He bent over and leaned an arm on the car. "Yeah?"

"I decided to slide away from the other car rather than into it."

He smiled. "That was thoughtful. I guess that counts as your good deed for the day."

"Maybe even for the week."

"Want a ride?"

She made a face at him. "No, I kind of like sitting here feeling my toes freeze." She grabbed her purse and scrambled out.

He chuckled and followed her to his truck. Once there, he reached around her and opened the door. She clambered inside the cab to the welcome embrace of warmth and Brad Paisley on the radio singing about waiting on a woman.

"You can call a tow truck when you get home," Josh said. "Although I imagine it will be a while before you get your car back."

"Oh, well," she said. "If this stuff sticks I won't be going anywhere tomorrow."

"From what I hear about how you all handle snow up here, n.o.body will," said Josh. "I hope it's gone by the weekend. Isn't that the big Christmas Festival?"

"Yeah. A lot of our local artists really depend on it. It's where they make most of their money for the year." It was an effort to keep her voice sounding casual when she was fighting off a pheromone zing.

"I hear Santa shows up."

"Oh, yeah," she said, trying to distract herself with the memory of all that kid excitement.

"My girls are counting the days," said Josh.

"So did I when I was little. By the way, why aren't you in your trusty patrol car, handing out tickets and changing tires?"

"I'm on days for the next three months. Kind of nice to have a normal life," he added.

He was a widower with two little girls. She wondered if his life was ever normal.

When she came back to her childhood roots, she'd come hoping that in the familiar soil of Heart Lake she could grow a new beginning. The new life was still a work in progress, but it was looking better all the time. What was life like for Josh Armstrong? When someone you loved died how did you fill that black hole?

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She blinked at him. "How normal is your life?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You don't waste time cutting to the chase, do you? It's as normal as I can manage to make it."

She understood about managing. She nodded and looked out the window. It was a blizzard out there. "We are all going to be s...o...b..und tomorrow."

"Unless we have a truck and four-wheel drive," he corrected her with a grin. "Poor Dad. He's going to have the girls home all day."

They pulled up in front of her cabin and she turned to him. "Thanks. That was really nice of you." Josh did seem like a nice guy.

So had Grant when she'd first met him.

He smiled. "You're welcome." Then, "You got food?"

"I'm okay."

"Woodstove?"

As if he couldn't see the chimney. "Yes. And wood." The landlords had left her half a cord.

"Got somebody to make a fire for you?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Me. I wasn't a Girl Scout for nothing."

He smiled, undeterred. "I could use a cup of coffee before I drive back out onto those cold, snowy roads."

She smiled back sweetly and opened the door. "You've got a four-wheel-drive truck. Remember? A little thing like snow isn't going to stop you."

"I take it grat.i.tude isn't your strong suit?"

Of course she was being rude. "I am hugely grateful," she said as she slipped out of the truck. "Come by the store and I'll give you a fortune in free chocolate. I promise."

"I'd rather have a cup of coffee."

She gave up. "Okay, fine." She took a quick step back, but not in time to hide the sudden hiccup.

"I won't bite, you know," he said as he followed her up onto the porch.

She looked over her shoulder. "So you say. For all I know you could be a vampire."

He leaned over and gave her a good look at his teeth. "See? Perfectly safe."

She felt a sudden shiver and unlocked the door. Inside, she flipped on the light.

"You'd better call the tow company while you've still got power," he suggested, walking over to the woodstove.

She already knew that. She didn't need Josh the cop to tell her. You are being a total beatch. Isn't it nice to have somebody care? She had plenty of people who cared, she argued. She didn't need a man. At least not this one.

As she dialed she heard the iron squeak of the woodstove door as Josh opened it, followed by the crumpling of paper. By the time she got off the phone he'd found the matches in the little tin cookie box she kept by the stove and a flame was licking up the paper and kindling.

He put a small log on the fire, and then gave her wood box a careful examination. "Got more wood?"

"I'll bring some in later."

"Out back?"

"Look, you don't have to-" He was already on his way to the door, his big boots clomping on the old hardwood floor. "Okay, suit yourself," she muttered, and got busy making coffee.

The phone rang just as she finished. Caller ID reminded her that she was supposed to let Sarah know she got home safely.

"Good," Sarah said as soon as she answered. "I was getting worried."

"Sorry. I just got in," Jamie said, and decided that was all she was going to tell her aunt. Sarah didn't need to hear about her little accident with the car. She'd insist on buying tires for Jamie, and she'd done enough already. "Have you heard from Emma?"

"She made it in twenty minutes ago."

"Any sign of the h.e.l.lcat?"

"No."

"It definitely looks like a kitten for Christmas for Emma," Jamie said.

"I think so. Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Sarah asked.

Josh came back in, his arms loaded with wood. He seemed to fill the doorway. He dumped the firewood in the wood box and then disappeared outside again.

"I'll be fine," Jamie a.s.sured Sarah. Josh Armstrong was making sure of that. "Hey, don't try to go in to work tomorrow. The snowplows won't be out at four A.M."

"Don't worry. I went by the bakery on the way home and hung a CLOSED FOR SNOW sign in the door. I've already given my girls the day off. I'm going to stay home and tuck in with my new issue of Bon Appet.i.t. And you stay warm over there. Remember, if you need anything, give a holler."

