The brief glimpse of the twelve-year-old's raw hurt and anger stirred something familiar in Nash.

Stephanie drove up and broke his concentration. Then he got caught up in settling the twins. As he was about to climb into the passenger seat, Kevin stepped out of the restaurant.

“What did you think?" his brother asked.

Nash looked back at the pizza place. "Good people."

“I agree." Kevin grinned and slapped him on the back. "See you soon." He ducked his head into the minivan. "Nice to meet you, Stephanie. If this guy gives you any trouble, you let me know." She smiled. "So far he's been terrific, but if that changes, I'll call."

“You do that. Night." Kevin stepped back into the restaurant. Stephanie watched him go.

“You have a great family," she said. "You're lucky." Nash had never thought of himself that way, but in this case, maybe she was right.

Stephanie sucked in a breath and did her best to hold on to her temper. "Brett, it's late, it's a school night and you're behaving like a brat. If you're try- ing to convince me that you're not mature enough to handle evenings out on a weeknight, you're doing a great job." Her oldest flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Since arriving back from their dinner out with Nash and his family, Brett had been sullen, uncommunicative and mouthy. She couldn't figure out what the problem was. Sure he was inching closer to being a teenager, but hormones couldn't kick in over the course of a couple of hours, could they? She sank onto the bed and put her hand on his stomach. "I know you had a good time. I saw you laughing."

“It was okay."

“Just okay? I thought you were having more fun than that." He shrugged.

She began to rub his stomach, something she'd done when he was little and not feeling well. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what has your panties in a bunch. I'm just going to sit right here. After a while, I might start singing." He continued to stare at the ceiling, but she saw his mouth twitch. All the boys thought she had a horrible voice and begged her not to sing. Plus, he would really hate the panty remark. She wondered which one would get to him first.

“I don't wear panties."

“I do the laundry. I already know that." She leaned over him. "How about I just stare at you?"

She made her eyes as wide as possible and forced herself not to blink. Brett pressed his lips together, but it was too late. First he smiled, then he grinned, then he giggled and turned away.

“Stop staring at me!" She relaxed her face and sat back. "I will if you'll talk." He turned on his side so he was facing her, but instead of looking at her face, he studied the blanket. "Do you still love Dad?" She was unprepared for the question. Brett didn't want to have this talk very often, but whenever he did, she felt uncomfortable. She always went for the easy answer, rather than the truth, because that's what Brett wanted to hear. Because she wanted her son to remember his father as a good person and his parents as happy together.

“Of course I still love him," she said gently. "Why do you ask?" He shrugged.

“Is this about Nash? Are you worried that something's going on between us?" Another shrug.

“He's being nice," she said. "I like him, but that doesn't mean anything. He's on vacation. When his vacation is over, he's going back to Chicago." Where the handsome widower probably had dozens of elegant, sophisticated women vying for his attention. Where he wouldn't even remember a single mom with three kids who had an embarrassing crush on him.

“Do you want to, like, you know, go out with him?" Honestly she would much prefer to stay in with Nash, but that wasn't what Brett wanted to know. Two weeks ago she would have told her son that she never planned on dating or getting involved with a man ever. But Nash's arrival had shown her that there were some empty places in her life. While she would never be stupid enough to risk marriage, she wouldn't mind a little male companionship now and then.

“I can't imagine Nash and me on date," she said truthfully. "But your dad has been gone three years. While my feelings for him haven't changed, there will come a time when I want to start dating again." Brett's blue eyes filled with tears. "Why? Why can't you just love Dad?"

“Because he's gone." She pulled him into a sitting position, then drew him into her arms. "When you get a little older, you're going to think girls are a whole lot better than icky. I promise. So you're going to go out. You may even have a girlfriend." He writhed in her arms. "Mo-om."

“Just listen. So you have this girl you really care about. Will you still love your brothers?" He looked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

“Just answer the question. Will you still love them?"

“I guess. If they're not being dopey."

“Will you still love me?"

“Sure."

