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haven’t got a homey place to live, and I can’t go to work for a while. You and Chris also have two problems—you haven’t got a car, and you haven’t got an abundance of money. I  noticed that you have an extra bedroom andbath downstairs—maybe we could work out some kind of deal. The use of my truck, plus”—he waved his hand while he contemplated a sum—“fifty dollars a week. We could be roomies.”
    Chris sprang from the couch. “No!”
    Edna stood firm with her hands on her hips. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
    â€œWe don’t even know this man.”
    â€œI know all I need to know. This house needs a man underfoot.” Edna smacked her lips and narrowed her eyes in determination. “Do you take out garbage?” she asked Ken.
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œYou see?” she informed her niece. “He’ll be perfect.”
    â€œHe’ll be a perfect pain in the…”
    Edna raised her eyebrows in warning. She didn’t allow any cussing.
    â€œâ€¦in the foot. And what about Lucy?”
    Now Ken raised his eyebrows. “What about Lucy?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t look right.”
    â€œPshaw,” Edna scoffed. “Women have been taking in boarders for centuries.”
    Chris glared at the man standing smugly in front of her. “I would like to speak with you privately, in the kitchen,” she hissed.
    â€œWill you excuse us?” he said pleasantly to Aunt Edna.
    Chris growled and stomped off to the kitchen. She closed the louvered kitchen door with a slam and turned to face Ken. “Let’s get something perfectly straight, Ken Callahan. I have no intention of allowing you to live in this house. I think it’s despicable of you to wheedle your way around my Aunt Edna, and I wouldn’t trust you for a second with my daughter.”
    An expression of amused disgust played on his face. “That’s a bunch of baloney. Your Aunt Edna is a nice old barracuda who only gets wheedled when she wants to. And it’s not your daughter you’re worried about—it’s you.”
    Chris pressed her lips together in annoyance. He was right. She’d had a nice sane life—until this morning—and she didn’t want it disrupted. And Ken could definitely disrupt. He was much too handsome. Much too sexy. And every now and then there was a flash of genuine vulnerability that broke down all her defenses. She had avoided romantic entanglements for the last seven years without feeling any real sense of loss. It was safe. It was comfortable. It was a way of life that would crumble with Ken lurking in her kitchen—wearing those formfitting faded jeans. She decided to takethe coward’s way out and ignore his accusations. She rallied to a new attack. “Why are you doing this?”
    â€œI need a place to live.”
    â€œThere are dozens of ads in the paper every day looking for roommates.”
    â€œThat’s true, but I like it here.” He surveyed the kitchen, his gaze drifting from the blond butcher-block countertops with the brown teddy bear cookie jar and the assortment of clear glass jars filled with spaghetti, sugar, whole oats, macaroni, popcorn, and flour to a Peter Rabbit place setting stacked in the sink. A bulletin board and chalkboard had been hung on one wall—the chalkboard was at the proper height for a seven-year-old. Ken picked up a piece of colored chalk and drew a straight line across the green surface. He studied the line for a moment, seemingly intrigued by the textured mark. Almost reluctantly, he returned the chalk to its wooden carrier and turned to Chris, putting his hand on her shoulder in a possessive caress that lingered briefly then moved to her neck. His finger touched an earlobe and slid along the curve of her jaw. “And I like you. I don’t know why. You’re kind of crusty. And you’re too skinny. But