“They are lucky to have you.” She smiled. “Helping, I mean.”

Yeah, because Carlotta could have him any way she wanted if she’d just say the word.

That wasn’t happening anytime soon. Sighing, he stepped out of the truck and jogged around the front. Carlotta had opened her door and was trying to hop to the ground in not-quite-practical heels and another one of those skirts that hugged her ass and drove him insane.

What he really wanted to do was put his arms around her waist and lift her against him. But she shot him another one of those skittish stares, so he merely offered her a hand. She took it, and her soft heat was a jolt through his system. Jesus, as if he could get much harder. The moment her feet steadied on the ground, Caleb forced himself to turn away and headed for the house.

Heading up the little walkway, he fished out the keys Hunter had given him and pushed open the front door. That’s where the charm ended. He passed through a little foyer. Dark and cramped, with a strange little half wall that supported spindles up to the ceiling, it cut the opening off from the rest of the house. Maybe if there’d been a coat closet or something functional, he could see the purpose. But at six foot three, all he felt was cramped.

The parquet floors had seen better decades. Someone had broken into the house at some point and spray painted an interesting collection of obscenities low on the half wall.

“Oh, dear.” Carlotta’s voice shook.

That was one way of putting it. “I vote we rip out this pointless wall. It’s not load bearing.”

“It makes the house feel smaller.”

“Right.” Caleb wandered further inside. “The fireplace needs a good scrub.”

She nodded. “Everything needs new paint.”

True enough. The work of the graffiti artists continued. Their vocabulary belonged in the gutter. Carlotta winced.

“I’ll definitely take care of that, too. I’m guessing…kitchen off to the left?” He put a hand to the small of her back and led her away from the insults in red-spray paint.

But the kitchen wasn’t any better. Several of the cabinets hung crooked, dangling by a single nail. Some of the doors had been torn off, the shelves ripped out. The sink was filthy. The refrigerator had been rolled to the middle of the floor. Caleb was almost afraid to open it. He filed that project in the later category, then opened a mystery door, expecting a pantry. Instead, he peeked down, flipped on the switch just inside.

“What is it?”

“Attic.”

Caleb took a couple of steps up and surveyed the room. “Partially. Someone left a bunch of junk here, but it wouldn’t take much to toss it out and finish the room off.”

It wasn’t a huge space, but he could think of a use or two that would make Hunter and Kata happy.

Stomping back down, he turned off the light, then guided Carlotta into the dining room. Other than thrashed carpet and another multi-colored paint job, there was nothing wrong with the room. Down a little hall, and he ran into one bedroom with a cracked window, another one with a large closet that needed a little drywall repair, and the master bathroom, which had some water damage around the shower. This was more than a weekend project…but he liked the challenge.

Caleb glanced over to find Carlotta hesitant, then furiously writing on her notepad. “You okay?”

She blinked at him as if coming out of her own world. “Fine, yes. All is well. Ideas flying in my head. This bedroom and bathroom should be spa colors. The bedroom just across the hall would make a lovely nursery. Kata has a love of white kitchens. White cabinets with a white, solid surface countertop. Something with streaks of gray or earth tones. Once we have that in place, I’ll have a better idea what color to paint the walls and what backsplash to choose. Something glass would be nice because she likes sparkle, but we will see what is available. What flooring did Hunter choose for the room? Did he leave us a budget?”

“Hardwoods. Yes, I’ve got it. How about we discuss more over lunch? I’m starving. You can tell me your ideas.”

“You go ahead. I have too much to write out to leave now. I will be fine here.” Subject dismissed in her mind, Carlotta turned with pen in hand and headed out the bedroom door.

Caleb frowned and gripped her elbow. His hand was gentle, but she wasn’t getting away. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“I usually skip it.”

He knew his frown became a glower, but he found her skipping meals unacceptable. “Not with me, you don’t. And you won’t be skipping lunch, either.”

“I am a grown woman. I do not need you to tell me when to eat.”

Wincing, Caleb let go of her arm. Since divorcing the ex-douche bag, Carlotta had guarded her independence zealously. Ordering her trampled on that. But he couldn’t let her simply have her way.

“We have hours of very hard work ahead of us. You need to fuel your body or you’ll be exhausted in an hour or two.”

Her eyes sharpened, large brown pools that seemed to have no end. He could fall in there if it meant staring at her gorgeous face for the next hundred years. Time had been kind to her. The small lines around her eyes were faint. Her lips were still a plump, red bow. The curves of her breasts and hips were voluptuous. In the past two years, she’d grown her hair out so that it brushed over her shoulder caps in fat curls he wanted to bury his hands in as he guided her to his lips, his cock…

“I often eat but one meal a day. With hips such as these, I can afford to skip meals.”

She spoke the words wryly and meant them as a joke, but they just pissed Caleb off.

“Not when you’re with me.” He brought her closer. “I still remember that fragile woman Hunter took from Gordon’s house. He brought you to me and put you in my care. It’s my duty to watch over and protect you. My son and your daughter would not be happy with me if I allowed you to run yourself down. I’ll let you pick out whatever food you’d like, but we’re eating now.”

Carlotta dug in her very sexy heels. “I do not appreciate your bossiness.”

“It’s not the first time, and I doubt it will be the last.”

Caleb ushered her out the door. She stomped and huffed, and in truth, he had to work not to laugh…and be a little proud. When Hunter had first brought her to his house, she’d been meek and willing to accept anything in order not to create waves. And to look at her asserting herself now? It made his cock hard. Then again, everything about her did.

