below it. Then she’d closed the driver’s door, and he’d been treated to the view of long, shapely legs easing into a cute little body with just enough up front and behind.

She’d opened the rear door to get something from the back seat and he’d averted his gaze again. He’d gone on with his search under Cassie’s seat for the yearbook.

But once he’d found the yearbook he’d backed out of the car just as Clair Cabot had closed her rear door, too. And something about that simultaneous movement had been enough of an excuse to draw yet a third glance at her.

She’d looked directly at him that time, meeting his eyes with hers. And holy cow, what eyes they were!

They were the color of the lilacs that grew on the bush alongside his mother’s house. Purple eyes. Clair Cabot had big, deep, dark purple eyes that still managed to be bright and sparkling in spite of all that depth of color. Eyes that had held him transfixed for a moment and almost unable to break that hold. Or certainly unwilling to…

And then, with the softest-looking, rose petal lips, she’d smiled at him. Tentatively. Uncertainly. Obviously wondering if he was someone she should remember. But with enough warmth to make him glad he’d gone to the reunion after all.

He’d actually been thinking about introducing himself to her, wondering if he would discover that she was someone he’d known all along. But before he’d had the chance, two other women had spotted her and rushed to say hello, calling her by name.

That was how he’d found out who she was.

Clair Cabot.

Ah, Cassie’s friend…

She’d turned away from him to talk to the other women then, and Ben couldn’t very well hang around waiting for another opportunity to speak to her, so he’d returned to the school gym without saying anything.

Only once he was there, he’d kept an eye on the door, watching for her, still considering approaching her when she came inside. Wondering if he should pretend he remembered her as his sister’s friend….

Except that when she had come inside, she’d gone straight to the reception table to get her name tag and it had seemed as if she’d had an awkward exchange with another couple there. Old enemies—that’s the impression he’d had. Probably a high school rivalry or something. Then she’d disappeared in a hurry into the girls’ locker room.

And that was the last he’d seen of her for more than an hour.

It just hadn’t been the last he’d thought of her.

Which was probably why, when, by pure coincidence, Cassie had asked him to keep her friend Clair company some time later, he’d agreed. Without asking why. Without asking anything. Just feeling a little thrill that he was going to get to see Clair Cabot again and talk to her after all.

Ben pushed his speed up to an almost punishing rate for the last leg of his run, thinking that regardless of the fact that he’d been glad his sister had asked that particular favor of him at the time, Cassie still should have known better. She should have at least warned him that her friend was suffering some kind of post-divorce fallout so he would have had his guard up. So it wouldn’t have mattered how great Clair looked or how funny or sweet she’d been, or how much he’d ultimately enjoyed her company.

So he wouldn’t have done something as dumb as spend the night with her.

The school came into view just then, and the sight of it made him think and that’s another thing…

The school. The Northbridge School for Boys was his priority. His number-one priority. He’d reminded himself of that every time Clair Cabot and her running out on him had come to mind over the past two months.

The school was something he’d wanted to do since the day he’d been released from placement himself. It had been his dream, his goal, to work with kids who were like he’d been, and to do it the way he felt—the way he knew—it should be done.

Now that he’d reached that goal, he was devoting himself to it and to the boys he accepted into the program. It wasn’t something he would do halfheartedly, that was for sure. And until the school was well established, until everything was in order and it was almost running itself, he couldn’t let himself be distracted. Not by anything…or anyone.

And Clair Cabot—purple eyes and blond hair and cute little body or not—had to be strictly relegated to business status, he told himself firmly.

She was there to show him how her father ran the place. To walk him through the billing procedures and teach him how to do the necessary paperwork. She was there to fill him in on what had to be done for social services to certify him.

But that was all she was there for—business.

In fact, tending to business was the reason he’d made the suggestion that they start over—so they could put the night they’d spent together behind them and focus on what needed to be done now.

And when that business was taken care of, she could go back where she’d come from—where she’d run to the morning after the reunion—and he could forget about her.

Except, of course, he hadn’t been able to forget her.

That thought brought him full circle in his musings just as his run came to an end.

