She gave him a soft smile that revealed the tips of her pearly whites.

That smile ignited the chain reaction to nuclear fission capacity. He clasped his hands in front of his crotch in a cool, casual stance that said, I'm just getting comfortable and not at all trying to hide a hard-on.

"Before you left this morning, the boys told me you'd be here after school." He left out the part about the kids asking him to come to their Wilderness Scouts meeting, since most of the other kids' dads had volunteered.

She came to a stop in front of him, and her brow crinkled. "Is everything okay?"

Malarkey didn't whine for her attention the way he did with the boys. It was like the dog sensed that out of everyone Lorenda was the one who could take or leave him. Preferably leave.

"I was washing my clothes in your laundry room this morning, and the water heater isn't working." He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He didn't want the news he was about to deliver to upset her. So he kept rambling about house maintenance like an idiot. "I relit the pilot, but I have a feeling you need a new unit."

"I'll call Al's Plumbing on Main Street and have it replaced," she said.

"No need just yet. I bought a few parts at McCall's Hardware to see if I can fix it." He scratched the back of his neck. "Of course, Mr. McCall wasn't all that happy to see me. He said something about me shooting out his storefront window with a high-powered pellet gun when I was in junior high."

Lorenda's brow rose.

Mitchell shrugged. "Cameron bet me I couldn't outline every letter in McCall's Hardware with a pellet. I had to prove him wrong."

That's the way it had always gone with him and Cameron. Cameron put him up to something, and Mitchell did it. It wasn't until years later that Mitchell realized it was because Cameron never wanted to take the blame.

"I offered to clean his windows for free once a week while I'm in town to make up for it." Mitchell smiled. "Something tells me he'll make sure they're plenty dirty before I get there each week."

A soft laugh slipped between Lorenda's lips. "Glad to see you're trying to smooth things over. It'll make your mom happy."

"That's me, winning friends and influencing people. Listen, there's news-" Malarkey pulled free from Mitchell's grasp and disappeared behind the portable risers that served as spectator stands.

"Come on, boy." Completely ignoring the command, Malarkey sniffed his way under the bottom of the risers, and all except his butt disappeared. "Obviously, we haven't mastered the come command yet."

Lorenda's face went up in flames.

Well, hell. He hadn't meant it like that. But that blush was sweet.

Malarkey's butt disappeared under the risers. "Malarkey, come." He glanced at Lorenda's hot-pink glow and fought off a smile. "Come here," he added. The dog ignored him. "Hold on." He squeezed between the wall and the risers.

"Mitchell, you're . . . um, kind of a big guy to fit into such a small space," Lorenda said. "Want me to try?"

"Nope," he grunted out, and then went down on his knees, disappearing behind the risers. "I'll get him." He called to Malarkey again, and a flattened snout appeared with a lunch-size bag of Fire Hot chips clamped between his teeth. Oh wow. Spicy human food probably wouldn't sit well with his delicate . . . uh, constitution. The training treats were already doing a number on him, and Mitchell wasn't sure the mistress of the house could handle the odor.

"Come on, Malarkey." Mitchell clicked his tongue. The dog gave a little puppy whine- without dropping the chip bag, of course-and tried to obey, but his leash snagged on a corner of the risers. Mitchell snaked his way through the small space and unhooked the leash.

As he started to back out, leading Malarkey with him, the gymnasium doors slammed open. The sound of very unhappy boys grumbled through the quiet gym. Jaycee and Trevor.

"Mom!" Jaycee said.

"Ouch!" Trevor cried out. "He's hurting my arm!"

Mitchell tensed all the way from the hair prickling on the back of his neck to the toes of his leather combat boots.

"Stop with the theatrics, Trevor." Mitchell didn't recognize the male voice. "I was giving his arm an encouraging squeeze when he wrenched away. No harm done," the man tried to explain to Lorenda.

"What's going on, Principal Wilkinson?" Lorenda's voice pitched high.

Bart. Mitchell's dad had called Bart "Principal Wilkinson" in the park. It hadn't registered in Mitchell's brain at the time, but now Mitchell pieced it together. Bart had grown up, gone to college, and become a teacher.

The thud of feet came to a stop somewhere in Lorenda's vicinity. "Nothing to worry about, but they were disrupting the Scouts meeting." That voice raked over Mitchell's patience. "It wasn't fair to the other boys."

