Monday morning at the Cape house, Claire closed her eyes, blindly feeling for the smooth surface of the large piece of paper in front of her on the desk. Drunk on self-satisfaction, she grinned.

Blayne and Jay’s wedding had been a huge success with multiple event requests coming in from a bar mitzvah to a twenty-fifth-anniversary party. As hard as they may be for her to attend, weddings were great for business. Everyone loved happy-ever-afters, and every detail that she’d put together for Blayne and Jay’s big day, down to the red and black miniature roses in the centerpieces, acted as a living business card.

One more milestone for her friends, one more beautiful accomplishment in event planning for her. Blayne was married, Larkin had her new baby, and she had...

Her gaze roamed the front room of the Cape house where she looked forward to holding the art classes for local citizens—especially the kids. The new makeover was a mix of modern and nautical. Earthy tones of driftwood and rope weaved with the bright green of living plants and newly added seashells. It was a decor that invited guests to create their own beauty. Whether through the new bee-keeping club or her very own art program, the Cape was a place to heal and hope and find happiness.

She wanted to find her happy. And she would.

It might be so quiet in the large house that she could hear Puzzle’s purr from the attic, but she had her programs at the Center. She had her purpose.

On a small sigh, she focused her concentration and, with a blue crayon and a light grip, drew lines with an easy flow. No premeditated direction, no meaning, just her feelings.

A soothing memory of a running brook filled the room, erasing time, and she lost herself in the ease of the movement. Her fiancé, Jimmy, used to hike with her along the creek in the woods that surrounded his family’s home outside of Cape Van Buren. Hand in hand, they’d pick their way through the trees, hopping along the rocks or resting on the banks. The smell of the earth and trees filled her senses, releasing her emotions like a strong breeze on the seeds of a puffed dandelion.

They’d planned and conspired and dreamed, so in love that every single idea they’d had seemed so much more like reality than simply a possibility.

It was where she’d told him about their baby, and she could see the sweet chubby legs of a little girl with a dusting of white hair and eyes bluer than a Maine sky toddling through berry patches, a delighted grin leaving a dimple in each cheek.

It was where he’d asked her to marry him, and they envisioned a wedding of baby’s breath and the finest white silk leaving their life canvas blank to be filled with all their hopes and dreams for their little family.

And it was where she’d run to when he’d died in the car accident three years ago...

The familiar sound of water was both heaven and hell for her.

Her hand came to a stop, and she opened her eyes. The silence was deafening, and the absence of earthly scents made her next inhale a disappointment.

On a shaky exhale, she pushed back from her desk and hurriedly opened one of the large, panel, bay windows. Breathing in the comforting scent of the salty ocean breeze, the gentle rhythm of the crashing waves helped drown out the roaring silence left behind, and she leaned into it all for a moment in sweet relief.

It eased her aching senses and calmed her heart.

Grabbing tape from the art table, she secured her paper to the light gray wall, making her wonder how many different pieces of artwork had adorned that wall over the years.

The house used to be the home of Maxine and the Van Buren family before her; then the whole Cape was purchased and almost turned into a housing development by Ryker. But Larkin had a strong tie to the land through her son, Archer, and in the end, she and Ryker had fallen in love, and through that, created a beautiful gift for the whole town.

A place to grow, to heal, to learn.

A place where love knew no bounds and that every citizen in town could call home.

And Claire got to lead the art classes, including those on helping children learn to cope. That was the one closest to her heart.

Since she’d never have any kids of her own, the opportunity to help teach those precious young souls how to handle the ups and downs of life would bring her incredible joy.

She closed her eyes against the pain of her memories, or rather, what would never be.

The sound of her obstetrician’s voice telling her that her baby was gone echoed against the prison walls of her memories, and the familiar, suffocating pain of loss compressed her lungs for an intense moment.

Upon its release, she sucked in a breath and blinked until her scribbles came into view.

She eyed them, tilting her head from side to side until she could pull out a few familiar shapes.

A wash of frustration swamped her. How could she expect to teach these children when she couldn’t see anything beyond her own pain? All she saw in her drawings were broken baby rattles and car crashes.

She needed to work through this process with someone else to make sure it was ready before the program opened. Since coping skills might touch on sensitive topics in general, Ryker wanted the program vetted for any possible liability. Claire understood, but she also worried.

The program launch was in less than a month, and she wanted it to be a success more than she’d wanted anything since she’d lost everything.

