He hesitated, then set his empty bottle on the rail. “That was a long time ago, Tiffany.” The way he said her name sent a stupid little thrill down her spine and an unwanted memory started to rise to the surface of her consciousness, a memory that she’d sworn to bury so deep it would never appear again. But there it was, in her mind’s eye. Clear as the day it had happened: J.D. stripped to the waist, drips of sweat sliding down the finely honed muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“You can’t just forget the past, pretend it didn’t happen.” Her throat constricted and she wanted to call back the words, but it was too late.

“It would be better if we could sometimes,” he said, and she knew in a heartbeat that he, too, was fighting unwanted memories; forbidden, painful recollections of something that, if acknowledged, would only cause more damage.

This conversation with its intimate overtones was getting her nowhere in a big hurry. She swept the last of the drying pansy petals into the shrubs and noticed that Christina was busy plucking blades of grass and tossing them into the air. “Don’t worry about Stephen,” she said a little too sharply. “I can handle him.”

“It’s a tough load. Teenage boy, little girl, part-time job, and running this place.”

“Not a problem, J.D. Well, at least not yours.” She forced a confident smile and wiped her hands on her jeans. No reason for him or any of the Santini family, for that matter, to know any of her troubles.

“It looks like you could use a man around here.”

“Excuse me?” she said, nearly stammering at his gall. “A man? Is that what you said, that I could use a man?” She let out a puff of disbelief. “Let’s get one thing straight, Jay. I don’t need a man. Not now. Not ever. I—we’re just fine.”

“Are you?” He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and she was suddenly aware of his bronzed forearms, all muscle and sinew, where his sleeves had been rolled up. His fingers framed his fly and she looked up sharply to see an amused smile slash across his face. Set defiantly, his jaw showed the first shadow of a dark beard and his teeth flashed white as he spoke. “Let me tell you the way I see it,” he said, moving closer. Too close.

Tiffany’s heartbeat quickened.

“Your daughter is only three, probably doesn’t really understand what happened to her daddy, your son is on his way to becoming a major delinquent, this house is falling down around you, and you’re dead on your feet.”

“Is that what you see?”

“On top of all that, you’re trying to deal with being a widow and single parent.”

“Not that it’s any of your business.”

“These kids are my brother’s.”