For the past eight and a half years, Zeke Ward had lived exactly as he wanted, without worrying about others’ expectations or attitudes toward him. His wife, Lara, had died, and everything had changed. He’d no longer believed he should alter his behavior because of someone else’s arbitrary rules or opinions.

Which was why he found it so strange that he was becoming more and more concerned about what Cecily thought about him.

It was strange to care so much.

It was unnerving.

He didn’t like it—since it roused a lot of feelings and insecurities he hadn’t had to bother with since Lara.

Two nights after his conversation with Cecily about Matt Friedman, he was still replaying it—his fear that she was disappointed in him and his intense relief when she’d understood.

And his even more intense response to seeing her in her pajamas, with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, the outline of tight nipples beneath her top.

None of those things were good for him, and it annoyed him that he was still reliving them all in his mind, even two days later.

There was simply no reason for it.

He had always liked and respected Cecily, and he thought she was brilliant and kind. He’d taken the job with her because it meant he could work with his hands and interact only minimally with other people, but he would have found something else if he didn’t think she’d be a good boss.

Because he’d worked with her for so long, he was undoubtedly closer to her than anyone else in the world.

But that didn’t mean they could be anything other than they were right now.

Even if he’d thought it was a possibility for him, he knew very well that she’d never look at him that way.

Which was just as well.

He’d tried marriage. He’d had a good one for nine years. Then Lara had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had died less than two months later.

He always worked late into the evening—because quiet time was when his mind got out of control—and he was usually so tired at the end of the day that he just ate a quick dinner and went to bed so he could wake up at dawn and start working again.

But at nine o’clock that evening, just after dusk, he noticed someone turning on the pool lights when he got out of the shower.

Zeke lived in a little cottage on Balm in Gilead’s property with a paved walk that led to the patio and pool deck, and he could see the lights come on out his front window.

Frowning, he pulled on a pair of sweats and walked outside to investigate.

The pool closed when it got dark since they couldn’t be liable for guests swimming in the dark when there was no one else around. No one should be in the pool right now.

When he got to the gate that led into the pool area, he saw who it was.

Cecily.

Her hair was pulled back, and her head was in the water as she swam laps in a graceful freestyle, but he could recognize her body.

She was allowed to use the pool whenever she wanted. There wasn’t anything for him to take care of here. He could go back to his cottage and go to bed the way he’d planned.

Instead, he stood where he was and watched her.

She was beautiful—the shape of her body, the way she moved in the water.

He had no idea why she wasn’t married, why no man had seen who she was and what she had to offer and moved heaven and earth to win her.

Maybe they’d tried and Cecily hadn’t been interested.

There had always been something untouchable about her intellect, her perfect composure, her cool beauty.

It was entirely possible that no man had been brave enough to approach her.

Men today were often lazy cowards and only tried for a sure thing.

Cecily would never be a sure thing. For anyone.

He stood and watched her for almost ten minutes until she slowed down and then finally stopped swimming. She pulled herself out of the water, and Zeke knew he should turn around and go back home.

Instead, he kept watching her, his eyes lingering on her slim legs, her shapely arms, the lush curves of her breasts and hips beneath the wet fabric of her one-piece suit.

His body started to react to the sight of her, a sure sign he should leave. For the past few years, his body had been noticing how gorgeous she was far more often than he was comfortable with, and the only thing to make it stop responding was to remove himself from her vicinity.

But he couldn’t seem to turn around. He couldn’t seem to stop gazing at her.

She walked over to the table on which she’d left her towel, and she dried herself off in quick, efficient moves. She obviously had no idea that anyone was watching her.

He shouldn’t be. It didn’t feel right to stare at her like this when she wasn’t aware of him. But his eyes refused to move. His whole body had tightened with interest.

When she’d towel-dried her hair, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders and looked like she was ready to leave.

But she turned without warning to stare out in the direction of the dunes, the beach, the ocean. Then her head shifted slightly until she was looking straight at him.

She must have somehow sensed his presence.

