“Mom,” Jeff pleaded, “I bet no one ever invites him to dinner and he’s all alone.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.”

“But we owe him, Mom,” Jeff implored. “He let me throw sticks for Blackie twice this week.”

“I don’t think Mr. Camden’s home,” Robin said, picking up the newspaper while she weighed the pros and cons of Jeff’s suggestion. Since last Sunday, Robin hadn’t spoken to Cole once, and she wasn’t eager to initiate a conversation. He might read something into it.

“I’ll go and see if he’s home.” Before she could react, Jeff was out the front door, letting the screen door slam in his wake.

He returned a couple of minutes later breathless and excited. “Mr. Camden’s home and he said he appreciates the invitation, but he has other plans for tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” Robin said, hoping she sounded sincere.

“I told him we were having strawberry shortcake for dessert and he said that’s his favorite.”

Robin didn’t want to admit it, but she was relieved Cole wouldn’t be showing up for dinner. The man made her feel nervous and uncertain. She didn’t know why that should be, only that it was a new and unfamiliar sensation.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Robin jerked her head up from the paper. “Thanks for what?” She hadn’t read a word in five minutes. Her thoughts had been on her neighbor.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “For letting me take a piece of strawberry shortcake over to Mr. Camden.”

“I said you could do that?”

“Just now.” He walked over to her and playfully tested her forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel hot, but then, with brain fever you never know.”

Robin swatted playfully at her son’s backside.

Laughing, Jeff raced outdoors, where his bicycle was waiting. A half hour later, he was back in the house. “Mom! Mom!” he cried, racing into the kitchen. “Did you know Mr. Camden owns a black Porsche?”

“I can’t say I did.” She was more interested in peeling potatoes for the salad than discussing fancy cars. She didn’t know enough about sports cars to get excited about them.

Jeff jerked open the bottom drawer and rooted through the rag bag until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a large square that had once been part of his flannel pyjamas, then started back outside. “He has another car, too, an SUV.”

“Just where are you going, young man?” Robin demanded.

“Mr. Camden’s waxing his car and I’m gonna help him.”

“Did he ask for your help?”

“No,” Jeff said impatiently.

“He may not want you to.”

“Mom!” Jeff rolled his eyes as if to suggest she was overdoing this mothering thing. “Can I go now?”

“Ah…I suppose,” she agreed, but her heart was in her throat. She moved into the living room and watched as Jeff strolled across the lawn to the driveway next door, where Cole was busy rubbing liquid wax on the gleaming surface of his Porsche. Without a word, Jeff started polishing the dried wax with his rag. Cole straightened and stopped smearing on the wax, obviously surprised to see Jeff. Robin bit her lip, not knowing how her neighbor would react to Jeff’s willingness to help. Apparently he said something, because Jeff nodded, then walked over and sat cross-legged on the lawn. They didn’t seem to be carrying on a conversation and Robin wondered what Cole had said to her son.

Robin returned to the kitchen, grateful that Cole’s rejection had been gentle. At least he hadn’t sent Jeff away. She peeled another potato, then walked back to the living room and glanced out the window again. This time she saw Jeff standing beside Cole, who was, it seemed, demonstrating the correct way to polish a car. He made wide circular motions with his arms, after which he stepped aside to let Jeff tackle the Porsche again. Cole smiled, then patted him on the head before walking around to the other side of the car.

Once the salad was ready, Robin ventured outside.

Jeff waved enthusiastically when he caught sight of her on the porch. “Isn’t she a beaut?” he yelled.

It looked like an ordinary car to Robin, but she nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful,” she answered. “Afternoon, Cole.”

“Robin.” He returned her greeting absently.

He wore a sleeveless gray sweatshirt and she was surprised by how muscular and tanned his arms were. From a recent conversation with Heather Lawrence, Robin had learned Cole was a prominent attorney. And he seemed to fit the lawyer image to a T. Not anymore. The lawyer was gone and the man was there, bold as could be. Her awareness of him as an attractive virile male was shockingly intense.

The problem, she decided, lay in the fact that she hadn’t expected Cole to look so…fit. The sight of all that lean muscle came as a pleasant surprise. Cole’s aggressive, unfriendly expression had been softened as he bantered with Jeff.

Blackie ambled to her side and Robin leaned over to scratch the dog’s ears while she continued to study his master. Cole’s hair was dark and grew away from his brow, but a single lock flopped stubbornly over his forehead and he had to toss it back from his face every once in a while. It was funny how she’d never noticed that about him until now.

Jeff must’ve made some humorous remark because Cole threw back his head and chuckled loudly. It was the first time she’d ever heard him laugh. She suspected he didn’t often give in to the impulse. A smile crowded Robin’s face as Jeff started laughing, too.

