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  But he'd inspect the hovercraft instead. Still holding his can of Coke, he got to his knees and peered under the belly of the craft. He found a movable flap that he hadn't noticed before. "Rudder?"

  "Yep." She leaned against the workbench and munched on her pizza. "I've done some calculations on my computer, but I won't know for sure if it works until the first test flight."

  "About that." He glanced up at her and fought the urge to pull her down next to him and kiss her until they were both breathless. "I'm going with you on that first flight."

  She shook her head. "Nope. Can't risk it."

  He wasn't about to accept that answer, but he decided to try logic before he resorted to coercion. "Do you have any experience with light aircraft?"

  "You mean like a pilot's license?"

  "Like a pilot's license." He took a swig of his Coke as he evaluated the shape of the rudder again. It should work, but this entire vehicle was experimental, so there were no guarantees.

  "No pilot's license. And I don't know what you're getting at. A pilot's license wouldn't do me any good if I get picked up flying a hovercraft that's not legal in the first place."

  "I'm talking about the flying experience, not the license itself. A person who's flown light aircraft would have a better feel for how to navigate in the hovercraft."

  She frowned, looking uncertain for the first time. "You could be right. I hadn't considered that. Maybe I can get one of those software flight programs and brush up on it."

  "There's nothing like actual hands-on experience." His groin tightened as he inevitably thought about another kind of hands-on experience that he longed to have.

  "I don't have time to take actual lessons. Plus I doubt if winter is the best time to start."

  "I have a license."

  "You do?" She sounded completely astonished.

  Although it was stupid, he let that irritate him. "I'm no Tom Cruise-type top gun, but I can fly a Cessna without crashing into things."

  "Don't get defensive on me, Charlie. Most people can't fly a plane, so naturally I'm surprised to hear that you can. Lyle is the only other person I've known personally who has his license."

  Lyle. Instinct told him this was an important name for him to know. He shouldn't care about guys in her past, but he couldn't help it. So although he was itching for information, he kept his tone casual. "Did you go up with him? Even that would be helpful."

  She set her Coke can on the workbench and hunkered down next to the hovercraft. "No, but I've been in small planes before. I've had to take them plenty of times to photo shoots in out-of-the-way places. I usually sat in the back, but I paid attention." She beamed at him. "I'll bet I would know exactly what to do with the hovercraft, so no worries."

  "You need me to go with you." He couldn't think how to get back to the subject of Lyle, so he let it drop for now.

  "No." She met his gaze. "If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself."

  "If something happened to you because you went alone, I'd never forgive myself, either."

  Determination firmed her jaw. 'This isn't up for discussion. I appreciate any help you can give me in the garage, but nobody goes in this hovercraft the first time except me."

  He'd never been so attracted to anyone in his life as he was to Eve as she crouched there in her overalls and bulky sweater, her glasses sliding down her nose and the gleam of purpose bright in her blue eyes. "We'll talk about it later," he said.

  "No, let's talk about it now." She stood and started to pace. "Let me explain this so you'll understand."

  He stood too and watched her walking the length of the garage. Strands of her lustrous brown hair were coming loose, and she tucked them behind her ears as she moved. She held herself with such grace, which made sense considering that she was a runway model. Here in this garage he tended to forget that.

  "The thing is, I want to live in Middlesex forever, and I realize this ..." She paused and gestured toward the hovercraft in a move worthy of Vanna White. "This is on the eccentric side."

  "Not compared to alien abductions." He also thought of his mother's X-rated bakery items. Middlesex wasn't quite as boring as it used to be, not that he'd changed his mind about staying.

  "I don't think the hovercraft itself will get me kicked out of town, but killing or maiming a favorite son would definitely make me a pariah."

  "I don't know about that favorite son part." He loved watching her move. She made those baggy overalls look like high fashion.

  "Oh, you're a favorite son, all right. Now I realize it was you that your mom talked about when I was buying cinnamon rolls at the bakery."