Herding her out to the truck, he helped her up, then hopped into the driver’s side. “Where’s a good place to eat? I figure you used to live here, so you’d probably know. Have a favorite?”

She still seemed put out with him, but did answer. “One of my favorite places is very near here. At the end of the street, take a right. In two stoplights, head left. I will tell you when to stop.”

Fair enough. He followed directions and found himself parallel parking in the middle of a little downtown district that had been revitalized with unique shops, antique stores, a cupcake bakery, and… “Primrose and Saxby’s?”

Despite the rundown brick building, the lacy curtains screamed feminine and delicate. Carlotta sent him a coy smile as she approached the stained glass door.

Caleb pulled it open for her and a blast of sweet-smelling air hit him immediately. Flowers—and lots of them. Scented candles added another cloying note to the pungent, barfworthy fragrance. And lots of estrogen. Old-fashioned jewelry filled glass cases, framed by overflowing antiques that looked a hell of a lot like junk to him. And goddamn dolls everywhere in frilly dresses and dainty shoes with unblinking glass eyes. Oh, hell. What did women see in places like this?

A woman in a Victorian dress showed them to their table. A man in a tuxedo serenaded the crowd, singing sappy love songs and doing his best Barry White imitation. The menu consisted of items like chicken chutney salad, afternoon tea finger sandwiches, basil cheese tarts, and cream of leek soup. Carlotta pressed her lips together, looking exactly like the cat who swallowed the canary.

The waitress took their order, and he’d been thrilled to find a burger on the menu. Not his first choice, but the rest of this bird food would wear off in a couple of hours. Carlotta ordered a turkey swiss wrap and a lemon scone with clotted cream.

Caleb had no idea what that was precisely, but he had to admit that the food was actually pretty edible, even if the music made him want to vomit. She offered him half of the scone thing, which looked a bit like a hard turnover to him. He declined, and she bit into the scone. The look on her face as she did, the moan, the way she nibbled and licked her lips… Hell, did she have any idea how close he was to plucking her up from her chair, laying her across the table, and tearing her clothes off?

Gnashing his teeth as she spooned on some of that sweet white cream and finished the little dessert, he counted the minutes until he could escape this joint and get her alone.

“Did you used to come here a lot?” he asked to keep her talking. If they were having a conversation, they couldn’t be fucking—at least in theory. He could think of a lot of things he’d like to say to her while buried deep.

A smile spread across her beautiful face. God, those plump lips he wanted to own with his own mouth, his cock, his…

Stop. He had to yank his head out of her pussy, at least figuratively. If he ever got there literally, he probably wouldn’t come up for air for a long fucking while.

“Never,” she admitted softly.

But she’d wanted to torture him a bit for forcing her to eat and make him regret bending her to his will. This place definitely wasn’t his speed, but he wasn’t going to wish he’d left her hungry.

“But I always wanted to come here. It looked…interesting.”

Caleb frowned. “Then why didn’t you?”

As soon as he asked the question, he knew the answer. Carlotta merely confirmed it.

“Gordon would say it is stupid to waste money on food I could cook better. He would say that the place is silly with its lace and dolls and the singer.” She shrugged. “I would not want to come to such a place every day, but every so often would be nice.”

And the ex-douche bag had been unwilling to bend for her, even just to make her happy. Caleb was more than glad he could fulfill this desire for her. He’d be glad to satisfy any other she might have, too.

He took a calculated risk and reached across the table for her hand. He heard her little indrawn breath when he curled his fingers around her. She tensed, but she didn’t let go.

With a squeeze, he met her dark eyes. “Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“He put a roof over my children’s heads and food in their bellies. I came to him with three kids. Whatever else I say about him, he provided for them.”

“And treated you badly.”

“I was not important. The children were.”

Ah, damn… Her heart was so soft and sweet, and Gordon had taken advantage of it so badly that she feared trusting anyone again. Caleb knew damn well that he wasn’t easy to get along with, but he’d never neglect or tear her down as Gordon had. He wondered if all her experience with love had been awful.

“Tell me about your first husband.”

Carlotta looked surprised by his question, but happy for the change of subject. “Eduardo was a good husband and father. He was a police officer and died in the line of duty while breaking up a domestic dispute. The children were all young. I was a widow before thirty and a poor one at that. I had very much hoped that Gordon could fill all the voids in our lives, but…” She shrugged. “The nine years Eduardo and I shared together were lovely and wonderful. Even knowing how it would end, I would not change a thing. My children are the world to me, and I treasure my memories with their father.”

And Caleb was actually glad to hear that. He just hoped that having something good in the past would help Carlotta believe that she could have something good in the future with someone else.

“You deserve to be protected and pampered, Lottie. You deserve someone who will be happy to indulge your whims every now and then just for the pleasure of seeing you smile. And you need someone willing to make sure you take care of yourself properly.”

Carlotta seemed to hold her breath. She blinked at him. “I am too old now for matters of the heart. I have two beautiful grandsons and—”

“And if you finish that sentence, you won’t like what comes next. You are not old.” He gritted his teeth, his palm itching to meet her backside. Hell, he hadn’t felt an urge to punish a woman this way in years… None of them had mattered enough to try. “Do you hear me, Lottie?”

“Caleb, stop. I know that I am no longer young. Once I was pretty, like my Kata.”

“You’re still so goddamn beautiful it makes me hurt to hear that you think otherwise. If you’d give me half a chance, I’d exhaust myself proving over and over how incredibly lovely I think you are.”