They all turned in the direction of the sound. At the far end of the house, a woman stared up at the roof, her face showing her fear. Sitting on the edge, three stories up, was a little boy, smiling, his chubby legs hanging down. It was as if he was getting ready to leap down into his mother’s arms. But then, the roof seemed almost too rotten to hold him.

Tate looked at Jack. “You go. I’ll get the rope. I hope you don’t have to play catch.”

Casey’s mind raced. “Where is Gizzy?” She ran to the back of the truck.

Tate flung open the doors, climbed inside, and got the box of ropes and bungee cords. “I have no idea where she is. Call 911 and get the fire department here.” He took off running.

“You can’t go out on that roof,” she called after him, but he didn’t hear her.

Casey took her phone out of her pocket. The signal was weak, but she got through to 911.

The dispatcher answered right away. “You’re our third caller,” she said. “The truck is on its way, but it’s going to be twenty to thirty minutes before they can get there. Can someone talk the child into holding still?”

“We’ll try,” Casey said and hung up.

“What happened?” Gizzy asked from behind her. “I was looking for—”

Casey grabbed her sister’s hand and started running. “They may need you.” People were gathering around the front door and blocking it, so Casey ran to the side. “We’ll take the back stairs. I hope I can remember how to get there.”

There was a big man at the head of the main staircase, and he was keeping people from going up. A flash of a badge showed that he was a deputy sheriff.

Casey turned to Gizzy in question and she nodded. While the deputy was distracted by some guy with a camera, the two women sneaked past the crowd and ran down the hallway.

“I think this is it.” Casey flung open a door to reveal a narrow staircase leading up. There were a lot of footprints in the thick dust.

“Those are from Jack’s boots,” Gizzy said. “I recognize the print.”

At the top was a closed door, but when Casey tried it, it was locked. She knocked. “It’s us. Let us in.”

“Wait for us in the truck,” Tate said through the door. “Jack’s going out on the roof to get the kid.”

“He’s too heavy!” Casey shouted. “He’ll go through. Landers, if you don’t let us in—” She couldn’t think of a good threat.

“Please,” Gizzy said. “Please.”

Her sweetness made Tate open the door. Jack was by the wide window, with a rope looped about his waist, one end on the floor, the other end in Tate’s hands.

Tate was frowning. “We’re handling this.”

“No,” Casey said as she looked at Jack. “You’re too heavy. Gizzy will go.”

“Absolutely not!” Jack said.

Ignoring him, Casey asked Gizzy, “Can you move in those skinny jeans?”

“No.” She unzipped them.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jack spat out.

Casey knelt to unbuckle Gizzy’s tall wedge sandals. When Casey stood up, Gizzy was wearing only her pink underpants and a shirt. Her long, trim legs were bare.

Tate was standing to one side, still holding the end of the rope. He seemed to understand what the women were doing because when Casey looked at him, he stepped forward. This wasn’t a time to argue. As he looped the rope around Gizzy’s waist, he talked to her in a calm voice. “The roof is in bad shape and the old tiles are falling off. You need to step carefully. Test every tile with your foot before putting your weight on it. Understand?”

Gizzy nodded.

“Jack will keep the rope around him and he won’t let you go. If you fall, he’ll hold on and all of us will bring you up.” Tate put his hand behind him, and Jack handed him something they’d tied together out of a bungee cord and another piece of rope. “The stunt coordinator on one of Jack’s movies made a harness like this for a scene. You need to get it around the kid, then fasten it to you. That way—”

“If I drop him, he won’t fall.”

“Yes, exactly.” Tate nodded at her. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Gizzy said.

Jack’s face was solemn as Gizzy came to him. He kissed her, then helped her out the window.

Tate was standing beside Casey. “What the hell were you thinking?” he said quietly. His calm, soothing voice was gone. “This is dangerous. She has no training. She can’t—”

“She can!” Casey said. “Gizzy can walk a tightrope, race motorcycles. Whatever. She inherited Dad’s inner bad boy.”

“Whatever that means,” Tate said.

Casey went to the open window beside Jack. He was talking Gizzy through walking on the roof. The child had lost his smile and was now clearly afraid. His mother was still below, talking to him and telling him not to move. Around her was a growing crowd of onlookers.

“Watch the pretty lady,” his mom called up to him. “She’s going to get you down, then I’m going to buy you so much ice cream you can go swimming in it. Would you like that?”

When the child twisted his body to look at Gizzy, half a dozen tiles fell to the ground and the crowd below gasped.

