Chapter 1

      She’d forgotten how good the devil looked in blue jeans.

      Rebecca Chambers stood just inside the garage door, soaking wet. The sound of the storm outside blocked the steady drip-drip from her dress and hair, but she could feel the individual drops collecting on her arms and legs, then falling to the ground. No doubt her mascara had formed perfect half circles under her eyes. She didn’t normally wear much makeup, but today she’d taken special pains with her appearance. Her white T-top was silk, and washable, thank goodness. But her loose floral-print jumper was a silk blend that wouldn’t survive the drenching. Mud caked her new black flats. She probably looked like something the cat dragged in. Or worse.

      She didn’t know if God was punishing her for all her ridiculous fantasies, or if the Fates were having a good laugh at her expense. She sighed softly and brushed her wet hair out of her face. Did it matter? For whatever reason, every time she was in the presence of the man in front of her, she made a complete and total fool of herself. She couldn’t stop thinking wicked and inappropriate thoughts. They muddled her brain and left her gasping for air and complete sentences. It had been going on for two years. She glanced down at her dripping self and bit back a groan.

      Her gaze was drawn away from her bedraggled appearance to the man bent over a car engine and the way he filled his jeans. It wasn’t fair, she told herself, staring at the worn denim and the tight rear end that led to illegally long, lean legs. He was going to stand up, turn around and see her. She was going to look like a dripping, homeless rat, and he was going to be gorgeous. He would stare at her with his killer gray eyes and wait for her to speak. If her tongue didn’t get tied up in knots, her knees would start shaking. It didn’t matter that she was almost thirty years old and a responsible adult.

      In the past two years she’d been in the same room with Austin Lucas exactly eleven times. She’d made a fool out of herself twelve times. Once she’d not only knocked over a small table containing the refreshments for the local meeting, but she’d been in such a hurry to escape from his presence that she’d turned without watching where she was going and ran smack into a wall.

      She tried not to think about that. Despite the slight chill from her wet clothing and hair, her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She pressed her hands to her face and wished she had somewhere else to go. But she didn’t. He was her only hope. What on earth was he going to say when he saw her?

      She glanced frantically around the garage, hoping to find a source of courage. A radio sat on the workbench lining one wall. Soft rock music filled the room. Next to the front left bumper of the car stood a red toolbox on a dingy cart. Nothing very inspiring, although the maleness of the equipment made her feel even more out of place. She was one of three girls and had little experience with guy stuff.

      She drew in a deep breath, inhaling the odors of machine oil, wet cement and something that could only be the heady scent of Austin himself. She fought the urge to back up a step. Inside her belly, nerves and expectations joined hands in an uneven dance of hyperawareness. Please, God, why did it have to be him? Around town, women whispered he was as tempting as the devil himself. Heaven knows he tempted her.

      She cleared her throat. “Mr. Lucas?”

      He chose that moment to drop a wrench and swear loudly. The curses drowned out her words. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he bent down to pick up the tool and his jeans stretched tight across his rear.

      Fourteen years ago, Rod Dowell had walked into her sophomore algebra class wearing tennis whites. She’d melted into her school-issue wooden chair and had wondered if she would ever be able to breathe normally again. She finally had, but it had taken almost three years. She’d carried the secret of that crush with her all the way until graduation when she finally found the courage to wish him luck. His brief, “Yeah, you, too,” had sent her reeling with excitement.

      Now, staring at Austin Lucas, or rather at his long legs and tight, rounded rear end, she could feel her tongue twisting itself into knots and her hands getting sweaty on top of already being damp. It didn’t matter that she was far too old for adolescent crushes. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be interested in a woman like her. It didn’t matter that she was completely out of her league with him—a peewee ball player trying to compete with a pro. She couldn’t resist him, and she couldn’t walk away. He was her only hope.

      Rebecca