Sunday afternoon, Evan pulled up in front of the building Josie had said she lived in. A dirty, gray cement cellblock devoid of any charm, and probably below building code.

Yes, with this sort of income, Josie Harper definitely had incentive to try to bilk him out of some money.

So how come that didn't feel right?

That was why he was here. To eradicate the niggling worry in the back of his mind that Buddy had indeed victimized her. Because if Buddy had, it would be impossible not to fall into his old habit of cleaning up Buddy's messes.

As if Josie could be considered anyone's mess. She was vibrant and sexy, passionate and powerful. Not that he'd noticed. He was simply satisfying his curiosity by following up on her. And he hadn't been able to reach his private investigator yet, or he would have delegated the job. Not that he'd actually tried to reach him, but he'd been busy. Definitely not intentional. He was simply checking up on her in the most efficient manner available.

Nothing else.

It certainly had nothing to do with the way she'd invaded his house, ignored his money and his belongings and lit into him with a passion and power he'd forgotten about.

Absolutely not.

He parked in front of the decrepit building. How long had it been since he'd lived in a place like this? Fifteen years? He'd thought it was a palace, his own place, with a working elevator and heat that actually functioned. A pull-out couch for Buddy to sleep on.

The day he'd bought his first house, in the suburbs of Boston, with a real yard and a dining room fit for entertaining clients, he knew he'd made it. Pulled himself out of the life fate had laid out for him.

He'd upgraded three times since then, moving into his current sterile house about a year ago.

For a moment, he felt a tug for the days when simple things like being able to pay the phone bill made his heart puff with pride.

"Get over it," he growled. His life was just fine the way it was. So what if he didn't sit around and ogle his successes or have any family to share it with? The emotionally fungible Barbie dolls he dated were all he needed.

"See you later, Mo! Thanks for the ride!" Josie's clear voice rang out, jerking him into awareness. "I'll see you at work later!"

He glanced in his rearview mirror in time to see her standing on the curb, waving at a beat-up Chevy as it pulled away from the curb. A small duffel bag slung over her shoulder, she started to walk into the building.

Yep, she definitely lived here. At least one truth.

She'd just set her hand on the doorknob when a pudgy greaseball with a tank top and a cigarette hanging from his lips shuffled out the front door. "Josie!" he barked.

Josie's lips tightened, and her face crumpled for an instant. Then she lifted her chin and faced the man. "Mr. Bailey..."

"Got your rent?" The man held out a pudgy, sweaty palm. "It was due two weeks ago."

"I get paid next Friday."

"That's six days away. I don't run a charity. Pack your stuff and move out by the end of tomorrow. I already found someone to rent it."

Josie's mouth dropped open. "But I've never missed a deadline before. I was robbed..."

"Not my problem."

Evan closed his eyes while he listened to Josie fight for her home. How many times had he hid in the bathroom while he listened to his mother have the same fight? A six-year-old boy, terrified he'd end up living on the streets in January in Boston, freezing to death huddled over grates, praying his mom wouldn't end up back in jail before his father was released from his own stay behind bars.

Tag team parenting of the worst kind.

Damn Buddy for bringing his past back to him.

He cursed. Even if Josie was lying about Buddy, no one deserved to be homeless.

Evan kicked open his door, slammed his feet down, and stalked over to the beady little landlord. "How much does she owe you?"

Both Mr. Bailey and Josie stopped and stared at him.

"Who are you?" the landlord asked.

"Evan! What are you doing here?" Her cheeks had turned a deep red, and her lips were parted in astonishment. Nope, he wasn't even going to think about the shape of her lips.

He ignored both questions. "How much does she owe?"

Mr. Bailey took a moment to inspect Evan's suit, then his eyes flicked over his shoulder to his SUV, which didn't sport enough rust or dents to blend into the neighborhood. A greedy gleam appeared in the landlord's eyes. "Five hundred for last month. Another five hundred due next month."

"But next month isn't due for two weeks," Josie said, desperation tingeing her voice.

"You're a high-risk tenant now. Different standards."

Evan whipped out his checkbook and wrote a check for a thousand dollars. He handed it to Mr. Bailey. "Here. You can fill in your name."

"I don't take checks." But he was greedily eyeing the pale blue paper.

"Cash it today. If it bounces, you can still boot Josie out tomorrow, right?"

"Sure. Okay." He yanked the check from Evan's hand and glared at Josie. "You better hope that this check clears."

He stalked back into the building, the check clutched in his sweaty palm.

