She needed to get the addition built with as little disruption as possible. It was a good thing that Digger left, she reminded herself. It was a good thing that he hadn’t kissed her. It was a good thing that she didn’t have the memory of his mouth on hers. It was a good thing that, for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t carry around the knowledge of what it was like to kiss Digger Clayton.

  Chapter Three

  The wheels grated against the concrete with each glide of Erin’s feet. She roller-bladed regularly, at first to keep in shape and relieve stress, then for the freedom it afforded her. Blading was one of the things she and her best friend Gillian did together. Erin cut through thick, hot air, her arms and legs scissoring. She usually loved skating, reaching that point where her blood was infused and her mind free of thought. She found it hard to reach that point today. Digger was at the forefront of her thoughts and no amount of endorphins could replace him.

  Perspiration poured over her face, down her arms and rolled off of her legs. Her sports top was completely soaked, and she could feel a diamond of wetness from the waistband of her shorts to her legs. Her hair, pulled into a ponytail to keep it off her neck, was heavy with wetness.

  She pushed on. They had gone their usual route and farther. Erin skated as if she were trying to outrun the devil on a pair of single-cased wheels.

  “Erin, stop.”

  Gillian’s voice broke Erin’s concentration. She swung around, skating backwards, using the brake on her blades to finally stop.

  “I can’t go any farther.” Gillian’s body was shining with perspiration. Her shoulders drooped, and her knees turned inward. She looked done in. Her hair was plastered to her head and sweat poured down her body as if she were melting. Her face, usually a blushing pink, was red with exertion. “I have to rest.”

  Fatigue settled over Erin like a blanket. She was suddenly so tired she didn’t think she could remain standing. Erin looked around for some place shady. She was wearing a baseball cap but needed to get out of the sun. Cobblersville had plenty of open space, parks for kids, grassy areas for picnics and small ponds and lakes. They were out of town, past the city limits and on a road leading to a residential area. There was nothing around except the tree-lined street and open fields.

  “We can’t just stop,” Erin said. She continued to move and Gillian followed her. Erin slowed considerably and skated until her heartbeat was normal. Then she moved onto the grass and the two of them sat down. Resting was a blessed relief.

  Gillian pulled her water bottle from the belt around her waist and took a long swallow. Erin did the same. She felt as if every bit of liquid had been squeezed out of her.

  “All right,” Gillian said, her voice still breathy. “What was that all about?”

  “What?”

  “What?” Gillian mimicked. “You know what. You haven’t skated this hard since Kent Edwards bit the dust. And I’m sure you’ve extended the quota for that leg.” Gillian glanced at Erin’s left leg, which had been hurt in an accident years ago. Exercise was good for her, but overdoing it could force her to limp. “So what’s happened that’s forcing your emotions into your skates?”

  “Nothing,” she said. They had been friends since Gillian came to Cobblersville six years ago. Both of them fresh out of college and looking for their first jobs. While Cobblersville wasn’t a thriving metropolis, Gillian was a nurse and had come to take care of her aunt. She stayed on after her aunt died. Erin had been here all her life.

  “This is Gillian.” She placed a hand on her breast and cocked her head to the side. “Not some stranger who walked in off the street. Or fell onto the grass from exhaustion.”

  Erin took another sip of her water. The air was drying her skin. She felt it cooling. She knew it was a short-lived experience. In moments the relentless Texas sun would be baking them.

  “There really is nothing to tell.”

  “You don’t work out like that over nothing. So this nothing must be a someone, and I’ll bet it’s a man.”

  “I don’t have time for men.”

  “You should make time.”

  “You only say that because you are in a solid relationship. I can remember when you—”

  “We’re not changing the subject here,” she interrupted. “I want to know what happened to you.” Gillian paused, but cut in before Erin could speak. “Don’t even start with the nothing again. You don’t skate like the fires of hell are licking your heels unless something has happened. So tell me who he is.”

  “He?”

  “Yes, he.”

  Erin knew there was no use trying to keep it from Gillian. They had shared every secret since the two of them met.

  “It’s less than you think.”

  “Go on,” Gillian prompted.

  “You want to read romanticism in my actions.”

  “I admit, I do.”

  “It’s not love, Gillian, just frustration.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had a builder come by Friday night.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “What difference does it make what he looked like?” Digger’s face and body dressed in tight jeans jumped into her mind.

  “If it makes no difference, why didn’t you answer the question?” Gillian raised her eyebrows. Sometimes Erin could almost hate her. “What did he look like?”

  “It’s not his looks. He wouldn’t even talk to me. He was like some throwback from the fifties.”

  “Chauvinistic?”

  “No, not that.”

  “Take charge, unwilling to listen?”

  “Kind of…” Her voice trailed off. “He doesn’t like kids, doesn’t want to be around them. He refused to even hear what I wanted for the building.”

  Gillian sat up straight. “So get another builder. You have several estimates already, right?”

  Erin nodded. “I plan to call one on Monday.”

