"Every day," Dan said. "When I blow the whistle, the last man in line will sprint to the front." Now they looked worried. "Let's see who can keep up."

Four laps around the field later, he was satisfied that every player had given it his best shot. Some of the defenders didn't have the wind for sprinting by the third lap around the field, but they would by the end of the week.

He blew the whistle. "Great job, guys. Who's ready to play?"

The resounding cheer was music to his ears. Teenagers were not that different out here in Ohio. "Since I couldn't find any pinnies, we'll have to play skins and shirts. Line up and count-off by twos. The ones will be skins, and the twos will be shirts."

After a few minutes, he called out, "All right, guys. Let's change it up." Moving players around, he watched them play for another ten minutes before calling an end to practice.

"Great job. Hit the showers."

After the boys left, he showered, changed, and drove home. He had a date to cook for. A glance at his watch reminded him that he really had to work quickly if everything was going to be ready to eat when she got there.

The souffle was rising and turning a golden brown. He already knew it would taste delectable; it was one of his foolproof recipes and guaranteed to impress a woman.

The apple tart he'd baked the night before was sitting on the center island awaiting the whipped topping he thought he'd experiment with. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he was pleased to note that everything was going according to schedule. He believed that timing was everything in life and had in fact led him to Apple Grove. Fifteen minutes more for the souffle. Once that was out of the oven, he'd begin to saute the garlic in sweet cream butter for the scampi.

His mom had told him that his great-aunt loved shrimp and he was determined to do everything he could to ensure he delivered a first-class meal for a first-class lady. He could have said thank you in a more conventional way, but he enjoyed cooking. To him, preparing a meal was akin to a science experiment. The outcome depended on the precision of his measurements, technique, and the timing, which had to be perfect.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he grinned and turned to double-check the table and decided the single red rose that he'd placed across her plate was just the right touch. A whole bouquet would have been overdoing it. He wanted her to feel special, not embarrassed. And while he'd done his part yesterday during coffee hour, he had a feeling this special meal would make her the talk of the town. "Why not, she deserves the attention."

Checking the time, he turned on the coffeemaker and pressed the button on the food processor to whip the topping-and the lights went out.

Meg groaned as her cell phone played "Urgent" by Foreigner. It was her father's sense of humor that decided they'd use that song for emergencies. She was so tired her eyeballs hurt; it had been a really long day. She'd just finished a foray into Mr. Sweeney's barn to help him gather a dozen eggs as payment for replacing his burned out floodlights. "What's up, Grace?"

The youngest Mulcahy sister got right to the point. "We have an emergency call from Dan Eagan. His power just went out again."

"I changed out the blown fuse this afternoon." There had only been one; she'd checked. "I just finished up at Sweeney's-"

"I'd ask Caitlin," Grace interrupted, "but she's on the other side of Licking County."

Meg knew she'd have to answer the emergency call; their family business had been built on their reputation of being on-call twenty-four/seven-no job was too small. Four generations of Mulcahys have lived, worked, and died in Apple Grove. The townsfolk had come to count on them to keep their furnaces heating, their washing machines agitating, and their roofs watertight.

"Meg?"

Her sister's voice snapped her back to the present. "Call him back and tell him I'm on my way."

She set the basket of eggs on the floor and wedged her sweatshirt and lunch pail against it so it wouldn't move and she'd get them home in one piece. On the drive over to Elm Street, Meg relaxed and started to feel just a bit more energized knowing she was going to be seeing Dan again. It was exciting having someone new move into town-especially someone like Dan. He'd definitely made a great first impression and had been on her mind most of the day.

She wondered how long it would take for Miss Trudi and her cohorts to find out what was behind Dan's move to Ohio. Not that there was anything wrong with Apple Grove. She loved the rolling farmland dotted with Victorian-style homes and the more traditional farmhouses you expected to see with wide front porches and a barn out back. But it wasn't just the pretty scenery that kept her rooted to Apple Grove; it was her own family's history.

Her great-grandparents, Joseph and Molly Mulcahy, had settled in town in the early twenties, fresh off the boat from County Cork, and with their work ethic and eagerness to lend a helping hand, one thing led to another, and Mulcahy's handyman business had been born. Oh, some of her friends had moved to Cincinnati and some had even moved out of Ohio, but she liked living in a town where generations of her family had left their mark. She intended to do the same.

