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dating me?”

      He gave her a once-over, a slow grin starting at his mouth and moving all the way to his eyes. “Okay, I take back the dumb part, but only if you’ll let me put my car in your garage.”

      Janey would’ve let him do anything—just about—as long he stopped looking at her as if he wanted to repeat history. “Nobody will beat up your car.”

      “I didn’t really think so,” he said, “but it’s supposed to rain tonight, so I’d still like to put it inside.”

      “Why?”

      “You’re kidding, right? Did you see it?”

      “Yeah, it has four wheels, a couple of doors. I think it was red,” she added hopefully, but he just kept staring at her as though she’d let down the team. “What’s the big deal?”

      “It’s a Porsche.”

      “So? It’s not made of gold, is it?”

      “It ought to be, considering what I paid for it.”

      “Well. Your fancy ride will be bunking with a Beetle.”

      Noah thought about it for a minute. “What year is it?”

      “I’m not sure. Seventy-something, I think.”

      He nodded in approval. “Vintage.”

      Janey knew he was half kidding, but it was the half-truthful part that had her so bemused. She looked him up and down, shaking her head. “Expensive suit, expensive car and you probably have a prestigious address and a trophy blonde to go with it all.You got everything you wanted, didn’t you, Noah?”

      He shrugged. Sure, he had all the status symbols, along with a nice fat bank account to support his fast-paced, exciting lifestyle. But it was funny how the simplest pleasures still mattered the most. “What I really want is a shower and a meal, both preferably hot,” he said. “And a bed. Any kind, but I like soft.”

      “There’s hot water and a soft bed, but if you want to eat you’re getting leftovers,” Janey said, accepting his car keys when he held them out.

      She was true to her word, too. Noah had just stepped out of the shower when he heard a knock. He cracked open the door and peeked out, but he could’ve saved himself the trouble of slinging a towel across his hips. His suitcase was sitting there; and the rest of the hallway was empty, but his disappointment lasted about as long as it took the cloud of shampoo-scented steam to evaporate. He threw his clothes on and let his nose lead him down the stairs and through the house, as if he were a cartoon character following a tantalizing aroma. “It looks like a kitchen but it smells like heaven.”

      Janey swung around, startled. Her gaze dropped to his bare feet, skimmed the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt and ended up on his wet, slicked-back hair. She turned away from him. “It’s chicken stew.”

      “Like your mom used to make?” Noah sat down at the end of the table, where she’d laid out cutlery and bread and butter. In answer, she set a steaming bowl in front of him. He spooned some up and stuck it in his mouth, sucking in air to keep from burning his tongue. It tasted so good his eyes practically crossed in ecstasy. “God, that’s incredible,” he said. “Where is your mom, anyway? She move to Florida or something?”

      Janey didn’t say anything for a minute, and Noah realized she was still standing behind him, so close he swore he felt the warmth of her breath on the nape of his neck. He would have smiled, if not for her response.

      “Mom passed away not long after Dad,” she finally said, moving to sit at the other end of the table.

      “I’m sorry, Janey. I didn’t know. I heard about your dad, of course. The obituary of a state representative, especially one who was so well-known and well-liked, makes the front page of all the papers.” Noah picked up his spoon again, stifling a pang of envy over how close Janey and her dad had been. “I’ll bet you miss him.”

      “Every day. He was the best.” Janey propped her chin on her hand and watched him eat. “So, what kind of job pays for that fancy car?”

      Noah froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. “I’m, uh…sort of a scout,” he said, taking his time with the next bite of food. It was impolite to talk with your mouth full.

      “If you came for the state championships, you’re too late.”

      “Yeah, that’s what I heard. Is there any more?” he asked, handing her his empty bowl.

      “Sure.” Janey got up, but when she turned around Noah was on his feet, as well.

      “On second thought,” he said, “I’m really tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll just go to bed.”

      He was gone so fast she’d just refilled his bowl when she heard the faint sound of his bedroom door closing.

      She emptied the bowl back into the pan, shaking her head at her own stupidity. The man walked out of her life with no explanation and no goodbye, leaving her brokenhearted and pregnant, and here she was, giving him a place to stay, parking his car—making him a meal, for crying out loud. And he hadn’t even offered to do the dishes.

      Yep, men were definitely pains in the neck, she thought, looking up at the ceiling in the general vicinity of his room. Except the ones who were a pain in the heart.

      Chapter Three

      Noah rolled over, ramming his big toe into the footboard for the…Well, it had happened so many times he’d lost count. It barely even hurt anymore. The bed was too short and too hard, but he wasn’t really sleeping, anyway.

      He was reflecting—not something he normally indulged in. It was as if Erskine had a magnetic barrier at the edge of town that repelled common sense and logic and coherent thought of every kind. One minute he’d been innocently driving along, then wham! he’d crossed the city limits, and before he knew it he was standing in front of Janey’s house. He had no idea how he got from point A to point B—except that his brain didn’t have anything to do with it. And what insanity propelled him to get out of the car and walk up to her gate, just because he felt…

      He felt. Seeing Janey again had brought back so many memories and emotions—more than he was prepared for—and he didn’t like it. This trip wasn’t about facing his past, surprising as that had turned out to be. It wasn’t about his future, either, at least not the future that might include getting to know a nine-year-old daughter. It was about the next move in his career. Forgetting that would be like dancing on a sea of ice. The first step might be okay, but sooner or later he’d wind up on his ass.

      He could see exactly how it would go bad, too. First he’d get sidetracked by the fact that he had a daughter, and then Janey would start to look good—hell, who was he kidding, she’d looked good from the moment he’d laid eyes on her again. He’d already conned her into letting him spend the night. Next, he’d be taking deep, appreciative breaths of the fresh country air, snapping photos of the beautiful scenery and thinking this place wasn’t as bad as he remembered, that maybe he should think twice about why he’d come back here.

      He thought, all right. He thought about the city where he belonged. At 11:00 p.m. his night was only beginning. Even after a long day of wheeling and dealing, he’d have gone out on the town, fuelled by caffeine and restlessness, and air polluted with enough chemicals to keep him on his feet two days after he was dead. And there’d be people, crowds of people to lose himself in, and loud music and the bottom of a scotch bottle to get to. No high-school sweetheart, no long-lost daughter, no sea of ice daring him to see how long he could keep his feet under him.

      The problem was, he had to take that first step. Career destruction aside, he couldn’t just walk out the door now. And it amazed him.

      Who’d have believed he could feel this instant and overwhelming…awe? He’d never even considered the possibility of marrying, or having children. There’d been any

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