“Digger, don’t you want to make love to me?”

  “More than I want to take my next breath,” he said.

  “Then why—”

  “Because you’re the marrying kind. I don’t want to be married. I’ve done that. It didn’t work, and I can’t do it again.”

  Erin was too stunned to say anything.

  “I tried to stay away from you. I tell myself all kinds of things in the safety of my home, then I find myself here, with you in my arms.”

  “Digger…” She got no further. His hands cupped her face and his mouth took hers. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but cling to him, hang onto him to keep from falling. His head bobbed back and forth as he tasted her mouth, devouring every area of it, dancing with her tongue in a rhythm so old, so primitive, so ritualistic that neither of them could stop the spirits that moved through their bodies, that spoke to them over the transom of heritage, ancestry and the beating hearts that pounded in their breasts.

  Erin was pinned to the door, the jamb cutting into her back, yet the discomfort wasn’t enough for her to push him away. She wrapped her arms around him, giving as much as she took. Erin let go of her reserve. She threw herself into the kiss, communicating, letting him know that she was his for the taking.

  Then Digger wrenched himself free of her. He hurried down the steps and got into his car. He reversed down the driveway and headed away from her, leaving a layer of tire rubber on the pavement in his attempt to escape.

  Erin slid down the wall and sat with her knees in her chest, tears blurring her vision.

  Chapter Eight

  The Child Welfare Department for Cobblersville, Texas was housed in the courthouse building. So were the Department of Fishing and Game, the Marriage Bureau, the Department of Public Works and Building Permits, the Birth and Death Records Division and Roads and Bridges. Luanne Rogers worked on the third floor of the only three-story building in Cobblersville. It had an elevator, but Digger took the stairs.

  The building had been constructed in the 1920s. It was of the traditional Greek architectural style with Corinthian columns and a wide staircase. After the passage of the Citizens with Disabilities Act a ramp had been added to allow wheelchairs to reach the inside.

  Luanne had left him a message to call her. He knew she wanted to talk about Erin. Digger didn’t want to discuss her, but he knew he’d have to. He’d invited her to dinner, let her meet his family then he’d frozen. He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want thoughts of Erin disturbing his sleep. He didn’t want to remember how good she felt in his arms or how her body melted into his. He didn’t want to fantasize about making love to her. He wanted to forget he’d ever met her.

  But he couldn’t.

  He opened the door to Child Welfare. “You rang,” he said, finding his sister standing on the other side of a brown counter.

  “I didn’t mean for you to come by,” she said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “Well, I’m here. Talk.”

  “Come on in.”

  He followed her to her office halfway down the hall. It had been nearly a week since dinner, and he had calls on his answering machine from most of his siblings. He hadn’t answered any of them.

  “Is this about Erin?” Digger started.

  “I liked her. She was intelligent, fun. She fit in. Some of those stories she told about the kids at her school were just hilarious.”

  “I’m not seeing her anymore.”

  Luanne stopped. She stared at him. “All right. That’s your business.”

  Digger knew it didn’t stop there. Luanne had more to say.

  “You two seemed good together, as if you wanted to get to know each other better.”

  “I can’t do it, Luanne, and you know why.”

  “Isn’t it time to put that to rest?”

  “Yes, dammit. I try. I really try, but when it comes time I just can’t go through with it.”

  “How’s she feel?” Luanne asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”

  “You just dropped her off on her doorstep and never called, never said a word?”

  He looked at her. “It wasn’t quite like that, but that’s the gist of it.” That wasn’t nearly the gist of it. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. But it felt more like she’d branded him. He could still feel the hot sweetness of her mouth and the thought of making love to her haunted him day and night.

  “James Clayton, I’m ashamed to call you my brother.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “At least tell her why.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think I’m in love with her.”

  The kids were sitting in a circle on the floor. The blond teacher held up a flash card and the kids repeated in unison what was on the card. Sam saw him and stood up.

  “Digger,” she shouted and rushed across the room. He lifted her into his arms. The rest of the kids stood up and started toward him. The teacher tried to restore order.

  “Everyone, please sit down,” she said. “You know how to act when we have a visitor.”

  They stood back. Digger set Sam on the floor. She stayed by his side, holding his hand.

  “Can I help you?” the teacher asked him.

  “This is Digger.” Sam spoke for him.

  “I’m here to teach your class about the construction,” he told her.

  “I don’t know anything about this.”

  “Ms. Taylor asked me to come by.”

  “This is Digger,” Sam said again as if that was explanation enough.

  “Ms. Taylor asked me to explain to the children how construction works.”

  “She didn’t tell me anything about it.”

  “Why don’t you go clear it with her while I wait here?”

  She looked indecisive.

  “Don’t worry. This one will watch me while you’re away.” Another woman had appeared from a different classroom. She stood apart, but eyed him suspiciously. Digger felt uncomfortable, but he was glad to see they were protective of the children.