“Stay calm and test the tiles,” Jack said.

Gizzy stepped carefully, but she didn’t seem to be afraid.

Tate stood behind Casey, looking over her head. “She’s good. Just so she doesn’t freak when she gets to the edge.”

“She won’t. She never does. She’s helped the Summer Hill Fire Department many times.”

They all watched as Gizzy slowly made her way to the boy. Every time tiles fell, the crowd reacted loudly. Gizzy would pause and wait, then take another step. She smiled at the boy. “Hi,” she said. “Want me to get you off this roof?”

The child nodded, but when he held up his arms to her, more tiles fell down.

“His name is Stevie,” Jack said. His hands were white from gripping the rope so tightly. He was very aware that this wasn’t the movies. There were no nets a few feet away, no crane on standby.

Stevie began to cry, and when he did, he moved just enough to make everyone gasp in fear.

“I need you to hold absolutely still,” Gizzy said to the boy. “Can you do that?”

The boy gave a nod, but he was beginning to shake.

Gizzy changed tactics. “Isn’t this fun?” Her voice was happy, full of adventure. “I love walking on roofs. But I guess you do too or you wouldn’t be sitting on the edge.”

The child stared at her in surprise—and his trembling slowed down.

“When I was your age I climbed on every roof there was. I scared my mother a lot.” Gizzy stopped as half a dozen tiles tumbled to the ground and loudly smashed into pieces. Through the ensuing noise, she kept her eyes on the boy and never lost her reassuring smile. When it was calm again, she held up the harness the men had made.

“Stevie, I’m going to slip this around you so the men in the window can pull us inside. How does that sound?”

The child nodded. There were tears glistening in his eyes, but he seemed stronger, more determined.

“I just need for you to sit very, very still. Don’t move your arms or your legs. Okay?”

Again he nodded as Gizzy slowly slipped the rope over his head and down to his waist. It was harder to get the bungee cord between his legs and fasten it. Twice Gizzy had to wait for falling tiles to settle. When the old gutter broke off and crashed to the ground, the gasp of the onlookers made the child throw his arms around her.

The unexpected weight almost made Gizzy lose her footing, but she balanced and managed to sit down.

—

Below them in the crowd were Mr. and Mrs. Johnson from Tucson, Arizona. They were one of the few remaining retired couples who could afford to spend their summers driving around in a gas-guzzling RV. Mrs. Johnson liked estate sales and had an eye for a bargain. She shipped lovely things back home to her sister, who sold them in her antiques shop. Mr. Johnson’s passion was photography, and the RV was fitted with deep drawers full of equipment. Right now he had his new Nikon Df equipped with a 200- to 400-mm lens, and he was recording the rescue. It was his wife who’d identified Tate Landers, while he loved Jack Worth’s movies. The Df didn’t have video, but it did contain a very fast 256GB memory card. Mr. Johnson put the camera on continuous shots and kept snapping.

—

Gizzy’s grip was strong, and she was able to hold on to the sturdy little boy and stand up.

Now that Stevie was with Gizzy, Jack began talking to her, his voice encouraging. “Just a few more steps, baby. I’m right here.” He was steadily pulling on the rope, taking up the slack as she came forward.

She was almost to the window when the tiles under her feet flew out from under her. Gizzy and the boy went down. Her arms stayed around him and she made no attempt to catch herself. She had absolute faith that Jack would hold her—and he did.

Tate grabbed the rope behind Jack and helped hold the weight of Gizzy and the boy.

Immediately, Casey saw what needed to be done. It was going to be impossible to pull Gizzy in with only the rope without removing a lot of her skin. The tiles were so loose that she’d never get a foothold. Casey ran to the door and shouted down the stairs for the deputy to come up: “We need you.” The big man was there in seconds, and he relieved Tate at his end of the rope.

Casey looked at him. They both knew what she had to do, and his eyes asked if she was willing. She nodded.

She pulled off her tennis shoes, then went to the open window, Tate behind her.

“I won’t let you fall. You know that, don’t you?”

“Just stop the electricity. For right now, don’t be a movie star in hiding.”

In an instant, Tate pulled off the cap, unfastened his hair, and tossed the mustache into a corner. “Better?”

“Yes,” she said as she climbed into the window, then put her hands down onto the roof. She was going out headfirst. Tate clasped her waist, and as she inched onto the roof, he slowly worked his way down her body to her knees.

“Somebody’s been working out,” he said.

