The Bachelor Next Door

“Then you shouldn’t have sent your child out to find someone.”

Cass stiffened. “I didn’t send him to find someone. In fact I forbade him to leave, but Andy has a thing—” She broke off. Why would he care that Andy loved school and learning? Andy would go to any lengths to get to there.

“Well he didn’t stay home. He came to my house. How the hell do you know I’m not an ax murderer, rapist or child molester?”

Cass sputtered, trying to figure out a way of defending what she knew was an indefensible position. Andy had gone before she could stop him. The boy was getting a bit impulsive, but that didn’t excuse her for letting him go.

“You’re right. I don’t know anything about you, except—”

“Except that I have nice buns.”

Oh, Lord, why had she ever mentioned that to her sister? Usually Andy was involved with playing and didn’t pay the least attention to her. But on that day, he’d obviously listened. She sought to change the conversation. “And a dog.”

“Tundra?”

“We’ve seen you outside with her. Andy loves animals.”

The coffeemaker spurted and spluttered, filling the silent kitchen with noise. Cass nervously glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at her rescuer.

“Mommy, I’m ready to go.”

Andy stepped into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a G.L Joe T-shirt. His new tennis shoes were spotless, but the laces were loosely tied.

“Come over here.” She knelt next to him to fasten his shoes, grateful for the distraction. It reassured her that she and Andy had to leave soon, that she wouldn’t have to stay and make small talk with Mr. Santini.

“There you go,” she said, rising to her feet. “Grab your lunch bag, honey.”

She poured coffee into two large foam cups, handing one to Mr. Santini and keeping the other for herself.

“Milk or sugar?” she asked.

He declined both. Andy grabbed a handful of oatmeal raisin cookies, offering a few to Mr. Santini, who took them.

“We’re going to be late,” Cass said, “Andy, did you close the upstairs windows?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll run—”

“I’ll close the house up for you. Go on, get this little guy to school.”

Cass hesitated for a moment, then remembered that Mr. Santini owned a reputable construction and land development company. As president of the home owners’ association, she’d approved his application for purchase. She knew more about Santini than she should. He was a respected member of the business community and a supporter of the Police Athletic League. There was really nothing in her house that he couldn’t afford to buy for himself.

“Thanks,” she said, herding Andy out the door. “That’s two I owe you.”

“Bye, Mr. Santini,” Andy said, waving.

Cass backed the Volvo out of the drive, wondering how she was going to deal with her new neighbor and the debt that now stood between them. All the way to school Andy talked about Rafe Santini, and that worried her more than she wanted to admit.

She dropped Andy off in front of the school just as the bell rang. She watched him run toward his classroom on legs that were no longer chubby. Andy was beginning to lose that little boy look and becoming more like a young man. He was only seven years old, but looked a lot like his father, small and lean. Andy had come home from school with a black eye two weeks ago. Since then, he’d followed her dictate on “no fighting” but had ended up feeling insecure. Cass wasn’t sure what to do with her son now.

She wished he would stay her baby forever but knew that wouldn’t happen. Andy was getting too hard to handle, she thought with a sigh. She’d always believed that a child’s upbringing would influence his actions, but Andy had a willful streak a mile wide. She hated to admit it, but she needed help with him.

Now she had a macho man with a swagger a mile wide living across the street. She thought about her new neighbor and how Andy had taken an instant liking to the man. Trouble was brewing.

She could cope now, but in a few years, if she didn’t assert herself, Andy would be racing all over the place and getting into real trouble. Mr. Santini was no help at all. Running around in those skimpy jogging shorts of his every morning. He looked like every young boy’s image of what a man should be. An athlete and a macho warrior rolled into one. It was enough to give a grown woman a heart attack.

Rafe drove a classic Jaguar sports car and probably dated women with big boobs and bleached blond hair. He was definitely not her type, and definitely not a good influence for a young boy.

But his earlier concern came back to her. He’d lit into her about letting Andy out of the house without supervision. She wondered if there was more to him than that badboy facade indicated. Did Rafe Santini care?

She pulled into her driveway and let the car idle for a minute before shutting it off. She hesitated to get out, reluctant to face her neighbor again. But at the same time, an edgy sort of nervousness made her limbs tingle and her pulse race.

She went into the house and filled her portable carafe with coffee before going across the street. Rafe sat on his front porch, his Siberian husky sprawled at his feet. Both were completely relaxed. Rafe’s eyes were closed, and Cass stood there, staring at him.

“Oh, no,” she muttered. “He’s asleep.”

One gray eye blinked open and glanced up at her. Cass cleared her throat and lifted her carafe. She leaned against the porch railing next to his lounge chair. “Want a refill?”

“Now that’s right neighborly of you,” he responded lazily, picking up his empty cup from the porch.

Silence settled around them, and Cass stifled the urge to run back to her own safe home. Her experience with men was limited to her late husband, Carl. She’d never had a chance to experiment with boys, having married right out of high school.

“Mr. Santini—”

“Rafe.”

She nodded, but didn’t use his name. “I have an offer for you.”

He grinned. “Does it involve my buns?”

Cass blushed. She felt the heat of it radiating from her face. She was going to have to have a talk with Andy when he came home.

“No. It involves something else.”

He raised one eyebrow at her, studying her with the intensity of a carpenter about to cut into mahogany.

“Well?”

“I wanted to um...” This was harder than she thought it would be. “I wanted to thank you for helping me out this morning and see if there was something I could do to repay you.”

“Well, now that you mention it there is one thing I’d like.”

His eyes narrowed and his gaze swept slowly down her body, sending signals to parts that had lain dormant for a long time. She fidgeted and stepped away from the railing and away from Mr. Santini.

“What do you want?”

“You,” he said.

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