Her fingers tightened around the socket wrench. "You need a chainsaw?"

"I've got to clear the road back before I get the new roofing iron and timber shipped up. It's crazy overgrown."

"And you've used a chainsaw before?"

"Nope, but I've used a skill-saw, so how hard can it be?"

That startled a laugh out of her, and she cut him a glance, drinking in the tee shirt taut against his chest but a little loose over his flat stomach, and his long legs crossed at the ankles, the only parts of him she could see. "Such a guy thing to say, usually right before someone hacks off a limb."

"Ah."

One hand disappeared from view followed by a raspy sound she identified as fingertips scratching stubble.

"Hadn't thought of that."

"No offence, but you don't look like the chain-sawing type."

"Not much call for chainsaw skills in my usual working day. My Auckland apartment only has a balcony, so the last time I even used a lawn-mower was as a teenager, when I helped pay my way through university by doing yard work."

With the last radiator bolt tightened, Lauren backed out from under the hood. "Mac's place must feel strange to you."

He flashed a crooked grin. "So much solitude and fresh air, it's kind of spooky when you're used to the city or being around crowds of people living in third-world conditions."

"It does take some getting used to."

"But you enjoy it?" Pushing away from her station wagon, he shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered over.

"It's home." As soon as he moved into her little hemisphere of safe s.p.a.ce, her skin started to p.r.i.c.kle, so she grabbed the first rubber radiator hose off the bench. This was an opening, a chance to put her change-Nate's-mind-by-being-nice plan into action. "Listen, since you were kind enough to help with the whole stuck car thing, I'll chainsaw for you a couple of mornings to clear the road."

"You know how to chainsaw?"

She shot a glance at his incredulous tone, found him shaking his head, fists on his hips. "Don't look so stunned-you've already witnessed how I can outdrive you in your own car."

"Going to make me eat humble pie?"

"Double helping, now that you've called my chain-sawing skills into question."

She returned with the radiator hose and he moved aside, but leaned over the Impala to watch her work. Having him this close made her fingers function like ten fat sausages, and she nearly dropped the hose as she ducked under the hood.

"You sure you can spare the time?"

"I can spare it. The Impala can wait until the afternoons. Besides, I don't want to feel responsible if you accidentally amputate something."

He chuckled, low and husky. "I appreciate your concern for my body parts remaining intact."

Underneath the baggy cotton coveralls, the fine hairs on her arms stood to attention, but she managed a droll tone as she said, "It's the neighborly thing to do."

"We're not big on neighbors and community in the suburb where I live-not that I'm there much."

"Well, it's a little different up here. When a neighbor needs help, we pitch in and get the job done." Lauren popped each end of the radiator hose in the clamps and wriggled them into place. "Can you pa.s.s me the screwdriver from my tool-box before you go?" Rude, but his concentrated focus propelled her blood pressure higher and higher.

"I'm happy to be your tool b.i.t.c.h if you need me." Metal clanked as he rummaged through her tool-box.

She didn't dare look up from the hose clenched in her hands. "You've got more than enough work to do." A screwdriver, held in long, tanned fingers, appeared in front of her face, and she grasped the metal shank and slid it from his grasp so their hands wouldn't touch. "Thanks. I'll see you at about half nine tomorrow morning."

"Okay then, Lauren."

The sound of her name, so rich and deep in his sinfully smooth voice, sent a shiver down her spine as he left the garage.

She held tight to the screwdriver. In only a matter of days, her new neighbor had gate-crashed her safe little world, turning everything topsy-turvy. She had to take control and remember who he was-before it was too late.

The next day, after Kathy left with the kids for the morning school and preschool run, Lauren loaded up her car, whistled for Java, and set off toward Mac's place. Impossible to think of the property as Nate's.

Parking beside Todd's truck, she spotted her brother on the roof, already bare-chested in the morning sunlight. He waved and tossed a length of corrugated iron over the edge.

Java disappeared into a tangle of Kikuyu gra.s.s and overgrown gorse as she climbed out of her car. Blackberry brambles strangled the trees encircling the homestead, and a large camping tent was pitched in a trampled-down spot to the right.

She waded through the long gra.s.s, stumbling to a halt as Nate, also minus his shirt, opened a gla.s.s sliding door and strode onto the deck. Her throat clamped shut, and she swallowed past the blockage with a hollow click. He glanced up at her approach, raised a hand in acknowledgement and then brushed it over the hard, bronzed muscles of his shoulder. Tiny woodchips and dust cascaded off his skin.

"Watch out for the deck to your left; it's rotten right through," he said, as she climbed the steps.

"Thanks." She tugged the zipper tag on her coveralls higher and averted her gaze from the hard planes of his chest. Except her gaze drifted farther south to a taut stomach and a leather tool belt slung low across his hips. A spark of heat flared between her hips, and she mentally shook herself.

"Sure your ankle is good enough for this kind of physical work?"

She rotated her foot inside her leather work boot. "It's fine."

"Good to hear." He shook more woodchips from his hair and tugged the tee shirt he held over his head. "Do you want a quick tour inside before you start?"

"Okay." Normally, she didn't suck at small talk, but today, with Nate and all that perfect male skin? Her tongue refused to cooperate.

The windows, opaque with cobwebs and grime, blocked her view of the house's interior. Nate stood back, and she crossed the peeling threshold and stepped inside.

Her breathing hitched as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. "Holy h.e.l.l-what a bombsite."

"Yep. Talk about your fixer-upper." Nate scuffed a boot across the carpet remains, and the rotted pile flaked away in clumps.

"How did this happen?"

"Rain, through the roof predominantly. One winter's damage, according to your brother, who incidentally shares the same opinion of me as your dog."

