“I don’t usually act like that.”

  “I’m sure you don’t.” She wanted to get away from him. There was no need for this conversation. “Why don’t we just forget it. Nothing really happened.” And that was the problem, she admitted. She had wanted something to happen. He had wanted it, too. The fact that it hadn’t happened left her frustrated and unable to concentrate. She knew her attraction for him was a bad idea. It could only hurt her in the long run. Yet when he’d bowed his head Friday night and leaned toward her, she could only move toward him, which was exactly what she wanted to do this very minute.

  She turned around and grabbed the handrail of her cart. Digger walked to the side. He looked down at the contents she’d chosen.

  “Some of the kids don’t get a good breakfast,” she answered his silent question.

  “And you provide it?”

  “They need a good meal.” She lifted a coloring book. Under it was a puzzle book. “Sam loves these.”

  Digger stared at them, then looked away as if he were reminded of something, some painful memory. Erin remembered thinking his eyes were sad. She wondered what he’d seen in the items she held.

  “What about your addition?” He changed the subject. “Have you hired someone to do it?”

  Erin felt relieved and concerned at the same time. She wanted to ask him questions about the books she held, why he avoided looking at them, but she kept quiet on the subject. The addition was a safer topic. The less she knew about Digger Clayton the better. She didn’t need to get involved in his life or know what made him happy or sad. She had her own problems, taking on his was more than her thin shoulders could handle. His shoulders were much broader. Let him weather his own problems. The thought was easy, but she found her heart overruling her mind.

  “Allorca Construction,” she finally answered.

  “Allorca?”

  She nodded. “They have the best estimate, and the reports I’ve received are adequate. I plan to call first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Digger didn’t say anything. The look on his face was blank. Erin wondered what he thought. Did he have an opinion on her choice? Did he approve or disapprove of Allorca Construction? She wanted his approval. She wanted to know that this was the right decision. While she was sure of him, especially after seeing the bookcase he’d put together for her, she wanted to know that his construction firm approved of Allorca. But she didn’t get that feeling.

  “Is he a good contractor?” she asked.

  “He does a lot of work around the area.”

  He hadn’t answered her question.

  “I’m sure you’ll have no problem with him,” Digger said flatly.

  “Thank you,” she said. There didn’t seem to be any reason for her to continue talking to him. Friday night he’d built more than a bookcase. He’d erected a wall between them. It was a strange wall. She didn’t know him well. She’d had only two encounters with him, one which ended in an almost-kiss. But she felt as if he were an old lover, one with whom she had unfinished business or tons of baggage.

  They had nothing in common except the extreme chemistry that drew her to him. She looked him over one more time, taking in his features. He looked great in the suit. She wondered where he had been. Church? To his parents’ house for an early dinner? Did he have living parents? What about sisters and brothers? She knew nothing about him, only that he wore no wedding ring. She’d noticed that the first day.

  “I should be going. I want to drop this by the school today.” He stepped away from her cart. “I noticed your toolbox is still on the step where I left it. I put it out front. I thought you’d return…to get it.” She added the last so he wouldn’t misinterpret her comment. She had wanted him to return.

  “I’ll get it on the way home,” he told her.

  Erin nodded and moved away. She knew he watched her, watched every step she took until she finally turned the corner and moved out of his sight. Only then did she breathe.

  Damn, Digger thought to himself as he watched Erin walk away. What was wrong with him? How could she get under his skin without doing a thing? He tried to tell himself he’d overreacted Friday night. It hadn’t been that big of a deal. His finger hurt, but he’d banged it much harder in the past. Yet when she held it, touched her mouth to it, he’d lost his reason. Her head had come up, her eyes all liquid, her mouth slightly wet, he could do nothing but touch her. Kiss her. Yet he’d held back. He thought he’d managed to stop before any real damage had been done. But the damage was there nevertheless.

  He’d seen Erin walking into the store as he was returning from his sister’s. Digger had grown up in foster care. He had no real family, not a blood-connected family, but his foster family had been a happy one. He’d kept in touch with all of his sisters and brothers.

  Luanne, his oldest sister, moved to Cobblersville a year ago and reinstituted the Sunday dinner that had been traditional in his foster family when they’d all lived in Houston. Today he’d pleaded a headache and left early. He hadn’t had a headache. He was thinking of Erin, Friday night and what her mouth would feel like. He wasn’t good company.

  On the drive back he’d seen Erin’s van pulling into The Warehouse, the place to get any and everything as long as you bought it in large quantities. It was the perfect place for Erin to pick up supplies for her school.

  The school. That was another problem. Digger turned toward the exit. She’d chosen Paul Allorca to build the addition. Digger knew the man’s work. He’d worked with Allorca when he’d first come to Cobblersville. Allorca’s work was adequate, but only adequate and Digger’d had some real run-ins Paul over work that was a little substandard. Eventually, Digger had quit and started his own firm.

  Outside, the sun was bright and the day was beautiful. He removed his jacket and hooked it on his finger, then slung it over his shoulder. People moved about him with huge carts of food, clothing and computer supplies as he went toward his car. He hadn’t driven his truck today. He rarely worked Sundays unless they were grossly behind schedule. Sundays he spent with his sister or playing basketball with his friends. He’d left home in his sporty Dodge Intrepid. It sat three spaces from Erin’s van.