In that moment the oddest thing happened. Robin felt something catch in her heart. The tug was almost physical, and she experienced a completely unfamiliar feeling of vulnerability….

“Do you need me to roll out the barbecue for you?” Jeff shouted when he saw that she was still on the porch. He’d turned his baseball cap around so the bill faced backward. While he spoke, his arm continued to work feverishly as he buffed the passenger door with his rag.

“Not…yet.”

“Good, ’cause Mr. Camden needs me to finish up this side for him. We’re on a tight schedule here, and I don’t have time. Cole’s got a dinner date at five-thirty.”

“I see.” Standing on the porch, dressed in her old faded jeans, with a mustard-spotted terrycloth hand towel tucked in the waistband, Robin felt as appealing as Ma Kettle. “Any time you’re finished is fine.”

So Cole Camden’s got a date, Robin mused. Of course he’s got a date, she told herself. Why should she care? And if watching Jeff and Cole together was going to affect her like this, it would be best to go back inside the house now.

Over dinner, all Jeff could talk about was Cole Camden. Every other sentence was Cole this and Cole that, until Robin was ready to slam her fist on the table and demand Jeff never mention their neighbor’s name again.

“And the best part is, he paid me for helping him wax his car,” Jeff continued, then stuffed the hamburger into his mouth, chewing rapidly in his enthusiasm.

“That was generous of him.”

Jeff nodded happily. “Be sure and save some shortcake for him. He said not to bring it over ’cause he didn’t know exactly when he’d get home. He’ll stop by, he said.”

“I will.” But Robin doubted her neighbor would. Jeff seemed to be under the impression that Cole would show up at any time; Robin knew better. If Cole had a dinner date, he wasn’t going to rush back just to taste her dessert, although she did make an excellent shortcake.

As she suspected, Cole didn’t come over. Jeff grumbled about it the next morning. He was convinced Cole would’ve dropped by if Robin hadn’t insisted Jeff go to bed at his regular time.

“I’ll make shortcake again soon,” Robin promised, hurrying to pack their lunches. “And when I do, you can take a piece over to him.”

“All right,” Jeff muttered.

That evening, when Robin returned home from work, she found Jeff playing with Blackie in Cole’s backyard.

“Jeff,” she cried, alarmed that Cole might discover her son on his property. He’d made it clear Jeff wasn’t to go into his yard. “What are you doing at Mr. Camden’s? And why aren’t you at Heather’s?” She walked over to the hedge and placed her hands on her hips in frustration.

“Blackie’s chain got all tangled up,” Jeff said, looking sheepish. “He needed my help. I told Heather it would be okay with you and…” His voice trailed off.

“He’s untangled now,” Robin pointed out.

“I know, but since I was here it seemed like a good time for the two of us to—”

“Play,” Robin completed for him.

“Yeah,” her son said, nodding eagerly. Jeff was well aware he’d done something wrong, but had difficulty admitting it.

“Mr. Camden doesn’t want you in his yard, and we both know it.” Standing next to the laurel hedge, Robin watched with dismay as Cole opened his back door and stepped outside. Blackie barked in greeting, and his tail swung with enough force to knock Jeff off balance.

When Cole saw Jeff in his yard, he frowned and cast an accusing glare in Robin’s direction.

“Jeff said Blackie’s chain was tangled,” she rushed to explain.

“How’d you get over here?” Cole asked her son, and although he didn’t raise his voice it was clear he was displeased. “The gate’s locked and the hedge is too high for him to jump over.”

Jeff stared down at the lawn. “I came through the gap in the hedge—the same one Blackie uses. I crawled through it.”

“Was his chain really tangled?”

“No, sir,” Jeff said in a voice so low Robin had to strain to hear him. “At least not much…I just thought, you know, that maybe he’d like company.”

“I see.”

“He was all alone and so was I.” Jeff lifted his eyes defiantly to his mother’s, as if to suggest the fault was entirely hers. “I go to Mrs. Lawrence’s after school, but it’s all girls there.”

“Don’t you remember what I said about coming into my yard?” Cole asked him.

Jeff’s nod was sluggish. “Yeah. You said maybe I could sometime, but not now. I thought…I hoped that since you let me help you wax your car, you wouldn’t mind.”

“I mind,” Cole said flatly.

“He won’t do it again,” Robin promised. “Will you, Jeff?”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Mr. Camden.”

For a whole week Jeff kept his word. The following Monday, however, when Robin came home from the BART station, Heather told her Jeff had mysteriously disappeared about a half hour earlier. She assumed he’d gone home; he’d said something about expecting a call.

Unfortunately, Robin knew exactly where to look for him, and it wasn’t at home. Even more unfortunate was the fact that Cole’s car pulled into the driveway just as she was opening her door. Throwing aside her briefcase and purse, she rushed through the house, jerked open the sliding glass door at the back and raced across her yard.