Smiling, she drove past the handful of houses dotting the street. Most of them had rocking chairs on their porches, inviting you to sit a spell and share a tidbit of gossip. She knew that if she pulled into any one of those driveways, she'd be greeted with a welcoming smile and cup of hot tea or coffee. Any other night, she just might think about it, but she had one more stop to make before quitting time.

The Saunders place was the last house on the dead end. Since half the homes in Apple Grove were built around the turn of the century, most still used the standard fuse panels with six screw-in type fuses. Meg kept spare fuses in the back of her truck. Mulcahys were always prepared for any emergency call.

She grabbed her flashlight and three fuses, stuffing them in her pockets as she closed the door. Looking out over the open fields behind the old house, she knew it wouldn't be long before the days would be getting shorter and colder. The hay bales were rolled up and ready to be stored for the winter. Mrs. Saunders had sold off a good part of her land years ago with the stipulation that it be used for farming, same as her grandparents had done. The next field over had a different crop every other year; pumpkins one year and corn the next. She didn't know much about rotating crops, but whatever grew there always looked healthy and good enough to eat.

She drew in a breath and smiled. She loved autumn, the way the leaves changed color, the beautiful reds and oranges of the sugar maples against the backdrop of the brown oak leaves. The smell of wet leaves on a rainy fall day never failed to have her craving a long walk through the fields and woods surrounding her home.

She didn't like when the temperature fell below twenty degrees. Her sisters loved winter and were always getting a group of friends together to go ice-skating or cross-country skiing. Meg never really got the hang of balancing on those thin blades or the long, thin skis her sisters used when they headed off across the snowy fields behind their home. Give her a toasty fire, her grandmother's quilt, a good book, and cup of cocoa over winter sports any day. Come early spring, Meg would be tromping through the mud and rain checking for signs that the trees would soon sprout leaves and the early bulbs in her garden would bloom.

If it were dark, she knew she'd hear the owl hooting in the pines behind the house. A pair of great horned owls hunted in the fields behind their barn, but she'd never seen the one that kept Mrs. Saunders company at night-could be a barn owl. She'd have to see if Dan was interested in finding out; it could be something they shared: bird watching. Smiling, she lifted her face to the crisp breeze rustling through the leaves. The moon was barely visible low in the sky, just shy of full. In a few hours it would light up the sky.

The door swung open and her breath snagged in her lungs; eyes the color of the wintry ice on the horse pond in February stared down at her. The longer she stared up at him the harder her heart pounded. Her body's reaction to him would have scared her spit-less a few days ago, but she'd slowly begun her journey back to the living, where deep-seated emotions and feelings weren't quite so scary.

He rumbled, "I'm so glad you're here. I'm in a bind."

"I was on my way home after a really long day..." Her words trailed off as her gaze met his.

He didn't say anything, just continued to look at her. She shifted from foot to foot, knowing there was probably more than one streak of dirt on her face. Meg didn't mind getting covered with grease, dirt, or what-have-you, as long as she got the job done-besides, that's what soap was for. But compared to the man in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a pale blue, fitted button-down shirt and charcoal pleated pants, she felt like a scrubby street urchin.

Why didn't he say anything? Was he going to apologize for kissing her?

Deciding to take the bull by the horns, she spoke up as she scooted around him. "I can't imagine what happened. I changed out the blown fuse earlier. There might have been another one going. I'll have a look and have the power back on in a few minutes."

"That would be wonderful," his deep baritone rumbled. "But it's not just the power that's out. I have no water."

She paused just inside the kitchen. She knew he wasn't from around here; he must have lived in a city before coming to Apple Grove. Everyone in Apple Grove had a well. "Your well pump is operated by electricity, that's why you don't have any water."

He frowned at her. "I'm used to city water. The only time we didn't have water was if a water main broke or we didn't pay the water bill."

"We've got a deep well at our house. I'm pretty sure you have one here too. It only gets tricky if the power goes out and the well pump can't work. But a generator would take care of that."

"I guess there's a lot I'll have to get used to out here."

"It's not like it's another country-just a few states west of where you come from."

