Robbie turned and looked at his truck. And then it dawned on him. Red face. Small packets. “FOUR PLAY.” Catherine Daniels was mortified. He was in trouble.

Pulling his hat lower to hide his own flush and barely able to control an urge to laugh, Robbie grabbed four of the bags and took them out to the truck. He came back through the door just in time to see Cat hand the check he’d given her to the cashier.

“Robert MacBain,” the lady read. She looked at Cat. “You staying out there?”

“I’m… ah… I’m the housekeeper,” Cat whispered.

He should have checked the list this morning. Dammit, Catherine Daniels was going to quit just as soon as she got in the truck. First she was going to give him hell for contributing to the delinquency of minors, and then she was going to quit.

But shehad bought the condoms.

Robbie grabbed the remaining three bags, only to have the contents of one spill out.

Good God! Glow-

in-the-dark rubbers! His shoulders started to shake.

His blushing housekeeper bent down, picked up the packets, and stuffed them in her pocket. Muttering something that sounded rather nasty, she ran from the store.

Robbie took his time placing the bags in the back of the Suburban, all the while willing his shoulders to quit shaking. Lord, what a picture. Catherine Daniels was sitting in the front seat, facing forward, her hands on her cheeks. He finally found the courage to get in the truck and, without saying a word, backed it away from the curb and headed out of town.

It was a six-mile, silent ride home.

Was she going to quit?

Would he let her?

Her two kids were sitting on the porch when they returned, and Robbie drove up to the back door, then went in search of the boys to unload the groceries.

And as soon as they were done, he would have a little talk with them about condoms and women and embarrassing situations. And then he was going to turn around and leave without asking which one had added them to the list.

“There’s an old man inside,” Nathan whispered, taking Catherine’s hand as they walked into the house.

“And he’s got a really fluffy beard,” Nora added. “And he said my eyes was pretty, just like twinkling stars.”

“I hope you thanked him for the compliment,” Catherine said, stopping inside the doorway and bending down to untie Nora’s laces.

“I complimented him back,” Nora boasted as she held on to her mother’s shoulder and kicked off her boots. “I told him his eyes was all wrinkled at the edges.”

Catherine looked up, horrified, but had to move aside without correcting her daughter so that Robbie could come in.

“You have company,” she told him. “An elderly gentleman.”

“Aye. Gunter told me he was here. It’s my uncle, Ian MacKeage,” he explained, glancing toward the living room as he shed his own boots. “The boys will unload the groceries in a few minutes. Do you have any of that pie left from last night?”

“One piece.” Catherine handed her children the coloring books and crayons she had bought them, urged them toward their bedroom, and walked over to the counter. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.”

But before she could grab the pot, Robbie took hold of her arm to lead her into the living room. Catherine broke free with a gasp and took several steps back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, tucking his hands behind his back. “I would like to introduce you to Ian,” he continued, dismissing the incident as if it never happened. As if she hadn’t overreacted.

“He lives just over the ridge,” he continued, nodding toward the sink window. “My four uncles own the TarStone Mountain Ski Resort. The lights you see at night are the ski trails.”

Thoroughly disgusted with herself and hoping her face wasn’t flaming red, Catherine ducked her head and scooted past him into the living room. She came to a stop when the elderly, barrel-chested, wild-haired man rose from a chair by the hearth.

“Ian,” Robbie said, walking over to him, “this is our new housekeeper, Cat Daniels.

Cat,” he said, smiling at her frown for not introducing her as Catherine, “this is Ian MacKeage, my uncle. Don’t believe anything he tells you about me.”

“And I have tales that would curdle your blood, lass,” Ian said, holding out his hand to her.

Catherine walked over and watched her hand completely disappear as Ian’s large, blunt fingers gently wrapped around hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. MacKeage. I believe you

’ve already met my children, Nathan and Nora?” she asked, about to apologize for her daughter’s wonderfulcompliment.

Ian beat her to it. “The wee one’s a bonny lass,” he said with a chuckle, still holding her hand. “Candid, too. And your boy’s one to be proud of.”

“Th-thank you. Would you like some coffee and a piece of pie? It’s cherries from a can, but the crust is homemade.”

“Thank you, but no,” Ian said, finally releasing her and turning to Robbie. “I’m just out for my daily walk and was hoping I could talk this boy into accompanying me back.”

“You needn’t be afraid of bears, Uncle,” Robbie drawled, his eyes shining with warmth.

“They don’t much care for tough old hides like yours.”

Ian snorted. “They’re more worriedI’ll eatthem.” He turned to Catherine. “Nice to meet you, Cat,” he said, heading for the kitchen. “I hope ya know what a mess you’ve gotten yourself into here,” he added over his shoulder as he reached the coat pegs by the door.

“I could find ya a big stick if you’re wanting one,” he offered, shrugging into his coat and turning to face her as he buttoned it up. His smile was quite visible through his bushy beard, and his eyes really did wrinkle at the corners. “Nothing like a good smack with a stout stick to get your point across.”

“Ah… thank you,” Catherine whispered, not knowing how else to respond. “But disciplining the boys is Robbie’s department. I’m just the housekeeper.”

“It wasn’t the boys I was referring to,” Ian said over his shoulder as he walked out the door. “Come on, young Robbie. At my pace, it’ll be dark before I get home.”

Catherine stood at the window of the closed kitchen door and watched the two men slowly make their way across the yard and disappear into the woods. The house was unusually quiet but for the steady, comforting tick of the grandfather clock in the corner and the occasional giggles of her two children coming from the bedroom.

When was the last time she’d heard them giggle?

She liked it here, Catherine suddenly decided. Large males and condoms notwithstanding, this wonderful old house had an almost palpable sense of security—

four boys and one determined man, and an apparent extended family, bound by the common goal of living each day with hope.

Catherine wanted to hope. Nathan and Nora could thrive here, and with a bit of encouragement, they could not only learn to trust again but look ahead instead of over their shoulders.

And maybe she could, too. She would start with Robbie MacBain. The next time he touched her, even if it killed her to do so, she would not panic and pull away. She couldn’t very well expect her children to be brave if she couldn’t even control her own reactions to a simple, innocent touch from a man.

Ronald Daniels would not win.

It was just as she told her kids. They had five guardian angels, and now the offer of a stout stick, to back them up.

Chapter Nine

Robbie held thelow-hanging branch out of his uncle’s way, thinking he should have the boys trim back the edges of the overgrown tote road running between his home and the ski resort. Ian leaned on the stick he’d left in the forest so no one would see him using a cane to steady his eighty-five-year-old legs. Robbie hid his smile and tucked his hands behind his back, matching his stride to that of the old warrior’s.

They walked in companionable silence up the gently rising road for several minutes, until Robbie quietly asked, “What’s on your mind, Uncle?”