So, he asked himself as he walked the final few yards up the drive to cool down, if he hadn’t been successful at forgetting Clair Cabot before, how was he going to do it when she left again?

He wasn’t really sure.

He hoped that maybe it would help that he would be occupied with the opening of the school. That maybe he would just be too busy to think about her.

Or maybe, knowing now that not only was she someone who might disappear on him the way she had at the reunion but also that she was in the inordinately risky newly divorced category, would help cool his jets.

But deep down he didn’t feel too confident in any of those possibilities.

Because he wasn’t sure those jets she’d fired up two months ago would ever cool down.

Especially when so many of his thoughts about her came complete with memories of what had been one of the most incredible nights of his life….

It had taken Clair a while to fall asleep Monday night. Between being in the small, two-bedroom cottage where she’d lived with her dad, and all the mixed emotions she had about seeing Ben again, she’d been awake until after 1:00 a.m.

As a result she was late getting up Tuesday morning. And even though she only took a quick shower and raced through dressing in jeans and a crop-sleeved crewneck T-shirt, she still arrived in the kitchen of the main house after both Ben and Cassie.

“I’m so sorry to keep you guys waiting,” Clair apologized. “I overslept.”

“You didn’t keep me waiting,” Cassie assured from where she was standing at the entrance to the kitchen. “I just got here myself.”

“Okay then, I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Clair amended, aiming that portion of the apology at Ben, who was sitting at one end of the long, rectangular table.

“Don’t let it happen again or I’ll have to give you extra chores and three days restriction,” he joked, clearly referring to a punishment he intended to mete out to any of his rule-breaking charges.

Then he raised his coffee cup and pointed it in the direction of the coffeemaker on the counter. “Help yourselves, ladies. This is fresh-brewed and there’s scrambled eggs, bacon and toast staying warm in the oven.”

“What kind of host are you?” Cassie chastised as she came farther into the room, sounding very sisterly. “You’re supposed to get up and serve your guests.”

This time Ben used his mug to motion toward the two unused place settings on either side of him. “I would have served you both if you’d have shown up when we agreed. But I’ve already had my breakfast and finished my second cup of coffee. Now I’m going down to the basement to get started while you two eat.”

“Are we that late?” Cassie asked Clair.

“About an hour,” Clair confirmed. “He told me seven-thirty and it’s eight-twenty-five.”

“I suppose we can’t fault you, then,” Cassie conceded as Ben stood, then took his breakfast dishes to rinse and put in the dishwasher.

Clair marveled at the fact that he didn’t seem angry with them.

“See you both downstairs,” he said then, disappearing through the door that concealed the steps leading to the basement.

“Looks like we’re on our own,” Cassie said.

“I think that’s what we get,” Clair confided as she removed the platter of food from the oven, taking it to the table as Cassie brought the coffeepot.

Clair bypassed the coffee to avoid the caffeine, and she and Cassie shared the remaining breakfast foods.

As they did, they only discussed what they’d decided to do today—retrieving, inventorying and putting away the bed linens, towels and other necessary items that had been packed in boxes and stored in the basement when the school had been closed after Clair’s father’s death. Then they joined Ben for what proceeded to be a very busy day of climbing up and down steps, sorting, counting, discarding anything that was too worn, and assigning closets, shelves and drawers to everything they kept.

Clair didn’t hesitate to let Ben know how her dad had organized things when he was in charge, but ultimately it was Ben’s decision as to what he wanted where, and she didn’t argue with him when he changed a few things.

They worked until well after dark that evening, and when they were finished, they were exhausted. It was too late to prepare anything substantial for dinner by then, so they had pizza and salads delivered.

They ate in the living room around the coffee table before Cassie confessed she was beat and left Clair and Ben still sitting on the floor—Clair with her back resting against the front of a leather easy chair and Ben angled so that one long arm was braced atop the matching sofa cushion so he was partially facing her.

Ben hadn’t had much to say most of the day—at least not in the way of anything that didn’t pertain to the work they were doing. It had been Cassie and Clair who had chatted while he had basically hung back, more involved with the heavy lifting and the matters at hand than in socializing.

