James Dean Santini. The enigma. She’d tried to avoid him, but it had proved impossible with him living upstairs. Every night she’d thought about him, only one floor away, as she’d lain in her bed.

There weren’t enough cold showers in the world to keep her mind from replaying in sensual detail the few kisses they had shared, the intimate caresses. You’re just lonely, she’d told herself over and over again. And it’s been a long time since you’ve been touched or held by a man. What you’re feeling is normal. It’s just too damned bad you’re feeling it about J.D. Santini.

She walked into her bedroom and kicked her shoes into the closet. Aside from the tense atmosphere at home, she’d suffered an incredibly long day at the office. The fax machine had refused to work, the new insurance rates from the company had caused a dozen customers to call in with complaints or ideas about how to lower their premiums, she’d helped two clients fill out accident reports and, to top it all, the computers had decided to take the day off.

She pulled on a pair of shorts and a V-necked T-shirt, then snapped her hair into a ponytail.

Barefoot, she padded to Stephen’s room and eyed his clutter. Empty pop cans and dishes littered the room. His bed was unmade and there were magazines, comic books and video-game cartridges scattered across the floor.

Whether he liked it or not, the kid would have to clean up the mess. She only hoped it wouldn’t take a fire hose and an exterminator to get the room clean again. The phrase “A man’s home is his castle” flitted through her mind, and she thought a more apt description would be “A boy’s room is a garbage dump.”

At the sound of an engine, she crossed to the window, her naive heart soaring at the thought that she would see J.D. again. Instead she spied Luke Gates’s pickup pulling into the drive. Ellie was right. He was an interesting but mysterious man. He was quiet, kept to himself and hadn’t caused any problems so far. Crossing her fingers, she hoped against hope that he’d turn out to be a perfect tenant, because she needed the money to stay in the black.

Now, if she could just lease the other unit in the basement, she could probably make ends meet. Probably.

Rubbing the kinks from her neck, she walked downstairs and hit the landing just as the front door burst open. Stephen, his face red with exertion, his eyebrows drawn into a single harsh line, his young jaw set, strode into the house.

“Hi.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Mom. Gosh, I didn’t see you.”