One in a Million

were vague shadows playing on the field at some sporting event. Not real people. Not like Stephanie's kids.

Thinking about Brett, Adam and Jason reminded him of the previous evening. He'd enjoyed helping with homework and staying for dinner. The boys were a lot of fun, each with a distinct personality.

Brett was still waiting to accept him, but Nash respected that. Jason was ready to charm the world while Adam was shyer. As for Stephanie…

Better not to go there, he told himself. As it was, he'd had a restless night filled with erotic dreams of his hostess. He couldn't remember the last time he'd awakened so damn hard. Not since he was a teenager and in the throes of adolescent hormones. Back then he'd had lots of desire but little knowledge about what was supposed to happen between a man and a woman. Now he knew exactly what he wanted to do to and with Stephanie, should he ever get her in his bed.

He grinned as he realized a bed wasn't required. He'd been pretty creative in his dreams. Based on what he remembered, he could happily make love with her just about anywhere. One particularly vivid nocturnal event had been of him holding her up against a wall. She'd wrapped her bare legs around him and he'd He groaned as heat and pressure poured into his groin. Determined not to arrive back at the B &B with a hard-on the size of Argentina, he concentrated on the road and forced himself to think about how the houses lining the streets would look if they were all painted green.

The distraction nearly worked. By the time he pulled up in front of the B &B, he was no longer hard, although a dull ache lingered. It throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Experience told him it would go away… eventually.

He climbed out of his rental car and started toward the large house. As he walked along the path, he heard sounds coming from a small gatehouse by the driveway. The front door was open.

Nash changed directions. When he reached the gatehouse, the faint sounds became a song on the radio. He followed the music into an empty living room in the midst of being sanded and patched. Stephanie stood in a doorway about fifteen feet away. She had a piece of sandpaper in each hand.

That morning she'd been dressed in what he thought of as her 'public' clothes. Tailored slacks, a dark pink sweater. While he'd been gone, she'd changed into jeans and a T-shirt. A scarf covered her head.

As he watched, she reached up and rubbed at a spot well above her head. Her T-shirt rode up, exposing a bit of stomach. Instantly his groin sprang to life. What was it about this woman and her belly? Shouldn't he be finding her breasts erotic, or even her legs?

“You need a ladder,' he said conversationally.

She jumped and squeaked, then glared at him. 'I have to go to the grocery store in the next couple of days. I swear I'm going to swing through the pet department and buy you a collar with a bell.'

“It's not going to fit.'

“I'll put it around your wrist.'

“You'll have to wrestle me into submission first.' He'd meant the comment as a joke, but at his words, her eyes darkened and awareness sharpened her features. Tension crackled in the empty room.

So this attraction wasn't all one-sided, he thought with satisfaction. Not that the information meant anything. Stephanie was a single mom with threekids. Which meant she wasn't exactly the kind of woman looking for a good time with no commitment. Too bad.

He might want her, but there was no way he would take advantage of her. He'd grown up with a single mom and he knew how hard that life could be. He wasn't there to contribute to the problem.

He ignored the tension and the need snapping between them and pointed to the bare walls.

“Is this going to be the presidential suite for Serenity House?' he asked.

Stephanie blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance. 'What? Oh. No. It's for me and the kids.' He glanced around at the old gatehouse. It wasn't huge, although there was a second story. 'Why would you want to move?'

“It's always been the plan.' She rubbed a piece of sandpaper against the door frame, then shook her head and leaned against the wood. 'When Marty and I bought the property, we'd intended to fix this place up and move here. That way there would be more rooms to rent out. When he died, my first priority was to get rooms ready for paying guests and this project got put on the back burner. I'm hoping to get it done by midsummer.'

“Isn't there more room for you and the kids at the main house?'

“Technically, yes, but when we have a lot of guests, the boys have to be quiet. We're on the third floor with guests underneath. They really try to cooperate, but they're young. Plus I hate reminding them all the time. I don't want their only memories of their childhood to be 'stop making noise.' We're all willing to sacrifice space for privacy.'

“Makes sense. Mind if I look around?'

“Help yourself.' He walked through the living room. There was a fireplace at one end, with built-in bookcases on either side. Large windows opened up to the street. The door on the right led to a short hallway and the stairs. There were two bedrooms in back, a bathroom, a kitchen that led to a small dining room, which. opened onto the living room. Stephanie stood in that doorway. At the very rear of the house was a utility room with washer and dryer hookups.

Nash climbed the stairs and found a good-size master bedroom with a private bath. The ceilings were high on both floors, and the rooms had big windows, molding and lots of painted wood trim.

He returned to the living room. 'Very nice,' he said. 'Only three bedrooms, though. Will the twins share?'

“They already do and they love it, so that's not a problem.' Nash watched her work for about thirty seconds. When she stretched up past her reach again, the flash of belly skin hit him like a sucker punch.

“Go sand something closer to the floor,' he growled and grabbed a piece of sandpaper. She spun toward him. 'What?'

“You're not tall enough. I'll do that.' Her gaze narrowed. 'I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself.'

“Not without a ladder.' He set his hands on her upper arms and gently moved her out of the way. For a brief second he had the impression of curves, heat and feminine scent, then he deliberately turnedhis back on temptation and went to work on the top of the door frame.

“I can't let you do this,' she said.

“Never turn down the offer of free labor. It may not happen again.'

“But you're a guest.'

“I'm restless and bored. I need something to do.' She laughed. 'Right. How silly. Of course I'm the one doing you a favor by letting you help me. Why didn't I see that before?'

“Beats me.' He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her chin jutted out and she had her hands on her hips, as if prepared to do battle.

“Just say thank-you and let it go,' he told her.

“But I…' She sighed. 'Thank you, Nash. I appreciate the help. As long as that's what we call it. Your attempt to guilt me into this by pretending I was doing you a favor was pretty pathetic.'

“I've always been told I think fast on my feet.'

“I'm a mother of three boys. That makes me a professional in the guilt arena. You're not even close to my league.' He chuckled and returned his attention to the sanding. Under the layers of paint was beautiful old wood, still in great shape.

“Whoever built these houses knew what they were doing,' he said. 'Good-quality material and great construction.'

“Whenever I panic about the mortgage, I remind myself that the B &B will outlast the payments by at least a century. Not that I plan to be around that long.'

“The boys will appreciate the inheritance.'

“I hope so. If one of them wants to take over the business, that's great. If not, I won't push them. They can sell the house and split the money.'

“You're doing some long-term planning.'

“I'm a detail person. I try to be responsible. My husband used to tell me I was anal. I guess that comes from being an only child.' She knelt on the floor and started sanding the baseboards.

“Not necessarily. I was the responsible one in our family,' he said. 'As my brother and I are fraternal twins, I can't claim to be the oldest. It's just the way things worked out. I did the right thing and Kevin was a professional screwup. He used to get grounded about three times a week.' Now Nash could smile at the memory, but when it