"We didn't do anything," Jaycee groused.

Slow and quiet so he could hear, Mitchell backed toward the opening.

The man gave a condescending chuckle. "I'm sure they don't think they did anything wrong, Lorenda. They don't have a lot of fatherly guidance. And I've told you to call me Bart."

"They have their grandfathers." Lorenda's voice was polite.

Mitchell kept easing backward, Malarkey following him nose to nose, still holding the bag of chips in his mouth. And Christ, Malarkey's silent-but-deadly gas picked a bad time to make an appearance. Mitchell fought off a gag and waved a hand in front of his nose while trying to eavesdrop on the guy who was obviously making Jaycee and Trevor unhappy.

"Grandparents have a way of spoiling kids. They mean well, I'm sure." The insinuation grated on Mitchell's nerves. Jaycee and Trevor were a little rambunctious and curious, but wasn't that normal for kids? They didn't seem spoiled to Mitchell.

Malarkey's collar snagged on a nut and bolt. Mitchell reached down to free it.

"You should reconsider my offer." On the last word, Bart's voice dropped low. "After the incident in the park, having a man around more would be good for them. And good for you."

Every protective instinct in Mitchell's body dialed up to imminent-threat level.

With brute force, he pushed the riser forward, shot to his feet, and stepped out into the open. Malarkey dropped the chips and strained toward the boys with a whine. Mitchell gripped the leash so tight his knuckles hurt.

Trevor and Jaycee didn't run to their mother. They ran to Mitchell.

As much as that made his chest swell, the look of hurt and worry on Lorenda's face confirmed that Mitchell's decision to get on his motorcycle and gun it out of town was the right thing to do. She didn't need him disrupting the family life she'd built any more than he already had.

Malarkey pawed at the boys' legs, whining for a scratch. Jaycee picked him up.

Bart made sure to stand closer to Lorenda than Mitchell. "Lawson." He kept his tone friendly, but his eyes frosted over.

"Bart," Mitchell said.

Something about Bart chewed at Mitchell's gut. Like a rat gnawing at a piece of cheese.

"How long will you be here?" Even though Bart spoke to Mitchell, his gaze slid back to Lorenda.

"I'll be here as long as my family needs me." Mitchell put a hand on Jaycee's and Trevor's shoulders and guided them a few steps to his right to close the space between them and Lorenda.

Something in Bart's eyes flared.

"Pets aren't allowed in the gym." Bart widened his smile.

"I hate him. He's mean," Trevor whispered.

Bart narrowed his eyes at the kids, but his smile didn't waiver.

"Trevor!" Lorenda corrected him, and Trevor folded both arms over his chest with a pout. "You apologize this instant."

Trevor stayed quiet and burrowed into Mitchell's leg.

"I got the same treatment in the Scouts meeting while I was trying to demonstrate how to tie a proper knot," Bart said. "That's why I pulled them out."

"He was tying it wrong. Uncle Mitch showed us how yesterday." Jaycee held up his wrist where a black nylon rope was twined into a bracelet. "He said a piece of rope and a good knot could save our lives someday like it did his in Afghanistan. So he made us these survivalist bracelets out of rope."

"Oh." Her expression blanked, and her blue eyes locked onto Mitchell. "That's so . . . scout-ish."

Mitchell wanted to smile. Who could argue with that? Or compete with it?

Bart's face turned red, but he kept that thin smile planted on his pasty lips. "Lorenda, I'm sorry to say their behavior is becoming an issue both in the classroom and in the Wilderness Scouts. Trevor's teacher has already had to send him to my office, and the school year just started."

He put a hand on Lorenda's elbow, and Mitchell wanted to hold Bart the Fart in a headlock until he learned his lesson about putting his hands on a woman.

Mitchell's woman.

And that thought almost made his head explode.

"I want them to stay in the Scouts," Bart said. "The structured environment will help keep them in line."

Mitchell had heard that before. The day his dad gave him the choice between juvie and the military. It didn't sit well with Mitchell that the same words were already being used on his nephews.

"You should consider my offer and try to get them to follow my leadership." Bart's smile was encouraging, like he had the answers to all of her problems.

Mitchell's special-forces training had taught him to read body language, voice tones, and even the subtle twitches of facial muscles. He already liked this SOB about as much as he liked having a root canal. Without anesthetic. And he trusted him even less.