She scooted around him and across the kitchen. As she passed the oven, a heavenly smell wafted toward her. Whatever he had been cooking before the power went out had her stomach rumbling and her mouth watering. It had been a long day, and at that moment, she couldn't remember if, let alone what, she'd eaten for lunch.

At least her stomach distracted her from her reaction to the man. She reacted to him on an emotional and physical level. That hadn't happened in a long time. Not many men in her acquaintance dressed up, unless someone was getting married or buried. An uneasy feeling roiled in her belly-did he have a date?

She wondered if it was someone from the wedding or someone he'd met at church yesterday. The overwhelming need to find out had her panties in a twist. Normally Grace was the one who wheedled whatever she wanted to know out of people, but her sister wasn't here and Meg had a vested interest in Daniel Eagan. Maybe she would be able to finesse some information out of him.

She paused in the doorway to the cellar and asked, "Do you have an evening meeting with the Board of Ed?"

He shook his head. "No. Why?"

"No reason," she said, turning on her flashlight. She'd need it to find her way down the stairs. She wished she could think of another question to ask that might make him give away the name of his date. She didn't always have company while she worked, but when she did, she treated it like background music if the job she had to do was intense and required her full concentration; otherwise, she enjoyed chatting with whomever she was working for. Replacing a few screw-type fuses wasn't difficult, so when she heard Dan's footsteps on the stairs behind her, she wracked her brain to think of something to say-and another way to ask him without flat out asking who he was cooking for.

"Did you meet anyone special yesterday?"

"I saw someone special yesterday."

The caress in his voice had her fumbling with the flashlight. "Really?" her voice squeaked.

"I'm not sure she realizes it yet, though."

Did he mean her? She couldn't just ask, could she?

Her hands were shaking as she located the fuse panel. It took all of her willpower to steady them in order to shine the light on the fuses. "Here's the trouble," she told him, trying to tamp down on the crazy feeling in her stomach. "Two more fuses must have been going; they've burned out." Reaching in her pockets, she pulled out the replacements, screwed them in, and the power came back on. "You're back in business."

"Thanks, Meg. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Those sinful gray eyes, with a cauldron of emotions bubbling below his surface calm, had her insides doing a slow burn. All thoughts of trying to find out who he was dressed up for flew out of her head; she couldn't think when he looked at her like that.

Dan's gut clenched before tying itself in one big knot. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? He'd moved to Apple Grove to start over-after his fiancee flushed the engagement ring he'd pawned his prized 1952 Mickey Mantle rookie card to buy-not to get tied up by a pretty little bit of a thing with an engaging smile and freckles he was dying to taste again.

Meg brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and the movement pulled her boxy shirt snug against her curves. He swallowed and reminded himself that women were not to be trusted-well, the ones his age weren't. Ones like Miss Trudi and his grandmother, they were honest to the core and the best of friends.

"I guess I'll just be going then," she said as she flicked off her flashlight and headed for the stairs.

He caught up to her at the top.

She was staring at the table he'd set for two and the rose he'd placed across one plate. "So, who are you cooking dinner for?"

He wanted to pump his fist in the air; the little lady wanted to know who he was cooking for. That meant she was definitely interested. She looked as if she were ready to bolt and he wanted to keep her there just a moment longer.

Before he could answer, she spun around and started past the center island and noticed the dessert. Her gaze met his again. "Whoever it is must have made quite an impression for you to go to all of this trouble." She stood there with dirt smudged across her cheek, her shirtsleeves rolled up to her elbows, staring up at him.

She blew out a breath and asked, "Is it Peggy or Katie McCormack?"

The insecurity in her eyes tugged at his heart.

"Uh... neither. I'm cooking for my aunt."

When she didn't react, he wondered if she'd been paying attention and heard what he'd said.

"Look, I've got to go." She didn't hang around for him to say any more. He almost wished she would; he liked seeing her in his kitchen. He thought about calling her back, but that would have been selfish when she'd already told him what a long day she'd had.

"Thanks, Meg. I really appreciate that you made the extra stop for me."

She smiled and waved on her way out the door. He chuckled softly watching her go, flattered that she'd been trying to get him to tell her who he was making dinner for. Was it possible she'd been jealous, or was he imagining things? He scrubbed his hands over his face and admitted he hadn't been able to figure women out since his ex. He had a lot on his plate right now, but it would be well worth it to get to the heart of Megan Mulcahy.

