Free The Temptation of Sean MacNeill by Virginia Kantra Page A

finished."
    "Didn't take you long."
    "No. It was easy. The kids here are really dumb."
    Rachel bit her lip in distress. It had been a tough week for all of them, but toughest for Lindsey. "Fifth graders rule!" she'd crowed last June, with summer spread before her and a return to her old school at the end of it She wasn't in command at Davis Elementary; and Rachel knew her daughter felt the loss of power keenly.
    Sean continued to stroke paint on the cupboard, his attention apparently on his work. "Dumb, how?"
    "Just dumb." When that failed to get a response, Lindsey elaborated. "They're all a bunch of hicks, anyway. Brittany Lewis made fun of my notebook. And Heather Mills said I talk funny."
    "You do." When she glared at him, Sean shrugged. "So do I. All us Yankees sound different to them."
    "Not Mom." Lindsey's voice was accusing. "Since we got here she sounds just like Grandma."
    "Not exactly," Sean said, but Lindsey wasn't listening. "I hate it here," she said. "There's nobody I like and nothing to do."
    Rachel's heart constricted.
    Sean's brush moved up and down. "There's a Labor Day carnival in town on Saturday," he said at last.
    Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Oh, whoopee." She waited. He didn't reply.
    "Would you take me?" she asked in a small voice.
    Sean dipped his brush in the paint can. "Hell, no. 'Maybe you should try being nice to your mom for a change, see if she will."
    "But I won't know anybody."
    "So, it takes time to make new friends."
    "I don't want new friends."
    "Well, with an attitude like that you won't have to worry about it, will you?"
    Rachel, listening in the darkness, stiffened in her child's defense.
    But Lindsey grinned. "You stink," she said amiably.
    Sean raised his eyebrows. "That's the paint, dollface ."
    Their momentary rapport made Rachel uncomfortable. Lindsey still wasn't over the loss of her father. She couldn't afford to fall for a transient carpenter with a commitment problem.
    And neither could Rachel.
    She stepped forward into the swathe of light, trying for casual even when the words stuck in her throat like crackers. "Here you are, sweetie. I thought I told you the garage was off-limits for now."
    Lindsey squirmed. "You told Chris."
    "Which naturally brought her out here hot-foot to see what the big attraction was," Sean said.
    But Rachel already knew what—or rather, who—the attraction was. Averting her gaze from his hard, broad shoulders, she said politely, "I hope she didn't interrupt your work."
    He waved his paintbrush at her. "Not too much."
    "Well…" She stood uncertainly. "Thank you. Lindsey, bedtime."
    Her daughter's lower lip protruded. "I don't have to go to bed yet."
    "It's almost nine-twenty."
    "I don't want to go to bed."
    "Show's over, kid," Sean said. "Scoot. Take the comic book with you."
    Lindsey tossed her head and scrambled off the couch. With a look at her mother— I'm going, but you didn't make me —she scooted.
    Sean set his brush across the can of red paint. He stood slowly, wiping his hands on his thighs. Rachel's mouth went dry. The gesture called attention to, oh, to everything: his height and his lazy grace and the way his damn jeans fit. God save her from a man with a high, tight butt in a pair of well-washed denims.
    She looked up to meet his wicked dark gaze, and her cheeks burned.
    "You wanted me?" he drawled.

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    Chapter 6
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    H e stood there with the shop lights throwing his body into bold relief, sliding over the muscles revealed by his sleeveless T-shirt.
    Rachel couldn't do anything about the color burning her cheeks, but she'd be damned before she'd gulp. She cleared her throat instead. "Nice line. Does it work often?"
    Humor flashed in his eyes. It was hard not to like a man who could laugh at himself.
    "You'd be surprised," he said.
    "Not really," she muttered.
    "What?"
    "I really came to get Lindsey. I hope the children aren't bothering you."
    "Not much." He took a step closer. "Not like you do." The safest way—the only way—to