About the Author

MAUREEN CHILD is the author of more than 130 romance novels and novellas that routinely appear on bestseller lists and have won numerous awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. A seven-time nominee for the prestigious RITA® award from Romance Writers of America, one of her books was made into a CBS-TV movie called The Soul Collecter. Maureen recently moved from California to the mountains of Utah and is trying to get used to snow.

Fiancé in Name Only

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-06145-2

FIANCÉ IN NAME ONLY

© 2017 Maureen Child

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Back Cover Text

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

About the Publisher

Make-believe romance has never felt so real! From USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child.

Bestselling writer Micah Hunter lives a nomadic life. Temporarily settling in a small town for research is outside his comfort zone. Only his tantalizing landlady can lure him from the isolation of his rented mansion. Because Kelly Flynn stirs him as no woman ever has.

And she needs his help. To placate her grandmother, Kelly asks Micah to pretend they’re engaged. He relishes the chance to be with Kelly...until acting like they’re in love begins to feel like more than an act!

To my mom, Sallye Carberry, and my aunt, Margie Fontenot, for too many reasons to list. They are the original Matriarchs. Love you.

One

“Sorry about this,” Micah Hunter said. “I really liked you a lot, but you had to die.”

Leaning back in his desk chair, Micah’s gaze scanned the last few lines of the scene he’d just finished writing. He gave a small sigh of satisfaction at the death of one of his more memorable characters, then closed the lid of the laptop.

He’d already been working for four hours and it was past time for a break. “Problem is,” he muttered, standing up and walking to the window overlooking the front of the house, “there’s nowhere to go.”

Idly he pulled out his cell phone, hit speed dial, then listened to the phone ring for a second or two. Finally a man came on the other line.

“How did I let you talk me into coming here for six months?”

Sam Hellman laughed. “Good to talk to you, too, man.”

“Yeah.” Of course his best friend was amused. Hell, if Micah wasn’t the one stranded here in small-town America, he might be amused, too. As it was, though, he didn’t see a damn thing funny about it. Micah pushed one hand through his hair and stared out at the so-called view. The house he was currently renting was an actual Victorian mansion set back from a wide street that was lined by gigantic, probably ancient, trees, now gold and red as their leaves changed and died. The sky was a brilliant blue, the autumn sun peeking out from behind thick white clouds. It was quiet, he thought. So quiet it was damn near creepy.

And since the suspense/horror novels Micah was known for routinely hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list, he knew a thing or two about creepy.

“Seriously, Sam, I’m stuck here for another four months because you talked me into signing the lease.”

Sam laughed. “You’re stuck there because you never could turn down a challenge.”

Harsh but true. Nobody knew that about Micah better than Sam. They’d met when they were both kids, serving on the same US Navy ship. Sam had run away from his wealthy family’s expectations, and Micah had been running from a past filled with foster homes, lies and broken promises. The two of them had connected and then stayed in touch when their enlistments were up.

Sam had returned to New York and the literary agency his grandfather had founded—discovering, after being away for a while, that he actually wanted to be a part of the family business. Micah had taken any construction job he could find while he spent every other waking moment working on a novel.

Even as a kid, Micah had known he wanted to write books. And when he finally started writing, it seemed the words couldn’t pour out of his mind fast enough. He typed long into the night, losing himself in the story developing on the screen. Finishing that first book, he’d felt like a champion runner—exhausted, satisfied and triumphant.

He’d sent that first novel to Sam, who’d had a few million suggestions to make it even better. Nobody liked being told to change something they thought was already great, but Micah had been so determined to reach his goal, he’d made most of the changes. And the book sold almost immediately for a modest advance that Micah was more proud of than anything he’d ever earned before.

That book was the precursor of things to come. With his second book, word-of-mouth advertising made it a viral sensation and had it rocketing up the bestseller lists. Before he knew it, Micah’s dreams were a reality. Sam and Micah had worked together ever since and they’d made a hell of a team. But because they were such good friends, Sam had known exactly how to set Micah up.

“This is payback because I beat you at downhill snowboarding last winter, isn’t it?”

“Would I do something that petty?” Sam asked, laughter in his voice.

“Yeah, you would.” Micah shook his head.

“Okay...yeah, probably,” Sam agreed. “But, you’re the one who took the bet. Live in a small town for six months.”

“True.” How bad could it be? He remembered asking himself that before signing the lease with his landlady, Kelly Flynn. Now, two months into his stay, Micah had the answer to that question.

“And, hey, research,” Sam pointed out. “The book you’re working on now is set in a small town. Good to know these things firsthand.”

“Ever heard of Google?” Micah laughed. “And the book I set in Atlantis, how’d I research that one?”