It was obvious she’d seen him. Her expression had changed. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops and walked over to where he still stood like a statue.

He prayed in a sudden surge of desperation that she wouldn’t be able to see how he’d been responding to her just now.

“Hi,” she said with her normal smile. “Sorry. Did I disturb you?”

She looked perfectly composed and natural, and it was a relief. He had to make sure she stayed that way. “Not really,” he managed to mutter. “Just saw the lights and came to see who it was.”

“I was just… I don’t know… restless or something. I needed to exercise if I was going to get any sleep tonight.”

He nodded, unable to hold back a small shiver of pleasure when he noticed her eyes slipping down to his bare chest.

It looked like she liked what she saw.

She cleared her throat with another little smile. “All right. Good night then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded again. She wouldn’t necessarily expect him to talk since he often didn’t, so he didn’t have to risk her hearing something revealing in his voice.

He stood where he was—still unmoving—until she’d made it to the building and gone inside. A few seconds later, the pool lights went out, leaving him in darkness.

Darkness was fine with him.

Darkness had always been safer.

***

The next morning, Zeke was trying to forget about the evening before.

It wasn’t good for him—thinking about Cecily this way. He could tell himself he was still a man—not even forty yet—so he had all the normal biological urges. Pretending they didn’t exist didn’t make them go away. All that was true, but it didn’t matter.

If he thought about her that way, he would eventually want to do something about it.

And he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

It was an impossible fantasy.

So it wasn’t good for him to think about it at all.

He worked in the garden all morning, pouring himself into the mindless work to distract himself from any tantalizing images and ideas that kept flitting into his head. And it was almost noon before he even considered stopping to take a rest or grab something to eat.

He was dripping with sweat since the sky was cloudless today and the sun was already beating down on him. His back muscles were sore and so were his thighs from crouching so much.

He needed to rest for a few minutes.

Surely it would be safe to do so now since his body was too tired to react in any inappropriate ways.

He had just stood up and was stretching his back when he heard the garden gate squeak.

He needed to oil those hinges.

When he turned his head, he saw Cecily approaching, dressed in a tan skirt—one of those straight, knee-length skirts she liked best—and a moss-green top, lacy and old-fashioned.

Her hair was pulled back, and she wore her glasses and heels. And, ridiculously, her appearance turned him on with an immediate surge of lust since he knew what her body looked like underneath it, what her hair looked like when it was loose around her shoulders.

Damn it.

He really needed to rein all this in.

Right away.

Cecily had smiled in greeting when she saw him, but her smile faded as she looked around the garden. “There’s still a lot left to do,” she said as she came to stand in front of him. “Do you think you’ll have it done by Wednesday?”

He frowned, annoyed at himself for getting turned on and annoyed at her for the stupid photo shoot with Kara that she was planning for Wednesday. He shrugged and gave a grunt of response.

She frowned at him. “I asked you if you thought you’d have it done by then.”

He’d been working himself to the bone all morning on this garden, so he didn’t appreciate her disappointment. “And I said I’d try.”

Her eyes were still roaming, focused on the plants he’d finished so far and the ones in cartons he still had left to do. He redid the garden twice a year, once in spring and once in autumn. She’d never insisted he do so, but he’d always taken pride in his work. He hadn’t liked what he’d put together early in September, so he’d decided a few weeks ago that it needed to be redone completely.

For the first time, he was regretting it.

Zeke was tired and distracted and frustrated, and his emotions were far more roused than they normally were.

He and Cecily had a way of interacting that worked for both of them. She didn’t expect him to be verbose or friendly, and he knew where the lines were he shouldn’t cross.

But for no good reason he wanted to cross one now.

He knew what he was doing. Knew it was a mistake. But everything in the world was bothering him this morning, and he perversely wanted her to really notice him, to see him differently.

So he heard himself muttering, “I’m not going to kill myself for some damned photo shoot.”

Cecily’s eyes shot over to him, and her body gave a little jerk with her intake of breath. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

This was stupid. Absolutely, utterly stupid. He didn’t act this way—not with Cecily. It was like some malevolent spirit had taken over his voice, making him say things he knew he shouldn’t say.