"I apologize for my son's rudeness." Lorenda shot a scolding look at Trevor, who turned his face into Mitchell's leg. "And for any problems they're causing. The music program will only be here in the gym until next spring." She gave Bart a patient smile. Shifted her weight so that she pulled away from Bart's touch and closed the small space between her and Mitchell. Their arms brushed, and he could swear she shivered. "Then we'll be out of your way."

Something flashed in Bart's eyes that made the hair on the back of Mitchell's neck rise again. But the little rat bastard kept smiling at her, like he was her best friend.

"A program with so many kids might be more successful if it stayed here at the school. Some of the teachers could help." His voice practically dripped with honeyed helpfulness. "It could be a community effort with you in charge. I can probably find money in the budget for the program, but the school board will only approve it if it stays on the school grounds."

Lorenda's smile widened. Oh good God, gag me. Did she not see he was a weasel? A weasel who was playing her as well as she'd just played the flute.

Bart's smile broadened too, like he thought he'd hit all the right notes.

Mitchell's fist clenched.

"That's a generous offer"-she hesitated like she was torn-"Bart."

Hell. Lorenda was sharp as the knife he carried in his boot. How were Bart's tactics not registering on her bullshit radar?

"If their behavior doesn't improve, then maybe I should pull them from the scouts. They can stay in the gym while I work with the music kids." Her hand closed around Trevor's shoulder and overlapped Mitchell's hand. His pulsed revved, and she drew in a sharp breath. Shot him a bewildered look and pulled her hand away.

"But we want to go on the Scouts camping trip!" Trevor protested. "All of our friends are going."

Bart just kept on smiling at Lorenda, which was really pissing Mitchell off. "Then you boys need to show respect for leadership so your mom will let you stay in the Wilderness Scouts."

Mitchell was guessing the leadership would be Bart, of course.

Lorenda looked from the kids to Bart and back to the kids. "If their behavior is such a problem, I don't want them to ruin it for the other ki-"

"You could go, Lorenda," Bart said, his eyes dilating. "Mothers sometimes volunteer as chaperones when the dads can't be there."

Oh, hell no. The thought of Lorenda and the boys on a camping trip in the middle of nowhere with this joker made Mitchell's skin crawl, even if other kids and parents would be there.

"Please, Mom, please?" Trevor begged. "I'll be good, I promise."

"Well . . ." Her tone and the guilt in her expression told Mitchell she was about to cave.

He needed to keep his mouth shut. Any number of grown men could go on that camping trip. Mitchell's dad; Lorenda's dad; her brother, Langston-anybody but Mitchell. He needed to stick to the plan, get on his motorcycle, and get out of town. Get on with his no-attachments life and go back overseas where he could make some real money for a change. It was a good, solid plan.

A plan was everything going into battle. Until the battle actually started-then the plan usually turned to shit.

"I don't know much about camping," Lorenda said.

"No problem. I'll take care of everything for you and the boys." The triumphant gleam in Bart's eyes made Mitchell's fist clench again, and that sealed the deal.

He let out a heavy breath. "I'll go on the camping trip. I've got practical experience." He already regretted what he was about to say. "And I've got the time." He doubted the private security company waiting for him to report for duty would agree.

The boys cheered.

Bart's eyes flared again.

Lorenda turned beautiful blue eyes on Mitchell that said she was grateful for the support. He shifted closer so that his arm brushed hers, and this time he was sure a shiver raced over her. He had to dig deep to find self-control because he wanted to put his arm around her slender shoulders so she'd know he had her back.

One side of Lorenda's full mouth quirked up into a shaky smile, and whatever he'd seen in her baby blues a few moments ago turned to something he'd seen many times in mud-hut villages.

The unmistakable glint of fear.

Her stare darted to the kids, and Mitchell understood. The boys were already getting attached. The admiration in their expressions grew with every hour Mitchell had spent with them the past few days.

He knew exactly how Lorenda felt. His life was all about protecting and defending, but he usually did it without personal attachments. Attachments meant emotions, and emotions were dangerous in his line of work.

If he let himself care about someone too much, it meant getting hurt when he lost them.

But what choice did he have? Cam had abandoned his post. Left his wife and kids exposed. Mitchell had felt crummy about Cameron's decision to keep fighting a war but not keep fighting for his family. His brother's family needed him now, and maybe Mitchell could be the next best thing. At least for a while.

Chapter Seven.