  The woman nodded to the blonde and she went off. He walked to the windows and looked out.

  “Anybody know what’s going on out there?”

  Every hand in the room went up. Digger pointed to a boy wearing a blue shirt and khaki shorts.

  “They’re adding room.”

  “Right.” Digger smiled. “They are adding rooms to the back. Anybody know how we add rooms?”

  Three or four hands went up. He chose a girl with a broken front tooth.

  “The big machine digs up all the ground. Then men put walls up.”

  He smiled. “That’s partly true. We do dig a big hole. It’s called a foundation. Can you say that?”

  In unison they tried to repeat it. He had to help them three times before they got it right.

  “Anybody live in a house with a basement?” He didn’t count the hands. There were a lot of them. “Anyone ever been in a basement?” The rest of the hands went up. “A basement is the foundation. It holds the house up.”

  “The hole will hold up the rooms?” Sam asked.

  He nodded. “For the most part.” Digger picked up a piece of paper and sat down in the middle of the group. He started drawing. “First we dig the hole,” he said, drawing his rendition of a crane. Next to it he drew a circle to represent the foundation. Some of the kids stood up behind him. He felt tiny hands on his shoulders. He was only uncomfortable for a moment.

  “Then we put these braces in.” He drew long stalk-like squares inside the hole.

  “I can draw like that,” one of the boys said.

  “Then a big truck comes and pours cement in the brace. Do you know what cement is?”

  No one said a word. “Cement in the stuff on the street that you walk on. You only walk on the sidewalk, right?”

  “Only walk on the sidewalk.” Sam repeated the phrase.

  Digger looked up and saw the teacher and Erin standing outside the door. They were talking to each other. He assumed Erin had approved him. Her face showed relief when her eyes met his.

  “You put the sidewalk in there?” Someone drew his attention back to his drawing.

  He continued, “No we put the same kind of stuff in there that we use to make sidewalks.”

  “Oh,” the kid said, clearly not understanding. The teacher slipped back in the room and nodded at him.

  “Anybody ever make a Popsicle?”

  “Me.”

  “Me.”

  “Me, too.”

  The last hand was directly in front of his face. “Remember you put the water in the little tray?” Heads bobbed up and down. “What happened after you put it in the freezer?”

  “It froze.”

  “Good,” Digger told the little girl who answered. “You put it in as a liquid, like water.” He looked around for the bobbing heads. “When it came out it was frozen, solid.”

  More bobbing heads.

  “That’s what we do with the cement.”

  “You freeze it,” a smiling four-year-old stated. Digger wanted to laugh.

  “We freeze it.” He looked at the teacher. “That’s it for today. I have to go freeze some cement. I’ll come back tomorrow to tell you about walls. And I’ll bring some hard hats. How’s that?”

  A cheer rang out in the room. Digger stood up and met the teacher at the door. “I apologize,” she said. “Ms. Taylor has a lot on her mind, and she forgot to tell me to expect you.”

  “No harm done,” Digger told her with a smile.

  “You’ll be back tomorrow?”

  “We’re going to talk about putting up walls.” He turned to the group who repeated “putting up walls.”

  Digger had enjoyed himself. He had been scared to come and do this, but he found he liked talking to the kids. And he couldn’t get Erin out of his thoughts. He’d wanted to do or say something to make her happy. He wondered if Erin had known the kids would be good for him? She didn’t know about Josh. Did she think talking to the children would be therapy for his own emotional problems?

  “I’d like to see Ms. Taylor before I go,” Digger said to the teacher.

  “You just missed her. She had some errands to run.”

  Digger wondered how suddenly these errands had come up. Her van had been parked out front all morning and as soon as he entered the building she had to go run errands. Digger wanted to talk to her.

  And he was going to.

  All her life Erin had tried to discover why people acted the way they did. She’d thought Digger’s brother Brad had unresolved issues, but Digger had more than his share of baggage.

  Erin had spent a week of nights wondering what it was she had done, why he’d acted as he had. She couldn’t blow it off as just being a man. That was a catch-all phrase—It’s a guy thing. Even guys used it as an excuse when they couldn’t—or didn’t want to—explain something. Erin knew there was more to this complicated man than his beautiful exterior.

  She walked to the window of her office. Outside the crew worked. They’d squared off the area and would soon be pouring a foundation. Jackson had told her that when she took coffee to him this morning. Even though she’d looked, she knew Digger wouldn’t be there. He only came at night. She knew that, too. He came at night to avoid seeing her.

  Erin reclaimed her seat and stared out the windows. She saw nothing, not the moving machinery or the men in hard hats. He couldn’t stay away from her, he’d said. She was driving him crazy, yet he’d kissed her like a man in love, a man fighting love.