“You aren’t going to stand on your head, are you? I might have to call Dr. Stanton if you do.”

Claire startled at the sound of Mitch’s voice and spun around. “Jesus Christ! You scared me. What are you doing here?” She swore, every time she turned around, his big, broad chest was obstructing her view.

“I have some documents to pore over. It’s easier to do in the office here than my loft in town. Too many distractions.”

“Ha! Like what, your porn collection?” The immediate rush of heat to her face accompanied her outburst, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment that the sight of him made her think of porn or her natural inclination to give him a hard time. It really wasn’t her style...except with him.

She shook her head, feeling like an ass.

Mitch aimed an inquisitive look her way that left her toes curling in her boat shoes. “A collection I clearly need to let you borrow if your wrapped-too-tight, joyful personality is any indication.”

His sarcasm washed over her, and she kept silent. She hadn’t meant to be rude, but everything with him was a knee-jerk reaction. Letting it go, she asked, “Documents?”

“I’m the Center's attorney, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She tapped her head as if she were a dunce. Sometimes, she was pretty sure she was. Then right on cue, a realization dawned. He would be the person Ryker would have analyze her program.

Fucking great.

As he looked about her room, she let her eyes roam over his tall, muscular form. A dark cotton t-shirt was stretched across his broad shoulders, and his chest filled out the front so well she could make out the shapes of his pecs. On a swallow, she forced her eyes back to his, only to find him watching her with a bemused expression on his face.

Crap.

She was still trying to get over the shock of seeing him in her space.

He stepped next to her to take a closer look at her drawing, and as his scent wrapped around her, she stiffened poker-straight.

A little shudder ran through her as he ran a finger along one of the lines left by her crayons. “What’s going on here?”

With a shake of her head, she sighed. “Not as much as I’d hoped. I’m working through my process for one of my coping-through-art strategies, but I’m blocked by my own issues.”

“Your program. That’s right. I need to talk to you about that. But first I have to ask, blocked or enlightened?” He ended the question with a challenge in his tone.

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Blocked.”

“I don’t think so.” His gaze drifted over her face, then back to the paper. “Look here.” He pointed toward the middle of the drawing. “See these arcs? They look like a rainbow. And everyone knows a rainbow stands for our hope in tomorrow, that the troubles of today will pass.”

She squinted at the lines and stepped closer. A rainbow? Hope?

Confusion clouded her brain. Mitch was the last person she’d ever accuse of being philosophical. But she could see it.

A definite rainbow.

The heat of his body enveloped her, and her own buzzed with awareness. Maybe she felt this way around him because she knew he was a man who lived for pleasure. Something she hadn’t experienced much of lately.

She turned her head to find him studying her face, so close, their lips but a few inches apart. Her lungs quit working suddenly, neither taking in nor releasing any air, and the strain of it all burned in her chest.

His mouth was shaped with chiseled edges, full but masculine. And those lips? They looked soft, but she’d bet her next event paycheck they were firm and demanding. She licked her lips.

What she wouldn’t give for just one taste...

Mitch cleared his throat, and she sucked in a breath as the sound startled her from her daydreaming and stepped away.

What in the hell was wrong with her lately?

“I have a lot of work to do.” She snatched the picture from the wall as she headed back to her work table. She lowered to the chair with her chin in her hand. “This is never going to work unless I can find someone to work through the process first. I refuse to present any half-assed activity to our kids. They deserve better than that.”

Mitch gave her a salute. “Good luck with that, sweetheart, and let me know when you do.” He threw her a wink, and she imagined it was the same one he threw his dates the next morning when they left his loft.

“It looks like we’ll be spending some time together,” he went on to say. “And if the irritated look on your face is any indication, you’re not any more thrilled about it than I am. But like it or not, I’ll be analyzing the steps of your program to watch out for any liability the Cape might face.”

“I’ll tell you what I told Ryker; this is silly.” It wasn’t, not really, but fear of losing the program she wanted so strongly made her stand her ground, no matter how shaky. She understood the reasoning behind it; she just didn’t want it to be over before it began.

“Let me know when you find your guinea pig. I’ll be in the office.” His easy strides took him to the door.

And then, just like that, inspiration struck. A spark of intrigue picked up the pace of her heart. It would save time and simplify things. “What about you?”

He slowed, resting a hand on the door frame. “What about me, Claire Adams?” His voice was a quiet rumble, and the way he asked the question hinted at so much more than she was able to accommodate.