  He reached it, opened the door and threw his jacket on the passenger’s side but didn’t climb into the driver’s seat. He stood inside the door, his arms resting on the roof of the car, and looked at the title written on Erin’s door. The school and Allorca crowded his mind.

  Crossroads Country Day School. Intertwined with the letters were the smiling faces of children. One of them had braids that reminded him of Sam. He couldn’t help comparing the boy in blue jeans and a striped shirt to Josh. Digger took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With the heels of his hands, he squeezed the sides of his head. The headache he hadn’t had at his sister’s was now real. He could feel it as surely as the heat burned the hot, packed earth.

  He opened his eyes and squinted at the bright light reflecting off the hoods of parked cars. He didn’t know how Allorca worked now, but he was fairly certain their practices were the same as they had been in the past.

  The nursery school.

  Children.

  Suppose one of them got hurt? Josh came to mind. Digger knew what it felt like for a child to get hurt, for a child to die. What if it happened again while the room was being constructed or even afterward? How would he feel? Could he let it happen? On purpose? Could he let her pick this construction company without telling her of the practices Allorca used? Was it his obligation? He hadn’t worked for Allorca in years. He had no idea how the company ran today. Maybe a foreman handled the jobs. Maybe her plans weren’t complicated. It was a room. Digger knew all there was to know about adding onto an existing building. He also knew if it wasn’t jointed correctly it could cause an accident. Or if he used substandard materials. Or watered down cement mixture. There were a hundred things that could go wrong and each of them could cost a child his life.

  He moved his hands off the car. The roof had heated up past the point of comfort. The best thing he could do was get in the car and leave.

  Digger glanced sideways as he heard a cart approaching. He turned, facing Erin squarely, unsure of what he’d say or do. She stopped behind his car. Her cart was full of the stuff he’d seen in the store and more. The sun was behind her and it turned her loose hair into a reddish halo.

  “What’s the estimate?” he asked, not intending to do so. She told him without a thought. She didn’t ask why he wanted to know, just gave him the number with an expectant look on her face.

  “I’ll do it,” he said.

  She nearly smiled. He saw the twitch of her lips going upward before she reigned them in at the last moment. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m positive,” he snapped, angry with himself for wanting to save every child in the known universe.

  “What changed your mind?”

  Digger stared at her, through her, back to another time and place, another life. Then he said one word.

  “Josh.”

  Chapter Four

  Two rooms along the back, she’d said. That was all the information Digger had to work with. He walked around the building, checking the sketches he’d drawn and discarded. The school was an interesting building. He wondered who’d built a Victorian puzzle house in Texas. He’d lived on Texas soil all his life, hardly ever left it. Only for his honeymoon when he’d taken Marita to New York and once to Los Angeles after he graduated from high school.

  Most of the houses in Cobblersville were ranch-style; sprawling structures that pulled in all the countryside they could. People in Texas loved to spread out. Erin’s school was no different. It was huge in both directions, upward and outward, and that gave it a castlelike appearance as it sat alone on the block. Digger had sketched it from memory and tried to add rooms to the rear that would enhance the building and provide functional space for the children.

  He needed to talk to Erin. He’d been putting it off for a week, ever since he’d agreed to construct her addition. He needed to ask her what she wanted, what the space should look like. He hadn’t seen her since they spoke in the parking lot of The Warehouse, but she hadn’t been away from his mind in all that time.

  Digger laid his pencil down. The drawing could be totally wrong for her style or needs. He had to go talk to her. Checking the clock on the office wall he realized the school should be empty now, except, possibly for Sam. Digger smiled at the thought of the little girl. She was impulsive and totally free. Hurling herself into his arms had made him remember how much he missed having a child around.

  Digger drove to the school. He parked in front, the same place he’d parked on his initial visit. He got out of his truck and walked to the back, checking his plans against the current structure. He’d built rooms before, added on to houses and businesses, finished basements, remodeled kitchens and bathrooms, but this was the first Victorian and the first school.

  He had to keep the look of the place, the puzzling aspect that made him want to smile when he saw it. He was sure parents liked it. It gave the whole place a fun look.

  Digger wondered if that had been Erin Taylor’s thought when she took over the place. He wondered how many of the renovations had been hers.

  “Digger?”

  He’d walked around the building and was standing at one of the side doors when he heard Erin’s soft voice. He stopped, taking a moment to compose himself before looking up. He knew he wanted to see her. Yet he’d avoided her for a week. He’d worked on her plans and waited until she should have been gone for the night before coming here. Over the past week he’d wondered if he’d react to her the same way he had upon seeing her the first time and the last time. Now he knew.

  She was standing on a porch, looking at him. There was no smile on her face, nothing he could read in her eyes.

  “You look great.” The words fell out of his mouth without the benefit of having his brain in gear. She wore a white dress that made her skin look darker. Her hair was swept to one side of her head with curls that dropped down to her shoulder. She wore eye makeup and lipstick the color of red roses. Digger immediately thought of kissing her, taking that red color onto himself and tasting all the wonder beneath it.

