.

had been her friend long enough to hear the unspoken accusation. “How do you know after one meeting?”

      “I just know,” she argued. When her friend’s silence continued, she blurted out, “He hit on me, okay? Five minutes into meeting the guy, and he was pushing for a dinner invitation. What does that tell you?”

      “Um, that’s he’s interested in you?”

      “He’s a player, Liv. He’d hit on anything with a pulse.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      But Kara felt she did. Knew the type, at least. The kind to make promises, to vow to love a girl forever. But she’d learned those words—like those men—were meaningless.

      “You have to give him a chance,” Olivia encouraged. “Weren’t you the one who said it was wrong of Marti to keep Timmy’s birth a secret?”

      “I know, but Marti must have had her reasons, right?”

      And what those reasons were…the possibilities made Kara sick to her stomach when she thought of handing Timmy over to the stranger who was his father. As much as she’d loved her sister, she’d never understood Marti’s attraction to rough and rowdy men.

      But Sam’s not like that.

      The voice that sounded so much like Marti’s whispered through Kara’s mind. On the surface, at least, Sam was more the golden-boy-next-door type than dark and dangerous. He had a quick and easy smile, a good sense of humor and a willingness to laugh at himself.

      All…not bad qualities.

      Kara could see why Marti would have found him attractive. But her sister had excelled in picking men suited for short-term relationships. None of them had been built for the long haul. Even if he didn’t possess the worst qualities of some of Marti’s previous boyfriends, was Sam Pirelli the type of man to put the needs of a child before his own?

      “You may never know what made Marti keep silent in the past. But I think in that letter she was pretty clear about what she wanted for the future.”

      The letter. The one that had sent Kara on this mission in the first place.

      The shock of her sister’s death in a small plane crash had been like a nightmare. Too horrible and unreal to be true. Kara had sleepwalked through those first days, waiting for someone to wake her up. But reality had set in quickly, forcing grief aside. After all, she had Timmy to think about.

      Finding out her carefree sister had a will had come as another shock. And the letter naming Timmy’s father for the first time and asking Kara to take the little boy to meet Sam Pirelli had been the last painful blow.

       How could you ask me to do this, Marti? How could you ask me to give up a child I love as if he were my own?

      But if Marti’s voice had spoken before, it was silent now, leaving Kara’s raw and aching questions unanswered.

      After the reading of the will, Kara had talked with the lawyer. Because Marti had named Kara her son’s legal guardian, he reassured her, in the eyes of the law, Timmy was hers…as long as the boy’s father didn’t sue for custody. Then, the lawyer told her, the courts tended to side on behalf of the biological parent.

      She swallowed hard, the sign for Sam’s Garage blurring before her eyes as she blinked away the hot press of tears.

      She didn’t know for sure that her sister wanted Sam to raise their son. Didn’t even know if Sam Pirelli would want to take on that responsibility.

      Inhaling a deep breath, she forced the rush of emotion aside. She had two weeks to find out. That was the timeframe she’d given herself, one that coincided with the start of the fall semester and also the beginning of the year at the preschool where Timmy was enrolled.

      “Aunt Kara.” She glanced in the rearview mirror to meet her nephew’s disgruntled gaze. “I wanna go home.”

      That refrain, coupled with “are we there yet?” had repeated with headache-inducing consistency over the past two days. “I know, sweetie.” Turning around in the seat to face her nephew, she said, “Do you remember the man who changed our tire? Well, we need to go to his garage and replace the one that went flat.”

      “But why are we just sitting here?” He drummed his heels against the edge of the seat, revealing his impatience.

      “Because Mr. Pirelli is…busy.”

      And he had been since the moment Kara parked the van across the shop. The prosaically named Sam’s Garage looked like the kind of place that would have a girly calendar pinned to a wall, but it was Sam who could hold his own with Mr. November any day.

      Even from across the street, she could see the wink of his dimples, the flash of bright white teeth, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Little wonder women fell for him, and from what she had witnessed, Sam Pirelli did not discriminate.

      A tall, stunning redhead had stopped by, followed by a short, curvy blonde. He greeted them with that killer smile and exchanges were made—keys, cars, laughter, embraces. A petite, doe-eyed brunette then brought him a late lunch in a brown paper bag—a huge sandwich he ate with the gusto of a man who was starving. Not that Kara believed it.

      With so many women flocking around, going without hardly seemed necessary. Or even possible.

      All of which made her wonder again what her sister had been thinking.

      It also made Olivia’s advice ring through her thoughts again.

      And once the brunette left, Kara decided this might be her best opportunity to get to know Timmy’s father. “All right, Timmy. It looks like Mr. Pirelli has some free time now.”

      And as long as no other women stop by, maybe he can squeeze in a few minutes for the son he’s never known.

      The thought was more than a little unreasonable, but then again, so was the jealousy she’d felt. She’d told Olivia the man was a playboy, flirting with any woman who crossed his path. That his interest in her and his angling for a dinner date meant nothing. But watching proof of her words brought to light right in front of her made her feel foolish for thinking she might have been wrong.

      The motor roared in protest as she turned the key, forgetting she already had the engine running. Even more flustered now, she sucked in a calming breath as she pulled out of her hiding place and drove the minivan the short distance into the garage’s parking lot.

      She’d barely set one foot on the ground before Sam appeared, opening the door the rest of the way and offering her a hand.

      “Come for that spare?” he asked with enough question in his voice to suggest she might have shown up for another reason. Like the dinner he thought she owed him.

      “That’s why I’m here. For the tire.” One that, hopefully, wasn’t as overinflated as Sam’s ego.

      Even though they’d only met that morning, Kara had already tried to convince herself he wasn’t that tall, his shoulders weren’t that wide, his smile wasn’t that tempting. That in an effort to distract her emotions, her mind had simply exaggerated, focusing on unimportant details and blowing them all out of proportion. That was what she’d told herself. Unfortunately, Kara realized as she gazed up into his handsome face, she’d lied.

      He didn’t give any ground as she stood, keeping her caught between the V of the open door and his body. His eyes searched hers as if looking for answers to questions he’d yet to ask, and Kara’s heartbeat stumbled uncertainly. Standing this close, she could smell the unfamiliar combination of motor oil and machinery, but also the clean, simple, sexy scent of the man beneath.

      “Caramel.”

      The unexpected reference to candy took her by surprise. “What?”

      “Your eyes. They’re the color of the caramel my mom used to make for dipping apples when I was a kid. My brothers liked the crunch of hard candy, but I