For some reason, the sound of her name rolling off his tongue sent a wash of goosebumps over her skin. “Let me put you through the paces of my coping strategy.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“For the kids,” she added. For a second, she was sure he’d say yes.

“I’m not someone you want to get too close of a look at. I think I’ll pass.”

She pushed back from the table. “Well, of course, I don’t. You’re about as deep as a saucer and sleep around like you’re in a contest, but I need to make sure this is ready.”

“Finally, we agree on something. Because the way I see it, you’re not ready. Especially if you’re going to be standing in judgment toward every kid who walks through those front doors like you do with me.”

Indignation heated her face. How dare he? “I do not. You’re...”

Yes, she did. Her annoyance was quickly replaced with shame. She had to stop snapping at him all the time.

“I’m what? You seem to have me all figured out, but you’re the one you should be looking closer at. You’re rude and often a little brat. Not exactly who the kids of Cape Van Buren need as a role model.”

And then he opened his mouth, and all she wanted to do was throttle him.

Well, that wasn’t the only thing she wanted to do.

But it was the only thing she’d be honest enough to admit.

Standing in the checkered foyer of the Cape house, Mitch grinned. He loved watching Claire’s skin pinken with anger. At least, the skin left visible from her skinny jeans and oversized knit sweater. He imagined the flush in her cheeks was close to what she looked like right after being well and thoroughly fucked. Not that he’d ever be the lucky man to serve her. She wasn’t a love-her-and-leave-her kind of woman.

And that was the only kind of female he’d let himself get close to. A woman only interested in a bit of fun.

She opened her pretty mouth to respond, then closed it, pressing her lips together in a tight, straight line. His dick twitched as his body tried to imagine how those lips would feel around him.

Fuck me.

There was something about her that pulled him toward her as strongly as it warned him to stay away. The very reason he had to keep a distance—her vulnerability, her tragic past—were the same things that made him want to wrap his arms around her and make sure nothing ever hurt her again.

What the hell was wrong with him?

It was damned confusing.

He was not a protector or a forever kind of guy, and that was who she needed.

He scratched at the scruff on his chin. Always on the wrong foot with her, he sighed. “Look.”

She put a hand up. “No, you’re right.”

Nothing could have surprised him more than those three words out of her mouth. “Excuse me?”

A small grin pulled at the corners of her mouth, and he felt a weird pop in his chest—as if a seal broke. He probably went too heavy on his chest presses the other day at the gym, he thought, rubbing at the spot below his collarbone.

“I said, you’re right.”

He leaned against the door frame, trying to figure out what she was up to. “Can I get that in writing?”

She moved past him toward the kitchen. “Shut up.” Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she added, “And don’t get used to hearing it. This is a one-time occurrence.”

He grunted. “We’ll see.”

In the kitchen, she pulled out a pan of cupcakes from the commercial-sized refrigerator.

Curious and secretly hoping he’d get one, he slid onto one of the black leather stools at the large, white granite island in the middle of the kitchen that mirrored the tin-tiled ceiling above.

Adding a pre-whipped bowl of icing to the table top before him, she pushed a spatula into his hand. “Here, help me ice these, and I’ll let you have one.”

Confused didn’t even begin to explain how he felt as he wrapped his hand around the handle. He was momentarily distracted by Puzzle, who chose that moment to jump into his lap.

He helped the cat settle against him as Claire arranged the items on the table. “Hey, buddy.” The cat’s purr was soft, and the vibration that hummed against him was comforting.

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but it almost seemed she were offering him a truce of sorts. It was a step in the right direction anyway. He was tired of everyone placing bets on who he’d close his next “deal” on, as if his personal life were no different than the deals he made for his clients in commercial real estate.

At the top of his field, he should be flying high, but ever since working on the changes to the Cape with the conservation center, he’d been left feeling restless. He needed more.

He grabbed a cupcake. “Did you make these?”

Claire nodded, her blond hair, pin-straight, brushing past her chin with the movement. When she bent over, her oversized sweater gaped open just enough that the lace edge of her bra showed against the swell of her breasts.

He enjoyed breasts like anyone else, but what really turned him on when it came to Claire was her impossibly tiny waist and the sexy-as-fuck flare of her hips. The combination created the most perfect heart-shaped ass he’d ever seen encased in a pair of jeans.