“That's my point. The human heart has the capacity to love as many people as we want to let into our lives. If I start dating or not, nothing about my feelings for you, the twins or even Dad are going to change. There's more than enough room for everyone."

“But I like thinking about you with Dad."

“You can keep thinking about that. I didn't leave him, honey. He died. We mourned him and we still love him. That's the right thing to do. But it's also right to live our lives and be happy. Don't you think your dad would have wanted that for all of us?" Stephanie knew that Marty would have loved the idea of being mourned endlessly by his wife and children, but she wasn't about to lay that guilt on her twelve-year-old.

Brett nodded slowly. "But you're not going out with Nash."

“I'm not."

“Promise?"

“Nash and I will not go out of this house on a date." She made an X over her heart. "But that's as much as my life as you get to dictate, young man. And should I decide to go out with someone, you're going to have to accept the idea. Agreed?"

“Yeah. No problem."

“Good." She kissed his forehead, then released him. After he scrambled under the covers, she tucked them in around him, said good-night and walked out into the hallway. After closing the door, she moved down the stairs.

She wondered when Brett had started to consider Nash a threat. Was there something in his behavior, or was her son able to subconsciously pick up on her strong attraction? Not that it mattered. She'd been very comfortable agreeing to no dates with Nash. Somehow she couldn't see him offering to take her to dinner and a movie. He wasn't a "dinner and a movie" kind of guy. Nash was more late-night walks along the river and hot, passionate kisses up against the crumbling stone wall of the ancient castle.

Stephanie smiled. At least he was in her imagination. As there was neither a river nor a castle nearby, she was probably safe. Not that she wanted to be.

She reached the main floor and turned toward the kitchen, then stopped when a slight movement caught her attention. As she spun around, she saw Nash pacing restlessly across the living-room rug. He glanced up and saw her, came to a stop and shrugged.

“I'm a little wound from the dinner," he said. "I'm not ready to go up to bed. Am I bothering you?" Not in the way he meant. "Of course not. I have to make cookies for the twins to take to school tomorrow. There are few things less interesting than watching someone bake. You want to come into the kitchen and be bored for a while? It will probably help you sleep."

“Sure." As soon as he agreed, she wanted to stop and bang her head against a nearby wall. Watching her might be boring for him, but having him near was wildly exciting for her. She really didn't need to spend more time with him. Hanging around with Nash only seemed to encourage her overactive imagination. Before their dinner tonight she'd thought he was sexy and roguishly charming. After their dinner, she was starting to like him.

She'd enjoyed watching him interact with his family. He'd been caring and understanding with the dozens of kids running around, attentive and interested in his brothers. She'd been stunned to find out what he did for a living. So much for her theory that he was a professor or sold shoes. Instead he inhabited a dark and dangerous world, which only made him more physically appealing.

Stephanie told herself that she had to stop imagining Nash as the bare-chested caveman whisking her off into the wilderness. The poor guy had signed on to be her guest, not the star of her erotic fantasies. If he knew what she was thinking, he would be forced to run screaming into the night.

She collected ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and set them on the counter. Nash took a seat at the kitchen table, then half rose.

“Can I help?" She shook her head. "I've done this so many times, I don't have to look at a recipe. But if you behave, I'll let you have a sample fresh from the oven."

“Deal." She grabbed a couple of eggs and put them next to the canister of flour. "So what did you think of tonight?" she asked.

“It went well. I'm not sure I can keep everyone straight."

“I wouldn't want to try," she admitted. "The name tags were a great idea." She measured brown sugar. "Where in Chicago do you live?"

“I have a condo by the lake. I can walk to a lot of great restaurants. There's a good jogging trail nearby."

“I've never been, but I can't imagine you do much jogging in the winter."

“True. Then I hit the gym." And he had the body to prove it. Although she doubted Nash worked out to be buff. No doubt it was required for his job. She tried not to sigh at the image of him in a ratty T-shirt and shorts, lifting heavy weights. Instead she channeled her energy into vigorously whipping her eggs.

“I grew up with one brother and my mom," he said quietly. "I've never had any experience with a large family."