That fact left Clair uncertain if he might prefer that she say good-night, too, now that his sister was gone. But Ben surprised and pleased her a little by not giving her the chance to make her own exit yet. Instead, he pointed his chin toward an old, battered cardboard box they’d brought up from the basement earlier in the day when they’d discovered it contained some of Clair’s childhood memorabilia.

“Did you find any treasures in there?” he asked.

“Like a long-lost antique I could take to one of those road shows they do on television and find out it’s worth thousands of dollars?”

“Maybe.”

“Unfortunately, no. There are just some dolls and doll clothes, a stuffed dog with one ear chewed off, and my first patent-leather Easter shoes. Nothing of any great value, only some mementos that somehow got stuck downstairs, I guess.”

“Who chewed the ear off the dog?” he asked with the hint of a smile shining out from the scruffy-looking day’s growth of beard that was reminiscent of what he’d had when he’d greeted her the evening before because he’d been too busy to shave a second time today, too.

“I’ve been told that I dragged the dog everywhere and gnawed on his ear whenever I was feeling shy or upset,” she informed him.

“Can I see?” he asked with what Clair thought was a hint of mischief in his expression.

“It isn’t pretty,” she warned, giving tacit approval.

Ben pulled the box closer and peered inside, surveying the contents.

Clair watched him.

He was dressed much as he had been the day before in jeans and a T-shirt—this one gray. But the T-shirt fitted him like a second skin, accentuating the well-developed muscles of his torso, and she couldn’t help wondering how anyone could look quite that good with so little effort.

And he definitely looked good.

After a moment of peering at the contents of the box, he reached in and extracted the dog as if he’d made his decision about what piece of Halloween candy to pick from the bowl.

The dog was ragged and soiled and, indeed, missing one ear.

“You must have been really shy or really upset,” he observed with a wry half smile.

“Potty-training can be hard on a person,” Clair joked defensively.

“How long did you drag this poor fella around?”

“Until I was seventeen.” She’d delivered that joke deadpan but he realized she really was kidding and laughed.

“You weren’t potty-trained until you were seventeen?”

“Sixteen and a half but I still kept Charmagne around until I was seventeen.”

Ben chuckled again. “Charmagne?”

“That’s her name. She’s Charmagne the Shih-tzu.”

“And she’s a girl, huh?” he said, turning her over with a devilry that no doubt helped earn him his bad-boy reputation.

But Clair laughed anyway. “Charmagne is a girl’s name, so yes, she’s a girl. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”

“No, I can see that you’re right,” he said as if he’d been able to tell.

He set the stuffed toy on the coffee table as if he wanted to keep it in sight, and then settled his gaze on her again. “So this stuff is from before you came here.”

“Long before.”

“I kept wondering today what it was like for you when you grew up here.”

“It was okay.”

“Not a rave review. Are you warning me that if I ever have kids of my own I should raise them somewhere else?”

Clair shied away from the if-he-ever-had-kids-of-his-own part of his question as if it were a live electrical wire loose from its moorings. But she did answer his question about her own time at the school.

“I didn’t hate it here. I guess what I sort of resented—and really, only sort of—was that no matter what happened, at any hour of the day or night, my dad insisted that he be hands-on involved in it.”

“For instance…”

“For instance, my sixteenth birthday. He promised me a dinner out, just the two of us, at the best restaurant in Billings. Only just when our salads were served he got a call from the school—he always left orders when he was going to leave the grounds that he was to be called for everything and anything that happened, and even if he didn’t hear from whoever was in charge when he was gone, he called to check with them every hour. Anyway, that night, one of the kids had had a nightmare, but even though it was already under control, we had to cancel the rest of our dinner and come back.”

Ben made a face. “It’s great for the kids in the program that he cared so much. But definitely lousy for you.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had only been real crises that he’d dropped everything to attend to. But it seemed like once we came here, he put every little thing ahead of me. Or at least that’s how it felt. Maybe he was throwing himself into his work to deal with his grief over my mom’s death, but—”

“I knew your dad was a widower but I never knew how your mom died.”