“You said you could handle it,” Cecily said, her expression still composed but her voice much cooler than usual. “I’m happy to hire extra hands to help you. But you do need to admit you need help.”

“I don’t need help. I can do it. But the photo shoot—”

“We’ve had this discussion,” she cut in, her gray-green eyes as cold as ice. “It is not your decision about whether I allow Kara to do a photo shoot here. I’ve never asked for your opinion on that matter.”

“If you had asked, maybe you wouldn’t be so stupid about—”

“Stupid?” Cecily snapped. She was finally losing her composure. Her cheeks had flushed a delectable pink, her eyes were flashing, and her breath was coming out quickly. “You’re actually saying I’m being stupid?”

He’d never seen anything so beautiful as Cecily when she was angry. He’d never actually seen it before.

It excited him. His heart was racing wildly, and his blood was pumping in his veins.

“Yes, I’m saying you’re stupid. You’re trusting that woman when you shouldn’t, and she’s only going to use you and hurt you.”

“My friendship with Kara is not your concern. Any more than the decisions I make about having a photo shoot. I don’t know what has gotten into you today, but I don’t like it at all.”

“You don’t like it because you only see me in one way, as if I’m not a full human with thoughts and feelings of my own.” He had no idea why he was saying this. He wasn’t sure it was even true. And he didn’t understand why his voice was so rough, so loud, so uncontrolled.

This argument wasn’t like him any more than it was like Cecily.

Cecily’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him motionless for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “That isn’t true,” she said at last, her voice breaking strangely. “Zeke, you know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? Think about it for a minute, and then tell me it’s not true.”

She opened her mouth to reply but then seemed to stop herself.

The fire he’d seen in her a moment ago suddenly got swallowed up in her normal composure—strained but perfectly contained. She gave him a stretched smile and said coolly, “I’m sorry you think that’s true, but there’s nothing I can do about your erroneous belief. Regardless, you work for me, and I’m expecting for this garden to be done on Wednesday. If you can’t get it done yourself, then hire someone to help you.”

Zeke started to reply, but she didn’t give him the chance. She turned on her heel and walked away.

And Zeke was left alone in the garden, filled with a tumult of emotions that made absolutely no sense.

Anger. Frustration. Desire. Regret. Embarrassment.

And something akin to yearning.

***

The rest of the day went by somehow, and all of it was miserable for Zeke.

He worked in the garden until he could barely move, and he didn’t even take the time to really eat.

Every half hour, he would stand up and start to walk into the building to find Cecily, to apologize for his ridiculous outburst and fix things between them.

But something held him back each time.

He worked until nine in the evening, and finally he couldn’t stay on his feet any longer. He limped back to his cottage and got right into the shower, standing under the spray for a long time before his breathing had evened out and he could manage to turn the water off.

He was drying himself off when there was a knock on his door.

No one ever came to his cottage. No one. Ever.

He barely recognized the knock when he heard it since it was so unexpected and out of the bounds of normal.

But the knock kept coming, so he managed to pull on his sweats, pick up a T-shirt, and limp to the front door to swing it open.

Cecily stood there, wearing a pair of gray lounge pants and a fitted top, her hair hanging down over her shoulders. She looked soft and pretty and touchable, and his heart leaped in a foolish, unforgiveable way.

She gave him a little smile and then seemed to notice that his hair was wet and he was half-dressed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I get you out of the shower?”

He shook his head and quickly pulled on the T-shirt he was holding. “No. I was done.”

“Okay.” She stood there, looking strangely uncertain.

He cleared his throat. He was suddenly terrified about her being in his cottage like this, looking so lovely and vulnerable.

His defenses weren’t as strong as they normally were.

He was afraid of what he might do.

“Can I…,” she began. “Can I come in for a minute?”

He nodded and stepped aside. Technically, she owned this cottage. Plus she was his boss. She could come in whenever she wanted.