Casey was looking at Gizzy, who was hanging by a rope around her waist, a heavy, frightened toddler clinging to her. “Can you believe that he’s flirting with me?”

“Yeah. He likes you.”

The sisters smiled, trying to reassure each other. Yes, Gizzy was a daredevil and seemed to be fearless, but Casey saw the worry in her eyes. The rope was around Gizzy’s waist and cutting into her with the pressure. She was bleeding in a dozen places and must have been in pain. It was clear that the boy was holding on so tightly that Gizzy could hardly breathe—but then, she was holding him just as tightly.

When Casey held out her hands, Gizzy clasped them hard, hands to wrists. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Gizzy said.

Casey yelled, “Now!” and the three men began pulling, two on the rope, with Tate holding Casey’s legs and drawing her in. It hurt. The rough surfaces of the tiles and the old window took off a layer of skin on Casey’s arms. She couldn’t imagine what was being done to Gizzy’s bare legs.

When Casey was nearly inside, Tate pulled her the rest of the way through the window. She never let go of her sister’s arms, didn’t break eye contact with her.

Jack leaped forward to grab Gizzy’s arms.

The door burst open and the boy’s mother ran in, her arms outstretched, her voice hysterically calling her son’s name.

Only when Gizzy was standing in the room did she finally loosen her grip on the little boy. He fell into his mother’s arms.

Behind them, Tate pulled Casey to him. Her heart was pounding and she was shaking. Tate’s hold on her was comforting—with no electricity.

He bent his head so his cheek was on her hair. “You didn’t inherit your dad’s love of adventure?”

“None of it. I’m a total coward.” She knew she should break away from him, and she could hear Jack and Gizzy and the deputy talking. They said they were taking Gizzy to get medical treatment. Casey knew she should go too, but she didn’t move out of Tate’s arms. They seemed to fit together perfectly, and it had been a long time since a man had held her. Tate’s laughter at the story of her breakup had made her remember things that she’d blocked out. Maybe it was what she’d just been through or Tate’s humor, or maybe it was being held after so long without, but she thought about what had happened with her and Ben. Months before he moved out, he’d made some very unpleasant gibes about how Casey was the only one who could run the restaurant. She knew he’d been passed over for promotion, and she’d done her best to make it up to him. There had been fabulous dinners followed by great sex, followed by days of ego-boosting, but nothing she did stopped his endless little snipes.

Before she knew it, tears came to her eyes, and she tightened her arms around Tate. He buried his hand in her hair and held her, saying nothing, just standing there with his arms around her.

The tears lasted only seconds, then she became aware of where she was. It was silent in the room. Had the others left or were they watching?

When Casey gazed up at him, Tate kissed her forehead—and electricity shot through her.

She pushed away from him and glared. “You had to ruin it, didn’t you?”

He didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I did. My arms around a beautiful woman who I like very much turns me on. Sorry. My weakness. Are you okay?”

She took a breath. “Yes.” Except for deep embarrassment, she thought. “We better go. The owner will sell everything and we’ll have a bare stage for the play.”

“No. Jack will take care of him. That fierce act he shows in his movies is real. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” As he opened the door for her, she looked at him. “I’m sorry about falling apart.”

His eyes were serious. “You were very courageous. If I’d let you go, you would have slid down the roof and hit the ground headfirst. It takes a lot of trust, as well as faith, to do what you did.” He smiled. “And a lot of muscle on my part. Where did you get quads like that?”

Casey went into the hall. “You make me sound like an Olympic lifter. I just haul big, heavy pots off the stove, and I run around the kitchen for sixteen hours at a time.”

“The trainer gets here tomorrow. Maybe you can tell him your technique. I want muscles like you have.”

“Why, you—” She started to smack his shoulder but drew back.

“Wise,” he said. “That electricity you put out hurts weak little me.”

“That I put out? It’s you who thinks he’s Benjamin Franklin.”

“Is that the Ben who was so jealous of you that he left in a very cowardly way?”

Casey stopped at the head of the stairs. For months she’d been living with guilt, thinking that she’d been terrible to a really nice man, but Tate was making her see things differently. She smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said softly. “Thank you for not dropping me off the roof and for making me feel better about Ben. It was very kind of you, especially after I…I…”

“Bawled me out after I saved your house from total destruction by a rampaging bird the size of a bear cub?”

She laughed. “More or less.” When she went down the stairs, Tate was close behind her.

Laughter, she thought. It’s what she most needed after the harrowing experience on the roof.