Evan returned his checkbook to his pocket and tried not to notice how Josie was staring at him. "I thought you didn't believe me."

"I don't." Not really. But there was still that really slight chance...

"Then, what was that for?"

Evan finally met her gaze, startled by the intensity of emotion in her blue eyes. Wariness, relief, and suspicion...and even a bit of confusion. "No one should worry about being homeless."

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"Nope. You're my charitable donation for this month."

Josie's face darkened. "I'm a charitable donation?"

She was taking offense to that. As he would have, when he was poor. Evan shifted uncomfortably. He was really making a muck of things. "Being homeless is wrong."

"I wanted to find Buddy, not sponge off you."

"I realize that, but..."

"I'm not a charity case. I'm just in a bit of a downturn."

"Which is why I didn't pay your rent for the year. Just for two months while you catch up."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to have to think about whether I can accept it."

"Just accept it, Josie. Pride is a foolish thing. Take what you can get and use it to your advantage. You can pay people back when you've climbed out of your hole."

Josie tilted her head. "Experience talking?"

He was not going there. "I have to go." He left her standing on the sidewalk. Watching him. Thinking.

If he weren't so determined to keep her out of his life, he'd be very interested to know what she did next.

* * *

Later that evening, Josie and Monica were camped out in Josie's mom's kitchen for a late dinner after work. Josie was staring at the check she'd retrieved from Mr. Bailey. One thousand dollars. Just like that. Evan had handed over a thousand bucks.

"Tear up the check," Monica said. "You can move in with me."

"I don't know," Josie's mom said. "Seems rather gallant. Maybe you should cash the check and then find a way to repay him."

Josie eyed her mom. "You're matchmaking."

Her mom fluffed her hair and tried to look offended even as she helped herself to another brownie. "Nonsense. I'm being a realist. You're broke. You need money. He offered to pay. Is he good looking?"

"Mom! He's related to an ex-con who stole from me!"

"Josie was mooning about him earlier today," Monica said. "I think she likes him."

"No, I don't!" Josie pushed back from the table and scowled. "Why are you guys pushing this on me? Don't you have any respect for my single status?"

"Hey, I told you to tear up the check," Monica said.

Josie's mom shrugged. "I just think you're acting a little irrationally since your divorce. Talking about becoming a vet and never getting married again. Is that really what you want? Some demanding career that leaves you no time for your family?"

"I'll find a way to balance it. It's not like I'm going to disappear into a career." Why didn't anyone understand her need to become independent? "I just want a chance to..."

"I know, I know. Spread your wings." Her mom rolled her eyes. "By the time you realize you've overreacted to a few bad experiences, it'll be too late. You don't have forever to have kids, you know."

"I'm twenty-seven! I have twenty years to have kids!"

"That's just medical malarkey. You're already past your ripest years."

Josie took a deep breath. "Just because you had seven kids by the time you were my age doesn't mean I have to do the same thing."

Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Not just me. Except for Les, who recently met that very nice girl in Vermont, all your siblings have had kids by your age, too. It's natural."

It was that kind of attitude that had persuaded her to run to the altar with Tom. But no more. She was breaking free of the Harper Childbearing Philosophy. "Mo? Help me."

Monica sighed and rested her chin on her hands. "You have to admit, it would be pretty cool to be married to a gorgeous hunk who pampered you all day, so you could have lots of kids and not worry about money."

"Great. You've been brainwashed too."

Monica sat up. "But it would never work with the wrong guy."

"Thank you." Vindication at last. A small victory, but she'd take it.

"It won't work without a man either," her mom said. "You have to open your mind."

"By taking a payoff from some dude? You really want me to be indebted to Buddy's brother? What if he's a crook too? What if he shows up on my doorstep in two weeks with a couple of thugs to break my knee caps if I don't pay up or become a stripper at his night club?"

"He has a nightclub?" Monica perked up. "Where?"

"I was being hypothetical."

"Oh."

"It's not a payoff," her mom said. "He still owes you eighty-nine grand."

"He doesn't owe me. His brother does."

"They're family. It's all the same."

That was it. No more. "Taking money from a man isn't what I need right now." She ripped the check in half and threw it on the table. "Mo? Can I move in with you?"

"Of course." Monica picked up the pieces. "You sure about this?"

Josie's mom shook her head in dismay. "I'm worried about you, Josie. I don't want you to end up alone and miserable."

"I won't be. I'll be a highly accomplished career woman living the family life vicariously through my nineteen nieces and nephews."

And she'd keep telling herself that until she believed it. She had to find happiness within herself, because she certainly sucked at finding it with men.