“A city bus ran a red light and broadsided her car at an intersection.”

“When you were how old?”

“I was fourteen.”

“And how long after that did your dad come here and start the school?”

“A year.”

Ben’s eyebrows arched. “So you’d just lost your mom and when you moved here and he became obsessed with this place it was like losing him, too.”

“Actually, I guess it was. A little,” Clair said. “I’ve never looked at it that way, but you’re right. Thinking back on it, that is how it felt to me.” And the fact that Ben had such insight was yet another thing about him that impressed her.

But even so she couldn’t let him think unkindly of her father, so she said, “Not that my dad wasn’t a great guy. He actually never neglected me or ever left any doubt that he loved me. He just… Well, I guess he just dealt with my mother’s death the only way he could. And for him, that meant quitting his job as a high-school teacher and finding something that filled more of his time.”

“So he taught high school before opening the school?”

“He did.”

“Then why did he opt for making it a treatment facility for younger kids when his experience was with older ones?”

“That was because of me. He decided only to take kids from eight to twelve so I wouldn’t be living and working in close proximity to boys my own age and older.”

“For safety’s sake to keep you away from someone who might be predatory or because he didn’t want some hellion like me corrupting you?”

There was that hint of devilry again that gave his oh-so-handsome face just an added bit of sexy allure. But again Clair tried not to notice. Too much, anyway.

“Both reasons—so I wouldn’t be in contact with someone who could do me harm and so he didn’t end up with one of his charges as his son-in-law,” she confirmed, thinking that if Ben had been around here when they were both sixteen or seventeen and turned on the charm, he just might have weakened her defenses that much earlier.

But she didn’t want him to know what she was thinking and so she continued talking about the boys her father had accepted into his program.

“Even some of the really young kids were a handful, though. My dad paid me to work around here after school, and there were times, with certain kids, when things weren’t pleasant.”

“I’m sure that’s an understatement,” Ben said. “While I was doing my master’s thesis I worked in a facility for kids even younger than your dad accepted here. I saw plenty that no one would expect from a small child. I had a five-year-old call a therapist a name that would have made a longshoreman blush and then slash her arm with a razor blade he had hidden in the sole of his shoe—something he’d learned from his big brother’s time in jail.”

“Wow,” Clair said, duly amazed. “Dad didn’t take any kids with a history of violence against other people, but he did have a few who could hurt themselves when they had a bad day.”

Ben’s mention of work and doing his master’s thesis seemed like an opening for her to ask about his education and credentials—something she was curious about since owning the school didn’t require anything more from him than that he hire the professionals he needed, and she didn’t know what he’d done after high school graduation. So rather than continue trading war stories, she said, “You have your master’s degree?”

“I have my bachelor’s in psychology and my master’s in counseling.”

That made her smile.

“What?” he demanded, smiling, too, albeit with some confusion tingeing it. “You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I’m not doubting your word. I was just thinking that you were a long way from being the guy anyone in our senior class would have thought of as the person most likely to end up with a graduate degree.”

He laughed. “Predictability was never what I was known for, no.”

Which was also part of his appeal, part of what made him the bad boy in the first place. Certainly he’d taken her off guard that night at the reunion and led her to even surprise herself.

“I still don’t know exactly what you do for a living,” he said then. “Or how it is that you can take time off from it to be here.”

“I run my own day-care center,” she confessed. “And since I’m the boss and have a lot of comp time to get back, I left my assistant director in charge while I’m gone.”

Pregnancy hormones had made Clair unusually tired and her strenuous day caught up with her all of a sudden, making her yawn without warning.

“Oh! Where did that come from?” she said after the fact, embarrassed.

Ben laughed but she wasn’t sure whether it was at her yawn or at her embarrassment over it. “Looks like I wore you out today,” he said then.

“Hey, I made it longer than Cassie did,” she countered.

“Well, to be honest, you tried to cash it in when she did. I just didn’t let you,” he reminded. “But maybe I’d better let you go get some rest now so you’ll be ready to introduce me to the food wholesaler and the laundry service rep tomorrow.”