“Not the point,” Sam said. “The point is, Jenny and I loved that house you’re in when we were there a couple years ago. And, okay, Banner’s a small town, but they’ve got good pizza.”

Micah would admit to that. He had Pizza Bowl on speed dial.

“Like I said, in another month or so, you’ll feel differently,” Sam said. “You’ll be out enjoying all that fresh powder on the mountains and you won’t mind it so much.”

Micah wasn’t so sure about that. But he had to admit it was a great house. He glanced around the second-floor room he’d claimed as a temporary office. The ceilings were high, the rooms were big and the view of the mountains was beautiful. The whole house had a lot of character, which he appreciated, but damned if he didn’t feel like a phantom or something, wandering through the big place. He’d never had so much space all to himself and Micah could admit, at least to himself, that sometimes it creeped him out.

Hell, in the city—any city—there were lights. People. Noise. Here, the nights were darker than anything he’d ever known. Even in the navy, on board a ship, there were enough lights that the stars were muted in the night sky. But Banner, Utah, was listed on the International Dark-Sky roster because it lay just beyond a ridge that wiped out the haze of light reflection from Salt Lake City.

Here, at night, you could look up and see the Milky Way and an explosion of stars that was as beautiful as it was humbling. He’d never seen skies like these before, and he was willing to acknowledge that the beauty of it took some of the sting out of being marooned at the back end of beyond.

“How’s the book coming?” Sam asked suddenly.

The change in subject threw him for a second, but Micah was grateful for the shift. “Good. Actually just killed the bakery guy.”

“That’s a shame. Love a good bakery guy.” Sam laughed. “How’d he buy it?”

“Pretty grisly,” Micah said, and began pacing the confines of his office. “The killer drowned him in the doughnut fryer vat of hot oil.”

“Damn, man...that is gross.” Sam took a breath and sighed it out. “You may have put me off doughnuts.”

Good to know the murder he’d just written was going to hit home for people.

“Not for long, I’ll bet,” Micah mused.

“The copy editor will probably get sick, but your fans will love it,” Sam assured him. “And speaking of fans, any of them show up in town yet?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Frowning, he looked out the window and checked up and down the street, half expecting to see someone with a camera casing the house, hoping for a shot of him.

One of the reasons Micah never remained in one place too long was because his more devoted fans had a way of tracking him down. They would just show up at whatever hotel he was staying in, assuming he’d be happy to see them. Most were harmless, sure, but Micah knew “fan” could turn into “fanatic” in a flash.

He’d had a few talk their way into his hotel rooms, join him uninvited at dinner, acting as though they were either old friends or long-lost lovers. Thanks to social media, there was always someone reporting on where he had been seen last or where he was currently holed up. So he changed hotels after every book, always staying in big cities where he could get lost in the crowds and living in five-star hotels that promised security.

Until now, that is.

“No one’s going to look for you in a tiny mountain town,” Sam said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I was at the hotel in Switzerland,” Micah reminded his friend. “Until that guy showed up determined to pummel me because his girlfriend was in love with me.”

Sam laughed again and Micah just shook his head. Okay, it was funny now, but having some guy you didn’t know ambush you in a hotel lobby wasn’t something he wanted to repeat.

“This is probably the best thing you could have done,” Sam said. “Staying in Banner and living in a house, not a hotel, will throw off the fans hunting for you.”

“Yeah, well, it should. It’s throwing me off, that’s for sure.” His scowl tightened. “It’s too damn quiet here.”

“Want me to send you a recording of Manhattan traffic? You could play it while you write.”

“Funny,” Micah said, and didn’t even admit to himself that the idea wasn’t half bad. “Why haven’t I fired you?”

“Because I make us both a boatload of money, my friend.”

Well, Sam had him there. “Right. Knew there was a reason.”

“And because I’m charming, funny and about the only person in the world who’s willing to put up with the crappy attitude.”

Micah laughed now. He had a point. Right from the beginning, when they’d met on the aircraft carrier they’d served on, Sam had offered friendship—something Micah had rarely known. Growing up in the foster care system, moving from home to home, Micah had never stayed anywhere long enough to make friends. Which was probably a good thing since he wouldn’t have been able to keep a friend, what with relocating all the damn time.

So he appreciated having Sam in his life—even when the man bugged the hell out of him. “That’s great, thanks.”

“No problem. So what do you think of your landlady?”

Frowning, Micah silently acknowledged that he was trying to not think about Kelly Flynn. It wasn’t working, but he kept trying.

For the last two months, he’d done everything he could to keep his distance because damned if he didn’t want to get closer. But he didn’t need an affair. He had to live here for another four months. If he started something with Kelly, it would make things...complicated.