"He's overprotective."

"Todd or the dog?"

"Both." She grimaced as the lingering stench of rat and rot a.s.saulted her nostrils. "And the other rooms?"

"The floor is unstable in spots, and unfortunately, some of the piles under the house have sunk, but the roof needs replacing first."

She whistled under her breath. "That's a lot of work."

"Yeah, I'll have to hire some more men in the New Year. Anyway, come and see what's left of the garden-it's wild."

He touched her arm, and the pressure of his fingertips sent goose b.u.mps racing along her skin.

Lauren followed him out of the back door.

Wild? Nature had run riot, a chaotic ma.s.s of overgrown plants in various shades of green. Ferns and saplings of all varieties battled for the sun against more brambles and gorse, all of which towered above her head.

They shoved their way through the undergrowth behind the house for the next ten minutes. She couldn't help but offer ideas and suggestions to restore Mac's gardens to their former glory.

"You know this property well." Nate pushed a fern frond out of her way as they walked around the side of the house.

"Some of Todd and Kathy's extended family took over doing a bit of the maintenance work for him when Mac got too old. I came with them to help out in the gardens once or twice." She shook her head then looked back over the jumble of native bush grown so high it blocked the sunshine sparkling off the Tasman Sea in the distance. "It's a gorgeous spot-on top of the world."

"And far away from the rest of humanity."

"Privacy's not a bad thing."

"I'd call it isolation." Nate tramped a trail through the Kikuyu back toward the driveway. "Don't you get bored up here?"

He paused where the long gra.s.s met the gravel, waiting for her to catch up. The wind ruffled past her, carrying the faintest caress of his cologne. Lauren tried hard, really hard, not to sniff the breeze. Giving him a wide berth, she crossed the driveway to her station wagon. "Spoken like a true city-slicker."

His deep chuckle caused her stomach to squeeze pleasurably low and hard.

"I'd better get on with the job." She dragged out her chainsaw.

"A m.u.f.fin baker, a car restorer, and a lumberjack-there anything you can't do?" His cheeky grin undid her resolve to remain professionally cool.

"Well." She cleared her throat. "I suck at algebra."

"Guess we all have our shortcomings." He gestured behind him. "I'll be up on the roof hauling iron, if you want me."

Nate sauntered away, stripping off his shirt again as he walked.

Lauren unscrewed the cap to check the chainsaw's oil level and watched him go with a sigh. The problem couldn't be denied.

Wanting him was just what she'd started to do.

Sunshine reflected off the roof iron with vicious glee. Summer had returned with a vengeance. Nate swiped his work glove across his brow and tossed another sheet over the edge, waiting for the satisfactory clang when it landed on the pile below.

From the front of the house came the rise-and-fall buzz of Lauren's chainsaw. He stood on the exposed crossbeams, stretching the kinks from his back and glancing in the direction of the high-pitched whine.

His gaze locked on her like a heat-seeking missile. She'd stripped down the coveralls baggy top half and tied the arms around her waist, exposing the tight-fitting, breast emphasizing, black tank top beneath. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the flex of her bare arms as she lowered the saw and the curve of her sweet rear end as she bent and threw yet another gorse branch aside. Even with leather gloves, ear protectors, and safety goggles, she was as s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

"You run outta work, boss?" Todd's voice growled behind him.

"Just a crick in my back."

"Stretch it away from my sister's direction, ay?"

Nate inched around, aware he stood precariously balanced on a wooden beam, high above the ground. He raised his palms. "I wasn't being disrespectful. She's a beautiful lady."

Todd shoved his wraparound sungla.s.ses onto his head, his eyes pinched into slits. "She's off limits to you."

"A man can admire from a distance."

"Sure. 'Cept you don't strike me as the type of man who'd just admire a woman from a distance."

"You don't know what type of man I am."

"No?" Todd tugged on his beard. "I hear you're the type to screw a guy's wife and then beat the s.h.i.t out of him for objecting."

Ah. So there it was. The cards were stark, ugly, and slapped on the table. And if Todd knew, no doubt his sister did, also. Little wonder she jumped like he'd goosed her when he touched her arm earlier.

"You don't deny it?"

He caught the flicker of curiosity in the other man's gruff tone, but he let the silence stretch-if you could call the background drone of the chainsaw "silence."

"Do I deny hitting the man?" His lips twisted. "No. Not with photos rising to the surface like pond sc.u.m. Camera doesn't lie, does it?"

"And Savannah Payne?"

He pulled off his work gloves and tucked them under his arm. "Do you believe everything the media tries to shove down your throat?"

"Nah. I got a brain. Might look like a big, dumb surfer, but don't be fooled."

"I wasn't."

Todd's face split into a grin, and he slotted his hammer into the tool belt slung around his hips. "Must be time for a break, you reckon?"

They picked their way across the beams to the ladder. Todd stepped down first then paused. "Did the fella deserve it?"

Nate hacked out a laugh. "You're one of the few people who've asked me that."

"And?"

"Yeah, he deserved it. And a lot worse."

Todd nodded sagely. "Then we're good, boss." He descended a couple of rungs, stopped and c.o.c.ked a gun-shaped forefinger at him. "But if you touch my sister without her permission, I'll see to it you permanently swap that tool belt for a colostomy bag."

Nate swung his leg down onto the first ladder rung. People were always willing to believe the worst, the most scandalous explanation. Too lazy or indifferent to consider the other side of the coin and to think beyond the obvious garbage the media so liked to force-feed the public.

One thing Todd was right about, though. Nate should keep his eye on the prize and far away from Lauren's very tempting, very hot body.