LITMIR.BIZ

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to that striking face broad shoulders that were barely contained by the Western-style shirt he was wearing with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms and somehow-sexy wrists; narrow hips and long, thick legs that did great justice to the pair of jeans he was wearing, and there was no question that this was a formidably good-looking man.

      But that didn’t change a thing as far as Jessie was concerned.

      “Fwint has cowboy boots like me!” Adam announced, obviously taking in every inch of Flint. Much the way his mother just had, although she’d missed the boots. “Mine are home. I wanna go get ‘em!”

      “Not right now you won’t,” Jessie intervened.

      “But I wanna wear ‘em!”

      “You can’t wear cowboy boots with your shorts. You can wear them another day, when it’s cooler,” Jessie said, eliciting a frown from her youngest before he bent over to study Flint’s feet more closely.

      “Will my feets get big as Fwint’s feets?”

      For no reason Jessie could fathom that made her wonder what Flint’s naked feet looked like. Which was not only totally bizarre, but seemed like something too personal for her to be thinking about at all and she curbed her wandering thoughts.

      She also decided to curb her overzealous son who had risen from his close scrutiny to stand with one arm wrapped around the big man’s left leg and the side of his tennis shoe-clad foot against Flint’s to compare them.

      “I’m sorry,” Jessie muttered, dragging Adam away from the grip that was more familiar than he should have been having with any stranger and firmly holding him against the front of her own thighs. “This must be some kind of new phase. He’s never been so …” She wasn’t sure how to say that her son seemed enthralled with this man. She settled on “… so taken with anyone before.”

      “I like ‘im,” Adam announced matter-of-factly. “I wanna do what he doos.”

      “Seems like Adam has decided you’re his role model, Flint,” Kelsey contributed with a pointed glance at Jessie, inspiring another eye roll from Jessie.

      But undaunted, Kelsey said, “Coop is working in the basement. Jess, why don’t you and Adam take Flint up and show him the room that’ll be his while he’s here so I can go get my other favorite Fortune man and tell him his brother is finally back?”

      Jessie shot her sister an I’ll-get-you-for-this glance. But she couldn’t refuse the request without appearing rude, so she had to concede.

      Refocusing on Flint’s cover-model face, she said, “What will eventually be the actual guest room is down here. But right now it’s full of paint cans and supplies, so Kelsey was thinking you could take the extra bedroom upstairs.”

      “I’ll show you,” Adam offered, breaking free of his mother’s grip to run for the stairs in the entryway.

      “I guess we should follow our leader,” Flint said with a sexy half smile, apparently amused by her son.

      “If we don’t he’s liable to drag you upstairs himself,” Jessie said.

      “There’s not much to him, that could do him some damage,” Flint joked. Then he leaned over and picked up the suitcase he must have brought in with him, and said, “After you.”

      Had her sister not pointed out the fact that she wasn’t wearing her most flattering jeans, Jessie was convinced that the way her rear end looked in them wouldn’t have crossed her mind. Or the fact that she had Flint Fortune directly behind her on the stairs.

      Now she was far more conscious of where his eyes might be as they climbed the steps. And of what he might be thinking if he was at all interested in checking her out—which he probably wasn’t. But if he was, could he tell her butt wasn’t bad despite the baggy jeans?

      But those were not thoughts she wanted to be having. And trying to elude them, she finished the second half of the stairs at a quicker pace.

      Adam was waiting for them at the landing, his father’s brown eyes watching eagerly for Flint.

      The moment Flint reached the top, Adam said, “Iss over here,” and made a dash for the bedroom beside the nursery where Anthony was napping.

      Jessie and Flint again trailed her son into the small bedroom that had yet to be decorated but contained the necessities—a double bed, a nightstand complete with a lamp and a dresser upon which was an old television set.

      “We live there!” Adam announced excitedly. He was standing at one of the bedroom’s two windows and pointing to the house next door.

      “Ah, right. Coop mentioned that.”

      Jessie appreciated that Flint indulged the little boy by setting his suitcase down and joining Adam at the window.

      “See?” Adam said when Flint got there. “Tha’s my mom’s window. You can see ‘er when she puts on her ‘jamas and stuff.”

      Out of the mouths of babes …

      It was an innocent-enough comment, so there wasn’t anything to actually be embarrassed by. And yet Jessie felt some heat rise in her cheeks. Possibly because she was picturing the kind of scene Adam was unwittingly portraying.

      Or possibly because it seemed as if Flint might be, too, because he turned a disarmingly devilish smile to her.

      “That’s why we pull our shades when we undress, Adam,” Jessie lectured. “So no one can see us when we put on our pajamas.”

      “But you could wave to each other,” Adam persisted. “Cuz wookit, tha’s yur room, Mama, I kin see it!”

      “Yes, that’s my room,” Jessie acknowledged.

      “And we’ll be sure to wave to each other. Every night,” Flint assured, barely suppressing a grin.

      “Oh, definitely,” Jessie agreed as if she, too, could joke about it when the truth was that she was having a silly schoolgirl image of peering at the handsome man just across the way.

      “An’ wookit down there,” Adam said then, oblivious of the exchange between the adults. “Tha’s my gramma and grampa cookin’ on the barber-cue, and tha’s Ella an’ Braden an’ Beth’ny playin’ wis the hose—you kin see them all, too.”

      “I can,” Flint said.

      “And if Gramma and Grampa are cooking that means we’d better get home for dinner,” Jessie said, using the information to make her escape.

      “Can Fwint come?”

      “Aunt Kelsey has other plans for Flint’s dinner tonight.”

      “Can I come back after dinner?” the tiny child asked hopefully.

      “After dinner you need a bath, so no. You’ll see Flint again soon.”

      “As I understand it, we’re all going to be working on the house this week, buddy, so we’ll probably see a lot of each other.”

      Jessie recognized the expressions that crossed her son’s face as he decided whether to throw a tantrum or be appeased. In the end he drew an exaggerated breath, sighed it out with great effect and said a very reluctant, “Okay.”

      “Come on, let’s get going,” Jessie said, seizing the moment before he changed his mind and threw the tantrum anyway.

      “And Adam?” Flint added as the little boy trudged from the window to his mother. “I’ll be wearing tennis shoes like yours tomorrow, so don’t worry about the boots.”

      Jessie laughed lightly at that and said, “Thanks, that saves me a fight tomorrow morning.”

      “I thought it might,” Flint said with yet another smile, this one understanding and yet still so engaging.

      Engaging enough that a split-second elapsed while Jessie stared

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