If it was a one-night stand, she’d get pissy and he’d have to put up with it for four more months. If it was a long-running affair, then she’d be intruding on his writing time and spinning fantasies about a future that was never going to happen. He didn’t need the drama. All he wanted was the time and space to write his book so he could get out of this tiny town and back to civilization.

“Hmm,” Sam mused. “Silence. That tells me plenty.”

“Tells you nothing,” Micah argued, attempting to convince both himself and Sam. “Just like there’s nothing going on.”

“Are you sick?”

“What?”

“I mean, come on,” Sam said, and Micah could imagine him leaning back in his desk chair, propping his feet up on the corner of his desk. He probably had his chair turned toward the windows so he could look out over Manhattan.

“Hell,” Sam continued, “I’m married and I noticed her. She’s gorgeous, and if you tell Jenny I said that I’ll deny it.”

Shaking his head, Micah looked down and watched Kelly work in the yard. The woman never relaxed. She was always moving, doing something. She had ten different jobs and today, apparently, still had the time to rake up fallen leaves and bag them. As he watched, she loaded up a wheelbarrow with several bags of leaves and headed for the curb.

Her long, reddish-gold hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of her neck. She wore a dark green sweatshirt and worn blue jeans that cupped her behind and clung to her long legs. Black gloves covered her hands, and her black boots were scarred and scuffed from years of wear.

And though she had her back to the house, he knew her face. Soft, creamy skin, sprinkled with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Grass-green eyes that crinkled at the edges when she laughed and a wide, generous mouth that made Micah wonder what she would taste like.

Micah watched her unload the bags at the curb, then wave to a neighbor across the street. He knew she’d be smiling and his brain filled with her image. Deliberately, he turned his back on the window, shut the image of Kelly out of his mind and walked back to his chair. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”

Sam laughed. “Feel the enthusiasm.”

Oh, there was plenty of enthusiasm, Micah thought. Too much. Which was the problem. “I’m not here looking for a woman, Sam. I’m here to work.”

“That’s just sad.”

He had to agree. “Thanks. So why’d you call me again?”

“Damn, you need to take a break. You’re the one who called me, remember?”

“Right.” He pushed one hand through his hair. Maybe he did need a damn break. He’d been working pretty much nonstop for the last two months. No wonder this place was starting to feel claustrophobic in spite of its size. “That’s a good idea. I’ll take a drive. Clear my head.”

“Invite the landlady along,” Sam urged. “She could show you around since I’m guessing you’ve hardly left that big old house since you got there.”

“Good guess. But not looking for a guide, either.”

“What are you looking for?”

“I’ll let you know when I find it,” Micah said, and hung up.

“So how’s our famous writer doing?”

Kelly grinned at her neighbor. Sally Hartsfield was the nosiest human being on the face of the planet. She and her sister, Margie, were both spinsters in their nineties, and spent most of their days looking out the windows to keep an eye on what was happening in the neighborhood.

“Busy, I guess,” Kelly said, with a quick glance over her shoulder at the second-story window where she’d caught a glimpse of Micah earlier. He wasn’t there anymore and she felt a small twist of disappointment as she turned back to Sally. “He told me when he moved in that he would be buried in work and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Hmm.” Sally’s gaze flicked briefly to that window, too. “You know, that last book of his gave me nightmares. Makes you wonder how he can stand being all alone like that when he’s writing such dark, scary things...”

Kelly agreed. She’d only read one of Micah’s seven books because it had scared her so badly she’d slept with a light on for two weeks. When she read a book, she wanted cheerful escape, not terror-inducing suspense. “I guess he likes it that way,” she said.

“Well, everybody’s different,” Sally pointed out. “And I say thank goodness. Can you imagine how boring life would be if we were all the same?” She shook her head and her densely-sprayed curls never moved. “Why, there’d be nothing to talk about.”

And that would be the real shame as far as Sally was concerned, Kelly knew. The woman could pry a nugget of information out of a rock.

“He is a good-looking man though, isn’t he?” Sally asked, a speculative gleam in her eyes.

Good-looking? Oh, Micah Hunter was well beyond that. The picture on the back of his books showed him as dark and brooding, and that was probably done purposefully, considering what he wrote. But the man in person was so much more. His thick brown hair was perpetually rumpled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes were the color of rich, dark coffee, and when he forgot to shave for a day or two, the stubble on his face gave him the air of a pirate.

His shoulders were broad, his hips were narrow and he was tall enough that even Kelly’s own five feet, eight inches felt diminutive alongside him. He was the kind of man who walked into a room and simply took it over whether he was trying to or not. Kelly imagined every woman who ever met him had done a little daydreaming about Micah. Even, it seemed, Sally Hartsfield, who had a grandson as old as Micah.

