Davis held up a hand. "Hold on now. It's only a date. I'm not marrying her, Jenny."

"So you'll go?" Jenny hopped up and hugged him. "Oh, I knew you would. You're the best brother. You won't be sorry, I promise."

Snared by his own words, he nodded, resigned. What would it hurt? If taking Chuck's new office assistant out for dinner would get his sister off his back for a while and Lana out of his head, he'd do it. Once.

"How did I get into this?" Davis muttered as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror and retied his tie for the fourth time. Anxious as a teenager dressing for the prom, he was not ready for this dating thing.

"Daddy?" Nathan appeared in the mirror behind him.

"What, buddy?"

"Can I go with you?"

"Not this time. You're spending the night with Aunt Jenny and the twins. Remember?" He flipped one end of the blue striped tie over the other and poked the pointed fabric through the knot. The result was one tail shorter than the other. He pulled it apart again.

"I don't want to go to Aunt Jenny's. I want to go with you."

Davis dropped the ends of the tie, leaving them to dangle around his neck, and turned to crouch before his son. "What's the deal? You love spending the night with the twins."

"I don't like her."

"Jenny?"

"That girl. Paige says you're going on a date with a girl."

"That's right. I am. Her name is Tara. She seems very nice. I met her at Uncle Chuck's office this afternoon." Blonde, bubbly and sweet just like his sister had promised.

"What about Lana? She's real nice, too."

An arrow to the heart. But nice had different meanings to different people. As much as he liked Lana, some of the things he knew troubled him. Not for himself but for his children. He couldn't stop picturing little Sydney living in a car.

"Aunt Jenny is going to let you make Rice Krispie treats."

Nathan had a one-track mind. "Are you going to marry her?"

"We're going to dinner and a basketball game. That's all."

"I think I should go with you, Dad. I'm a good judge of character."

Davis hid a smile as he pulled his son into the V between his knees. "Not this time, buddy."

He hugged his boy close, enjoying the puppy-dog smell and tender love of his child. Paige had him wrapped around her finger. Nathan was wrapped around his heart. Both were too young to understand his dilemma. Being a single father, wanting to do the right things for his kids as well as address his needs as a man, was a difficult balance and part of the reason he'd avoided the dating game for so long.

Thanks a lot, Jenny.

"Dad?" Paige entered the room. Pixielike, with fairy-dusted freckles, she looked too serious this evening. "I'm worried about something."

"What's that, pumpkin?" He reached out to bring her into the family huddle.

"If you marry Uncle Chuck's assistant, what happens to Lana? Will that mean God doesn't answer prayers of little kids?"

Davis blew out a huffed breath. Good grief. This was getting crazy. "God always answers prayers, especially of little kids, Paige. But He doesn't always answer them the way we want."

"You mean Nathan might not get a brown-haired mom?"

"I can't answer that. I'm only going on a date. I'm not getting married."

Nathan raised his face so they were nose to nose. "Never?"

He shifted the children so that one sat on each raised knee, facing him. "Going on a date isn't the same as getting married, kids. Getting married means falling in love with someone very special, taking time to get to know her and then deciding if she's God's choice for our family. For all three of us. If I ever get married again, we'll all be getting married. Not just me."

Paige's gray eyes sought his. "You won't marry someone we don't like?"

"Not a chance."

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

The children exchanged long looks before Nathan said, "Good. We like Lana."

Lana saw them come into the gymnasium. From her seat behind the clock keeper where she could take notes and see every play of the season opener, she'd spotted Davis and a pretty blonde the moment Davis had purchased tickets at the window box. He'd taken the woman's elbow, gentleman that he was, and guided her up into the stands where they'd sat down beside Mayor Rusty Fairchild, an Opie look-alike.

Davis had a date.

She tried to turn her attention to the pregame warm-up.

Sydney saw him too and leaned forward, gaze intent. "Davis is here but he's with a lady. Where are Paige and Nathan?"

"I have no idea. Sit up and don't stare." She pushed Sydney upright with a little more energy than usual.

She wanted to stare, too. Davis looked great, more dressed up than she'd ever seen him, as accustomed as she was to seeing him in work clothes covered with grouting mud or wall plaster. In a pale blue dress shirt with a darker blue striped tie and black slacks, he was killer handsome. When he smiled at the woman at his side, Lana expected the gym lights to dim in comparison.

The fluffy blonde woman was no slouch either. Dressed in a demure black dress with white pearls and trendy little heels, she was pretty as a picture. Davis couldn't seem to take his eyes off her. She was definitely his type. As sweet and wholesome-looking as a sugar cookie.

So, this was the woman Jenny had told her about at church, the woman Davis was dating. With all the flowery gushing of a mother, she'd discussed Tara Brewster, extolling her virtues, her Christian education, her classy lifestyle. With every gushy sentence, Lana had felt smaller and dirtier.

Now she got it. Jenny was warning her off, reminding her that Lana wasn't good enough for her brother. As if she didn't already know that.

