The Unknown Malone. Anne Eames

and complex man sitting across from her. One minute he had a chip on his shoulder; the next he was warm and loving with his family.

      “I don’t have a lot of free time,” Josh said, “but give a holler if you need help.”

      “What about Billy?” Taylor suggested. “He’s sixteen now and really good with his hands. He might have some spare time.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Michael said, passing a piece of cake to Josh.

      “Gosh, I wish I had the time. You know I love carpentry.”

      Michael glanced around the comfortable room. “Yes. I remember Dad and I getting the tour of your handiwork just before that Fourth of July party. I think you missed your calling.”

      Josh smiled, seeming to enjoy the compliment. He ate some cake, then chuckled. “What a party that turned out to be, huh? I had this big plan all worked out to propose to Taylor during the fireworks, then Jenny went into labor. Thank God I could fly her to the hospital before the twins were born. And thank God Dad was in the plane with us. He—”

      Nicole saw Michael go pale at the same time as Josh, who fell silent and didn’t seem to know where to look. Both men picked up their forks and ate more cake as the silence stretched uncomfortably. Nicole looked from one to the other, trying to puzzle it out. Had something else happened at that party?

      Finally Taylor spoke, her voice a little shaky. “And after the remodeling, what do you plan to do with the place?”

      Michael took his time answering, looking distracted. “I spent some time researching bed and breakfasts and they seem to be doing well out here. There isn’t one for miles around, so I thought the next owner would have a real go at it, especially if a certain family would allow tours of a working ranch, some horseback riding, maybe even a short plane ride over the MoJoes and valley.” Michael’s gaze darted to Josh but it didn’t hold.

      “The next owner?” Taylor asked. “I thought you were staying.”

      “I am. But could you see me as an innkeeper?” He laughed at the idea. “I’ll be lucky if I have enough money to finish the restoration. As soon as I’m done I’ll have to find a job and a place to live.”

      “But close by, right?” Taylor still looked concerned.

      Michael pushed out his chair and stood. “Not to worry, sis. That’s exactly the plan.” He reached for her hand, and she stood.

      To Nicole’s surprise, the men offered to do dishes so the women could play with the children in the yard. She followed Taylor out onto the front porch and sat alongside her on the top step. Together they watched the sun sinking below the MoJoes, and Nicole let out a satisfied sigh. Taylor leaned back on outstretched arms and called out to John to keep an eye on his sister.

      “It’s awesome, isn’t it?” she asked Nicole. “I hope I never take it for granted.”

      “Yes. It is.” After a moment she added, “Thank you for dinner. It was the best meal I’ve had in ages.”

      Taylor sat up and rested her elbows on her knees, her face reflecting some inner debate. “You’re very good with children. You’ve had experience, haven’t you?”

      Nicole hesitated only a second. “Yes.” She wanted to volunteer more, but was afraid where the questions might lead.

      “Could you provide references?”

      Excitement and hope sent a shiver down her back. Could she? The mothers she’d helped would certainly recommend her, yet she couldn’t have mail sent to Joeville without the risk of being tracked down. Then she remembered yesterday and the little post office adjacent to the doughnut shop nearly fifty miles away.

      She met Taylor’s hopeful smile with one of her own. “It may take a week or two, but yes, I’m sure I can.”

      “Mind keeping this between us for the tune being?”

      “No. Not at all.”

      They watched the children and didn’t say much after that, but Nicole knew she had just made her first friend in Joeville. For a moment she thought about asking what had happened to Michael at the party, but she didn’t want to pry.

      Still, the longer she thought about Taylor’s brother, the more she was certain that he had come to this place with baggage of his own. She wasn’t the only one with something to hide.

      Four

      Michael dropped a plumb line from the header above the new door frame leading to one of the large upstairs bathrooms, the scent of this morning’s bacon lingering in the air, and the image of Nicole lingering in his mind. He’d read the paper and drunk coffee, pretending to ignore her, but when she hadn’t been looking, he’d studied her graceful and confident movements around the kitchen. It had been seven years since his mother’s death, and until this morning he didn’t realize how much he missed the presence of a woman doing what seemed to come natural. It felt good.

      Damn good.

      Damn it. This wasn’t smart. In a week or so she’d be gone. He’d be wise to remember that.

      He kicked the bottom of the stud so that it aligned with the plumb line, then hunkered down and nailed it in place.

      “Refill?”

      Over his shoulder Nicole stood with a fresh pot of coffee. He lifted his mug from the floor, and she filled it, a smile on her face and a fresh floral scent invading his space. Nowhere was there a hint of the woman with the attitude he’d met yesterday. Which was the real Nicole? Or was she a chameleon, someone who could adapt at the drop of a hat? And for what purpose? To ingratiate herself so that she could stay here indefinitely?

      “Can I help you with anything?” Her voice sounded sincere enough.

      “No, thank you. Breakfast was great.” He sipped some of the hot brew and added, “And so is this coffee. Thanks.” Damn! Why did he feel so uncomfortable with her standing nearby? He felt awkward and clumsy and so big next to her slight figure.

      And what a figure it was, he thought, setting his mug down and turning back to his work. Her knit top, though not snug, could not hide her generous curves. Today’s jeans looked even sexier than yesterday’s denim skirt. Oh, brother. It had to be his neglected libido speaking. This line of thinking was stupid, stupid, stupid.

      “There’s a big pot of soup simmering on the stove,” she said to his back. “I...I, uh, was thinking maybe I should do a major grocery shopping today...unless you need me for something else.”

      No, no. Please leave. “You can take the van, if you want. Keys are hanging by the door.” He kept hammering at the nail, refusing to meet those big brown eyes.

      “Could you check on the soup whenever you’re downstairs?”

      “Sure.”

      “It should be boiled-down and thick enough by lunchtime. There’s some bread cooling on a rack, too.”

      “Great.”

      “Um...I have some personal things to take care of while I’m out, so I probably won’t be back until supper. Is that okay?”

      “No problem. Take your time.” Please.

      “Well, then—”

      She was still standing there, her perfume driving him to distraction. What was she waiting for? And then it hit him. Money. She’d need money for groceries.

      He stood and retrieved the money clip from his pocket and started counting out twenties. He handed them to her, and she took them shyly, a slight tinge of pink rising in her cheeks. “Do you think this is enough?”

      “Oh, plenty, I’m sure.” She looked at him soulfully, and this time he couldn’t look away. “Thank you, Michael, for everything.”

      He could feel the