At the foot of the stairs, she started toward the kitchen, but Tate stopped in front of her. He nodded toward her bare forearms. They were bleeding. Tate had so distracted her that she’d forgotten about them, but the sight of the blood brought it all back and she felt her knees giving way.

Tate caught her with his hands under her elbows. “Let’s go to the truck and clean you up.”

She nodded and followed him out the side door to the parking lot.

Gizzy was sitting on the grass by the truck. She had a bandage on her forehead and gauze around her left hand. Her legs were now covered by her jeans, but Casey guessed there were bandages under there.

“People know you’re here, so we need to leave,” Gizzy said to Tate. “Jack had a talk with the owner about his increase of prices. Seems like it worked, because everything we wanted is going to be put into the truck. We just need to wait until they bring it here.”

“Actually,” Casey said, “I want some things from the kitchen before we go.”

Tate was using wipes to clean the scrapes on Casey’s arms. When he put a bandage on one of them, she didn’t dare look at him. What he was doing now, this tender caring for her, and what he’d done earlier were having an effect on her.

“There,” Tate said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought. I need to speak to Gizzy for a moment.”

Casey stayed on the truck while he went to Gizzy and squatted down beside her on the grass. They are a truly beautiful couple! Casey thought. Gizzy was tall and gorgeous, the same as Tate. Her blondeness matched well with his dark hair and eyes.

Casey was appalled to feel a rush of jealousy. Ashamed of herself, she left the truck and went toward the house.

Tate caught up with her. “I thought I’d play pack mule and help carry the copper pans you want.”

“You’ll be recognized.”

“After what you did today, you’re more likely to be asked for an autograph than I am.”

When Tate smiled at her, Casey remembered how it felt to be in his arms—and how good he looked with Gizzy. Turning away, she tried to get her emotions under control. She told herself that the trauma she’d just been through would make any man look good.

There were two women in the kitchen checking out old implements. Tate waited until they left before he entered the room. “So, which pieces do you want? Or shall we make a bid for all of it?”

“I thought I’d hunt for chocolate molds. I might start collecting them.”

“What do they look like?”

She described them, and Tate began examining the highest shelves, moving things around as he searched. “You have a lot of them?”

“Only one. Devlin Haines gave it to me.”

Tate’s back was to her and for a moment he halted. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he’d been affected by the name. “Did he?”

“It belonged to his grandmother. I said he shouldn’t give me something of such great sentiment, but he did. What’s between you two, other than being ex-relatives, that is?”

When Tate turned around, his face was expressionless. “He is my niece’s father.”

“I know that, but what—”

“I think I better go back to the truck and see if Jack needs any help.” He left so fast he almost raised a cloud of dust.

Casey stood there blinking at the space where he’d just been. Obviously, he didn’t want to talk about his relationship with Devlin. Tate Landers would flirt, but it didn’t seem as if he’d share his real feelings.

She stayed in the old kitchen for a while, trying to settle her thoughts and emotions. There wasn’t anything for chocolate, but there were two copper cake molds that had good tin linings. After paying for them, she started back toward the truck.

Gizzy met her halfway and held out the inlaid jewelry box that Casey had so admired. “Tate had me buy this and he asked me to give it to you. I don’t know why he didn’t give it to you himself.”

“This is what you two were whispering about?”

“Yes. You didn’t think Tate was making a pass at me, did you?”

“Of course not!” she said as she took the pretty box. “But you looked so good when you had your jeans off that I wouldn’t blame him.”

Laughing, Gizzy took Casey’s arm in hers and lowered her voice, but she couldn’t contain her excitement—or her wonder. “Jack wasn’t turned off by what I did. And he wasn’t scared of me. Oh, Casey, I think this may be real.” Turning, she ran back to the truck.

“Please be careful,” Casey said to no one. She needed to have a talk with Gizzy about not falling head over heels for a guy who would probably drop her when he went back to his home in Los Angeles. Gizzy was a small-town girl, a pastor’s daughter who went to church three times a week, while Jack was a movie star—and everyone knew what that meant.

She got to the truck as Tate and Jack were closing the back doors. Jack walked away with Gizzy.

“Thanks,” Casey said to Tate as she held up the box. “I didn’t realize you knew that I liked it.”

He was smiling, but she saw that it was without warmth. “You’re welcome. Are you ready to go?” He didn’t wait for her answer, just turned away.

“I’m sorry,” she said loudly.

He glanced back at her. “For what?”

“Being a Mean Girl. I know you and Devlin aren’t friends and I shouldn’t have mentioned him. But I’ll be honest and tell you that I’ve shared a couple of meals with him and I like him.”

