She pulled the child away and held her hand. As she straightened, Digger let himself inhale. He smelled her, taking in her exotic scent mixed with a flowery perfume. The combination intoxicated him. It had been a long time since he’d been near a woman, especially one who looked like Erin; one who made his heart flip over and robbed him of the ability to think with God-given logic.

  “Hi,” Sam said, her eyes wide and dancing. Digger nodded at her. He found his throat too dry to speak. Clearing it, he looked at Erin.

  “I thought the children would be gone by now.”

  “All except Sam.” She glanced at the child. “Samantha Pierce.” The smile she gave to Sam softened Erin’s face. Digger found himself wanting her to turn that smile on him.

  “Her parents are attending a program tonight. Her father works at the university and there is a faculty gathering. I agreed to keep her until it’s over.” She bent down and lifted the four-year-old. “Sam, this is Mr. Clayton.”

  “I already met Mr. Satan.” Her voice was light, but her tongue heavy.

  “Why don’t you call me Digger? Everyone does.”

  She turned her head and looked at Erin, her eyes and mouth opened in anticipation. This was obviously against the rules.

  “It’s all right,” Erin told her.

  “Digger,” she said with a big smile on her face. She looked as if she’d graduated from kid to adult and couldn’t wait to test her new level. “My name is Sam. It’s short for Samantha Yvette Pierce. Sometimes my daddy calls me Sy. He takes my two first names and really shortens them.” Digger could tell she’d recited this litany before.

  She hadn’t mastered pronunciation yet. She had a slight lisp, which she’d grow out of in time. Digger found it cute and endearing. It made him watch her and listen. Her fractured language reminded him of Josh’s attempts to say certain words. Digger looked away. He didn’t want to remember Josh, and he couldn’t look at Erin. Even after such a short acquaintance she’d found the key to his chemical code. She was drawing him to her, even against his will. Without that pull he wouldn’t be here tonight, and his stomach wouldn’t be curling into a hard knot.

  “Samantha,” Erin interrupted her, stopping the runaway conversation. Erin turned to him. “We were just having something to eat. Would you like to join us?”

  Refusal was on the tip of his tongue. He was here to put together bookcases. He needed to minimize his contact with Erin and Sam. So why was his head bobbing up and down? Why did he seem paralyzed in the presence of someone he’d met only twice? Erin smiled, and he knew the reason.

  She turned, leading the way toward the main room. A large box of pizza sat open on one of the child-size tables. Digger stopped. His six-foot frame wouldn’t fold up small enough to fit into a toddler chair. Erin moved the box and plates to a standard table. Sam got several books from the rack and put them on her chair, an act she obviously performed with practice. Digger found himself wondering who else had had dinner with the two of them. A momentary streak of jealousy ran through him. He refused to name it. Sam raised her arms up to Digger indicating he should pick her up.

  “Ms. Taylor says climbing is dangerous,” she explained in her child’s voice. “I could slip and fall. She says it’s too dangerous.” She pronounced the last word slowly, articulating all the syllables as if she had just learned the sounds.

  Digger lifted her onto the stack of books. She was light, weighing almost nothing. He’d forgotten how weightless a child could seem. Almost as light as air. Oh, God, he thought. This was a really bad idea. He wanted to hold her close. For a moment he wanted to pretend she was Josh.

  Erin set a plate and slice of pizza in front of Sam and slid a lidded plastic cup of soda next to it.

  “Help yourself,” she told him as she placed a paper plate before him.

  Samantha took care picking up her pizza. Her fingers were unsure on the awkwardly moving slice. Digger stopped himself from helping her. She took a bite and chewed. “Do you have a little girl?” she asked with her mouth full.

  Digger heard the question as he slipped a slice of pizza toward his plate. It stopped in midair. His hand shook, but he got the pizza in place and pulled the plate back. He looked at Sam. Tomato sauce increased the size of her mouth, outlining it as a clown would put on makeup. Expectant eyes looked at him.

  “No, Sam, I have no children.” His voice sounded strained. He had no children, no one at all.

  “Why not?” She took another bite. The bread in her hand fell through her fingers and missed the plate. She negotiated it off the table and held it.

  “I’m not married.” He seized the easy answer. It would be years before she understood the true methods of pregnancy and childbearing. For the time being he could answer her simply. He was aware of Erin listening to their conversation. She had said nothing, but he could feel her presence next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw her flip her hair over her shoulder. It was no longer in a ponytail, but fell in curls about her shoulders.

  “Eddie’s mother has Eddie.” Sam applied her own brand of logic to his answer.

  “Samantha, you know Eddie’s mother was married,” Erin said.

  Sam nodded, her head bouncing up and down in an exaggerated effort. “But she’s not married now.”

  Erin glanced at him unable to dispute a four-year-old’s truth.

  “Why do you want Mr. Clayton to have a child?”

  “Digger,” she corrected, her big eyes looking as if Erin had forgotten the covenant the two of them had agreed to.

  “Why do you want Digger to have a child?”

  “So I could play with her.”

  “Sam, there are plenty of kids for you to play with.”

  “Not now,” she said lifting her plastic cup with two greasy hands and drinking.

