"Mind if I ask you something?" he said.

Her breath caught. "Sure."

And let's hope it's out to dinner, she thought.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

"I remember being twenty-seven. It's a great age."

As if he had decades on her.

Joy scowled. "Yeah, well, I feel like I'm forty."

Because being in the full-time, eldercare business would do that to a person.

"Well, you don't look it," he said dryly. "Not even close. You could barely pa.s.s for your own age."

The idea he thought she was overly young rankled and she looked away from his too handsome face. Unfortunately, her eyes latched on to his legs. His thighs were striated with muscle and so were his calves. Fine dark hair marked his tanned skin.

With the force of a sucker punch, she was. .h.i.t by a wild, illicit fantasy of what one of those thighs would feel like parting her knees and then brushing up against her core as he kissed her deep and hard. Her body roared to life, blood pumping, lungs getting tight.

And had someone poured warm honey all over her skin?

"It was nice seeing you again, Joy." Gray's voice was professional-sounding, as if he were dismissing her.

"Can I ask you a question?" she blurted.

His eyebrows arched over the top of the sungla.s.ses. "Fair's fair."

"Why do you want to know how old I am?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Actually, I was curious about Frankie. She's handling this place really well, but I figure she's only what, three years older than you?"

The fact that he'd only wanted to know about her sister put the kibosh on her inner harlot. Quick as a cold shower, she was back to normal. "Yes. Yes, she is."

"I look forward to her call. And I'm sure your kitchen will be back up and running in no time. Your plumber's working d.a.m.n hard."

Joy frowned. The plumber had already left.

"Although by the sound of it, he's also a demolition expert." Gray waved and turned away.

She watched him saunter down the dock. He moved smoothly and powerfully. She wanted to call him back. To ask him to swim with her or just to stay and talk about anything. Her sister. His father's party. The weather.

And then, as if he'd heard her wish, he stopped just as he reached the gra.s.s. "Your brother," he said over his shoulder.

"What about him?" She tugged up the edge of her towel.

There was a pause and then he seemed to shake himself to attention. "The accident. Was it on Reese Cutler's sailboat?"

"Yes, it was. Did you know Alex's partner?"

"His wife, Ca.s.sandra, actually. Is Reese okay?"

"I'm so sorry," she said gently. "He was killed."

Gray swore under his breath. "That's awful. I'm sure Alex is devastated."

"He is."

"If there's anything I can do, let me know."

"We will."

He nodded his goodbye and strode up the lawn. His concern for her brother touched her heart, draining away some of the frustration. And as if panning for gold, she replayed their conversation, something she always did whenever they said even two words to each other. Something struck her. If he'd cared about how old Frankie was, why hadn't he just come out and asked her age?

And what was that thing about the plumber?

Joy hurried up to the house, and as she got closer, she heard a loud thumping sound. Coming from upstairs. Confused, she followed the sounds to the Lincoln Bedroom.

And jerked to a halt in the doorway.

George was driving a sledgehammer into the wall while Grand-Em stood next to him with great satisfaction.

"What are you doing!" Joy hollered.

Gray Bennett slid into his BMW and gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white.He felt like a lecher. Ogling some woman-some girl like that.

d.a.m.n it, even though she'd said she felt like she was forty, Joy Moorehouse looked like she was barely out of high school. All lovely skin and luscious strawberry blond hair and flashing eyes-that special, rare innocence drifting off of her like sweet perfume.

She made him feel ancient.

And hot as h.e.l.l.

He groaned, shifting in the leather seat. What the h.e.l.l was he doing, fantasizing about Joy Moorehouse? He'd known her forever. Good G.o.d, he could remember her in pigtails as she'd danced across the gra.s.s of the town square during some parade or other. And he'd always thought she was lovely, sure, but this summer, something had changed. He'd first noticed the difference when he'd seen her sitting in a car downtown in early July. He'd been struck by her smile as she'd spoken to her grandmother. It was so honest. Direct. Uncomplicated.

And just now while he'd looked into those wide, beautiful eyes of hers, he'd somehow been reminded of every dirty deed he'd ever done in his life. All the way back to when he'd stolen a BB gun from the Saranac Lake hardware store when he was eleven.

G.o.d, the list of bad things he'd done was a long one. Which was what you'd expect from a political operative who'd floated around the Washington cesspool for a decade and a half.

Dens of iniquity just did not sp.a.w.n men of honor, he thought. And the righteous never survived in them.

Politics was all about playing hardball and he had one h.e.l.l of a vicious arm, as well as a fantastic accuracy rate. Which was why he was paid so d.a.m.n well and feared by public servants all the way up the food chain into the Oval Office itself. He'd made a fortune, to add to the one he'd inherited, and for a long time, he'd been downright impressed with himself.

Lately, though, he'd begun to feel that he'd lost his way. Lost himself. And seeing Joy brought those dislocations into close, painful focus. He'd wanted to reach out and touch a little of her purity, as if that would cleanse him.

He gritted his teeth and thought there was going to be absolutely no touching.

Sweet, innocent girls were not safe with the likes of him. He'd broken enough hearts to know that his attractions were intense and short-lived. He moved on as soon as he got what he wanted, and though he didn't like his behavior, he hadn't been able to break the pattern and he wasn't into lying. No woman had captured his attention for long, and when they asked him how he felt, he was honest.