What Jamie needed was protection from this uncomfortable feeling of attraction that was coming over her like the flu. "Are you ready for that coffee?" she asked as Josh deposited his second load of firewood in the wood box. She hoped her tone of voice relayed the message that she would be friendly but not friends. There was no percentage in friendship. Guys always wanted more.

"Sure." He shrugged off his coat and hung it over a chair, then joined her at the little kitchen's breakfast bar. He leaned on the counter and looked around. "Cool place."

She got down a mug and poured coffee in it. "I like it."

It wasn't much, really: two bedrooms, a bathroom, this little kitchen, and the not-so-great great room. But with its cedar paneling, old wood floors, and vintage throw rugs it was cozy. Her furniture consisted of the b.u.t.tery yellow leather couch she'd saved for a year to buy, a vintage rocking chair that had been her grandma's, the old hope chest her mom and dad had given her for her eighteenth birthday, and an ancient cedar picnic table with accompanying benches that she'd gotten at a garage sale and restained. The table sported her newly made pinecone wreath, which held a scented pillar candle. Her one piece of art was a giant painting of sunflowers that she had bought from a local artist during the Fourth of July festivities.

That was it for the decorations, other than a picture of her family, which sat on the kitchen counter. When a girl had a view like the one she had outside her living room window, pictures were superfluous.

"So, you own this place?" Josh asked as she poured his coffee.

"I'm renting, which is fine. I'm happy renting."

"I like owning my own place," said Josh. "It makes me feel like I'm in charge of my life. Not that I am," he added, and took a big slurp of his coffee. He saluted her with the mug. "This is good."

"It's pretty hard to screw up coffee."

"I don't know. My wife was pretty good at it." Suddenly his smile wasn't so easy.

"You still miss her?" Why was she asking? Now she'd made him uncomfortable. Heck, she'd made them both uncomfortable. "Sorry. That's so none of my business."

"That's what everybody thinks," he said. He put his coffee mug down and stared into it. "People don't like talking about things like this. They tiptoe around it or just stop talking about it. But then it's like the person never even lived and that doesn't seem right. My wife was great. I wish she was still alive. I wish my girls still had a mom. But, like they say, wishing don't make it so." He took another drink of coffee.

"It doesn't seem fair," Jamie mused. She stopped short of asking if he ever thought of getting remarried. Not only was that a nosy question, it could very easily be misinterpreted.

"We're doing okay," he added. "I've turned into a pretty good wife myself."

"So, you got in touch with your feminine side," Jamie teased.

"Yep. It was a disaster at first, though. You probably know why you shouldn't wash colored and white clothes together. I didn't. And I thought you always put bleach in the laundry."

"Don't tell me, let me guess. You wound up with pink underwear."

"I look pretty in pink," he quipped. "I never did laundry when I was a bachelor. Always took it home to Mom or sent it out to be cleaned. Then I got married and Crystal did the washing. And the cooking." His voice trailed off as he looked at something Jamie couldn't see. He forced himself back into the present. "I'm one self-sufficient dude now," he finished, and went to put another log on the fire.

He turned and stood with his back to the fire, regarding her. "So, what about you? Your aunt seems to be busy on your behalf."

Jamie suddenly felt the need to check the kitchen clock. It was almost six. Didn't Josh the cop have to be home for dinner? She should offer him dinner. It was the least she could do after he'd rescued her from being s...o...b..und. But if she did he'd get the wrong idea.

Maybe they could make a pact to adopt each other as brother and sister. Brothers and sisters didn't risk their hearts, didn't give their bodies and their souls-didn't get hurt. Hic.

He frowned. "Why do I make you so nervous?"

Before she could answer, the lights went out.

TWENTY-TWO.

A power outage should have been the perfect distraction, offering them something to talk about besides her nerves, like, "Where are the candles?" And something to do, like fetching candles, instead of fighting off the little pheromones Jamie felt zinging around her like bees. The way the flickering firelight silhouetted Josh's tall frame when he bent to snag a book of matches from the cookie tin made her think of romance novels, all the good parts. He returned and lit the candle on her table.

She should get her extra candles out of the kitchen cabinet. Come on, feet, let's move. The cabinets are that way. But her feet betrayed her, standing perfectly still.

Now he was next to her. He was so big. Look at the size of those pecs. Wouldn't it be fun to touch them? No!

"Do you have some more candles somewhere?"

Who asked about candles in such a seductive voice? A hiccup escaped her as she yanked open the cupboard door. Candles, candles. Romantic candlelight, candlelight dinners. Stop it!

Now he was behind her, so close they were almost touching. "So, why do I make you so nervous?" he asked softly.

"Because." There. That explained it all. She pulled down another pillar candle. The one on the table was already doing its job and the room was starting to smell like apple pie. Josh took the other from her hand. Their fingers touched and she felt like he'd lit a fuse. It burned all the way up her arm and exploded in her chest.

"Because?" he prompted. He struck another match and touched it to the wick. Light blossomed between them, showing her the hard planes of his face, that strong angular chin, now stubbled with five o'clock shadow.

Fear flooded her-fear of what he'd do, what she'd do if he did it. One kiss and she'd be trapped. She couldn't be trapped again. She took a step back. "Because I don't like cops. I told you, I was married to one."

That should have offended him, brought back a sharp retort. He should have stalked off in anger. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully, studying her. "The ex-husband. Did he beat you?"

She bit her lip and nodded. She could almost feel that horrible pain again; feel the emotional shock and betrayal. She shut her eyes.