“He is nice looking,” Kelly finally said when she noticed Sally staring at her.

The older woman sighed and fisted both hands on her hips. “Kelly Flynn, what is wrong with you? Your Sean’s been gone four years. Why, if I was your age...”

Kelly stiffened at the mention of her late husband, automatically raising her defenses. Sally must have noticed her reaction because the woman stopped short, offered a smile and, thank heaven, a change of subject.

“Anyway, I hear you’re showing the Polk place this afternoon to a couple coming in from California of all places.”

Impressed as well as a little irked, Kelly stared at the older woman. Honestly, Kelly had only gotten this appointment to show a house the day before. “How did you know that?”

Sally waved a hand. “Oh, I have my ways.”

Kelly had long suspected that her elderly neighbors had an army of spies stationed all over Banner, Utah, and this just cemented that idea. “Well, you’re right, Sally, so I’d better get going. I still have to shower and change.”

“Of course, dear, you go right ahead.” She checked the window again and Kelly saw frustration on the woman’s face when Micah didn’t show up to be watched. “I’ve got things to do myself.”

Kelly watched the woman hustle back across the street, her bright pink sneakers practically glowing against all of the fallen leaves littering the ground. The ancient oaks that lined the street stretched out gnarly branches to almost make an arbor of gold-and-red leaves hanging over the wide road.

The houses were all different, everything from small stone cottages to the dignified Victorian where Kelly had grown up. They were all at least a hundred years old, but they were well cared for and the lawns were tidy. People in Banner stayed. They were born here, grew up here and eventually married, lived and died here.

That kind of continuity always comforted Kelly. She’d lived here since she was eight and her parents were killed in a car accident. She’d moved in with her grandparents and had become the center of their world. Now, her grandfather was dead and Gran had moved to Florida, leaving the big Victorian mansion and the caretaker’s cottage at the back of the property to Kelly. Since living alone in that giant house would just be silly, Kelly rented it out and lived in the smaller cottage.

In the last three years, the Victorian had rarely been empty and when it wasn’t rented out by vacationers, the house and grounds had become a favorite place for weddings, big parties and even, last year, a Girl Scout cookout in the huge backyard.

And, she thought, every Halloween, she turned the front of the Victorian into a haunted house.

“Have to get busy on that,” she told herself. It was already the first of October and if she didn’t get started, the whole month would slip past before she knew it.

Halfway up to the house, the front door opened and Micah stepped out. Kelly’s heart gave a hard thump, and down low inside her she felt heat coil and tighten. Oh, boy. It had been four long years since her husband, Sean, had died, and since then she hadn’t exactly done a lot of dating. That probably explained why she continued to have this over-the-top reaction to Micah.

Probably.

He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt tucked into the black jeans he seemed to favor. Black boots finished off the look of Dangerous Male and as she admired the whole package, her heartbeat thundered loud enough to echo in her ears.

“Need some help?” he asked, jerking his head toward the wheelbarrow she was still holding on to.

“What? Oh. No.” Great, Kelly. Three. Separate. Words. Care to try for a sentence? “I mean, it’s empty, so not heavy. I’m just taking it around to the back.”

“Okay.” He came down the wide front steps to the brick walkway lined with chrysanthemums in bright, cheerful fall colors. “I’m taking a break. Thought I’d drive around. Get my bearings.”

“After two months of being in Banner?” she asked, smiling. “Yeah, maybe it’s time.”

His mouth worked into a partial smile. “Any suggestions on the route I should take?”

She set the wheelbarrow down, flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and thought about it. “Just about any route you take is a pretty one. But if you’re looking for a destination, you could drive through the canyon down to 89. There are a lot of produce stands there. You could pick me up a few pumpkins.”

He tipped his head to one side and studied her, a flicker of what might have been amusement on his face. “Did I say I was going shopping?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “But you could.”

He blew out a breath, looked up and down the street, then shifted his gaze back to hers. “Or, you could ride with me and pick out your own pumpkins.”

“Okay.”

He nodded.

“No,” she said. “Wait. Maybe not.”

He frowned at her.

Having an audience while she argued with herself was a little embarrassing. She could tell from his expression that Micah didn’t really want her along so, naturally, she really wanted to go. Even though she shouldn’t. She already had plenty to do and maybe spending time with Micah Hunter wasn’t the wisest choice, since he had the unerring ability to stir her up inside. But could she really resist the chance to make him as uncomfortable as he made her?

“I mean, sure,” she said abruptly. “I’ll go, but I’d have to be back in a couple of hours. I have a house to show this afternoon.”

His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “I can guarantee you I won’t be spending two hours at a pumpkin stand.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So? Are you coming or not?”

