LITMIR.BIZ

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he said agreeably, but his grin was very smug as he turned away to lead her up the driveway.

      If she’d thought for one minute that she’d be able to relax in Nick’s presence, she was wrong. Her nerves were stretched taut simply by walking beside him to the house. He didn’t put a hand on her, not even a casual touch at her elbow to guide her. But every inch of her was vibrantly aware of him just the same and every inch screamed that this attempt at casual friendship was a mistake. At the threshold, she had to fight against a momentary panic, a desire to turn and flee, but then Tony was calling out to her and curiosity won out over fear. She told herself she simply wanted to see if this graceful old house was as charming on the inside as it was outside.

      In some ways the house itself had surprised her. She would have expected a builder to want something modern, something that would make a statement about his professional capabilities. Instead, Nick had chosen tradition and history. It raised him a notch in her estimation.

      They went through the kitchen, which was as modern and large as anyone could possibly want. She regarded it enviously and thought of her own cantankerous appliances. A built-in breakfast nook was surrounded by panes of beveled glass and situated to catch the morning sun. This room was made for more than cooking and eating. It was a place for sharing the day’s events, for making plans and shaping dreams, for watching the change of seasons. It was exactly the sort of kitchen she would have designed if she and Sam had ever gotten around to building a house.

      Enough of that, she told herself sharply. She dropped her purse on the gleaming countertop and headed straight for the refrigerator. Nick stepped in front of her so quickly she almost stumbled straight into his arms. She pulled back abruptly to avoid the contact.

      “Hey, don’t you want the grand tour first?” Nick said. “I really didn’t invite you in just to feed us. Relax for a while and let me show you around.”

      Once more, with her heart thumping crazily in her chest, Dana prayed for a quick return of her common sense. She knew she was feeling pressure where there was none, but suddenly she didn’t want to see the rest of the house. She didn’t want to find that the living room was as perfect as the one she’d dreamed about for years or that the bedrooms were bright and airy like something straight out of a decorating magazine. She didn’t want to be here at all. Nick was too overwhelming, too charming, and there was an appreciative spark in his eyes that terrified her more with every instant she spent in his company.

      She took a deep, slow breath and reminded herself that leaving now was impossible without seeming both foolish and ungracious. She took another calming breath and tried to remind herself that she was in control, that nothing would happen unless she wanted it to, certainly not with Tony in the house. Unfortunately, Tony seemed to have vanished the minute they came through the door. If only he’d join them, she might feel more at ease.

      “Let me see what treasures are locked in your freezer first,” she finally said. “Then while dinner cooks, you can show me around.”

      It was a logical suggestion, one that didn’t hint of her absurd nervousness, and Nick gave in easily. “How about a drink, then?”

      Once again, Dana felt a familiar knot form in her stomach. “Nothing for me, thanks.” Her voice was tight.

      “Not even iced tea or a soda?”

      Illogical relief, exaggerated far beyond the offer’s significance, washed over her. “Iced tea would be great.”

      They reached the refrigerator at the same instant and Dana was trapped between Nick and the door. The intimate, yet innocent press of his solid, very male body against hers set off a wild trembling. His heat and that alluring scent of soap and man surrounded her. The surge of her blood roared in her ears. She clenched her fists and fought to remain absolutely still, to not let the unwarranted panic show in her eyes. Nick allowed the contact to last no more than a few seconds, though it seemed an eternity. Then he stepped aside with an easy grin.

      “Sorry,” he said.

      Dana shrugged. “No problem.”

      But there was a problem. Nick had seen it in Dana’s eyes, though she’d looked away to avoid his penetrating gaze. He’d felt the shiver that rippled through her, noted her startled gasp and the way she protectively lifted her arms before she dropped them back to her sides with conscious deliberation. He was experienced enough to know that this was not the reaction of a woman who desired a man but who was startled by the unexpectedness of the feeling. Dana had actually seemed afraid of him, just as she had on Saturday, when she’d been brandishing those hedge clippers. The possibility that he frightened her astonished and worried him. He was not used to being considered a threat, not to his employees, not to his son and certainly not to a woman.

      He’d been raised to treat everyone with respect and dignity, but women were in a class by themselves. His mother, God rest her, had been a gentle soul with a core of iron and more love and compassion than any human being he’d ever met. She’d expected to be treated like a lady by both her husband and her sons and thought there was no reason other women shouldn’t deserve the same.

      “Women aren’t playthings,” she’d told Nick sternly the first time she’d caught him kissing a girl down by the river. He’d been fourteen at the time and very much interested in experimentation. Nancy Ann had the reputation of being more than willing. He never knew for sure if his mother had heard the gossip about Nancy Ann, but she’d looked him straight in the eye at the dinner table that night and said, “I don’t care who they are or how experienced they claim to be, you show them the same respect you’d expect for yourself. Nobody deserves to be used.”

      Though his brothers had grinned, he’d squirmed uncomfortably under her disapproving gaze. He’d never once forgotten that lesson, not even in the past three years since Ginny had died and more than a few women had indicated their willingness to share his bed and his life. Dana’s nervous response bothered him all the more, because he knew it was so thoroughly unjustified.

      But she didn’t know that, he reminded himself. Experience had apparently taught her another lesson about men, a bitter, lasting lesson. He felt an unreasoning surge of anger against the person who had hurt her.

      Dana was already poking around in the freezer as if the incident had never taken place. Since she’d apparently decided to let the matter rest, he figured he should, as well. For now. In time, his actions would teach her she had nothing to fear from him.

      Delighted to have such attractive company for a change, he leaned back against the counter, crossed his legs at the ankles and watched her as she picked up packages, wrinkled her nose and tossed them back. Finally she emerged triumphant, her cheeks flushed from the chilly air in the freezer.

      “I’m almost afraid to ask, but do you have any idea how long this chicken has been in there?”

      Nick reached out, took the package and brushed at the frost. “Looks to me like it’s dated February something.”

      “Of what year?”

      “It’s frozen. Does it matter?”

      “Probably not to the chicken, but it could make a difference in whether we survive this meal.”

      “We can always go back to the frozen dinners. I bought most of them last week.” He paused thoughtfully. “Except for those Salisbury steak things. They’ve probably been there longer. Tony said if I ever made him eat another one he’d report me to his grandmother for feeding him sawdust.”

      The comment earned a full-blown, dazzling smile and Nick felt as though he’d been granted an award. Whatever nervousness Dana had been feeling seemed to be disappearing now that she had familiar tasks to do. She moved around the kitchen efficiently, asking for pans and utensils as she needed them. In less than half an hour, there were delicious aromas wafting from the stove.

      “What are you making?”

      “Coq au vin. Now,” she said, “if you’ll point out the dishes and silverware, I’ll set the table.”

      “No,

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