  “I have a date,” she said.

  “What?” He hadn’t meant to sound as if a date was incredible. She looked incredible, and a jealous streak flashed through him. She was off-limits. He knew that. He’d told himself he didn’t want to have a relationship with her or any woman. He’d been anaesthetized after Josh and Marita. The cuts were bandaged over. He wouldn’t open them to the air, no matter how beautifully packaged that air came.

  “A date,” she repeated. “Did you come by to see me?”

  “No… Yes.” She confused him. He hadn’t expected to find her here, but when he did he looked for the ponytail and shorts, instead he found a siren. “I need to talk to you about the addition.”

  “Now?” She started down the stairs, her hand resting on the wide wooden railing that bisected the stairs.

  “I drew some sketches, but after looking at the building, I’m not sure they will work.”

  “May I see them?” She sat down on the steps and reached for the papers in his hands.

  “What about your date?”

  “He’ll wait.”

  Digger knew he was fishing for information. He wanted to know who she was going out with. He’d hoped it was a girlfriend, one of the kids’ mothers, but her dress didn’t say home-cooked meal. It said, dinner and sex. Actually it said, skip dinner. Go straight to sex.

  “Digger, can I see them?” She was still holding her hand out for him to pass the rolled up sheets of paper to her. He pulled his thoughts back and handed them over. She quickly unrolled the pages. “These are great,” she said. “I like the way you included the trim and gave the room lots of windows.”

  He sat down next to her, leaning over to view where she pointed. She smelled good, a flowery scent that reminded him of spring sunshine.

  “I wasn’t sure what you had in mind.”

  “Maybe we should get together tomorrow, and I’ll tell you what I need.”

  “Tomorrow.” He remembered her date and his throat tightened.

  “How about dinner?”

  “What?” Had he heard her?

  “I have to be here all day. I thought we could go over the plans during dinner, but if you’re not available…”

  “That’s not it,” he interrupted. He hadn’t expected to be invited to dinner. “Where would you like to eat?”

  “Since we have the plans…” she looked at the papers. “These are very large pages. Why don’t we meet at my house. I can’t promise you home cooking, but it won’t be pizza.”

  She smiled, and he knew she was remembering the impromptu dinner they’d shared.

  “Where’s Sam?”

  “She left hours ago.”

  “She seems like a happy little girl.”

  “She is,” Erin said. She turned to him. She was only inches away. His eyes focused on her mouth. Her tongue came out and licked her lips. His mouth dried. He wanted to wet it, wanted to lean forward and kiss her. For a long while they didn’t move. Digger felt as if there was a thin wire between them, holding them in position. Then Erin shifted her gaze to the papers in her hands. She rerolled the plans and handed them back. She stood up, and Digger stood with her.

  “I have to go now or I’ll be late.”

  He looked at her admiringly. The dress had only small, pencil-thin straps holding it up. It fit her waist where a wide belt cinched it. Her waist was no bigger than the span of his hands. From the waist the dress hung to her knees in a wide circle. Her legs were bare and her feet were spared the bare ground by a few scraps of leather.

  “I think I’ll look around a little more. It’ll help when I’m working on the plans.”

  “Do you need to get inside?”

  “Not tonight.”

  She smiled one more time and turned to walk away. She’d only taken three steps before Digger called her name. “Erin?” She turned back. “About the bookcases.”

  “I finished them,” she said.

  “I want to apologize.” He thought she’d say something but she only waited for him to continue. “My conduct…I mean…I usually don’t…” He thought she would stop him. He was uncomfortable and nervous. “It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded quickly and turned again. He watched her walk away. Like the ballet dancer she’d first reminded him of, her movements were balanced and purposeful. He kept watching until she cleared the corner of the building and was no longer within view.

  Digger tried to concentrate but his mind kept going to Erin. Who was she dating? Where was she going? It shouldn’t matter to him he told himself. He looked at the building, looked at the plans, thought of the crew he would need. And of the children.

  The thought accosted him as surely as if it were an intruder. He had to make sure she understood when he talked to her tomorrow night. She had to know that under no circumstances should any of the children ever be allowed near the construction. He’d make sure to set up sturdy fences, not just construction fences, but those designed to keep curiosity seekers, like wide-eyed children, safely out.

  Digger rang the doorbell of Erin Taylor’s house on Lefred Street. She lived in one of the oldest neighborhoods in Cobblersville, built in the 1940s when lumber and labor were cheap and plentiful. The wood-framed ranch sprawled in the center of a double lot. It was landscaped with several varieties of cacti and hearty plants that thrived in the desert heat of southwestern Texas.

  This is not a date, Digger told himself. He wasn’t showing up on his girlfriend’s porch and sitting nervously in her living room under the scrutiny of her father. This was a business meeting. He was here to talk about work. So why had he changed clothes three times before deciding on khaki slacks and a short-sleeved shirt of pale blue? Digger couldn’t remember the last time he’d worried over his wardrobe. He’d brushed his hair and shaved, even put on cologne.