“It was added ten years ago.”

  Quickly, he tried to calculate her age. She looked to be in her late twenties. Ten years ago she’d have been a teenager, probably like the blond girl he’d met earlier. It meant she was his age or younger.

  “Were you here then?”

  “I only bought it three years ago,” she said. “I used to help out here when I was a teenager.”

  He confirmed his estimate of her age.

  “Don’t you like kids, Mr. Clayton?”

  Not especially. The words were so automatic he almost said them aloud. For some reason he stopped. He couldn’t tell her he didn’t like kids. Most of the people he knew believed it, but he couldn’t tell this teacher a lie.

  “Liking kids has nothing to do with it. I value my business, and I don’t want it hampered by unnecessary accidents.”

  “I see,” she said as if some understanding had come over her. “If insurance is a problem I wouldn’t want you to work around the children either. I thought you were fully bonded.”

  “We are,” he said quickly. Digger should have left it there, but he went on, not able to allow anyone to cast a negative light on the business he’d put his sweat into. “There is nothing unethical about Clayton Construction, nothing.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to understand,” he said a little too harshly. He took a breath. “Just leave it. Find another firm. They’ll probably do a better job for you than I could. And I’m very busy.”

  “I don’t understand your attitude.”

  “Attitudes are like opinions. We’re all allowed one. Good day, Ms. Taylor.”

  Erin had never been so frustrated in her life. She had the money for the addition. It had taken her years to save it, and the extra room was sorely needed with the number of applications she received and a waiting list that grew ever longer. So what was Digger Clayton’s problem? Why wouldn’t he build the two rooms she needed?

  She’d hoped to have the addition completed before the fall weather came and school opened again. An influx of new students always came in September. She needed time to order and receive furniture, have those new felt-pen boards installed and decorate the walls. Clayton Construction had come highly recommended. She had four other estimates, but Clayton’s recommendations were superior to any of the others. No comment had been qualified. She needed to be sure there would be as few problems as possible and no need to recall the builder once the job was done.

  “Digger Clayton does it right the first time,” she’d been told, over and over.

  This Digger Clayton was hiding something. There was more to his reluctance than he’d told her. Erin was sure of it. She wondered why. What had happened to him? She’d seen the interest in his eyes, interest in her, sexual interest, man-woman interest, but then he’d closed down. The way he looked away from her…the transformation was almost physical.

  She’d felt the attraction, too. While he’d spent a good minute appraising her, she couldn’t help but notice the rush in her system when she found him standing in the common room. Men looked at her all the time, divorced fathers picking up their kids or enrolling them, eyed her with overt interest as if they were sizing her up to be the next Mrs. Whoever. Married men smiled and gave her that untouchable-but-interested look. She was aware of her appearance and the male reaction to it, but it had been a while since she’d reacted in a similar way.

  Digger Clayton was handsome. In another time he’d be the muscular gladiator or the rugged cowboy herding steers north to Oklahoma. Today his silver horse had the power of two hundred and fifty of its brethren. His body was toned with muscles that spoke of hard work and days in the sun. She had the urge to touch them, run her hands over his skin and find out if he was as hard as he appeared.

  He had dark eyes with disturbing depths. They were sad and haunted instead of happy and inviting. While he stood in front of her she’d wanted to lift his face as she’d do a child’s and soothe away the hurt. But she hadn’t touched Digger Clayton. She’d let him walk out, watched his retreat, sorry the battle between them had ended so quickly. She would have enjoyed fighting with him. And she’d have enjoyed the making up, too.

  Digger sat in the dark. He hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when he got home. There was no need. He knew with or without the lights the trigger had been pulled. He could no more stop the memories than he could stop a speeding bullet.

  He saw the crane moving. Saw himself in the driver’s seat as if this was some giant cinema with only one patron. The boy stood off to the side, away from danger, out of harm’s way. He lifted his hand and waved to Digger, his tiny fingers opening and closing. He smiled a little boy grin, toothy, trusting, loving. Digger smiled back and waved. His heart was full each time he looked at the boy. He didn’t know it was possible to love someone as much as he loved Josh.

  Then it happened. The crane started to slip sideways. He switched his attention to the machine. Frantically, he worked the controls, turned the wheel, trying to make the mammoth machine respond to his will and turn toward more solid ground. It slipped more, tilting. Digger bit deep into his lip, fighting the beast, cursing the laws of physics, denying everything he knew about the center of gravity, weight distribution and all the formal laws that kept objects upright and adhered to the ground. He fought, cursed, shouted at the machine. Still it defied him.

  The left side pitched upward. Cries came from the ground, drowned out by the roar of metal lifting unnaturally into the air. Digger would never forget that sound. It wailed, almost cried out. He fought the forces opposing him, but deep down he knew he would lose.

  Then the unthinkable happened, the unbelievable. Digger almost didn’t see it, wished he hadn’t seen it, but he couldn’t look away. The boy was there, screaming to him, moving toward him, running on his little legs. As the giant creature rose in the air the boy came, mounting a rescue mission, trying to get to Digger, to help him. Then the three-year-old registered danger and turned to flee. Digger prayed the boy’s legs were strong enough, prayed the ground was sure and he’d be able to clear the area before the machine tumbled over in the soft, wet earth. Digger cried for it, prayed to God for mercy, a miracle, help.

