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      To Patience Bloom, aptly named and endowed with talents for perception, encouragement and support that go above and beyond every day!

      CHAPTER ONE

      SARA DARLING WAS collecting donations for the Children’s Sunshine Fund throughout her bayside neighborhood, and it wasn’t easy over the last weeks of summer when everyone was gone on vacation. The beach was unusually warm today and the stairs to each cottage seemed higher and higher as she moved down the beachfront area. To make that climb and then come up with no answer to her knock was demoralizing. The only people who opened the doors were vacation renters, and they weren’t interested in donating to a local fund.

      “Collecting,” she muttered sarcastically as fat beads of sweat began a race down her spine. “Begging would be a better name for it.”

      Somehow she let her sister Jill talk her into doing this every year, and every year, she swore it would be the last time. She walked past her own little house and smiled. She hadn’t been living in it for the last few weeks. Renovations were underway. She could hardly wait to go in and see it all changed. Just a few more days and work should be over. She could pack up her baby and move back home.

      The last house on her schedule was the one next to hers. The neighbors were in Europe on their annual trek, but they did rent out to short-term vacationers. She looked at the red door and sighed, wishing she could head back to her baby right now. One last climb.

      She made it and gave a short knock on the door. No response. Oh, well. She started to turn away, but a sound from inside turned her back again. What was that? A siren? An alarm? Or was the tenant playing some sort of weird music?

      What the heck, it was none of her business. She started to turn away again, but the door suddenly swung open as though someone had yanked it from behind. Sara found herself staring into a pair of icy-blue eyes beneath dark, intimidating brows.

      “Yes?” the man asked shortly, as though she was already late answering him.

      Unaccountably she was flustered and for a moment, she couldn’t remember why she’d come. “I … uh …”

      Maybe it was because he was so darn handsome. Or maybe it was because he was looking so fierce. Possibly also in the brew was the fact that his naked torso was muscular and manly and altogether breathtaking, and the way his jeans hung on his hips was enough to give a girl ideas. That might have been a contributing factor. But whatever the cause, her mind was completely blank.

      “Hey, you’re a woman,” he announced gruffly, as though it was something of a revelation to him.

      She tried to smile. “So I’ve been told,” she said, attempting light humor that crumbled and died before the words even left her lips.

      His frown grew fiercer. “I need a woman. Maybe you can help me. Come on.” Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the house, letting the door slam behind her.

      “Wait a minute!”

      “No time. All hell is breaking loose. Come on. Quickly.”

      Truth be told, she was pretty sure she would have resisted with a bit more spunk if it hadn’t been for the oddly disturbing noises coming from the very room they were dashing toward. Curiosity was strong here, and it was rewarded. He threw open the double doors and ushered her into a little piece of madness.

      The noise was overwhelming. Something was rotating and banging against the wall. Some form of food sizzled and spit on the stove, and thick waves of suds poured out of the dishwasher. A cat had climbed halfway up the inside of the screen door and was howling for escape. The refrigerator door stood open, creating an annoying electronic warning buzz. Meanwhile cans of soda were slowly rolling out and hitting the floor. Now and then, one burst open and shot carbonated beverage across the walls. A cloud of black smoke was emanating from the toaster and the smell of burning bread was in the air.

      “You see what I mean?” the man shouted above the din. “Where do I start?”

      Whatever was sizzling on the stove suddenly burst into tall orange flames, which shot toward the ceiling. She gaped. The gates of hell might have looked something like this.

      Sara took it all in and suppressed the scream of horror that wanted to push its way up her throat. This was no time to panic. She had to be cool, calm, collected.

      But she wasn’t perfect. “Oh, my goodness … what?” she cried, knowing there was going to be no answer until disaster had been headed off at the pass. “Are you crazy?”

      He spread out his hands and shook his head. “Help,” he said.

      She looked at him. He was actually waiting for her to tell him what to do. She gulped. He wasn’t the type. She knew that instinctively. But here he was, asking for assistance—from her. Help indeed!

      She pushed back the panic and tried to think clearly. Wait. She knew all these items intimately. The situations, taken one at a time, were all things she’d dealt with before. Darn it all, she could handle this. Suddenly she realized it was true. She could take command. Why not? He was obviously clueless.

      She grabbed his arm. “Okay,” she shouted in order to be heard above the din. “Turn off the dishwasher. I’ll take care of the fire.”

      He turned to look at it. The flames appeared fiery, leaping higher every minute. “You will?” he said doubtfully.

      She didn’t waste any more time. The lid to the frying pan was lying on the floor. She reached down to grab it, took a deep breath and plunged forward, firmly slamming it down on the pan, smothering the flames almost instantly. Quickly turning the knob for the gas, she doused its fuel. And then she took a deep breath of relief.

      “Hey,” he said, looking impressed.

      “The dishwasher,” she reminded him, jerking her head in that direction. They were going to be swimming in suds in no time if he didn’t stop the flow. She could just picture the two of them waltzing across the slippery floor and landing on their backsides.

      “Right,”