Her eyes met his and in those dark brown depths, Kelly read the hope she would say no. So, of course, she said the only thing she could.

“I guess I am.”

Two

“Why are you buying pumpkins when you’re growing your own?”

They were already halfway down the twisting canyon road. The mountains rose up on either side of the narrow pass. Wide stands of pine trees stood as tall and straight as soldiers, while oaks, maples and birch trees that grew within those stands splashed the dark green with wild bursts of fall color.

“And,” Micah continued, “isn’t there somewhere closer you could buy the damn things?”

She turned her head to look at his profile. “Sure there is, but the produce stands have the big ones.”

Kelly could have sworn she actually heard his eyes roll. But she didn’t care. It was a gorgeous fall day, she was taking a ride in a really gorgeous car—even though it was going too fast for the pass—and she was sitting beside a gorgeous man who made her nervous.

And wasn’t that a surprise? Four years since her husband Sean had died and Micah was the first man to make her stomach flutter with the kind of nerves that she had suspected were dead or atrophied. The problem was, she didn’t know if she was glad of the appearance of those nerves or not.

Kelly rolled down the window and let the cold fall air slap at her in lieu of a cold shower. When she got a grip, she shifted in her seat to look at Micah. “Because I grow those to give away to the kids in the neighborhood.”

“And you can’t keep some for yourself?”

“I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Fun?” he repeated. “I’ve seen you out there weeding, clipping and whatever else it is you do to those plants. That’s fun?”

“For me it is.” The wind whipped her ponytail across her face and she pushed it aside to look at him. “Besides, if I was going to take lessons on fun from somebody, it wouldn’t be you.”

He snorted. “If you did, I’d show you more than pumpkins.”

Her stomach swirled a little at the implied promise in those words, but she swallowed hard and stilled it. He was probably used to making coded statements designed to turn women into slavering puddles. So she wouldn’t accommodate him. Yet.

“I’m not convinced,” she said with a shrug. “You’ve been in town two months and you’ve hardly left the house.”

“That’s work. No time for fun.”

“Just a chatterbox,” she mumbled. Every word pried out of him felt like a victory.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “So, what’s your idea of fun then?”

He took a moment to think it through, and said, “I’d start with chartering a private jet—”

“Your own personal jet,” she said, stunned.

He glanced at her and shrugged. “I don’t like sharing.”

She laughed shortly as she thought about the last time she’d taken a flight out of Salt Lake City airport. Crowded onto a full flight, she’d sat between a talkative woman complaining about her grandchildren and a businessman whose briefcase poked her in the thigh every time he shifted in his seat. Okay, she could see where a private jet would be nice. “Well sure. Okay, your jet. Then what?”

He steered the Range Rover down the mountain road, taking the tight curves like a race-car driver. If Kelly let herself worry about it, she’d be clinging to the edges of her seat. So she didn’t think about it.

“Well, it’s October, so I’d go to Germany for Oktoberfest.”

“Oh.” That was so far out of her normal orbit she hardly knew what to say. Apparently, though, once you got Micah talking about something that interested him, he would keep going.

“It’s a good place to study people.”

“I bet,” she murmured.

He ignored that, and said, “Writers tend to observe. Tourists. Locals. How people are interacting. Gives me ideas for the work.”

“Like who to murder?”

“Among other things. I once killed a hotel manager in one of my books.” He shrugged. “The guy was a jackass so, on paper at least, I got rid of him.”

She stared at him. “Any plans to kill off your current landlady?”

“Not yet.”

“Comforting.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “after a long weekend there, I’d go to England,” he mused, seriously considering her question. “There’s a hotel in Oxford I like.”

“Not London?”

“Fewer people to recognize me in Oxford.”

“That’s a problem for you?” she asked.

“It can be.” He took another curve that had Kelly swerving into him. He didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks to social media, my fans tend to track me down. It gets annoying.”

She could understand that. The photo of Micah on the back of his books was mesmerizing. She’d spent a bit of time herself studying his eyes, the way his hair tumbled over his forehead, the strong set of his jaw.

“Maybe you should take your photo off your books.”

“Believe me, I’ve suggested it,” Micah said. “The publisher won’t do it.”

Kelly really didn’t have anything to add to the conversation. She’d never been followed by strangers desperate to be close to her and the farthest she’d ever traveled was on her last flight—to Florida to visit her grandmother. England? Germany? Not really in her lifestyle. She’d love to go to Europe. Someday. But it wouldn’t be on a private jet.

She glanced out the window at the familiar landscape as it whizzed past and felt herself settle. Micah’s life was so far removed from her own it made Kelly’s head spin just thinking about it.