With a heavy heart, she focused on her job and refused to look to the right again. The players, bouncing basketballs in staccato rhythm, moved off the floor, taking their places along the sidelines, to await the national anthem and their introduction.

"Can we get some popcorn?" Sydney asked.

"Not now." Though the buttery smell had her salivating, there was no way she was walking past Davis and his date to get to the concession stand.

The PA system squeaked and crackled. "Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the singing of the national anthem."

The PA crackled again and Lana could both see and hear the conversation going on below her between the announcer and the high school principal. The crowd was standing, restless but waiting, but the music didn't start. She watched as a note was passed to the announcer. He cleared his throat.

"Bear with us a moment," he said. "Our singer has taken ill."

After a momentary pause, an unseen person shouted into the quiet. "Lana Ross is here. She can sing."

The blood in Lana's veins froze as people nearby began to turn and stare.

"Go on, Lana," the woman behind her urged with a smile. "Just like old times."

The woman had no way of knowing what she asked.

Lana shook her head but by now, the announcer had heard the comments and turned in her direction.

Her heart stuttered in her chest. She met his gaze, frowning as she mouthed, "No. Don't ask."

To her horror, the idea picked up momentum and the announcer said, "Some of you may remember hometown girl, Lana Ross, formerly of Nashville, Tennessee. How about it, Lana? Would you do the honor of singing our national anthem the way you used to?"

A sea of smiling, expectant faces stared at her. Her body went hot and then cold and then hot again. Her stomach rolled. Her knees and hands started to shake.

She shook her head vigorously. "No."

"Ah, come on, Lana. We remember your pretty voice."

"I don't sing anymore. I'm sorry."

He turned to the spectators. "Come on, folks. Give Lana a little encouragement."

The crowd started clapping. She stared around at the faces, some familiar, some not, but all expecting something she couldn't give.

Her chest tightened. Her heart pounded. The air grew thin. She couldn't breathe.

She leaped from the seat, climbing over laps and legs, stumbling blindly out of the stands, face aflame. Her body shook so hard she thought she might fall.

She hit the bathroom door with the palm of her hand and made it to the stall right in time to be sick.

Chapter Nine.

Her light was still on.

Standing on his front porch, Davis slid the tie from his neck as he stared down the block at Lana's two-story. Something had happened tonight at the ball game that bothered him. He wasn't sure why she wouldn't sing the national anthem but her reaction had been over the top. Did she dislike Whisper Falls that much? Or as some had murmured, did she think she was too good to sing for such a small-time gig? Or was there another reason? Whatever, he was curious, bothered.

Now, as the cold, clear night closed around him and only the corner streetlight illuminated the neighborhood in dark shadows, he was very tempted to jog across the street and up the block. The kids were at Jenny's until tomorrow. Ruffles had gone with them. No reason to go inside the lonely house yet.

Before he could overthink the moment, Davis stuffed the tie in his jacket pocket and jogged across the street to Lana's house. The neighbor's dog barked, a deep German shepherd woof intended to scare away prowlers.

Yellow light streamed out from a front window that opened into Lana's parlor. As he neared her porch, he thought he heard music, but the moment he knocked, the sound ceased. The porch light came on. He squinted, blinking as she opened the door.

"Davis?" Her throaty voice sent a shiver over him.

Sparkling conversationalist that he was, he said, "Hey."

She fumbled with the latch before pushing open the screen. "Come in."

"Is it too late?"

"Never."

He liked the sound of that. As he stepped inside, the warmth of the fireplace met him. She'd wisely had the chimney cleaned and serviced and now a snapping fire sent off a pleasant heat. A colorful, lopsided Thanksgiving turkey, similar to one Paige had made in art class, graced the mantel next to a cross and a photo of Sydney. Beside the hearth leaned the same acoustic guitar he'd noticed before.

"Nice."

She tilted her head to one side, lifting a shoulder. "A little early for a fire, maybe, but the heat felt good tonight."

She was dressed as she'd been at the ball game. Skinny black pants, a lacy white, off-shoulder sweater thing draped over a red long-sleeved shirt. The only change was on her feet. Instead of her usual high-heeled boots, she wore fuzzy socks. The cozy sight made him smile a little. That was Lana. All country-singer trendy but real and comfortable to be with.

"You okay?" He shed his jacket without waiting to be asked.

"Great. Want some coffee?"

"Too late. I'd be up all night."

"The very reason I drink it." She smiled.

"In that case, why not live dangerously? The kids are spending the night with Jenny."

"Sydney's asleep, too. I usually work after she goes to bed. Sit. I'll get the coffee." She motioned toward the sheet-covered couch, but he followed her into the kitchen.

"I was worried about you."

At the counter, she glanced over one shoulder. "How so?"

"Tonight at the basketball game."

"Oh." She shook her head and turned back to the cabinets. "I'm fine."

Just that. She was fine. No explanation.

She loaded the coffeemaker and pushed On. "I'm working on the article about the basketball game. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this newspaper gig."

"Didn't you leave before the tip-off?"