  “So why are you upset?” Gillian prompted.

  “I’m not upset.”

  Gillian shifted, pulling herself up on her knees and resting her body on the back of her legs. “Let’s start at the beginning. What does he look like?”

  Erin didn’t have a choice. She described the muscular, broad-shouldered man with sad dark eyes, remembering the wave of heat that went through her when he got close. She told Gillian everything that had happened with Digger, from him showing up at the nursery school Friday afternoon to him leaving in the middle of completing the bookcases last night. She left out the almost kiss and the abrupt manner in which he’d retreated.

  “And you’re attracted to him.” Gillian stated when Erin finished.

  Erin thought of denying it. She knew Gillian would see through her lie, but more important she knew it was a lie. That was what frustrated her. She was attracted to him, but she knew how men thought. Despite their verbal contention that they didn’t want to be tied down by commitment, they wanted the same things women wanted. They wanted marriage, children, family. They wanted stability and offspring. She couldn’t offer those.

  Her emotions and needs hadn’t changed with the accident that robbed her of the ability to produce children. Her emotions weren’t removed with her uterus. But she was forced to repress them. And repression was painful.

  Digger Clayton freed those emotions, and made her want what she couldn’t have.

  “Yes,” she finally answered. “I am very attracted to him.”

  The weekend had been miserable. Erin had skated with Gillian both Saturday and Sunday and both times her friend had brought up Digger. While Erin wanted to forget him, he appeared in her consciousness without invitation. She’d relived the time in the nursery school over and over, wondering what he was thinking and why he left without a word. As a result, she had done little, except decide to call Mr. Allorca of Allorca Construction on Monday. At least she’d narrowed her search and could proceed.

  Finding a new project was not going to get Digger’s almost kiss out of her mind, but on Sunday afternoon she decided to shop for the school. She did it every week, usually on Monday during the children’s nap. Shopping today meant she’d stay at the school tomorrow. She had plenty there to keep her busy. She wouldn’t be able to think of anything except the children’s welfare. She wished she had someone to take care of now. Sam was a handful, but she would keep Erin busy if she were here.

  Slipping into the van Erin headed out of her driveway toward the local supply store across town. As she pulled on to the highway and moved into the next lane she heard it—a horn blaring. The car came from nowhere—straight for her.

  She had no place to go. The shoulder was closed and the entry ramp had run out. As she slammed the brakes, screeching tires sounded in her ears. She fought the wheel for control, turning it right and left in the small amount of space she had. The other vehicle traced a drunken path along the blacktop. She desperately tried to avoid hitting the car. Where it had come from was a moot point, but it was headed directly for her van.

  Erin smelled the acrid odor of burning rubber as she passed the closed shoulder and tipped onto the gravel a second before the car connected with her van. Stones pecked the outside of the van as she came to a halt without touching the other vehicle. She took a breath and rested her head on the steering wheel. Shaking, she closed her eyes. Her heart pounded and her legs and arms seemed heavy and rubbery. Her breathing came in short gasps.

  Someone appeared at the door, yanking at the handle. The door was locked and didn’t budge.

  “Are you all right?” a man shouted.

  Erin raised her head and sat up. Her hair obscured her face. Pushing it back she turned to the window and looked directly into the eyes of Kent Edwards.

  This day couldn’t get any worse, she thought and rolled down the window.

  As soon as she assured Kent she was fine and that there was no need for an ambulance or the police, Erin pulled away. She got off the highway. She was too shaky to negotiate cars and her jangled emotions at the same time. Stopping, she parked the van along a side road. Her heart pounded, and her hands shook. Memories of the old accident came back to her, the one in which she’d damaged her leg. It wasn’t a car accident back then, but the fear of losing her life forced itself through the cracked door of her past. Erin waited until she was calm and rational and able to drive. Naturally a careful driver, she took her time when she started the van again.

  What luck, she thought. Bad luck. Of all the people to have a near miss with, why him? The whole thing had rattled her. First Digger, then Kent. She’d been so eager to get away she’d forgotten to ask why he’d swerved into her lane. It was too late now. Erin took a deep, calming breath.

  When she’d met him, she’d thought Kent was different. He was good-looking, beautiful almost. He was in real estate, owned his own company and had gotten into the market at just the right time. New companies were moving to Texas and needed facilities with Internet capability and satellite links. He’d made a name for himself and plenty of money.

  Erin had met him at a party and fallen head over heels. He’d said all the right words. Wined and dined her in the tradition of Galahad. He’d told her many times how he was not the usual type of guy. He’d even said he didn’t want children. He’d been perfect.

  Almost.

  Erin couldn’t have been happier when he asked her to marry him. He’d planned the perfect romantic evening—dinner, wine, soft music—and then the question, along with the appropriate opening of the ring case. She’d said yes and during the course of making plans for a super wedding, the type of wedding he wanted, she heard him mention children.