She would have no idea that he was on the edge of pulling her into his arms right now.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this,” she said, smiling at him again when she’d stepped inside. “But I felt terrible about our argument earlier, and I couldn’t go to bed until we’d… worked things out.”

He nodded curtly. It was just like her. She was a counselor by education and profession, and she actually tried to live out the advice she gave to other people.

“I’m sorry I got angry earlier,” she said, her eyes bigger than they should be as she gazed up at him. “I shouldn’t have done so, and I’m sorry if I hurt you with anything I said.”

A wave of guilt overwhelmed him, tightening in his throat. He swallowed over it and forced words out. “It was my fault. Not yours. I was… stupid.”

She acknowledged his admission, as halting and gruff as it was, but she clearly wasn’t done with the conversation yet. “You said… you said I don’t see you as a whole person.”

“I was just talking,” he said quickly, hating himself for saying something so revealing and also for making her feel bad. “You’ve always been… great.”

With a little shrug, she said, “But you wouldn’t have said that if there wasn’t something underlying it, and it’s… it’s worrying me.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe not intentionally, but what you said has made me think.” Her features twisted, as if this was hard for her to say. “And there might be something in what you said. I’ve… I’ve always relied on you to make this place run. I honestly couldn’t have done what I’ve done without you. And I hope you know that.”

He was washed with heat—of both pleasure and self-consciousness. He’d never been comfortable with this kind of earnest conversation, even before Lara had died and he’d withdrawn. But there was something inside him that wanted to hear what she was saying right now.

That wanted to know that she needed him.

“But maybe because you’re always so trustworthy and competent and… and good at what you do—and because you don’t want to share yourself with anyone—I’ve kind of pigeon-holed you in my mind and not allowed you to be anything else. I thought… I thought that was what you want—that you didn’t really want to be a friend to me—but I’m not sure it’s right of me to just use you for what you do without allowing you to be… whole.”

He was feeling too much.

Way too much.

His hands were actually shaking from it.

He’d never consciously acknowledged he wanted something else in his life—something other than a job and a place to live—but he couldn’t deny now that he did.

And he wanted it from Cecily.

But she wasn’t offering him what he really wanted. She was being kind. Thoughtful. Sensitive.

Good.

She wasn’t giving herself to him.

So he again had to rein in the storm of his feelings and instead respond to what she was actually saying. “Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze so she wouldn’t see anything in his eyes. “But you haven’t been like that. You’ve always treated me well. And you know me as a person. Better than anyone else. I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about it. I was wrong.”

“Maybe we both were,” she said, leaning her head down slightly in what was clearly an attempt to meet his eyes again.

He looked back up at her, something new and intense throbbing in his heart, his head, his veins.

“I care about you, Zeke,” she said as sincere and direct as she’d always been. “And I’m so glad you work with me. Not just because you make things run but because you’re… you.”

She looked a little nervous, but she was still meeting his eyes.

“I just wanted you to know that,” she added when he didn’t respond.

“Thanks,” he muttered, rougher than he’d intended. “Thank you. Me too.”

She nodded, evidently understanding that he meant the words, however curt they were. She smiled at him again, and he smiled back for the first time.

She took a deep breath. “Okay. I feel better. And please let me know if you think I’m not treating you right.” She lifted a hand and placed it gently on his chest. “You’re important to me.”

He took a quick step backward so she wasn’t touching him anymore.

Her light touch had fired up every nerve ending in his body, and he was about to do something he could never take back.

Pull her into his arms.

Kiss her urgently, deeply, hotly.

And that would ruin everything, take away everything that meant something to him.

He couldn’t let himself do it.

Ever.

He couldn’t stand the loss that would inevitably follow.

She looked surprised by his clumsy move, but she just nodded again. “Good night, Zeke.”

“G’night,” he muttered, holding himself very stiffly.

To his relief, she didn’t linger. She went to the door, only glancing back at him once.

Then finally—finally—he was left alone to deal with all the powerful and completely inappropriate feelings she’d left in him.

Feelings so much more terrifying and harder to deal with than a simple physical response.