The Matchmakers' Daddy

The other man was Harry Logan, a detective who’d tried to help a miserable, hard-ass teenager who’d had more than his share of trouble with the law. Some of the things Harry had told Zack had finally taken root, but Harry hadn’t known that. Not when Zack had headed out to meet the cop one evening and ended up behind bars and on the six o’clock news.

When Zack was paroled, Harry had reached out again, welcoming Zack into a brotherhood of men known as Logan’s Heroes, a group of misfit delinquents who’d turned their sorry lives around because of Harry’s guidance and influence.

With guys like Bob and Harry on his side, Zack’s future was looking up.

The present, however, was another story.

As Zack stood before Diana’s door, he took a deep breath, then slowly blew it out. For some reason, a swarm of butterflies had swooped through his gut, and he wasn’t sure why. It’s not like this was a date or anything. He pulled open the screen, then knocked lightly.

Jessie and Becky struggled to be the first to let him inside a small but homey living room with mismatched furniture, where framed photographs lined the mantel over the fireplace.

“I’ll go tell my mom you’re here,” the older girl said, before dashing off.

All of a sudden, in spite of a whiff of something that smelled tasty and tempted a grumble from his belly, Zack had second thoughts about accepting this dinner invitation. He’d eaten with the Logans a few times and with Brett and Caitlin Tanner once or twice, but he still felt kind of weird in those sit-down-at-the-table situations.

When the pretty brunette entered the living room, wearing a pair of white shorts, a red sleeveless blouse and a heart-spinning smile, he couldn’t have conjured a reason to leave, even if he’d tried.

There was an old adage that said beauty was only skin deep. But Zack had a feeling Diana’s went clear to the bone.

“Hi,” she said.

Rather than slip into chitchat, which would make him uneasy, he grappled to find a safe conversation, something that promoted his self-confidence. “The car is running again. I’m not sure how long it will last before you’ll need to buy something newer, but it ought to get you to work and back for the time being.”

“Thank you.” She placed her hands on her hips, drawing his attention to her gentle curves and making him feel as though he’d crossed some divine line between right and wrong, Heaven and hell.

He tried to shrug off his inappropriate interest. “I like tinkering with engines and have a knack for mechanics. Always have. In fact, I bought an old, beat-up Camaro and have been fixing it up. I rebuilt the engine, and now it runs like a charm. It doesn’t look too pretty on the outside, but it will—someday.”

Crap. He hadn’t meant to spout off like that. He hoped she didn’t think he was boasting. But it wasn’t easy talking to a lady like her.

Hell, he’d never been tongue-tied around women before. Of course, his dates had always been a bit rough and ragged around the edges and not at all like Diana. And even if he was getting his life on track, getting his focus out of the gutter and on the kind of future that would make his daughter proud of him someday, he couldn’t see chasing after a woman like her.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “My dad gave me that old car when we lived with him in Texas, and it was pretty worn-out then. But he managed to keep it running for me.”

“Is he a mechanic?”

“By necessity. He’s actually a trucker.”

Zack nodded, as though it made perfect sense. But it merely made him realize how very little he knew about the widowed mother of two. “What brought you out to California?”

Before she could answer, Jessie spoke up. “Mommy worked at a ranch. She counted all their money. But we had to move.”

Had she lost her job? Been falsely accused of something, like he’d been? God knew he didn’t like people digging into his past. Of course, that didn’t make him any less curious about hers.

“Becky,” the soft-spoken mother said to the older girl, “why don’t you and your sister set the table out on the patio. It’s a bit warm to eat inside.”

“Cool. Jessie and I like it when we eat outdoors. Can I light the bug candle, too?”

“Not until I’m there to supervise.”

The girls dashed off, and Diana took a seat on a worn plaid recliner. She sat at the edge of the cushion, leaning forward slightly, hands on her knees.

She looked ready to bolt.

Silence stretched between them until she said, “You start work pretty early each day.”

Okay, so she’d turned the conversation away from her reasons for moving to California. He took the hint and let it drop. “I start at seven o’clock. In the next few days, the rest of the crew will join me. And I’m afraid the equipment will only get louder.”

“That’s all right. My alarm goes off about that time. And the noise from your bulldozer just reminds me to get in the shower.”

Zack doubted he’d ever fire up that engine again without glancing in the direction of Diana’s house and wondering if she was awake.

And headed for the shower.

He envisioned the shapely brunette taking off a white cotton gown and stepping under the gentle spray of a warm shower. Naked. Water sluicing over her.

“So,” he said, trying to squelch the sexual curiosity that seemed sinful in the case of a widowed church secretary and the mother of two. “Do you like living in Bayside better than Texas?”

“Yes, but we really miss our friends, the Merediths. They were like family to us.”

“What made you move?” Okay, so he was prodding her, when turnabout wasn’t fair play.

“We were living with my father and…” She glanced in the direction the girls had run. “He’s a good man, but critical to a fault. And I had to put a little distance between him and the girls. I didn’t want them to grow up in a harsh environment.”

The kind of environment she’d grown up in, no doubt. But she seemed to have come away unscathed.

“Well,” she said, nodding toward the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I have to check something on the stove.”

“Sure.” He watched her walk away, unable to ignore the gentle sway of her rounded hips. He blew out a pent-up sigh, hoping to shake off the attraction that brewed under his surface.

He glanced at the lamp table, spotting a framed photograph of a smiling man and woman.

A groom and his pretty, brown-haired bride.

Diana and her husband.

The girls had said their father passed away. They seemed to be okay with the loss. But how about their mother?

Was she still grieving? Still brokenhearted?

He hoped not. Diana was too young, too sweet, too perfect to be hurting.

And too damned young to be sleeping alone.

Again, he cursed his sexual attraction to a woman who was way out of his reach.

Chapter Three

Diana stood at the stove. As spaghetti sauce simmered over a low flame, she stared at a large pot of water, wondering if it would ever boil.