  “Children? I thought you said you didn’t want children.” Erin and he were in the middle of looking at china patterns. She had been surprised that he was so traditional. Unlike most men, who wouldn’t get near a department store, Kent was into all the details of living. She should have seen the clues, but in the blurry midst of wedding fever, she hadn’t seen it, hadn’t wanted to see it.

  “When did I say that?”

  “Months ago, when we were talking about the nursery school I want to buy.”

  “Erin, do you know who else was there?”

  She thought a moment, then listed the names of the other people who had been in the small group at the Sullivans’ party.

  “Amy Sullivan was standing there.”

  She stared at him. That wasn’t an explanation.

  “She can’t have children.”

  “So no one is supposed to mention them in her presence? Kent that’s silly. Amy Sullivan loves children.”

  “Of course she does, and I thought it would be less hurtful if I didn’t mention wanting them in her presence.”

  “So you want to have children?”

  “Of course I do. I come from a large family. I want three or four kids.”

  Erin had been sitting. She got up and walked to the window. The sun was shining brightly, the trees were brilliantly green. She’d found the ideal man. Everything should have been perfect, except there were huge menacing clouds obscuring her future. She’d been disillusioned, believing what she heard, wanting to hear it, so much so that she’d never questioned his comment, never brought the subject up. Had she known all along? Hadn’t his lifestyle, his interest in the details of a house, the furnishings, china patterns told her he wanted the perfect life, a storybook life, with wife, dog, minivan and 2.2 children?

  “Erin, what’s wrong? You want to buy a nursery school. Don’t you want children of your own?”

  He was standing behind her. She could feel his heat soaking into her. At another time she would have stepped back into his arms, inviting his affection. This time she turned to face him and backed away into the small space available to her. She knew what his reaction would be.

  She pulled his ring from her finger and handed it to him. He looked at it but didn’t take it. “I didn’t know. I thought you meant it.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “Strange you should say that.” She was amazed at how calm she was. “I never said anything in your presence I didn’t mean.”

  “Tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “I can’t have children,” she announced.

  His reaction was as expected, yet this time it hurt her more than anything else ever had. She wanted him to take her in his arms and tell her they could adopt, that having her in his life meant more than having children. There were plenty of children who needed families. But he said none of the words she wanted. She wanted him to be different, to be the man of her dreams. To understand.

  He said nothing, his face closed, frozen in a solid mass of surprise, indecision and retreat. He opened his hand, and she dropped the ring in it.

  Erin had left him standing in his office and hadn’t seen him again until today.

  She turned on to East Porter Street. Passing the school, she noticed Digger’s toolbox still sitting by the front door. Erin didn’t stop. Thoughts of Kent and the accident were replaced with thoughts of Digger. Children seemed to frighten him. He was uncomfortable around them, yet when Sam had launched herself at him he’d held her as if he didn’t want to let her go. He’d cradled her in his arms, even smelled her hair. She pulled her mind away from him. She didn’t want to carry the case around in her car. She didn’t want to touch anything Digger had touched. She needed to keep as far away from him as possible. No matter what he said to the contrary, Digger would be just like Kent—he’d want marriage and all the trappings. She couldn’t provide the trappings.

  Staying away from him was more than simple self-preservation. A day-care center teacher needed to be careful too. Her personal reputation was tied to the school’s. Erin had always wanted to own a nursery school. She loved the children and they were more important to her than anything, including any feelings she might have for Digger Clayton.

  Erin parked and concentrated on what she needed in the store, saying the names of products to keep her mind on the task. She usually had a list, but it was lying on her desk at the school, waiting for her Monday routine to begin. She picked up two cases of drink boxes and placed them on the bottom of her cart. She added a box of hot chocolate, and systematically selected the things she needed for the week. Cereal and oatmeal. Little Alice Wise came in every morning asking for cinnamon raisin. It was her favorite—this week.

  Erin liked this store. It provided one-stop shopping and was large enough that she wasn’t running into neighbors conversing in the aisles. She didn’t want to do that today. Kent, the accident and Digger were all she could handle. She grabbed a case of paper towels and added them to her treasure trove.

  “Erin.”

  The voice was deep, dark and paralyzing. Erin went still. She didn’t turn or move. Digger was behind her. This wasn’t that small a town. There were at least 10,000 residents living in Cobblersville, Texas. Prior to a week ago she had never set eyes on Digger Clayton and now she couldn’t drive ten miles without running into him.

  She turned to face him.

  “About Friday night—”

  “It was nothing,” she said.

  He wasn’t wearing dirty work clothes or jeans as he had been when he left her last. He had on a suit. In work clothes he was strong and masculine, in a suit he was devastating. His tie hung loosely around his neck. The white shirt, heavily starched, contrasted with his dark coloring and somehow brightened his skin and dark chocolate eyes. Erin couldn’t believe how good he looked or how weak her knees felt. She blamed it on her encounter with Kent’s car. Maybe she should have taken more time before coming to the store. A few more minutes sitting on that road and she’d have missed Digger altogether.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually act like that with clients.”

  “I’m not one of your clients.”