a snowstorm. And familiar.
She blinked. The sense of horror started low in her belly and spread, like a rash. She’d been a widow for almost two years and in that time she’d never been tempted to look at a man twice. In all her life, she’d never been tempted to look at a man twice. Appearances weren’t that important to her. So why did she have to notice this particular man? Why now? Why him?
“I saw that,” the man said. “You do remember me.”
She blinked again. Lord have mercy. “Kyle Haynes,” she said softly.
“Bingo.” Then before she could move or stop him, he bent down and kissed her cheek. “Welcome back, Sandy Morgan. It’s been, what, fifteen years? You look terrific.”
The brush of his lips against her skin forced all her nerve endings to go on alert. She hated that, so she chose to ignore the sensation. His low, sexy voice made her shiver, as if someone had run a feather across her skin.
“It’s Sandy Walker,” she said firmly, holding out her hand.
What was supposed to be an impersonal handshake turned into something much more when he took her hand in his. His palm was warm, his fingers long. She didn’t know whether to jerk her hand free or jump into his arms.
He grinned. “Sensible Sandy. Walker, did you say? Is there a Mr. Walker?” He glanced around at the front yard, then bent over and stared at the interior of her car. All the while still holding on to her hand.
Heat crept up her wrist to her forearm. Her skin began to tingle, while her heart continued its erratic dance inside her chest. She pulled free of his touch, then casually wiped her fingers against her white shorts. As if she could brush away the lingering sensation of warmth.
“Mr. Walker was killed in a climbing accident two years ago,” she said abruptly. “I’m a widow.”
Instantly, Kyle’s smile faded and his eyes darkened with concern. “I’m sorry.”
He sounded as if he really meant it. “Thank you.” She paused, not sure what to say next. He was still standing close to her. Too close. She moved back a little more, until she bumped into the station wagon. “What are you doing here?”
“In Glenwood or on your property?”
He didn’t smile, but there was no missing the teasing glint in his eyes. Some things might have changed, apparently the Haynes brothers weren’t one of them. When she’d first arrived in town, all those years before, she’d been intrigued by the stories about the four brothers, their father and uncles. No female between the age of fourteen and seventy-five had been immune to the famous Haynes charm. Even Sandy had succumbed briefly, dating Jordan Haynes the summer she turned sixteen. It had been a short romance, not even lasting a month. In the end, she and Jordan had decided they made better friends than they did a couple. After that, she’d gotten to know each of the brothers, including Kyle, who was, if she remembered correctly, a couple of years younger than her.
He’d grown up, she thought, eyeing his chest. He probably broke three hearts a day before lunchtime, just to stay in practice.
“Why are you still in Glenwood?” she asked, going for the safer of his two questions. She wasn’t worried about giving in to the famous Haynes charm. A playboy bachelor was the last thing she needed in her life. Still, keeping her guard up was wise. Her body’s reaction to Kyle’s closeness told her she wasn’t quite as immune as she would like to be.
“I work here,” he said. “I’m a deputy. My brother Travis is the sheriff.”
“Like father, like son,” she said, remembering Kyle’s father had once been sheriff of the small town.
Kyle’s dark eyes clouded, as if she’d brought up a painful memory. “Not exactly,” he said, then smiled slightly. “What about you?”
“I’ll be teaching at Glenwood Junior College. Business English and Business Communications.”
“How come my teachers never looked like you?”
She wanted to put her hands on her hips and mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding,” but she resisted. Instead, she offered him a tight smile and wondered how long she was going to have to stand there listening to her hormones sighing in appreciation of his perfect male form.
“Don’t you want to know what I’m doing in your driveway?” he asked.
She would rather know what he was doing standing so close. It was getting difficult to breathe regularly. Damn it all, she thought crossly. She didn’t need this aggravation. She’d come to Glenwood to get away from her problems, not to create new ones.
“You’re part of the local welcoming committee,” she said hopefully as a hideously awful thought occurred to her. It couldn’t be true, she told herself firmly. She wouldn’t let it be true. Fate wasn’t that unkind.
She was wrong. Fate might not be unkind, but it had an interesting sense of humor. She knew it the moment Kyle turned and pointed back the way he’d come. She peeked around him. At the end of the long, tree-lined driveway was a small four-room gatehouse—a rental unit that she now owned. The real estate agent had told her the leasee was a police officer. She closed her eyes briefly and prayed he hadn’t really meant a deputy.
“I’m your tenant,” Kyle said.
Sandy swallowed a groan. It didn’t matter, she told herself. It couldn’t matter. “You live there with your wife?” she asked, daring to have one last flash of hope.
“Nope.” His grin broadened. “I’m not married.”
She noticed something in his eyes as he held her gaze a second longer than was comfortable. A brief flicker of interest. Sandy folded her arms over her chest. Even as her heart continued to flutter in her chest, and her palms grew damp, she firmly squashed any romantic thoughts her foolish hormones might want to generate.
Kyle wasn’t interested in her. She was sensible enough to know the truth about herself. She didn’t need to wear a paper bag over her head, but she’d never once stopped traffic. She was okay-looking, nothing more. Kyle was gorgeous. The kind of man who made a woman forget how to breathe. His not-so-subtle come-on was simply reflex. Not interest. She wasn’t his type. More important, he wasn’t hers.
She nodded at him, then smiled impersonally. “It was very nice of you to welcome me back to Glenwood, but I don’t want to keep you from whatever you have planned.” She waved toward the motorcycle. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other from time to time.”
He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he moved closer. “When the real estate agent told me you’d be arriving today, I made sure I was available. I figured you’d need some help getting the old place ready.”
“I have everything under control. The furniture doesn’t arrive for several days. Between now and then, the children and I will be able to clean the house. I’ve made a list.” She nodded toward the front seat where she’d left her clipboard.
Instead of glancing that way, Kyle stared at her intently. “Children?”
Finally, Sandy felt she was gaining control of the conversation. Most single men lived in fear of a woman with children. If she couldn’t calm down her hormones, at least
