She licked her lips but didn’t look away.

Fascinated by the play of her tongue over her plump bottom lip, he shifted to hide his arousal.

“This isn’t going to happen,” she said.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I’m not interested.”

His fingertips skimmed over her cheek.

A sharp intake of breath made a liar out of her.

“Okay,” he said. His face hovered half an inch from hers. “Maddie?”

Her lips parted, almost begging him to take what he knew she wanted as much as he did, even if she’d never admit it. “Your lunch is getting cold.”

Glancing at the bag on the table, she broke the spell.

An odd twinge of disappointment warred with relief. Just as well. He had no business wondering what it would be like to sink into the lush sweetness of her mouth, to run his tongue over that sexy bottom lip, to see her caramel-colored eyes darken with desire . . .

He helped her get comfortable on the sofa and got up to find plates. “Ketchup?” he asked, glancing back to see her nod. Interesting that the same woman who couldn’t tear her eyes off him a minute ago was now having trouble looking at him at all. “I hope you eat meat.”

“I’ll eat anything.”

Mac smiled at the irony. If he wasn’t careful, he might just start to like this guarded, closed off, supposedly uninterested woman. “The foil wrappers kept the burgers warm, but the fries are kind of soggy.”

“I don’t care.”

He delivered her plate and sat in a mismatched chair that had been old ten years ago. As they ate in silence, he took a closer look around at the threadbare room. The furniture was worn and battered, but every surface was clean. Other than a few photos of an adorable blond baby posed with another darker-haired baby of about the same age and the toys stacked in the corner, the room contained no further clues to unlock the mystery of Maddie Chester. Who was she? Who’d fathered her child? Where was he now? Did she love him? Did she miss him? Did he help her out financially?

Mac had never been so curious about a total stranger. Well, she was no longer a total stranger . . . Since he’d held her in his arms and carried her home, they’d probably graduated from strangers to acquaintances. Maybe by the time he nursed her back to health, they’d even be friends. He glanced over at her to find her expression blank, her eyes fixed on the scuffed wall. Okay, friends might be too much to hope for.

“Who’s the other baby in the pictures?” he asked, settling on the safest of his long list of questions.

“My niece Ashleigh. She’s a month older than Thomas.”

“That’ll be nice for them to have someone to play with.”

“I guess. If we’re still here.”

“Going somewhere?”