  Erin gave him a helpless look. Digger picked up his cup and drank, too. Not now, he thought. There was nothing he could say.

  “We have a lot of toys here.” Sam changed the subject with a speed equal to her attention span. She set her cup down with care, showing how she had been taught to place it at the top of her plate, out of danger of being knocked over. Digger watched the small act. He remembered teaching Josh that procedure. A long time ago.

  “I have a lot at home too,” Sam went on.

  “A lot of what?” Digger asked. He’d lost track of what she was talking about.

  “Toys,” she said without annoyance. “I have a Barbie doll. She has her own car. It’s red. But it doesn’t look like yours.”

  “Mine is a truck,” Digger said, following her train of thought. “It’s silver.”

  “Do you like silver?” She pronounced it as “filver.” “I like yellow.”

  Erin pushed her chair back and stood up. “It’s time to wash your hands,” she told Sam. Sam didn’t argue. She let Erin lift her off the books and steady her on the floor. Erin nodded to him as they walked away.

  Digger watched them leave the room. He finished two more slices of pizza. She was a cute kid. He smiled at her questions before depression squeezed his heart. Josh had asked the same kind of questions. He hadn’t been as old as Sam. He would never be that old. He would never ask Digger about other children or catalog his toys.

  Pushing his chair back, Digger cleaned the table, closing the box of leftover slices and disposing of the plates and empty cups. Sam’s place was marked by a clean circle ringed with crumbs, tomato sauce and discarded bread. How often had he seen that same ring? Using a napkin, he wiped the ring away, eradicating his thoughts with the swipe of a thin piece of paper.

  Turning away from the table, he searched for the bookcases he was here to assemble. Retrieving his toolbox from the place near the door, he went to work. He had accounted for all the parts and laid everything out when he heard Erin and Sam return. He was kneeling, screwing a base and side together with a screw gun when he heard the quick running steps of the child.

  “Samantha!” Erin called.

  The steps continued without hesitation. Digger looked over his shoulder. He saw her coming.

  “No!” he shouted just as Samantha Yvette Pierce rushed toward him without a thought for the danger. He dropped the screwdriver and grabbed the child out of the air as she launched herself toward him. Together they fell backward.

  Digger’s arms closed around Sam in a protective posture as the two of them skidded across the scuffed, but polished floor. She was a lightweight child, dressed in pink pajamas. Her face scrubbed, her braids swinging. He held onto her for just a minute after the motion stopped, savoring the smell of her hair, the scent of the children’s soap Erin had used to bathe her, how light she was as she lay on his chest. Digger squeezed her to him. His eyes closed as he held her, taking in the scent of childhood and the promise of happy times. For just a moment, he thought. He wanted to remember the feel for just another moment. It had been a long time.

  A very long time.

  Erin ran over and kneeled beside them. “Are you all right?” she asked. Sam pushed herself up and giggled. To her it was a game. Tiny hands pressed against his chest. Erin pulled Sam away.

  Digger needed to get up, but he couldn’t move. He lay on the floor, fighting the demons in his brain, the emotions in his throat and heart and the need to shout. Erin looked at him with concern. A hollow, weightless cavern replaced the space where the child had lain. He felt as if more than this child had been pulled from him. His heart had been pulled from his chest.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead and, for a moment, there were no workable muscles in his body. Erin touched his arm, ran her hand along his exposed flesh.

  “Digger?”

  He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “I’m fine,” he said. But he wasn’t. He remembered the accident.

  “I’m sorry,” Erin apologized. “She’s very fast. I had her hand, but she just took off.”

  Digger sat up. His breath was shallow, and he hoped Erin didn’t notice how shaky he was. Sam still smiled at him as if she’d done something wonderful.

  “I know how fast they can be.” He gave the kid a quirky smile and looked at Erin to let her know he was all right.

  He could see the questions in her eyes. There were hundreds of them. He would answer none. Again, she touched his arm, comforting him. The child sat between them. Digger looked at Erin, concern in her eyes. She broke the link between them by looking down at Sam sitting on her knees.

  “If we’re going to get these cases done, I’ll have to put Sam to bed. There are cots in the other room,” she explained.

  “It’s not my bedtime,” Sam chirped, her head craning to look at Erin.

  Erin smiled and kissed the child’s head. “It’s close enough. Digger has work to do and by the time you brush your teeth it’ll be time.”

  “Can’t I stay and help Digger?”

  Erin shook her head. “Digger is used to working alone.” She looked up at him, not for confirmation, more for reassurance that her intuition was correct. She could tell he was uncomfortable.

  “I’ll be gone until she falls asleep,” she said.

  Digger thanked God she was going to leave him alone. He waited for the two of them to move back before getting to his feet. Erin stood, too. She gave him a searching look then walked away holding Sam’s hand.

  Sam giggled as she skipped along, looking over her shoulder. “Good night,” she called.

  “Good night, sweetheart.”

  They disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. Digger wiped the sweat from his brow on his shirtsleeve. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he leaned over and fought his memories. Then he went to work on the bookcases with greater zeal than he’d planned. Putting the cases together took little mental ability, although he tried to concentrate on flathead screws and fitting part A in part B. Still, the task left his mind free to concentrate on other things.