  "Of course I'm her favorite son. I'm her only son."

  "Another customer was in there, and she chimed right in about your valedictorian speech and your SAT scores. And there was the time you repaired the furnace in the gym. You are quite a legend at Middlesex High."

  Charlie could feel a blush coming on. "That's embarrassing. I'll have to talk to my mom. I don't want her carrying on about stuff like that to anyone who walks in."

  "Give her a break. She's a mom."

  "She's making me sound like some kind of hero around here, and I'm definitely not that."

  "Say what you will, but there's no doubt in my mind that if I let anything happen to you, I'd be run out of town. And I really like it here."

  He blew out a breath. "That's something else I still don't get. I mean, plastic reindeer? What's that all about?"

  "It's more than the plastic reindeer. You have Little League fields and a pumpkin patch in October. There's a parade every Fourth of July. I saw the pictures of last year's."

  "New York has parades almost every day of the week!"

  "Yes, but hardly any have little kids pulling wagons decorated with red, white, and blue crepe paper with their dog riding inside."

  "Oh." Charlie had pulled a wagon exactly like that down Main Street when he was seven. His mother still had the wagon, but Charlie no longer had a dog. Owning a dog would have made moving more complicated. He'd lived his life in limbo for years.

  "I want to be part of a community like this," Eve continued. "I know I'm not completely accepted yet, but I will be if I stay long enough. I'll blend in more and more, especially after my kids start going to Middlesex Elementary, and I become a Brownie leader or a den mother. I could coach soccer. I'm not too bad at soccer."

  He listened in dazed wonder. "You're a highly successful model, and you want to be a den mother!" He didn't mention that she'd skipped over a critical step, finding a father for those potential children of hers.

  "Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah, I do. I grew up on Beacon Hill in Boston in a world of nannies and boarding schools. My parents still live in the same elegant house, still worship affluence and prestige. They adored Lyle."

  Charlie adjusted the fit of his glasses, as if that would help him absorb all the information she was throwing at him. This was the first time she'd mentioned wanting kids, and there was that name again, one that made him want to snort and paw the ground. "Does ... Lyle figure into all this somehow?"

  "See, that was the problem. Lyle's exactly like my father. He was very clear that he never wanted a lawn to mow or a basketball hoop to install over the garage. The thing he liked about boarding school was that he'd never have to attend a PTA meeting in the cafeteria and sit on those molded plastic chairs."

  "Why is Lyle in the past tense?" Charlie knew he was still in trouble because Lyle in the past tense made him happy.

  "Because the life he wanted gave me the heebie-jeebies."

  "Heebie-jeebies are bad." And Lyle had given them to her. Charlie smiled.

  "Heebie-jeebies make you break the lease on your New York apartment and go house-hunting in Connecticut. But my family had a fit. I'd rejected a proposal from a Wall Street phenom. Denise would have given her tenured position for him. But he wasn't what I wanted."

  "I'm not, either." Charlie said it without thinking. "That sounded egotistical as h
ell. What I mean is—"

  "I know what you mean. You're hoping I understand that you don't want the life I just described any more than I wanted Lyle's version."

  Charlie didn't think her description sounded all that bad for some time in the far distant future. Very distant, both in time and miles from Middlesex. "It's just that I'm up to here with cardboard turkeys and pumpkin patches. I need a break from plastic reindeer."

  She nodded. "And I'm up to here with taxicabs and skyscrapers. I lived the urban lifestyle because it was what I knew and it made sense for my modeling career. It didn't feel particularly good, but it did feel familiar."

  "Exactly. That's exactly what I'm saying. Not good, but familiar." He gazed at her in complete understanding. Different needs, same sentiments. "So Lyle proposed and you ran away to Middlesex?"

  "Pretty much. At first I thought maybe I was running from the idea of commitment, but that wasn't it." She paused again, her expression soft. "A little while ago you asked me what I'd expect to get out of a relationship with you. I know now."

