Made For Marriage. Helen Lacey

      Callie felt foolish then. Was she being paranoid listening to small-town gossip? Have I jumped to conclusions? When she didn’t reply he spoke again.

      “Local tongues, no doubt. I haven’t said a word to anyone, despite my better judgment.” He cocked a brow. “Perhaps you’ve pissed off someone else.”

      Retaliation burned on the end of her tongue. The infamous Callie Jones temper rose up like bile, strangling her throat. “You’re such a jerk!”

      He smiled. Smiled. As if he found her incredibly amusing. Callie longed to wipe the grin from his handsome face, to slap her hand across his smooth skin. To touch. To feel. And then, without explanation, something altered inside her. Something altered between them. In an unfathomable moment, everything changed.

       He sees me…

      She wasn’t sure why she thought it. Why she felt it through to the blood pumping in her veins. But she experienced a strange tightening in her chest, constricting her breath, her movements. Callie didn’t want anyone to see her. Not this man. Especially not this man. This stranger.

      But he did. She was sure of it. He sees that I’m a fraud. I can talk a tough line. But I live alone. I work alone. I am alone.

      And Noah Preston somehow knew it.

      Bells rang in her head. Warning her, telling her to leave and break the incredible eye contact that shimmered like light between them.

      “You need to keep a better handle on your daughter.”

      “I do?” he said, still smiling.

      “She broke the rules,” Callie said pointedly. “And as her parent, that’s your fault, not mine.”

      “She broke the rules because you lacked good judgment,” he replied.

      Callie scowled, grabbed her keys and headed for the door. “Tell your sister thank you for the coffee.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Did I hit a nerve?”

      She rounded her shoulders back and turned around. “I’m well aware of my faults. I may not be all wisdom regarding the behavior of teenage girls, but I certainly know plenty about men who are arrogant bullies. You can point as much blame in my direction as you like—but that doesn’t change the facts.”

      “I did hit a nerve.”

      “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

      As she left the house and collected Tessa, Callie wasn’t sure she took a breath until she drove off down The Parade.

      Noah waited until the front door clicked shut and then inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air. A jerk? Is that what he’d sounded like? He didn’t like that one bit. A protective father, yes. But a jerk? He felt like chasing after her to set her straight.

      Evie returned to the kitchen in record time, minus the kids. “They’re watching a DVD,” she said and refilled the kettle. Evie thought caffeine was a sure cure for anything. “So, that went well, did it?”

      “Like a root canal.”

      “Ouch.” She made a face. “She called you a jerk. And a bully.”

      “Eavesdropping, huh?”

      She shrugged. “Only a bit. So, who won that battle in this war?” she asked, smiling.

      He recognized his sister’s look. “It’s not exactly a war.”

      Evie raised a brow. “But you were mad at her, right?”

      “Sure.” He let out an impatient breath.

      “Well.” Evie stopped her task of making coffee. “You don’t usually get mad at people.”

      Noah frowned. “Of course I do.”

      “No, you don’t,” Evie said. “Not even your pesky three sisters.”

      He shrugged. “Does this conversation have a point?”

      “I was just wondering what she did to make you so … uptight?”

      “I’m sure she told you what happened,” Noah said, trying to look disinterested and failing.

      Evie’s eyes sparkled. “Well … yes, she did. But I want to hear it from you.”

      “Why?”

      “So I can see if you get the same look on your face that she did.”

      “What look?” he asked stupidly.

      Evie stopped what she was doing. A tiny smile curved her lips. “That look.”

      He shook his head. “You’re imagining things.”

      Evie chuckled. “I don’t think so. Anyway, I thought she was … nice.”

      Yeah, like a stick of dynamite. “You like everyone.”

      Evie laughed out loud. “Ha—you’re not fooling me. You like her.”

      “I don’t know her.”

      Noah dismissed his sister’s suspicions. If he gave an inch, if he even slightly indicated he had thoughts of Callie Jones in any kind of romantic capacity, she’d be on the telephone to their mother and two other sisters within a heartbeat.

      Romance … yeah, right. With four kids, a mortgage and a business to run—women weren’t exactly lining up to take part in his complicated life.

      He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a date. Eight months ago, he thought, vaguely remembering a quiet spoken, divorced mother of two who’d spent the entire evening complaining about her no-good, layabout ex. One date was all they’d had. He’d barely touched her hand. I live like a monk. That wasn’t surprising, though—the fallout from his divorce would have sent any man running to the monastery.

      Besides, he didn’t want a hot-tempered, irresponsible woman in his life, did he? No matter how sexy she looked in her jeans. “So, where’s this furniture you want me to move?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he stood.

      Evie took the hint that the subject was closed. “One of the upstairs bedrooms,” she said. “I want to paint the walls. I just need the armoire taken out into the hall.”

      “Oh, the antique cupboard that weighs a ton? Lucky me. At least this time I’m spared the stairs. Do you remember when Gordon and I first got the thing upstairs?”

      Evie smiled, clearly reminiscing, thinking of the husband she’d lost ten years earlier. “And Cameron,” she said. “You were all acting like a bunch of wusses that day, huffing and puffing over one little armoire.”

      Noah grunted as they took the stairs. “Damn thing’s made of lead.”

      “Wuss,” she teased.

      They laughed some more and spent twenty minutes shifting the heaviest piece of furniture on the planet. When he was done, Noah wanted a cold drink and a back rub.

      And that idea made him think of Callie Jones and her lovely blue eyes all over again.

      “Feel like staying for dinner?” Evie asked once they were back downstairs. “Trevor’s at a study group tonight,” she said of her fifteen-year-old son.

      “On a Sunday? The kid’s keen.”

      “The kid’s smart,” Evie corrected. “He wants to be an engineer like his favorite uncle.”

      Noah smiled. “Not tonight, but thanks. I’ve gotta pick Lily up from the surf club at four. And it’s a school day tomorrow.”

      Evie groaned. “God, we’re a boring lot.”

      Noah wasn’t going to argue with that. He grabbed the kids’ things and rounded up the twins and Jamie. The kids