His parents had warned him that people would be different out here and not like folks from back home. He heard an engine roar to life and thought about going out to catch her and ask her to have dinner with him tomorrow night. With a glance at the clock, he factored in the time spent in the basement and knew Miss Trudi would arrive any time now. He set all thoughts of the mercurial Megan aside; he had a woman to impress and a dinner to rescue-hopefully his souffle wasn't ruined. But as he opened the oven door, his thoughts drifted back to the prickly redhead, and he knew he'd be seeing her again-soon.

Megan was beat when she opened the door and slid onto the driver's seat. It felt good to be this tired, because it meant that she'd gotten to every job on her list-and the ones not on her list. She wished she'd been able to get Dan to tell her who he was preparing that mouth-watering meal for. Maybe she could find out through Miss Trudi; right now, she needed to get home, eat, and crash. Exhausted as she was, she still made it a point to make sure she didn't lean against the truck door or let the flashlight in her back pocket accidently scratch the paint. Pop would have her hide if she scratched or dented his baby. He'd inherited his father's black 1950 Ford F1 pickup with the understanding that he would continue to drive the truck every day. Her grandfather had insisted that the people in Apple Grove always knew the Mulcahys were on the job when they saw his black truck with the gold lettering proclaiming Mulcahy's-No Job is Too Small driving through town.

Feathering the gas, she engaged the clutch and shifted into reverse. She didn't have far to drive, but it was just enough time to replay what had happened in her mind. Analyzing everything usually helped her resolve whatever was bothering her. By the time she'd driven home, she had realized what worried her most wasn't her physical reaction to the man; it was the feeling that they were meant to be together whether she was ready to accept it or not.

The last time she'd felt like this she'd been sixteen years old and so in love with Jimmy Van Orden that nothing anyone could say would convince her that he wasn't coming back after college. He was on the fast track to achieving his goal of playing pro football, and he would leave Apple Grove, Ohio, and Megan Mulcahy in the dust. Except for his twice-yearly visits, when he picked up where they'd left off, she'd be pinning her hopes on her childhood sweetheart popping the question for years-but so far it hadn't happened.

Growing up, she'd learned there were two types of people who lived in the sleepy Midwest town of Apple Grove: those who loved it and those who hated it. The ones who loved it still lived there, and those who hated it, well, they worked hard to earn scholastic or sports scholarships to colleges that would take them away to the bright lights and big city. Columbus wasn't that far away, and Ohio State had one of the best football teams in the nation. When Jimmy played for the Buckeyes, they'd been number one. Last year, they'd been in twelfth place-decent, but not in the top ten. She still followed college football, but she also enjoyed watching NASCAR and her favorite driver.

Thinking about Jimmy lifted the lid she'd put on her feelings back then. It had been a point of pride with her that she had been right; he did come back, often, but he'd yet to stay or ask her that all-important question. She'd been living in a time warp, keeping her nose to the grindstone, doing what had to be done for her sisters before and after school, burying her heart in the work that kept the family business afloat-living for the times when Jimmy would blow into town, take her out, and then shatter her heart with his excuses about why he just had to leave again. That is, until her wake-up call the other day at Edie and Bill's wedding when she'd encountered Dan Eagan.

It should have been a nick to her pride that that handsome, fair-haired phys ed teacher had gotten beneath her guard and under her skin, but the way he'd reawakened feelings she never thought she'd experience again had her wanting to thank him. The heat in his gaze had beckoned to her, tempting her, twice now. The first time, she'd gone with the overwhelming need to kiss him back and look how that worked out. He was dressed to kill and preparing a delicious-smelling dinner for someone-who she was, Meg hadn't been able to find out-but she did wonder if it was one of the McCormack sisters. They were blonde, tall, and simply gorgeous. Nice too, damn it. It would be hard to stay mad at them when they were so likable. If not the McCormacks, then who?

Since the resurgence of interest in the opposite sex wasn't something she was ready to deal with tonight, she'd chill out, talk to her dad, and have that beer.

