Mac a.s.sumed she meant the large oak on the side of the house, and he pretended to crane his neck and look at it. "Hard, but not impossible."

Amanda clapped her hands again, bringing their attention back to what was ultimately important here. "Man weed stow-ee."

Mac shook his head, looking at Jolene. "How can you resist this face?"

Talk about an ego. Jolene narrowed her eyes. "I can resist your face just fine."

His face was the picture of innocence. How could someone so guilty look like that, she wanted to know. "I meant Amanda's."

Embarra.s.sed, Jolene could feel color creeping up her neck and face. She didn't want to continue arguing. "All right, you can come in and read her a story. But just one."

The warning was issued to both Mac and his cheering section.

A symphony of boundless energy, the instant she was taken out of her car seat Amanda grabbed Mac's hand and dragged him to the front door, moving well ahead of her mother. It was obvious that Amanda was taking no chances that she would change her mind.

Mac said nothing, maintaining his innocent facade and smiling at Jolene as she unlocked her door.

One story, just one story, Jolene consoled herself. She'd give him a short one and then he'd be on his way. Maybe one of Dr. Seuss's stories. Still fighting for composure, she tossed her purse onto the sofa.

Mac looked around. It was a small, cozy house from the looks of it, made somewhat crammed by the stacks of opened and unopened boxes that were lining the opposite walls of the living room.

"I like what you've done with the place." He watched her, his eyes dancing. "What do you call this kind of decor?"

"I call it not-finished-unpacking, wise guy," she informed him tersely, closing the door behind her.

This was a mistake, letting him come in here, she thought. And it was feeling like more and more of one every moment.

She extracted the little girl's hand from MacKenzie's. It took a little more doing than she'd thought. Amanda seemed determined to hang on to her prize.

Jolene wrapped her own hand around her daughter's. "Let's get you ready for bed, young lady."

"My sentiments exactly," Mac agreed.

The only problem was, he was looking at her when he said it.

Mac laughed out loud as he watched the storm clouds quickly gather in her eyes. His smile softened into one that could have melted an iceberg at twenty paces.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist, seeing as what you think of me."

"You-" she raised her chin pugnaciously "-don't know the half of what I think of you."

No, he had a hunch he didn't. But he also had a hunch he could turn her around quickly enough, given the chance. He took a step toward Jolene, his smile inviting, his meaning clear.

"Maybe you can tell me after the story."

The h.e.l.l she was. "All I'm going to tell you after the story is goodbye," she promised.

He wasn't about to make his case, not in front of the little girl. So instead Mac shrugged casually. "Whatever works for you."

That proved it, she thought. He was in it for the conquest, nothing more. She squared her shoulders. As Jolene DeLuca, she meant nothing to him. She was just another warm body he meant to climb on and then over. He undoubtedly thought of them as two ships pa.s.sing in the night, nothing more.

Except that this ship wasn't about to have her bottom sc.r.a.ped by him. She was going to stay in port and nothing he could do was going to make her put out to sea. She'd been there. The trip wasn't worth it.

Closing her hand more tightly around her daughter's, Jolene went up the stairs.

Amanda looked over her shoulder. "Man." It wasn't a question, it was a summons.

"Don't worry, I'll be up as soon as your mother gets you ready for bed," he promised. "Be sure you pick out a good story."

Though she had no idea why, Jolene looked back down the stairs herself. She saw MacKenzie looking at the books she'd managed to unpack and put on the bookshelves that buffered the fireplace.

"Don't touch anything," she warned.

His hand on the spine of a book of poetry, he offered her an engaging smile. "Don't worry, I get sanitized at the hospital daily."

Rolling her eyes, Jolene took her daughter the rest of the way up the stairs and to her room.

The man was leaving the moment he uttered the last word in the story he was going to read to Amanda-and not an instant later.

Jolene waited for MacKenzie in the hallway, watching impatiently as he eased his way out of Amanda's room, then slowly closed the door.

It had taken not one but three stories before the little girl had finally fallen asleep. Each time one ended, Amanda would beg for another, insisting she wasn't "sweepy." Mac had good-naturedly gone from one book to another, reading the parts as if he was giving a command performance before the Queen rather than reading to a bossy two-year-old.

Shoving her hands into the back pocket of her jeans, Jolene fell into step beside Mac. Though she wasn't happy about it, she supposed she had to give credit where credit was due.

"I didn't expect you to make it through one story, much less three," she admitted as she led the way down the stairs.

Reading out loud was something he'd picked up when Carrie's children were still in the diaper stage. It soothed him after a long day to drop by and read to his niece and then his nephews.

He shrugged off her thanks. "I thought I owed it to you to read her to sleep, seeing as how I'm the one who got her wired by bringing her to that restaurant."

Jolene waved away his notion. There was no need to apologize for that. "Amanda was born wired. Well-" She looked toward the front door, her meaning clear.

Mac cleared his throat, then asked, "Would you mind if I asked you for a gla.s.s of water? My throat's a little dry."

Normally she'd hold the request suspect, but he had read to Amanda for over an hour, doing different voices. One of which had been particularly high and scratchy. She couldn't just send him off coughing. "Sure, come this way."