“One of these days,” she said suddenly, shifting her gaze back to his profile, “I’d like to go to Scotland. See Edinburgh Castle.”

“It’s worth seeing,” he assured her.

Of course he’d been there. Heck, he’d probably been everywhere. No wonder he stuck close to the house. Why would he be interested in looking around Banner, Utah? After the places he’d been, her small hometown probably appeared too boring to bother with. Well, maybe it wasn’t up to the standards of Edinburgh, or Oktoberfest in Germany, but she loved it.

“Good to know,” she said. “But until then, I’ll plant pumpkins for the kids.” She smiled to herself and let go of a twinge of envy still squeezing her insides. “I like everything about gardening. Watching the seeds sprout, then the vines spread and the pumpkins get bigger and brighter orange.” Smiling, she continued. “I like how the kids on the street come by all the time, picking out the pumpkins they want, helping water, pulling weeds. They get really possessive about their pumpkins.”

“Yeah,” he said wryly. “I hear them.”

He never took his eyes off the road, she noted. Was it because he was a careful driver, or was he just trying to avoid looking at her? Probably the latter. In the two months he’d been living in her Victorian, Micah Hunter had made eluding her an art form.

Sure, he was a writer, and he’d told her when he first arrived in town that he needed time alone to work. He wasn’t interested in making friends, having visitors or a guided tour of her tiny town. Friendly? Not so much. Intriguing? Oh, yeah.

Could she help it if tall, dark and crabby appealed to her? Odd though, since her late husband, Sean, had been blond and blue-eyed, with an easy smile. And nothing about Micah was easy.

“You don’t like kids?”

Briefly he slanted a look at her. “Didn’t say that. Said I heard them. They’re loud.”

“Uh-huh,” she said with a half smile. “And didn’t you say last week that it was too quiet in Banner?”

His mouth tightened but, grudgingly, he nodded. “Point to you.”

“Good. I like winning.”

“One point doesn’t mean you’ve won anything.”

“How many points do I need then?”

A reluctant smile curved his mouth, then flashed away again. “At least eleven.”

Wow. That half smile had come and gone so quickly it was like it had never been. Yet, her stomach was swirling and her mouth had gone dry. Kelly took a breath and slowly let it out again. She had to focus on what they were talking about, not what he was doing to her.

“Like ping-pong,” she said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel.

“Okay.” He sounded amused.

“All right, good,” Kelly said, leaning over to pat his arm mostly because she needed to convince herself she could touch him without going up in flames. But her fingers tingled, so she pulled them back fast. “Then it’s one to nothing, my favor.”

He shook his head. “You’re actually going to keep score?”

“You started it. You gave me a point.”

“Right. I’ll make a note.”

“No need, I’ll keep track.” She looked ahead because it was safer than looking at him. Then she smiled to herself. She’d gotten him to talk and had completely held her own in the conversation—until her imagination and hormones had thrown her off.

As long as she could keep those tingles and nerves in check, she could handle Mr. Magnetic.

For the next few days, Kelly was too busy to spend much time thinking about Micah. And that was just as well, she told herself. Mainly because the minute they returned from their pumpkin-shopping expedition, Micah had disappeared and she’d gotten the message.

Clearly he wanted her to know that their brief outing had been an aberration. He’d slipped back into his cave and she hadn’t caught a glimpse of him since. Probably for the best, she assured herself. Easier to keep her mind on her own life, her own responsibilities if the only time she saw Micah was in her dreams.

Of course, that didn’t make for restful sleeping, but she’d been tired before. One thing she hadn’t experienced before were the completely over-the-top, sexy-enough-to-melt-your-brain dreams. She hated waking up hot and needy. Hated having to admit that all she really wanted to do was go back to sleep and dream again.

“And don’t start thinking about those dreams or you won’t get any work done at all,” Kelly told herself firmly.

It wasn’t hard to push Micah into the back of her mind, since she juggled so many jobs that sometimes she just ran from one to the next. Thankfully, that gave her little opportunity to sit and wonder if sex with Micah in real life would be as good as it was in her dreams.

Although if it was, she might not survive the experience.

“Still,” she mused, “not a bad way to go.”

She shook her head, dipped a brush into the orange tempera paint, wiped off the excess, then painted the first of an orchard of pumpkins onto the Coffee Cave’s front window. Of all her different jobs, this was her favorite. Kelly loved painting holiday decorations on storefronts.

But she was also a virtual assistant, she ran websites for several local businesses, and was a Realtor who had just sold a house to that family from California. She was a gardener and landscape designer, and now she was thinking seriously about running for mayor in Banner’s next election, since she was just horrified by some of the current mayor’s plans for downtown. As she laid the paint out on the glass, her mind wandered.

