He got a snort for an answer.

"I mean it. You're a great kid. And all you have to do is be yourself and not worry."

"Being myself is what gets me into trouble."

"No way. I bet you get around them and are nervous, or you try too hard. You really are a great kid.

And you don't have to take any crap from those guys."

"You're saying I should fight back?" The twelve-year-old gasped. "Like fist fighting?"

Jesse couldn't tell if Travis was horrified or thought it was cool. Not that it mattered either way. Jesse

could just imagine how Kate would respond if she found him giving the boy fighting lessons. Though his initial instinct was to do just that.

"No. No fighting." He racked his brain for an alternate idea. "But you have to stand up to them."

Now there was a useful plan, Jesse thought disdainfully.

"That's easy for you to say. You're cool. And you wear cool clothes."

"I'm not so cool," Jesse admitted. "I'm just a kid in adult clothes. Ask Kate."

Travis finally smiled, giving a snort of laugher. "Yeah, you make her crazy."

"Maybe a little."

Another snort. "I think you make her a lot crazy."

"Okay, okay, I get the point." He grimaced. "But I think she's coming around."

Suddenly they both smiled, the image of Kate clearly in each of their heads.

"Come on. Let me talk to your coach. Then we'll figure out how to deal with golf camp."

The minute Jesse headed for the opposite end of the driving range, Gary Peters noticed.

"Jesse Chapman!" the big burly coach called out.

"Hello, Gary."

The men shook hands.

"I was hoping you'd stop by sometime," Gary said.

Jesse turned to Travis. "Go get your clubs, T."

The minute Travis headed away, his feet scuffing in the dirt, Jesse refocused on the coach. "I wanted to talk about Travis."

"He's a good kid."

"I know that, but when I drove up a few minutes ago, he was getting pushed around."

Gary sighed. "I've been trying to keep my eye on him, but you know how it is with a boy like Travis."

Jesse's eyes narrowed. "No, I don't."

Peters shifted his weight. "Like I said, he's a good kid, but he's had a hard time fitting in. He's kind of awkward. I wish I could do more. Travis could be a decent golfer. His short game is pretty damn good and he putts better than anyone in the class. I'll hand him that. Hell, if the sports programs had a lick of money to spend, I'd have an assistant and it wouldn't be me alone trying to keep twenty-five kids in line. What we need is money. Then I could do something with a kid like Travis. And it's the same all over town."

They talked for a while longer. And by the time he and Travis were leaving, Jesse had an idea where to start to help his son.

First thing Saturday morning, Jesse strode into Kate's house like a drill sergeant, waking everyone up so he could tell them his new plan.

"Shopping?" Travis and Kate asked in unison.

"You need some new clothes," Jesse told Travis.

At ten sharp, they drove to the Sunland Park Mall. Going from store to store, Kate sipped a cup of coffee as they went. But coffee or no, it quickly became clear that none of them knew what constituted cool clothes for the junior high set. Thankfully there was a teenage sales clerk working at one of the stores who was full of advice.

When they finished, Kate didn't mention that Travis looked like an urban thug, with his crotch down to his knees. She'd never seen the boy look so happy as he was now in his ill-fitting jeans and gigantic Nike trainers- not sneakers, as she had mistakenly called them. Jesse looked as happy as his son.

Once newly attired, Travis walked or strutted around the shops. On the way home, they stopped at the grocery store. Jesse had announced halfway through their mall excursion that he was going to cook dinner that night. When they pulled into the drive, the Jeep loaded with groceries and cool clothes, every ounce of darkness that had been in Jesse's eyes when he had arrived home last evening from Travis's golf camp was gone.

After Kate put the groceries away, she went out to the guest cottage to talk to Jesse. The minute she walked in the door, her palms felt moist. No matter how many times she saw him, he did that to her.

"You were wonderful with Travis today," she said truthfully, her gaze drifting to his lips.

He smiled a lopsided smile, his hair falling forward, making him look like an errant schoolboy. "You were great. Thanks for coming with us."

He took a step toward her, reaching out. But his hand froze when they heard the back screen door slam.

"Hey!" Travis called, barreling inside. Then he stopped. "Jesse? Kate?"

She blinked and leaped back, her cheeks red-hot with guilty embarrassment at what she had wanted to

do. Let him touch her. Touch him back.

After one look at them, the boy smiled and nodded knowingly. "Has he been showing you that putter of his?"

Kate thought she would collapse. Jesse's brows slammed together. Unperturbed, Travis went straight

over to the club in question and rummaged up a handful of balls. For the first time she noticed the

makeshift putting course set up around the guest cottage.

"Look at this," Travis announced. Then he proceeded to putt into a soup can over and over again with astounding accuracy. "I've been practicing."

Jesse stood there, a grin turning up one corner of his mouth. "I can tell," he said.

Kate felt amazingly relieved as Jesse and Travis straightened the putting course made from cans and man-made hazards. Travis had not been referring to her love products show.

After they putted a few rounds, Jesse suggested they go for a swim. Travis was all for it. Kate wasn't

nearly as enthusiastic. It wasn't the swimming part that bothered her-though she couldn't remember the last time she had actually ventured into the pool-but rather the idea of putting on a swimsuit that gave her pause. After the Cowboy Bob debacle, she had sworn off the ankle weights.

But the next thing she knew she had changed into a one-piece Speedo that she'd had since the days when she thought she'd get in shape by swimming laps. When she came out of the house with a towel wrapped around her torso and secured under her arms, Jesse whistled.

Kate blushed.

Travis said, "There's that look again."

"What look?" she asked.

Jesse gave a quick shake of his head.

Travis answered anyway. "The one you got when you did that cat interview."

Jesse groaned. Kate would have returned inside except he caught up to her and steered her back around

just as Travis did a cannonball.

"Oops," Jesse said as she stood there dripping, though there was barely a trace of repentance on his face. And even less when he tossed her in the pool.

"I take it that was another accident," she said when she came up for air.

"Nope, that was on purpose."

For the rest of the afternoon, they swam and played. At dinner, Jesse and Travis cooked everything.

They laughed and joked, and Kate felt a poignant squeeze that she didn't want to examine when Jesse reached across the table and ruffled Travis's hair. The day was idyllic in many ways, at least until much later when Kate realized that spending hours outside that afternoon had left her with a sunburn to beat all sunburns.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," she moaned after she pulled herself out of the bath.

Drying off was more of a patting affair, each touch making her grimace. Gingerly slipping a robe on over

her cotton nightgown, she went to check on Travis. The boy was sound asleep. The sheets and covers were half thrown off, half tangled around his ankles, his Spiderman pajamas too small and so old that she knew they were something that he hadn't yet wanted to give up.

She allowed herself to go into the room to straighten the covers. She adored the boy, but knew better than to get too attached. He'd be leaving in the next couple of weeks. Would Jesse still leave then, too?

The thought caught her off guard.

Frantically, she worked to shore up her defenses. He would leave. He wouldn't stay. She told herself to remember that.

Clicking the door shut, she went to the kitchen. In jeans and a T-shirt, Jesse stood by the counter,

staring out into the dark yard. She made no noise, just stood for a while looking at him, taking him in.

After a moment he turned. He didn't say a word at the sight of her but simply leaned back against the sink, his hands hooked over the edge behind him. His gaze was at once confused and sensual as his eyes ran the length of her.

"You're up late, even for you," he said, his voice both rugged and sexy.

"It's not so late."

The clock in the hall rang the hour. Two in the morning.

"Maybe a little late."

Pushing away, he came toward her. Her heart stilled before it jarred to a start in her chest. Her pulse