  In a second his heart lifted. Jeremy, his foreman and best friend, had Josh. He ran down the hill, swung the boy up in his arms and turned toward safety. Jeremy would do it. Digger prayed. Even in this dream state seven years later, he rooted for Jeremy to change history, change the circumstances, rewrite what had happened.

  But there was no time. Digger lost his hold. He fell. The giant machine crashed seconds later. He couldn’t see Jeremy and Josh. He expected to feel the weight of the twenty ton crane crush the life out of him.

  But it didn’t.

  He’d been luckier than hell, the doctor would tell him later. Many people would tell him how lucky he was to survive. They were all wrong. They didn’t know the price of survival. They hadn’t had to punch through the night, fighting unseen monsters of the dark, screaming through his dreams and trying without success to relive sixty seconds of pure terror. They didn’t wake each morning and force themselves to put a foot on the floor and get up. They didn’t meet sympathetic stares or hear the sound of silence that accompanied his entrance into a room. None of them knew.

  And he hoped to God they never would.

  The open case of the crane had fallen over him. His body had instinctively balled into the fetal position, and the cage completely insulated him, as if it were some huge hand that protected him from the safety of death. Inside the cage he lay untouched, uninjured, unscratched, alive.

  Jeremy and the boy weren’t as fortunate. The monster found them four feet from safety. Tears ran down his face, no matter how he tried to forget it. No matter how long between intervals, it was always there, the memory, the unreality, the helplessness, ready to spring up and torment him.

  Going to that school, seeing the young child who’d grabbed his leg and Erin Taylor had brought this on. He hadn’t let himself think about the accident in years. As long as he stayed away from children he could control the pain. As long as they weren’t part of his daily routine he could function. He could see them on the street, drive by them along the roadway and not think of the accident, not immediately call the memory to mind. But he wouldn’t be part of the nursery school project. He wouldn’t allow Erin Taylor’s beautiful eyes or the way she looked pulling her hair loose influence him. He had to remember the road. The bad road. The days and months of dying he’d done to find his way back to ground he could live on.

  He was sure, he told himself, with absolute certainty, that he’d never have to see her again. Life would return to routine in the morning.

  And he’d read the riot act to Sarah.

  The last child left the school at five-thirty two days after Erin’s encounter with Digger Clayton. She looked forward to an early night. Dinner and a bath were all she had on her evening agenda.

  Dressed in a robe, she put on some light music and sat down on the sofa. The estimates for the addition lay on the coffee table. She didn’t pull the papers forward. They needed to be looked at and she needed to decide on another builder if she wanted her plans completed on time. But she was restless.

  Looking around the room Erin wondered if she’d spend the rest of her life here. After her tiring day at work and her bath she should be ready for bed. Yet her mind found fault with everything around her, something she’d been doing a lot of lately. That was probably why Digger Clayton had irritated her.

  She’d been attracted to him, and she didn’t like it. After Kent Edwards walked out of her life she’d vowed not to get involved again. It was just going to be her and the school, but now, tonight, the life of an old maid schoolteacher seemed so nineteenth-century. She found no comfort in her decision. After her relationship with Kent broke down she’d been emotional, but she didn’t see how she could go through another relationship knowing the outcome would be the same.

  No one wanted to simply date. This was a community of couples, families, children. Soon the dating would get serious and she’d have to cool it or reveal her secret. Then, it was hit the road time. Her phone never rang again.

  Now she’d met Digger Clayton. He aroused feelings in her she liked, but she clamped down on them. There was no need to think any more about him. He obviously didn’t like her or the kids at her school. And she lived for her kids. They were her lifeline, the only children she would ever have. After the amusement park accident when she was seventeen, there was no chance of her ever having a child of her own.

  A tear slipped from her eye. Erin immediately wiped it away. She sniffed and looked at the papers. There was no need to spend time crying. She could not change the past. That was the way the cards had fallen. She could live with her lot. She smiled, thinking of Sam and Jerry and Crystal and all the other kids that came and went. She lived with their colds, their finger paintings, stories of monsters and what happened at dinner the previous night. She loved it. There were so many kids that needed loving, and they gave her the same hugs back that she gave them. Only she could kiss their hurts away. Unfortunately, they couldn’t kiss hers.

  Leaning forward Erin spread the estimates out on the table in her living room and stared at them. She had four, more than enough to make a decision. She thought she would get one from Digger Clayton, but he hadn’t even let her present her ideas.

  What was the real reason he’d refused to do the job? There had to be something more than what he’d said. She didn’t think it was her. For a moment he’d shown genuine interest in her, but then he’d backed off. He said it was the school. What was wrong with the school? Schools had additions put on them all the time. If everyone thought like he did no schools would ever be built.