  He swallowed. "And what is that?"

  "Much more than you're willing to give."

  Chapter Ten

  It broke Eve's heart to admit that Charlie was everything she wanted in a man, because he was out of reach and she didn't know if another guy would ever come along who was as perfect for her. Looking into his eyes, she could see the battle going on inside that superior brain. He obviously didn't like disappointing people.

  Besides, he wouldn't mind scratching her itch. Kissing him had convinced her that they had chemistry going on. They could have a grand old time rolling across her round bed. She'd bet he was putting some thought into that option and wishing he didn't have to give it up for the cause.

  "Poor Charlie." She walked over to the hovercraft. "I didn't mean to mess with your head."

  His smile was self-mocking. "That's not the only part of me that you're messing with, but it's not your fault."

  "Or yours. Would you rather not help me with the hovercraft?"

  "No, I want to help you." He took a deep breath. "The timing sucks, doesn't it?"

  "Uh-huh." And the longer he stood there looking hot and gorgeous, the more she wanted him in her bed and in her life. Maybe she should make the decision to do without his help instead of leaving it up to him

  "You probably think I should get over myself. I mean, what kind of fool would stand here looking at someone like you and rave on about his precious freedom?"

  She shrugged, trying not to feel rejected. It wasn't her he was rejecting, just the concept of being tied down. Still, it stung.

  "Eve." He started toward her.

  She held up a hand to stop him. Then she shoved her hands in the back pockets of her overalls and faced him. "Look, I want you to help me with this project. You're the only person I know who I would trust to help me. We're both reasonable adults. We should be able to work on this hovercraft without grabbing each other's ass, don't you think?"

  His surprised bark of laughter echoed against the walls of the garage. "I'll give it the old college try."

  "I never went to college, so I'll have to give it the old boarding school try." She hesitated, debating whether to reveal her lack of scholarly training. Oh, what the hell? "I flunked out my junior year of high school. Just so you know."

  "Lots of genius types didn't finish high school."

  "Whoa! I am not a genius!" She backed up, both hands raised in protest. "Don't go pinning that label on me." The whole concept made her tummy churn.

  "Ever been tested?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. Nobody ever told me the results, and I sure didn't ask. I was lousy at school. If anybody in this garage is a genius, you are. Your mother thinks so."

  "Like you said, she's a mom. I did well in school because I liked it and I'm... I guess I'm disciplined, although my behavior tonight doesn't show that."

  "See?" She didn't want to think about his behavior tonight, because his most excellent kissing skills would get her into ass-grabbing territory. "You don't want to be a genius, either."

  "It's not a question of whether I want to be or not. I'm not. End of story." His brown gaze softened. "You, on the other hand, are still a question mark."

  She backed up a step. "I refuse to be a genius."

  "You don't have any say in it."

  "Sure I do. I reject the label."'

  'Then you might want to reconsider inventing purple hovercrafts, especially when you've had no engineering courses whatsoever. It would take a genius to—"

  "I took some online courses. Spent lots of time on engineering message boards. I don't want you to get too impressed with my native abilities."

  Charlie studied her for several long seconds. "What have you got against being a genius?"

  'They're weird. In a town like Middlesex they could be looked at strangely. I can see it all now. 'I'm sorry, Mrs. Whosit, but you can't be a Brownie leader. We heard that you're a genius, and they can't be trusted with impressionable young minds.'"

  Charlie rolled his eyes. "It's not like leprosy. It's a gift."

  "Then you take it. I don't mind being known for regular smarts. In fact, I'd like that a lot, if nothing else to show old Denise that she's not the only one who—"

  "Your sister, right?"

  "Yes. My sister who is coming tomorrow,.." Eve glanced at her watch and discovered that the time had really gotten away from her. She had a ton of cleaning to do before Denise showed up. "Let me ask you a question. I get that you're not interested in me."

  "Wrong. I'm very interested in you. I'm fighting it."