For the first time in a dozen years, she wondered why she had never moved out of her parents' home. It wasn't that she hadn't felt the need to have a place of her own-she had, more than once, but she just hadn't done anything about it. It required energy she usually didn't have after a long day.

While Meg loved her sisters, there were times when they could be a pain, but she knew they felt the same way about her, saying she was too much of a mother hen. If they sensed there was something going on in her love life, they'd badger her until she confessed, and she wasn't sure she was ready to talk about the way the new teacher in town made her heart jump and her skin tingle. Oh, she knew they'd promise not to tell anyone, but she also knew they'd tell one of their gossipy friends, who'd tell two friends, who would eventually tell Honey B., and by nightfall their half of Licking County would know.

"Maybe I should call Susie Sanders." Her friend owned Sanders Real Estate and would know who had an available apartment to rent. Thinking about moving was exciting and the possibilities were endless.

Partway home, she wondered why she'd waited, then a heartbeat later wondered why she wanted to move. "Conflicted much?" She laughed at herself and felt better. It was a big move to make without having second thoughts.

She needed more privacy than their family home afforded. Her sisters were long past the point where either of them needed her guidance or advice on anything. They basically lived and worked in each other's pockets, but after meeting Dan, she suddenly felt as if she were being confined and needed to spread her wings.

Without thinking, she'd taken the long way home, detouring past the water tower. One of her favorite spots in town was the Apple Grove water tower. Not because of its construction or historical significance; it was the equivalent of their local billboard, announcing everything from who was going steady or breaking up to who had just graduated from Ohio State or the Air Force Institute of Technology.

She looked up and grinned; sure enough, there was a new message today. Chuckling, she shook her head. "Well, now everyone's going to know that Rod and Susie are dating." She ignored the twinge she felt every time a new name appeared up there that wasn't hers and she pulled over. Reaching for her phone, she sent a text to Rhonda Beaudine, letting her know the message on the water tower had changed. Rhonda replied right away that she'd do a drive-by and get a picture for the Apple Grove Gazette.

Knowing that she'd done her small part to keep the gossip flowing and the town moving forward, she grinned as the floodlights came on, illuminating the ladder leading to the catwalk that circled the tower. Sheriff Wallace had quit trying to keep kids from climbing up and painting their news, knowing he couldn't be there twenty-four/seven, so he did the next best thing and had floodlights installed so that no one would ever be climbing in the dark. Smart man, Mitch Wallace... except for not figuring out that Honey B. Harrington had been in love with him for the last fifteen years.

Then again, he probably did know but was hanging on to bachelorhood with both hands. As far as Meg was concerned, Honey had been wasting her time waiting for that man to wake up and smell the coffee.

Shaking her head, wondering what made men's minds work the way they do, she decided she'd waited long enough to do something with her life. Dialing Susie's number, she took the first step toward making an overdue change in her life.

Once she'd made up her mind and placed that phone call, she had set things in motion. Excitement tingled to the tips of her fingers. Anticipation filled her as she pulled into the driveway. She wondered what kind of a reaction waited for her.

Energized, ready to tackle life head on, she parked the truck, hefted her toolbox, and walked to the back door. It opened and her father stood beneath the back door light, frowning. Meg couldn't believe that he'd already heard that she'd called Sanders Real Estate. His stance, feet apart, hands loose at his sides-just like a gunslinger from the old west-and his words confirmed her suspicions. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't happy?"

"What?"

"Mary Murphy just called. Mrs. Graves was picking up a few groceries when Susie Sanders called her about renting her garage apartment to you." He paused and drew in a deep breath. "You don't have to move out, Meg." He reached for the heavy toolbox she carried. "I can convert the barn loft to an apartment for you if you're dead set on having a place of your own."

She let go of the toolbox handle and turned and walked back to the truck.

"Wait!" he called out following her. "Mulcahys talk things through; you can't just leave without telling me what happened."

She opened the passenger door and softly smiled. "I'm not," she said, reaching in the truck once more.

"Then why are you moving out?"

She handed him the basket of eggs and stared up at the face that was more familiar than her own. "Pop," she said. "I'm twenty-nine years old. Don't you think it's way past time for me to live on my own?"

His big frame relaxed as he took the basket from her and asked, "Sweeney's payment?"