  Erin.

  He didn’t dare think of Josh, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts about the nursery school owner. She’d touched his arm and warmth had flowed through him. The concern in her eyes was real. He was glad she couldn’t read his mind—or his feelings.

  Easy to assemble furniture was just that—easy. There was no real reason for him to be here, no reason other than long legs and a ponytail. She wasn’t wearing a ponytail tonight. Her hair was down. Soft curls framed her face exactly as he knew they would. This was dangerous ground. The hazard of children—and what he felt happening to him each time he looked at Erin Taylor.

  Half an hour later Digger pushed the first completed bookcase back and forth to test the wheels. It rolled easily. Then he applied the safety brake that held the non-skid wheels in place.

  Erin Taylor took safety seriously. He was glad of that. From what he’d seen, everything in her school was designed to keep kids happy and safe. Padded corners, separate areas for different age groups, they showed her awareness of the potential hazards. He knew it didn’t matter how conscientiously anyone prepared, there were times when nothing worked. He had firsthand knowledge of the inability to change events as they happened. Children reversed directions like lightning streaking through the sky. And no adult could anticipate the transformations.

  He heard the door open and Erin return. He was glad for the distraction. Her appearance stemmed the whirl of his thoughts, which could only spiral downward.

  Erin carried a small toolbox. From his position on the floor he watched her approach. Time and motion slowed until he could examine every moment in detail. Her arms and legs moved in rhythmic contrast to each other, like a model walking down a runway. The sway of her hips tantalized him. The soft bounce of her breasts aroused him. Erin Taylor had no idea what effect she was having. But he was definitely reacting. Cardiac arrest couldn’t be more painful than trying to force his body into a state of rest.

  Without a word she slid one of the bookcase boxes away from him and opened her toolkit. Digger was watching her and not what he was doing. He banged his finger with the hammer he was using to tap safety covers over screws.

  “Ouch,” he yelled and gripped his sore finger.

  Instantly, Erin was at his side. “Let me see it.” Her hands closed over his.

  “It’s okay,” he said, turning away from her. Pain throbbed under his fingernail. He clenched his teeth, holding it back.

  She followed him around. “Open your hand,” she said quietly, but firmly. She pried his fingers back and inspected his finger. His heartbeat pulsated in his finger, but it wasn’t discolored. She raised his hand and lowered her head at the same time. Her lips kissed the sore hand tenderly.

  Digger groaned. Pain took a back seat to the rioting emotions that racked his body, starting with his finger. Heat flooded his bloodstream like a shot of a narcotic. His entire body felt the effects of a hot, dizzying blast. The air around him heated, liquefied.

  “Why did you do that?” Digger asked, his voice lower than usual, slower than usual.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  She let go of his hand. Hers fluttered about in the air as if she couldn’t decide what to do with them. She clasped them together and stared straight at him. “We have minor collisions here all the time. I just reacted the same way I do with the children.”

  “You kiss their hands?” She looked nervous, her hand pushing through her hair, but he wanted to know she felt something for him.

  “A kiss to take the pain away.” She gave him a shaky smile. “You’d be surprised how much a kiss can do.”

  She meant it to be light, but Digger heard the meaning underneath. Without thought he raised his hand, the sore one. He smoothed his knuckles lightly along her jaw. She didn’t move, but her small gasp wasn’t lost on him. He was holding his own breath. The moment spoke loudly in the quiet room. He leaned forward, his mouth opening. Her hair swung against his hand. It was as soft as a breeze, but it stopped his forward movement. He looked at her face. His gaze settled on her mouth. He wanted that mouth on his. He wanted to devour her. He could smell the heated scent of her, but…he knew better. He knew the road. Knew where it would lead.

  Dropping his hand he stepped back, walked away, left her. He went through the door and out into the soft air of the evening.

  Erin didn’t follow him outside. Instead she completed the last two bookcases alone. While he’d had his hand on her face she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She needed to collect herself. The chemistry between them was volatile. She knew the fuse to the dynamite was short. If he hadn’t left…

  When she finally went outside he was gone. His truck was nowhere in the lot or on the street in front of the school. Disappointed, Erin returned to the building.

  Digger’s tools lay discarded on the floor. Erin packed them up and closed the case. She set it on the porch by the front door, in case he returned over the weekend to retrieve it. She stood there staring at the starry night.

  What had happened in there? she asked herself. He’d hurt his finger. Why did she kiss it? She hadn’t thought about it. It was a reflexive action, the same thing she would have done for any child. But Digger wasn’t a child. And her action took on so much more meaning when he questioned her about it, when she’d held his hand and realized she was shaking. Around them the room had receded. She heard her heartbeat, thudding in her head. She was sure Digger heard it. Then he’d leaned forward, and she knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She could almost feel his mouth on hers. But he’d stopped.

  Erin should be glad he’d found his senses. She obviously hadn’t found hers. She couldn’t get involved with him, with anyone. It would lead to disaster, and she would be the one hurt. It was best to keep her distance. She was glad he refused to build her addition. She would call Allorca Construction on Monday morning and offer the job to them.