She held back as he tried to guide her toward the edge of the porch. “Why don’t I take the umbrella and return it tomorrow?”

“It tends to be unwieldy in the wind. I can hold it while you get in your car. No sense trying to juggle the door and keys too.”

Hard to argue with his logic—even if the right side of her brain was sending out a red alert.

He tugged again, and she gave up. What could happen on a fifteen-second dash to her car—even if his touch was reawakening old feelings best left in mothballs? Feelings so strong she’d been on the verge of ditching her rich-girl lifestyle, defying her father’s wishes for a match he deemed suitable, and running off with a man who worked in the dirt with his hands but whose heart was pure gold.

Until she’d sabotaged that future with a few ill-chosen, overheard words.

“Didn’t you unlock your doors?” Jack stopped beside her car and tried the handle.

“It’s an older-model car, and the auto locks didn’t work when I bought it. The convenience wasn’t worth the cost of the repair.” But why hadn’t she had her keys out and ready?

You know why, Christi. Distraction was always your middle name around Jack.

Too true.

She found the keys at last and fumbled for the right one. But when she tried to fit it in the lock, it slipped from her trembling fingers and fell to the wet pavement.

“Sorry.” She started to bend down, but he stopped her with a touch on her shoulder.

“Let me.”

He scooped the keys up in one smooth motion, unlocked the door, and handed them back, his fingers brushing hers.

Her respiration shorted out.

Good grief.

She was acting like an adolescent on her first date.

And she had to get over it. Fast. Whatever lingering feelings she harbored for Jack, any attraction he’d felt for her had died long ago.

She clutched the keys tight in her fist and tried to keep breathing. “Thanks again—for everything.”

“My pleasure.” His response came out husky.

She risked a peek at him—and at his tender expression, she grabbed the edge of the door and held on tight.

Unless her instincts were experiencing a major malfunction, he was feeling the same zing that was making her fingertips tingle.

Was it possible she’d finally convinced him she’d changed? That he was not only letting go of his animosity toward her but exchanging it for affection? Attraction, even?

As if he’d read her mind, he canted the umbrella to shield them from the wind and driving rain. Slowly lifted his hand. Traced the line of her jaw with a fingertip that didn’t feel any too steady.

Surrounded by darkness, under the shadow of the umbrella, his features were fuzzy. But his almost palpable yearning was crystal clear.