“In that case…” David made a manly effort to pull his thoughts back from Erin to the game. “The stem of many plants is torose in nature.” He grinned. “That’s knobby to the uninformed.”

“Another new word learned for me—and another forty-four points earned for you.” Erin gave a magnified sigh. “I can see if I ever want to win a game with you, I’m going to have to start reading the dictionary in my spare time.” She jerked her gaze to his. “That was just a comment. I wasn’t implying anything.”

“I didn’t think you were.” David scanned her face. Tension had drawn the muscles taut. He smiled. “But it wouldn’t bother me if you were. I always grant a rematch. It’s only fair. I like to be a gracious winner.”

His teasing had the desired effect. Erin visibly relaxed and began to study the board. David studied her. What was it about the woman that undermined his determination to stay away from her? She wasn’t tall and blond, or sophisticated and classically beautiful like the women he usually dated. Quite the opposite. She only came up to his chin. And right now, her dark-red hair was held up on the top of her head with one of those puffy fabric things Brandee wouldn’t be caught dead in, and those little bits of hair that had popped free were driving him crazy!

David’s fingers twitched. He pulled his gaze away from the errant tresses and took inventory of the rest of Erin’s face. She had a sort of pert little nose. And great cheekbones. And her mouth… His went dry. It was dangerous to look at Erin’s mouth. She wore no lipstick and her lips looked so soft and inviting—

“—be forty-two, thank you very much!”

David snapped back to attention. “I’m sorry?”

Erin pointed at the board. “Squat—on a triple-word square. That will be forty-two points please.”

No extra long, fashionably painted nails. Just a nice, neat manicure. David picked up his pen and added her score. “That makes you twenty-seven points behind me.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Not exactly a commanding lead for me.”

“Not exactly.”

Her answering grin took him like a fist in the stomach—again. He wasn’t sure he was going to survive many more such blows, but he couldn’t think of a nicer way to expire. He also couldn’t concentrate. He glanced at his tiles, then looked at the board. A drop of rain fell on the z in blaze and spattered across the checkered surface. Another fell. Then another.

“Uh-oh!” Erin reached for the box.

“I’ve got it.” David jumped to his feet, scooped the tiles into the box then folded the board and slapped it on top. By the time he got the cover on, Erin had shoved the residue of their impromptu picnic into the paper bag.

Rain pelted down.

“Come on!” David darted around the table, grabbed Erin’s free hand and ran toward the gazebo at the end of the path. When they arrived, his admiration for her took another giant leap upward. Her hair was wet, her clothes soaked and she was laughing. Brandee would have been screaming bloody murder! Not that she would have been playing a word game in the park in the first place. He felt a tug and lowered his gaze to their joined hands. He didn’t want to, but he let go.

Erin turned and dropped the bag into the trash can beside the steps. “Well that’s a first!” She shook her head, laughing as droplets of water flew everywhere. “I’ve never had a board game called because of rain.”

“Nor I.” David got lost somewhere in Erin’s dark green eyes. “We have to have a rematch now. I don’t want my reputation sullied by a questionable win.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Anytime, Mr. Carlson. Anytime!”

David’s hand clenched so hard the box popped. He put it down on the wide railing before he destroyed it.

“Where’d everyone go?” Erin glanced around. “Are we the only ones who took refuge here?”

David nodded. “I guess everyone else must have seen the rain coming and left.”

“Smart people.” She raised her hands and wrapped them about her bare upper arms. “I guess we were too involved in our game to notice the clouds rolling in.”

“I guess.” David frowned. She was shivering. “You’re cold. I’m sorry I don’t have a jacket to offer you, perhaps this will help.” He moved forward, folded his arms around her clasped ones and pulled her back against him. The moisture from the back of her sleeveless sweater penetrated his shirt front, momentarily cooling the skin on his chest. He took a breath, inhaling the suggestion of citrus that clung to her hair. His heart started thudding in time with the rain drumming on the roof. His grip tightened.

Erin went rigid, then shot from his grip like a bullet from a gun. He stared at her in astonishment.

“I’m all right now.” She wrapped her arms around herself again and turned to look out at the park. “Do you like rain? I’ve always loved it. When I was young I used to beg my mother to let me go outside and walk around the yard just so I could listen to it beating on my umbrella. I still go for walks in the rain. And, I suppose it’s silly, but I love to sit in a car when rain is pattering on the roof. Or on my back porch, so I hear it on the roof.”

She was nervous! She was chattering like a magpie. At such an innocuous touch? David didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. He put the debate aside until later. “I didn’t enjoy rainstorms as a kid. They interfered with playing ball. But I did like riding my bike through the mud puddles afterward.”

“Really?” Erin turned toward him. “And what did your mother think of that?”

He shook his head and leaned his shoulder against one of the roof support posts, blocking from his mind the feel of her in his arms. “My mom died when I was four years old.”

“How awful. I’m sorry, David. I’m sure that was terribly hard for you.”

The warmth and compassion in Erin’s eyes and voice stirred his heart. He nodded. “Thanks. But it was a long time ago. It’ll be twenty-four years next month.”

“Do you have a stepmom?”

David straightened and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets, uncomfortable with talking about his personal life. “Yes. My father…does a lot of traveling.” For God. Old anger snaked its way through him. “He met a woman overseas and remarried a few years later.”

“So you moved a lot as a child?”

She sounded less nervous. David shook his head and skirted around the fact that his father and the new wife hadn’t wanted him, because he would take time from their work for the Lord. “No. I lived with my grandmother and grandfather.” He pulled up a smile. “Grandpa was a terrific gardener, and Grandma baked the best cookies in ten counties. As a matter of fact, you can blame Grandpa for those words I used in the game. I wanted to be like him, so I took up botany in college.”

“Botany?” Those gorgeous eyes of hers widened in surprise. “How did you get from there to journalism?”

He shrugged. “One of my professors took me aside one day and told me I had an innate writing talent. He suggested I develop it and pursue fame and fortune as a journalist or writer. That sounded good to me, so I switched my major, and the rest, as they say, is history.” He smiled. “Except in my case, history is still in the making.”

“Now that’s the sort of a teacher every child should have. Not the kind who only put in their time and totally ignore the needs of their students! Not the kind who—” Erin clamped her lips together and walked to the railing.

She was shivering again. David stayed rooted in place. He wasn’t about to make the mistake of touching her again—no matter how innocent and altruistic his motives. “Sounds like you’ve had a bad experience with a teacher, Erin. Is that why you’re so passionate about the literacy center?”

“Yes. It is.”

He waited but she didn’t expand on her answer. She just stood there with her back toward him, staring out at the rain. Some emotion he felt but couldn’t identify emanated from her. Pain? Anger? Whatever it was, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but that avenue was closed to him. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, Erin. But if that experience is what motivated your passion for helping your students at the center, at least some good has come out of it.”