  Her job now was finding another builder. She’d thought it would be an easy endeavor once the money had been raised, but she was finding that money didn’t move the world, at least not this section of it. If Digger Clayton didn’t want to do the job, she couldn’t very well force him. Although she’d favored him, based on the testimonials she’d heard, she still needed an estimate to make sure it was within her budget. He’d seemed the best man for the job. She never imagined her decision would be met with hostility.

  Or that the hostility would be packaged so well.

  She sighed and pulled the papers even closer to her, discarding thoughts of Digger and how well she thought his clothes fit. She had to make a decision.

  Erin shook herself, trying to clear her head of the image of Digger Clayton. What kind of name was that anyway? His real name was James, but she thought Digger fit him better. She remembered the look in his eyes when he saw her. She’d become so hot she was sure he could see her breasts pointing through her T-shirt. She could almost feel his eyes digging through the material.

  He hadn’t said a word, but he’d closed his eyes to her. She went back to looking at the estimates and reading the notes she’d made on each company. They were good, but none of them said “he does it right the first time.”

  She knew the comment referred to his carpentry, but she couldn’t help wondering if it extended to all facets of the complex and enigmatic Mr. Clayton.

  Chapter Two

  Digger saw her the moment he pulled into the lot of the local building supply store. As always, the parking lot was full of do-it-yourselfers angling carts of 2X4s or panels of Sheetrock. Building supply was mainly a man’s store. There were plenty of women who could plumb a wall, install roofing or build a new addition, but this was a place frequented by men.

  Erin was wearing light blue jeans and a short-sleeved sweater that stopped at her waist. It wouldn’t matter where she was or what she wore, Digger thought. She would stand out. Here, she stood out even more, as if she were dressed in a ball gown surrounded by dirty road workers.

  She lifted a box from her cart and leaned over. The short sweater revealed a patch of brown skin. Digger drew in his breath. Her cart was full of flat boxes that looked heavy. His first instinct was to rush over and help her, but he checked himself, remembering his vow to stay away from her. She represented complications, and he didn’t need complications in his life right now.

  Or ever.

  He climbed down from the cab of his truck as she reached for the second box. He couldn’t do it. His feet were walking toward her before his mind could stop them.

  “Let me help you,” he said, taking the box she struggled with and storing it in the van that had the school’s name and logo painted on the door.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile.

  Digger’s grasp on the box faltered. It fell with a clunk to the floor of the van.

  He knew this wasn’t a good idea. All she did was smile and he’d lost it.

  “Bookcases,” he said, covering his embarrassment. The box had a picture of a bookcase on the outside and heavy thick printing with the dimensions of the contents.

  “The ones we have need replacing. I’m afraid they might fall apart while a child is reaching for a book. Or roll away and cause someone to fall.”

  “Safety first.” He quoted the anthem of all construction workers.

  She nodded, applying the same slogan to children.

  “These have to be assembled.” He placed the third box in her van.

  “I know. I figure I’ll tackle them tonight after the children leave.”

  “You.” He hadn’t meant to imply she was incompetent. These things would be easy to assemble using only a screwdriver. But she looked so soft. He saw her with a child in her arms not sitting in the middle of wood parts, screws, tools and preprinted instructions.

  “I’m sure I can do it,” she said.

  “I meant…I mean, I thought you’d have a handyman or someone in maintenance do it for you.”

  She laughed. “We’re not that large an operation. I have a ground crew to take care of the grass and shrubs and I have a service that cleans the floors and windows. None of those people are employees.” She paused. “I’m sure I can get them assembled before Monday.”

  Digger looked at her. She was capable. There was no reason to believe she couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to volunteer, didn’t want to see her again. He should end his conversation with her now, close the door to her van and say good day, but something inside him forced the words out.

  “What time does the school close?”

  “The children are gone by six. Why?”

  “I’ll come by and do them around seven.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He wasn’t sure she was protesting. Even if she wasn’t he should grab the chance to back out. Yet he didn’t. “I have all the tools, and you want to make sure the screws are tight enough to hold the unit together.”

  “Of course, but—”

  “I’ll see you at seven.”

  He walked away, taking her empty cart and not giving her time to protest further. He also didn’t give her time to talk him out of it.

  And he had no idea, why he was forcing himself into her company or why his heart danced at the thought of seeing her again.

  Digger opened the door at seven. The place was quiet and empty. He sighed, relieved that there were no kids present. Setting his toolbox on the floor he realized he hadn’t been completely sure he wouldn’t find the place full of uncontrollable bodies weaving through the halls. She had told him the children would be gone, but until he actually saw the emptiness he hadn’t believed it.

  Digger had barely straightened to his full height when he heard a giggle. He automatically stiffened and turned at the same time. Out of nowhere the little girl—Sam—barreled across the floor. She gave him no time to get out of the way before she tackled his leg. The forty-pound missile nearly toppled him over. She looked up with a happy smile, unmindful that she’d nearly upended him. He guessed this was her normal method of greeting people since it was the second time she’d seen him and the second time she’d put her little arms around his leg. Digger couldn’t quite decide what to do with her. He stood in place with tension stretching his muscles. He was still looking down when Erin joined them.