Kelly had a business degree from Utah State, but once she’d graduated, she hadn’t wanted to tie herself down to one particular job. She liked variety, liked being her own boss. When she’d decided to go into several different businesses, a couple of her friends had called her crazy. But she remembered Sean encouraging her, telling her to do whatever made her happy.

That had her pausing as thoughts of Sean drifted through her mind like a warm breeze on a cool day. A small ache settled around her heart. She still missed him even though his features were blurred in her mind now—like a watercolor painting left out in the rain.

She hated that. It felt like a betrayal of sorts, letting Sean fade. But it would have been impossible to keep living while holding on to the pain, too. Time passed whether you wanted it to or not. And you either kept up or got run over.

On that happy notion, Kelly paused long enough to look up and down Main Street. Instantly, she felt better. Banner was a beautiful little town and had been a great place to grow up. Coming here as a heartbroken eight-year-old, she’d fallen in love with the town, the woods, the rivers, the waterfalls and the people here.

Okay, Banner wasn’t Edinburgh or Oxford or wherever, but it was...cozy. The buildings were mostly more than a hundred years old with creaky floors and brick walls. The sidewalks were narrow but neatly swept, and every one of the old lampposts boasted a basket of fall flowers at its base. In another month or so, there would be Christmas signs up and lights strung across the streets, and when the snow came, it would all look like a holiday painting. So, yes, she’d like to travel, see the world, but she would always come home to Banner.

Nodding to herself, she turned back to the window and quickly laid out the rest of the pumpkin patch along the bottom edge of the window.

“Well, that looks terrific already.”

Kelly turned to grin at her friend. Terry Baker owned the coffee shop and made the best cinnamon rolls in the state. With short black hair, bright blue eyes and standing at about five foot two, Terry looked like an elf. Which she didn’t find the least bit amusing.

The two of them had been friends since the third grade and nothing had changed over the years. Terry had been there for Kelly when Sean died. Now that Terry’s military husband had deployed for the third time in four years, it was Kelly’s turn to support her friend.

“Thanks, but I’ve got a long way to go yet,” Kelly said, taking a quick look at the window and seeing a spot she’d have to fill in with a few baby pumpkins.

“Hence the latte I have brewed just for you.” She held out the go-cup she carried.

“Hence?” Kelly took the coffee, savored a sip, then sighed in appreciation. “Have you been reading British mysteries again?”

“Nope.” Terry stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. “With my sad love life, I’m home every night watching the British mysteries on TV.”

“Love lives can be overrated,” Kelly said.

“Right.” Terry nodded. “Who’re you trying to convince? Me? Or you?”

“Me, obviously, since you’re the only one of us with a man at the moment.”

Terry leaned one shoulder against the pale rose-colored brick of her building. “I don’t have one, either, trust me. It’s impossible to have phone sex on an iPad when half of Jimmy’s squad could walk in at any moment.”

Kelly laughed, grabbed another brush and laid down a twining green vine connecting all of the pumpkins. “Okay, that would be awkward.”

“Tell me about it. Remember when he called me as a surprise on my birthday and I jumped out of the shower to answer the call?” Terry shuddered dramatically. “I can still hear all the whistles from his friends who were there in the room.”

Still laughing, Kelly said, “Well, that’ll teach Jimmy to surprise you.”

“No kidding. Now we make phone appointments.” Terry grinned. “But enough about me. I hear you and the writer went for a long ride the other day.”

“How did you—” Kelly stopped, blew out a breath and nodded. “Right. Sally.”

“She and her sister came in for coffee yesterday and told me all about it,” Terry admitted, tipping her head to one side to study her friend. “The question is, if there was something to know, why didn’t I already know it?”

“Because it’s nothing,” Kelly said, focusing on her painting again. She added shadows and depth to the curling vines. “He took me to buy some pumpkins.”

“Uh-huh. Sally says you were gone almost two hours. Either you’re really picky about your pumpkins or something else was going on.”

Kelly sighed. “We went for a ride.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I showed him around a little.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Why not?”

Kelly just blinked. A couple of kids on skateboards shot down the sidewalk with a roar that startled her. “What?”

“Honey,” Terry said, stepping close enough to drop one arm around Kelly’s shoulders. “Sean’s been gone four years. You haven’t been on a single date in all that time. Now you’ve got this amazing-looking guy living in the Victorian for six months and you’re not going to do anything about it?”

Laughing a little, Kelly shook her head again. “What should I do? Tie him up and have my way with him?”

Terry’s eyes went a little dreamy. “Hmm...”

“Oh, stop it.” But even as she said it, a rush of heat filled Kelly. She only enjoyed it for a second or two before tamping it right down and mentally putting out the fire.