“Like him how?” There was such a deep scowl on Tate’s face that she took a step back.

“We’re friendly,” she said. “That’s all. He talks about Emmie a lot.”

That statement made Tate snort in derision. “How the hell would he know about her? She—”

“You two ready to go?” Jack yelled. “Gizzy knows a place where we can picnic. Casey, did you bring enough food for lunch?”

“We could feed a town with all she brought.” Tate opened the side door and held it for Casey. “You’re stuck in here with me.”

She was glad that his anger seemed to have disappeared, but when she looked inside the truck, she halted. Half the seat was taken up by two huge boxes. “What is that? A piano?”

“Just a few extra items Gizzy wanted,” Jack said.

“And so did you!” she shot back.

“Are you saying that you two filled the entire back of this huge truck and this is the overflow?” Casey asked.

“Well…” Gizzy glanced at Jack. “Kit did say his cousin Dr. Jamie and his wife are coming to help Dad out. They’re going to need furniture, and our sister needs some for her shop, and I saw a bed that Josh would love, and…” She shrugged.

“Looks like you’re going to have to sit close to me,” Tate said, and there was happiness in his voice.

“Hmph!” Casey said. “I just need to find the switch to turn off the electricity.”

“You didn’t see the switch on that first morning?” His face was all innocence. “Now, Mean Girl, you’ve really hurt my feelings. You didn’t see any switches?”

Casey’s face turned red but she couldn’t help laughing. “I can’t remember very clearly. Besides, what you do with soap is none of my business.” When she threw a leg up to get into the backseat, Tate put his hand under her backside and pushed.

As she went up, he said softly, “I’d like to show you what I can do with soap.”

When they got on the road, Jack and Gizzy began to quietly talk. In the back, by necessity, Casey sat close to Tate. Even if they weren’t actually touching, she could feel his warmth.

She looked away from him, across the boxes, and out the window. Now that it was quiet, she was beginning to think about what had happened. She remembered that little boy sitting on the edge of the roof and Gizzy dangling from a rope. As the images came back to her, Casey thought of her own part in the rescue. If Tate had let her go…

“Thinking about what happened?”

“Yes.” She changed the subject. “I’m glad we got all the things Stacy picked out.”

But Tate didn’t let her avoid the issue. “I know it was scary hanging down the roof like that, with your body supported by someone you hardly know. Have you ever done anything like that before?”

“Never. I’ll probably wake up at two A.M. in a panic.”

Tate looked serious. “I could stay with you tonight and…” He gave a suggestive shrug.

“Thanks for your generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“If you change your mind, you know where I live.”

She couldn’t keep from laughing, and Tate smiled. She knew he’d been teasing her on purpose and it had worked to bring her back to the present. “Thanks.” She lowered her voice. “If I’d had time to think, I’m sure I would have been too scared to do anything. But it all happened so fast. But then, Gizzy was the real hero.”

“No,” Tate said. “She loved it. There wasn’t any real fear in her. When you’re afraid but do it anyway, that’s courage.” He could see that Casey was getting serious again. “Like me. At the auditions, all those women were looking at me like I was supposed to fulfill their every dream. But I got up there and performed anyway. Now, that is courage.”

Casey was smiling again. “Until I got on the stage.”

“Do you think I’m shorter today? I could swear that your delivery of Ms. Austen’s lines cut me down by at least four inches.”

“You? It was all new to me. You’re used to it.”

“Ha! You turned down my best invitation. You so wounded my pride that I may never be able to get another woman in bed with me. I think you are the only one who can heal me. How about eight tonight?”

“You are incorrigible.” Casey was laughing so much that she didn’t realize the truck had stopped.

Jack and Gizzy had turned around and were staring at them.

“I hate to interrupt your rom-com banter,” Jack said, “but we have reached our destination. Last one out has to carry the metal cooler.” He and Gizzy got out of the truck.

Casey looked across Tate at the door, but he didn’t open it.

“I’m serious,” he said. “If you have any aftermath from today, let me know. If it’s in the middle of the night, I’ll come. I’ve had my share of trauma in my life and I know how to handle it. And I’ll keep my hands to myself. Okay?”

“Yes.” She gazed into his eyes. “I think I’m all right. If there hadn’t been a happy ending I would be a mess, but I feel good about it all.”

“If you wake up screaming from a nightmare that I dropped you, call me. Give me your cell.”

She handed him her phone, he typed in his number, then he opened the door and helped her out.