Which had led him to being slapped once or twice.

He closed his eyes. And saw Joy standing on the dock before she'd become aware of his presence, that bikini of hers giving nearly everything away.

Gray cursed and started the car. All he needed was to be caught sitting in her driveway staring into s.p.a.ce with a hard-on. Yeah, that would be just terrific.

As he headed out onto Route 22, he told himself that as soon as he and his father headed back to Washington, everything would return to normal. He'd forget all about those wide, lovely eyes of hers. Within days of being in D.C., he wouldn't think of her at all.

Frankie let Nate drive home from Albany because she was exhausted and distracted. As they got on the Northway, she glanced over her shoulder once again.Alex was out cold in the back of the car. After all the tests the doctors had put him through, he looked like he'd been to h.e.l.l and back, his skin sallow under his tan, his eyes sunken. His whole body had been shaky as he'd gotten out of the hospital's wheelchair and maneuvered himself into the back seat at the end of the ordeal. The orthopedic surgeon had decided to operate on his leg and ankle next week and his recovery was going to be a long and very expensive one.

Thank G.o.d he'd been smart enough to get himself health-care coverage a few years ago.

Frankie reached out to stroke his arm, but held back, not wanting to wake him. Although it had been hard to see him suffer through all those tests, what pained her more than anything else was how unclear his future was. It was hard to tell whether or not his career as a professional sailor was over. She thought he suspected it was, however, and that the loss must be staggering.

"Is he asleep?" Nate asked.

She nodded and settled back into her seat.

"Listen," Nate continued, "I've been thinking about the kitchen situation."

So had she. The disaster had been in the back of her mind all afternoon. As had its implications.

"I'm selling," she said softly.

His head jacked around. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"Why the h.e.l.l do you think? I'm out of money," she snapped. With a ragged breath, she put a hand to her forehead and leaned against the window. "I'm sorry."

Nate's palm, warm and sure, covered her knee. "We can make it. I'll get us back up and rolling as soon as I can."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't say we. Please just...don't."

His touch evaporated.

"I want to help you," he said with an edge.

"I know you do." But you're leaving in three weeks. "Except it really is over. I called Mike Roy before we left and told him to get in touch with the Englishman."

"Ah, h.e.l.l, Frankie." Nate's voice was rough.

"It's my only option. Even if I could afford to replace the plumbing, there are a hundred other things in that house that are on the verge of exploding. White Caps needs someone who can make a serious capital investment. We're talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. And besides, even if I could squeak by on the mortgage this year, I've got a huge tax bill to face in the spring. This season's business was...extraordinary, thanks to you. But next year? We're not going to be able to sustain the momentum. I need to face reality."

And it was breaking her heart.

Her conversation with Mike had been short, but grueling. And in spite of the fact that he hadn't been totally up front with her about Karl Graves, she knew he felt awful.

"There has to be a way," Nate said.

"There isn't. And I have to accept that so please don't...don't try and give me hope."

Nate's jaw tightened as he fell silent.

When they finally pulled into White Caps' driveway, dusk was draining the light from the sky and the house glowed. Nate killed the engine, but Frankie made no move to get out of the car. She just stared at her home.

Images flooded her mind, wrenching her back to the past. She saw her family together on the side lawn at Alex's thirteenth birthday party. And her father sticking his head out an upstairs window while launching a balsa wood glider into the air. She remembered snowmen being rolled in the winter, and fireflies getting caught in the summer, and the brilliant leaves falling in the autumn.

At least she could take the memories with her, though they would be less vivid somehow.

She looked at her brother in the back seat. Alex's long arms and legs were stretched out, the casts very white against his tanned skin. A pillow was crammed against one door, his head bent at an angle.

"I just don't know how to tell them," she whispered before reaching out and gently touching her brother's forearm. "Lexi? Lexi, we're home."

His lids lifted and those brilliant blue eyes were horribly dull. As he struggled to sit up, he refused the hand she offered.

"Frankie!" Joy burst out of the house. "Frankie! You're not going to believe this! Guess what!"

The roof caved in, Frankie thought numbly. No, wait, the roof let go and the front staircase collapsed.

She got out of the car, not paying too much attention to Joy. She was more concerned with getting Alex to his feet without having him fall over. And naturally, he was busy pushing her away.

"Frankie!" Joy thrust something in her face. "Look at this!"

She forced her tired eyes to focus.

On a diamond ring the size of a walnut.

"Nice piece of bling," Alex muttered as he arranged himself on his crutches and started slowly for the house.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?" Frankie demanded.

"Grand-Em and George found it. In the wall. Arthur Garrison really did give it to her and she really did hide it from her father so he couldn't make her accept the proposal."

"My...G.o.d." Frankie took the piece. It was heavy and sparkled like a rainbow.

"We can pay for the plumbing with it!" Joy's face was aglow. "And more! It's got to be worth a couple hundred thousand, right? So you can get caught up with the bills, maybe even put some money away for next year."

Nate appeared over Frankie's shoulder. Just in time to catch her as her legs went out and she fainted, dead as a mackerel.

Chapter Sixteen.