  Why couldn’t she leave it alone? She had issues, too. She didn’t want to be married. She wasn’t the marrying kind. She was the kind that poured her heart out to a man only to have him leave her. She didn’t want that kind of hurt. So why did she let Digger take her to dinner?

  And why was she sitting in her office a week later still trying to figure out what had happened on her front porch?

  There was a light knock on her door. Erin looked up as Wanda came in.

  “I’m having a slight problem with my class.”

  “What is it?” Erin was on her feet. Wanda was young, but she was wonderful with the four-year-old class.

  “There’s a man here talking to the kids.”

  Erin ran. She grabbed her cell phone in case they needed to call the police. She stopped short at the door.

  “Anybody know what this is?” Digger asked of his captivated audience.

  Erin’s heart had been beating so fast that the relief nearly made her pass out. Adrenaline raged inside her with no outlet. Erin’s hand came up to her rapidly beating heart.

  “I shouldn’t have said it that way.” Wanda tried to apologize. “I know now how it sounded. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting him. You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

  She pushed Wanda back into the hall and closed the door. “I forgot,” Erin lied. “I’d asked him to tell the kids about adding on to a building, and I forgot that he confirmed.”

  “It’s all right, then.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Wanda smiled. She stopped with her hand on the door. “He’s really good at explaining to the kids and look how quietly they are listening.”

  Erin peeked into the room. For a hot moment her eyes met Digger’s. She pulled them away.

  “Wanda, I have some errands to run this afternoon. Could you stay and close up the school tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in tomorrow at the usual time.”

  In minutes Erin had gathered her purse and left the building. She didn’t want to see Digger. She never wanted to see him again. She couldn’t turn her emotions off. Their relationship had nowhere to go, and she might as well admit it and move on.

  Erin drove straight home. She parked in the garage and went inside her house. It was unusual for her to be home this early. She felt at a loss for what to do after collecting the mail and throwing the circulars and advertisements out. She switched on the television and the phone rang.

  “What’s wrong?” Gillian asked without preamble. She always managed to call the instant something was out of whack in Erin’s life. How could she possibly know?

  “Nothing.”

  “I called the school to see if you wanted to go roller blading in the morning, and they said you’d left to run some errands.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then why are you home?”

  “If you thought I was running errands, why did you call here thinking something was wrong?”

  “It’s unlike you to leave the school for errands unless it’s Monday.”

  Erin waited a moment. She sighed and told Gillian, “Digger came to the school today.”

  “So?” Gillian held on to the single word as if it was the last note of a song. Erin had told her the details of Sunday’s dinner and Digger’s abrupt reversal from her porch.

  “Gillian, this relationship…” she floundered for another word. “This nonrelationship has no future. I just want it to die a quiet death.”

  “Do you think it can?”

  The doorbell rang. Erin tensed. She looked toward the door. Digger was standing in front of the window staring at her.

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “Go away,” she said as she opened the door. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  He pushed the door inward and came inside. Erin moved back as he slammed it closed.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Good.” He took a step toward her. She moved back. “I want to make love to you.”

  Erin was shocked, but she held herself together. “Too bad. You had your chance, now go.”

  This time he moved too fast for her. His hands were around her arms before she could sidestep him. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Me?” She snapped her arms free. “You make all the rules and I’m just supposed to follow them? You don’t talk. You take me to meet your family and then I don’t hear from you for a week. You tell me you won’t teach my classes, then you show up unannounced.” She paused to take a breath. When she spoke again her anger was more under control. “I don’t know much about you, Digger. Only that you had a poor childhood and you’ve found some people who love you, but there are issues you need to deal with and I can’t help you with them. And I don’t want just a few kisses and one night of lovemaking.”

  Suddenly she realized what she did want. It was a fairy tale. One that had a happy ending, an ending she knew she couldn’t have.

  “Please leave,” she said. “And don’t come back.”

  Digger said nothing. He looked at her as if she’d plunged a dagger into his heart. Erin kept her gaze level. She couldn’t break now. She’d said her piece, and she stood by it. She couldn’t tell him that the opposite end of that dagger was sticking in her heart.

  He turned and went to the door. Without looking back he opened it and went out.

  She listened for his truck motor to start and the sound to die as he reversed and drove away. Then, for the second time in a week, she crumpled to the floor and cried.

  “Ms. Taylor, Ms. Taylor, Digger coming today?” Sam jumped up and down.

  Erin looked over her head. Wanda stood there. “He said he was coming today to tell them about walls.”

  “Yeah.” Sam jumped again. She ran across the room shouting, “Digger’s coming” to everyone.

  “It’s all right.”

  “He was really good yesterday. The kids loved everything he said. Today he said he’d bring hard hats.”

  “I thought he didn’t like kids.” Erin didn’t mean to say it out loud, but she’d heard it from more than one person. Sam seemed to be the only child he noticed.

  “You should have seen him with them,” Wanda went on. “He’ll make a great father someday. He was patient and answered every question they asked.”