  "Okay, interested but fighting. Duly noted. Now let's say a brainiac showed up who taught economics at Yale. She's not into small towns at all, but she's convinced that there's no civilization worth mentioning outside of New England. Would she be a potential girlfriend or not?"

  Laughter sparkled in his eyes. "Does she invent things?"

  "Not that I know of. She's mostly all about the numbers, all about stock options, leveraged buyouts, boring stuff like that."

  "Blah."

  What a sweet word that was. Blah. The sweetest word she'd heard in a long time. Her mood improved exponentially. "I thought with your magna cum laude and everything, you might be interested."

  Charlie groaned. "I suppose my mom told you about that, too."

  "It was a slow day at the bakery. I was waiting for Myrtle to finish frosting my cinnamon roll. And you didn't answer my question."

  "Eve, are you worried that I'll be attracted to your sister?"

  "Maybe a little bit. After all, she is a college professor."

  "Don't put me in the same category as Rick."

  That confused her. "He has a thing for college professors?" Somehow Eve couldn't picture that.

  "No. his general category is good-looking women, and as long as someone fits in that category, he'll dive right in. He doesn't care what else is going on with her, just so she's a babe. His girlfriends all fit the profile and are pretty much interchangeable."

  "And your point is?"

  "You implied that I'm the same way with female brainiacs. If they're smart, I'm going in, regardless of other factors. One's as good as another. But I don't happen to operate that way."

  She was intrigued with this conversational thread. "Then how do you operate?"

  "I'm a one-woman kind of guy."

  The way he said that, looking straight at her, made squiggles of excitement dance in her tummy. "I see."

  "Once I focus on someone, she's the only one I want."

  She warmed herself in the heat of his gaze. "So once you're committed, someone could drop you into a room full of naked Mensa ladies and you wouldn't be tempted at all?"

  "Nope. Not if I'm into someone else."

  And he was into her. She had no doubt from the way he was looking at her. But he was fighting it. "Well, doesn't that suck the big one?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

  "What do you mean?"


  "There you stand, the perfect boyfriend, and you've taken yourself off the market where I'm concerned! It's not fair." Her sudden burst of anger surprised her.

  It seemed to surprise him, too. "Okay, look. I should go. You're right, it isn't fair." Then his glance strayed to the hovercraft. "Except, damn it. I really want to make sure you get this airborne without smashing yourself into tiny bits. And I'm worried that someone is trying to steal your concept."

  She didn't want him hanging around because of some misplaced protective urge. If he was determined to tight his attraction to her, she would make it easier on him. "I won't smash myself into tiny bits, and there's no hard evidence somebody is trying to steal anything. I could still find those notes. Feel free to leave."

  "But—"

  I mean it, Charlie! Your services are no longer needed around here." She was working up a good head of steam, now. Until he'd said that thing about being a one-woman guy, she'd been able to talk herself out of feeling gypped. But that was the last straw. She'd searched all her life for a man who could make that kind of deep commitment, and now that she'd found one, she couldn't have him.

  He gazed at her, his expression troubled. "I really think that we should—"

  The doorbell rang. She couldn't imagine who could be coming over at this time of night, but whoever it was might provide the perfect segue to get Charlie out of here. She hated the fact they were fighting and their friendship was in jeopardy, but she was probably foolish to try and hang on to that friendship when he'd be leaving Middlesex at the first opportunity.

  "Let me see who that is." She started into the kitchen.

  "Don't forget to check the peephole." Charlie followed her.

  "I always check the peephole." She was feeling cross with him and frustrated by the situation. Why did he have to set his sights on Hoover Dam, anyway? What did Hoover Dam have that she didn't have? Oh, yeah. Big turbines. Men and their machines. Phooey.

  When she looked through the peephole she saw Rick standing on her front porch blowing into his hands to keep them warm. She started to open the door and it wouldn't budge. Then she remembered that Charlie had locked it.