“Maybe you’d better,” Clair agreed, knowing the pregnancy fatigue wasn’t something she could ignore.

She stood and began to gather the paper plates and pizza boxes that still littered the coffee table but Ben put a halt to that.

“Leave it. I’ve abused you enough for one day. I’ll toss all this after I get you home to bed.”

Had he intended that to sound as suggestive as it had?

He must not have because he amended it, “Or at least after I get you out to the cottage.”

But there was still an edge of mischief to his tone that told her that even though he might not have meant his original comment to be as suggestive as it had come out, he was more amused by his slip of the tongue than rattled by it the way she would have been if she’d said it.

“I mean it. Leave the mess,” he repeated when she didn’t immediately stop cleaning up. “Come on, I’ll carry this box of stuff out for you.”

He stood then, took her one-eared stuffed dog from its perch on the coffee table and handed it to her. “If you have to have something to keep your hands busy, carry this poor, abused animal while I take the box.”

Clair didn’t have any choice but to accept her toy as he picked up the box, but still she said, “That’s not heavy. I can take it myself and save you the trip.” Although tonight she liked the idea of having him walk her to her door.

For no reasons she wanted to analyze too closely.

But Ben wouldn’t hear of her carrying the box herself. “It’s the least I can do after how hard I worked you today—even if you did stand me up for breakfast.”

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, omitting the fact that he was partly responsible because thinking about him had been the cause of her not getting to sleep early enough the night before.

“Yeah, well, tomorrow it’s nothing but dry toast, and I’m not doing that until you actually show up,” he threatened with only mock sincerity.

“Tomorrow I’ll be on time. Early, even. I swear,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he retorted facetiously, as if he didn’t believe her.

He led the way from the living room through the kitchen and out the sliding doors with Clair following behind.

Following behind and unable to keep her eyes off the intriguing juggling act going on behind the rear pockets of his jeans with the rise and fall of a derriere that was easily one of the best she’d ever seen.

Then they reached the cottage and she barely managed to raise her gaze before he caught her, veering around him to open the front door.

“I can take that stuff now,” she said, replacing the toy dog she’d been holding tight to her chest and reaching for the box.

This time Ben gave it over to her and she expected that once he had he would say a simple good-night, turn and go back to the house.

But instead he waited for her to cross the threshold and still he stayed standing just outside the door.

“I haven’t told you how much I appreciate you coming here and helping the way you are,” he said then.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me. And a big help. And not something you had to do. And I want to say thanks.”

Clair suddenly had a flash of memory that had eluded her before that moment. A flash of memory of Ben walking her to her room at the bed-and-breakfast when they’d left the reunion. Of him beginning to say goodnight to her.

But kissing her instead.

And continuing to kiss her all the way into the room.

And despite the fact that the kiss itself wasn’t vivid enough in her mind to recall any details, that flash was enough to stir some of the same feelings she’d had at the time.

Feelings that had made her want him to kiss her.

Feelings that made her want him to kiss her again right at that moment….

Which she didn’t think he had any intention of doing and for a split second she couldn’t remember what, exactly he was doing.

Until she forced herself to concentrate on what he was saying again just as he said, “So, thanks.”

For coming back to Northbridge and helping him with the school—that was what he was doing, he was thanking her.

“You’re welcome,” she finally said, as if her mind hadn’t just drifted backward in time and into dangerous territory.

“Well, welcome or not, I still owe you big for this.”

“No, you really don’t,” she assured him.

But Ben merely smiled so sweetly it erased all the hints of bad boy she’d seen lurking around the edges and said, “I really do.”

For a moment he looked at her very intently and those thoughts of him kissing her flooded right back into her head.

But they still didn’t seem to be in his because then he said, “I’ll let you get some rest,” and took a step backward. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Clair responded, closing the door almost too quickly.

But she couldn’t help it because the image of that other good-night they’d begun to say was still haunting her.

And so was the feeling of wanting him to kiss her.

And that just wouldn’t do.

Not when she wasn’t sure whether she was back in Northbridge to let him know he was going to be a father.

Or back in Northbridge to help with the school and then disappear from his life forever without telling him at all.

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