LITMIR.BIZ

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what that meant, to have her brother actually prepare something for someone? Alone, he was given to making sandwiches. This required effort.

      Luc nodded soberly. “In some third-world countries, that would mean you’re practically engaged.” He sustained a swat from his wife for his trouble.

      She turned her attention back to Kevin. “So that’s why you’re late? You were cooking for her?” For the first time since he’d walked in, she smiled at him. “And then what?”

      “And then we ate what I cooked.”

      “And then?”

      Kevin pretended to think. “And then we washed dishes.”

      She curled her fingers into her hand to keep from strangling her brother. “And?”

      He spread his hands out innocently. “And then we dried them.”

      “Kev-in!”

      “She’s shouting now,” Kevin said to Luc. “Does that still mean the same thing it did when she was living in Seattle?”

      “She’s mad.”

      “It means the same thing.”

      She knew what they were doing, but she was in no mood to kid around. “Will you two stop talking about me as if you’re dealing with a mentally deficient person?” She enunciated her question very slowly. “Kevin, did you kiss her?”

      For his part, he had no secrets, but this involved another person and he wasn’t about to broadcast her doings, not even to his sister.

      “That is my business, Aly.” But he hated to see the look of frustrated disappointment that overtook her features. “And even if I did, it doesn’t mean anything. June’s a member of the family, remember? A kid.”

      “She’s twenty-two,” Alison reminded him.

      He wasn’t about to get into an argument. “Practically a kid,” he allowed.

      Luc came in, a ready referee. “So, are you seeing the kid again?” The tone in his voice told Kevin he already knew the answer to that.

      He nodded, too tired to stretch this out any longer. His muscles were beginning to ache from the day he’d put in. Nothing like honest toil to exhaust you. “Tomorrow. I promised to help fix up her house.”

      This was going well, Alison thought. Lily was going to be happy. But for the sake of the situation, she knew she had to at least make a stab at some kind of protest. “I thought you were helping Lily with the wedding arrangements.”

      Kevin looked at Alison. “Does she want me to?” They both knew the answer to that.

      “Well, no,” Alison admitted, “But—”

      “That’s what I thought.” He rested his case. “That’s why I volunteered to do a few things around June’s place while I’m here. There’s no excuse for her living under conditions like that. Besides, when winter hits, she’s liable to freeze to death.”

      Alison and Luc exchanged looks. Neither one was about to tell him that they had already made plans with the others to hold what was tantamount to a house-raising for June once the wedding was a thing of the past. This was far better.

      “Very observant of you to notice,” Alison murmured. “But then, nothing ever did get by you.” She looked toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

      She didn’t think June could have had much in the way of food, even taking Kevin’s gift for preparation into account. He couldn’t have exactly performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes.

      “No,” he demurred. “But what I am is tired,” he admitted. “I think I’ll turn in early. Good night.” He nodded toward Luc and paused to kiss Alison before heading up the stairs.

      “Sweet dreams,” Alison called out after him.

      He didn’t have to turn around to look at her. He could hear the grin in her voice.

Chapter Eight

      June stood back a few feet from the front porch and took a long, scrutinizing look at the farmhouse. Kevin had been coming over every day since they’d struck the bargain, applying himself to patching the roof, replacing shingles where they were needed, replacing complete boards where weather and time had eaten through. The sound of hammering and sawing had been a steady companion now for almost two weeks.

      He might need to be kept occupied, but she was certainly the one who’d benefited from his labor.

      He was painting the outside of the house now and she had to admit she hardly recognized the old building. Kevin looked so intent, she thought as she approached him. And so utterly masculine. There were splotches of paint on him here and there, and some smeared across his chest, laid bare again in deference to the humid weather.

      Her fingers itched to rub the paint away from his chest. June pushed her hands deeper into her pockets.

      He could feel her watching him. Had felt it for a while now. “Approve?”

      Yes! Her eyes lingered on him, on the hard muscles that moved with grace as he transformed dark wood into light, then reluctantly shifted to the building itself again.

      “It looks like a completely different house.” There was deep admiration in her voice.

      Kevin went to dip his brush in again and saw that there was almost nothing left. If he wanted to finish this side before evening, he was going to need to get more paint from town.

      He set the paintbrush down and stepped back. So close to his work, all he could see at his present vantage point was a blizzard of white. Because the house could easily be lost in one of the famous snowstorms that hit the area, he’d painted the wood around the windows and the shutters in a brilliant shade of royal blue.

      “It’s just a matter of putting in a few new boards and giving the place several good coats of paint.”

      It was decidedly more than that, she thought, looking over his work. It was love, love of a job well-done and she could see it in every stroke, in every new nail he’d driven in.

      He was a man, she thought, who didn’t do things by half measures. A man who believed in sticking to something until it was finished. A man who gave of himself.

      Abruptly June reined herself in before she could get too carried away. Her mother had probably felt the same way about her father. According to her grandmother, Wayne Yearling had had a golden tongue and could have charmed birds right out of their trees even with a cat strolling nearby. She’d heard her father had promised her mother the moon. Utterly enamored, Rose Hatcher had broken her engagement to the man she was about to marry and had run off with Wayne, only to return nine months later with a newborn in her arms and an unemployed husband at her side. Ursula had taken them in, then signed the papers to the deed that gave them title to the farm. A farm that her father had failed to make thrive.

      Kevin’s not promising you the moon, she told herself. He’s just being helpful.

      There was no comparison between Kevin and her father. Besides, Kevin was adding color to her house, not her life, she insisted silently. He wasn’t turning her head with compliments or empty words. If she felt special around him, well, it was nothing that he had set out to do, nothing he’d calculated on. After all, he had no way of knowing just how sexy he looked with white paint sprinkled along the dark hairs of his chest.

      She was getting carried away again, June admonished herself. She nodded at his latest handiwork. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

      He didn’t see it that way. He needed to keep busy. “Might as well do something productive while I’m here. Lily made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was going to handle her own wedding arrangements. Something about serving my head on a platter if I

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