The kitchen, located at the back of the house, was no less cluttered than the living room had been. Maybe more so, given the boxes of appliances and pots and pans that still hadn't found a home.

Mac leaned against the sink as she ran the water. "How long have you been here?"

She knew he was referring to the clutter. Jolene handed him the gla.s.s.

"Six weeks." Her tone was a little defensive. It was hard being a nurse and a mother, much less an interior decorator. "I just haven't found the time to unpack."

That sounded reasonable. He took a long drink of water. "Need help?"

Oh, no, she wasn't going to have him volunteer to help her unpack her boxes. There was no way she was going to have him riffling through her things and she had no doubt that, with him, one thing would only lead to another.

"Need time," she corrected.

She was watching his every move as if she expected him to pounce on her. Mac set the empty gla.s.s down on the counter.

"All right, since my services are no longer needed, I guess I'd better be going."

He didn't have to say it twice. Jolene was already striding out into the living room. "Well, thanks for everything. Amanda had a great time."

He noticed that she said nothing about herself. Was that because she hadn't had a good time-or because she had and didn't want to admit it?

He stopped just short of the door. "Is this your version of the b.u.m's rush?"

"No, I was just clearing a path to the door in case you forgot where it was." She pulled it open, waiting for him to go so she could finally let go of the breath she was holding. The one that was making her pulse race and her temples throb.

"I know where the door is, Nurse DeLuca."

Mac paused, looking at her. Wondering why, when she had done everything she could to block every one of his moves, he was still so d.a.m.n attracted to her. It wasn't as if she was the only woman in the world, or that she'd even won his heart.

Just his determination.

He ran the back of his fingers along her cheek and watched in fascination as her pupils grew large. He leaned in just a little. Cutting off both their air supply.

"Aren't you the least bit curious, Nurse DeLuca?"

"No," she lied. Why wasn't she pulling back? Why wasn't she pushing him that last six inches over the threshold and slamming the door?

Why was she standing there like some pea-brained possum, watching the headlights of the car coming right at her?

She hadn't a single plausible answer.

"Well, I am," he told her.

Tilting her head back ever so slightly, his eyes on hers, Mac touched his lips to hers.

And the earth was suddenly rocked with a second Big Bang phenomenon.

Chapter Nine.

S he'd meant to pull away, not be blown away.

Nothing seemed to matter but what was going on right here before her front door.

She was in complete and utter meltdown.

There was no other way to put it and there were a million things she could blame it on, not the very least of which was that she hadn't been with a man since her divorce.

h.e.l.l, she hadn't been with a man even before her divorce. Intimate relations had all but become nonexistent between Matt and her since around the time she'd become pregnant with Amanda. That meant three years without being touched, without being made to feel special or feminine.

A woman had needs just like a man.

And MacKenzie was definitely stirring up her needs, making them sit up and beg. Making her acutely aware of just how long it had been since she'd been made love to by a man.

How long it had been since she'd even been kissed by a man.

That was all that was responsible for her reaction, her logical brain insisted: needs, desires, random pa.s.sions, nothing more. It had nothing to do with the man on the other end of her lips.

It had everything to do with the man on the other end of her lips.

Without realizing it, Jolene moaned, leaning her body in to his. Savoring the way it heated: instantly like a fire-eater's torch. Savoring the way MacKenzie pressed her to him, the hard contours of his body fitting against hers. Taking her a step higher.

Igniting the ashes that were left in the wake of the meltdown.

He'd known it. Known it the instant that he'd first seen her. The lady was definitely hot. s.e.x on toast once you got pa.s.sed the waspish tongue and the att.i.tude.

Mac felt a deep sensation of pleasure taking root and flowering within him as he slid his hands from her face and encircled her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.

The funny thing was, the closer he brought her, the more it wasn't close enough.

He wanted it all. He wanted to have her in her bed, nude and ready for him.

h.e.l.l, he would have wanted her right here, on the floor, if there hadn't been a little girl to consider. As much as the fire was beginning to rage within him, Mac didn't want to take the chance of having Amanda wander down the stairs at an inopportune moment.

But there was the bedroom.

Still kissing her, his mouth slanting over and over against hers, he began to slowly guide her from the front door. His heart was pounding hard in antic.i.p.ation, as hard as if he'd just spent a full hour working out in the gym with weights.

Except this workout promised to be a great deal more pleasurable.

Jolene felt desire sc.r.a.ping its nails across her, beckoning her onward. Urging her to draw this man back inside her house and take him upstairs...

Alarms suddenly went off in her brain, bringing her out of her revelry.

What in heaven's name was she doing? Running into the enemy camp, naked with a sign around her neck saying Take Me?

With the last ounce of willpower she could sc.r.a.pe together, Jolene pulled away. Her hands wedged against MacKenzie's chest, she pushed him back as if he'd been a volleyball just served over the net.

Her breath returned to her lungs in fits and starts. "Just what the h.e.l.l are you doing?" she said accusingly.

For the first time in his life, he felt just the slightest bit shaky in his knees. The lady gave as good as she got. "It's called a kiss. If I have to explain it to you, it's been too long."

So what, this was now an act of charity on his part? He was the neighborhood Goodwill wagon, devoted to going around and lending out his lips and who knew what else to s.e.x-starved women?