Honestly, she didn’t want or need the attraction she felt for Micah. He clearly wasn’t interested and Kelly had already loved and lost. She really had zero interest in a romance. Of any kind.

“Okay, fine,” Terry said, laughing. “If you’re determined to shut yourself up in a closet, wrapped in wool or something, there’s nothing I can do about it. But I swear, if the CIA ever needs more spies, I’m going to recommend Sally and Margie. Those two have their fingers on the pulse of everything that happens in town.”

And lucky Kelly lived right across the street from them. Sean used to laugh when he saw the older ladies, noses pressed to the windows. He would sweep Kelly into an elaborate dip and kiss her senseless, saying, “The reason they’re so nosy is no one’s ever kissed them senseless. So let’s give them something to talk about.”

That memory brought a sad smile that she just as quickly let slide away. Remembering Sean meant not only the good times, but the pain of losing him. She’d lost enough in her life, Kelly told herself firmly.

First her parents when she was just a kid, then her grandfather, then Sean. Enough already. And the only way to ensure she never went through that kind of pain again was to never let herself get that close with anyone again.

She had Terry. Her grandmother. A couple of good friends.

Who needed a man?

Micah’s image rose up in her mind and she heard a tiny voice inside her whisper, You do. He’s only here temporarily, why not take advantage? There’s no future there, so no risk.

True, Micah would only be in Banner for four more months, so it wasn’t as if—no.

Don’t think about it.

Sure. That would work.

“You know,” Terry said, interrupting Kelly’s stream of consciousness, “there’s a guy in Jimmy’s squad I think you’d really like...”

“Oh, no.” Kelly shook her head firmly. “Don’t go there, Terry. No setups. You know those never go well.”

“He’s a nice guy,” her friend argued.

“I’m sure he’s a prince,” Kelly said. “But he’s not my prince. I’m not looking for another man.”

“Well, you should be.” Terry folded her arms over her chest.

“Didn’t you just say there was nothing you could do about it if I wanted to lock myself in a closet?”

“I hate seeing you alone all the time.”

“You’re alone,” Kelly reminded her.

“For now, but Jimmy will be home in another couple of months.”

“And I’m happy for you.” Deliberately, Kelly turned back to her paints. She picked up the yellow and a small brush, then laid in the eyes on the first pumpkin. With the bright yellow, it would look like the pumpkin was lit by a candle. “I had a husband, Terry. Don’t want another one.”

From the corner of her eye, Kelly saw her friend’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I didn’t say I wanted you married.”

“But you do.”

“Not the point,” Terry said stubbornly. “Sweetie, I know losing Sean was terrible. But you’re too young to live the rest of your life like a vestal virgin.”

Kelly laughed. “The virgin ship sailed a long time ago.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course she did. Terry had been saying pretty much the same thing for the last two years. She just didn’t understand that Kelly was too determined to avoid pain to ever take the kind of risk she was talking about. Loving was great. Losing was devastating, and she’d already lost enough, thanks.

“Yeah, I do, and I appreciate the thought—”

“No, you don’t,” Terry said.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Kelly glanced at her friend and smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Gran.”

“Oh, low blow,” Terry muttered. “She’s still worried?”

“Ever since Sean died and it’s gotten worse in the last year or so.” She focused on the paints even while she kept talking. “Gran’s even started making noises about moving back here so I won’t be lonely.”

“Oh, man.” Terry sighed. “I thought she loved living in Florida with her sister.”

“She does.” Kelly crouched down to paint in the faces of three other pumpkins. “The two of them go to bingo and take trips with their seniors club. She’s having a great time, but then she starts worrying about me and—”

Her cell phone rang and Kelly stood up to drag it from her jeans pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, she sighed and looked at Terry. “Speak of the devil...”

“Gran? Really?” Terry’s eyes went dramatically wide. “Boy, her hearing’s better than ever if she could catch us talking about her all the way from Florida!”

Kelly laughed. With a wince of guilt, she sent the call to voice mail.

“Seriously?” Terry sounded surprised. “You’re not going to talk to her?”

“Having one conversation about my lack of a love life is enough for today.”

“Fine.” Terry held up both hands in surrender. “I’ll back off. For now.”

“Thanks.” She tucked her phone away and tried not to feel badly about ditching her grandmother’s call.

“But,” Terry added before she went back into the coffee shop, “just because you’re not interested in a permanent man...”

Kelly looked at her.

“...doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a temporary one. I’m just saying.”

After she left, Kelly’s brain was racing. A temporary man. When she went back to her painting, she was still thinking, and as an ephemeral plan began to build in her mind, a speculative smile curved her mouth.

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