“I did. Evette shared one of her recipes with me,” she said softly. “Baking helps me think, so I made a batch of her lady lemons while ironing out a few details of my program this morning.”

So that’s why the house had smelled like lemon cookies when he’d come in.

Evette Kingsley was the owner and baker at North Cove Confectionery. Her cupcakes would make the sweetest soul turn black for just one more bite.

With a flick of his wrist, he added icing to his spatula and, while spinning the cupcake in one hand, added the white icing to the top.

Claire paused, watching him in surprise. “Ummmm...how do you know how to do that?”

With a shrug, he picked up another cupcake. “Evette and my mom are both North Cove Mavens. I’ve helped make more cupcakes, tend more gardens, and brew more moonshine than any other man I know. Even Ryker. His time away saved him a bit.” He chuckled, warmed by the memory.

That’s what happened when a man was raised by a bunch of women. Had his dad stuck around, maybe he’d have developed different skills, but he’d never give up what he had with his mother.

She was a very special woman.

Finishing another cupcake, he eyed it, then placed it back in the pan. He was good at a lot of things, but what really gave him pleasure was the pro bono work he’d been doing for the Cape.

He wanted more, but no one thought of him when they were setting up projects to serve the community.

The hard truth of the matter, if he was honest about it, was he couldn’t blame them completely. He was a man of his own making.

Even if it was only to protect those around him.

Claire rounded the island. “Show me how to do that.”

He raised a brow at her demand but scooted back from the island and turned toward her. Puzzle lifted his head from his resting place, and she ran a hand from between his ears to his tail, coaxing the cat’s eyes closed. Mitch was jealous of a damn cat.

Stepping close with bright-eyed interest, she waited expectantly.

In slow motion, he showed her how he iced the cupcake, then handed his spatula to her. “You try.”

She tried to duplicate his movements but ended up with more icing on her fingers than the cake. He had a million different ways to help her with that problem, and ninety percent of them involved his tongue.

Ignoring the direction of his thoughts, he stood, dislodging Puzzle, who shot a look at him that surely wished him straight to hell, and reached around her. “Here, like this.”

The warm scent of her perfume hit him with a punch. He was expecting something floral like spring but instead was surrounded in a seductive haze of amber. With his hands on hers, he guided the cupcake under the spatula until the icing covered the top in a smooth cap.

But all he could focus on was her back against his chest, and how he could tuck her head just beneath his chin.

His blood rushed in his ears, but he forced himself to focus. She tried again, biting her lip between her teeth in her concentration. Her hands moved under his, and the silk of her skin glided under his palms.

With a squeal of excitement, she almost bounced in his arms. “That’s it. Look!”

She spun, holding the cupcake out between them, delight sparkling in her blue eyes. He’d never noticed how clear they were. Little darker blue specs could be seen in a spiral around her pupil like a kaleidoscope.

Using the deep reserves of his self-control, he resisted the urge to congratulate her smiling lips with a kiss.

He cleared his throat and stepped back.

“You need to date.” His words jumped from his mouth without explanation, and he clamped his jaw closed to stop any more from following. But as the idea formed, the more he warmed to it.

Her smile twisted into a grimace. “Excuse me?”

A snappy and irritated Claire was fun to tease and sexy as hell, but a happy and bubbly Claire was far too irresistible.

He had to get her dating—one more layer to keep her out of reach.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Besides, it would all work toward his new and improved reputation. A man to turn to for help, an upstanding citizen of Cape Van Buren. He’d get Claire out of her hermitage while helping her prepare her program, and if all went according to plan, it would enable him to dive deep into more pro bono work around Cape Van Buren.

“Let me get you up to speed on dating again, and I’ll be your guinea pig for your Coping through Art program.”

She blinked twice.

“I do not need help on getting up to speed with dating. I don’t want to date. It’s as simple as that.”

“You’re afraid to.”

She popped her hands to her hips. “I am not afraid of anything.” But her eyes shifted high left, before returning to his face.

He grabbed one of the iced cupcakes and took a large bite, studying her while he chewed, enjoying the explosion of tart lemon in his mouth. “Prove it.”

Snatching the cupcake from his hand, she took a bite herself.

“Hey!” He tried to take it back, but she hopped away with a little skip.

Sometimes, she was the cutest damn woman he’d ever met. “You’re afraid. Whether it’s of the commitment or the process, I’m not sure yet. But dating doesn’t mean you have to marry the person.”

She snorted. “You would know.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re right. I would.”