Somebody's Lover: The Jackson Brothers, Book 1

and the memory would steal her breath and start an ache in her heart that wouldn’t quit until she cried herself to sleep while Arthur watched TV in the living room.
    Taylor and Jace? Evelyn prayed it wasn’t so. He’d never be able to forget Taylor was his brother’s widow, and Taylor would always be seeing Lou in Jace’s face.
    And Arthur? Well, she couldn’t think about how Arthur would feel. Or what he’d do.

Chapter Three

    Monday morning Taylor had nipped down to the office after dropping the boys off at school. They’d be out for summer next week, and she’d do most of her work at home then. She did the accounts and payroll for Jackson and Sons Arborists. Evelyn acted as receptionist, accounts receivable clerk and general office person. The only adult family member not working in the business was Connie. Rina would be starting school in the fall, but until then, Connie had wanted to stay home. With a new baby on the way, well, she wouldn’t be starting work any time soon.
    Returning home, Taylor dropped last week’s receipts and payables in the bedroom she used as an at-home office, then went back to the kitchen to start another pot of coffee.
    After filling the carafe at the sink, she tightly twisted the faucet, but the drip didn’t stop. If it had started last week, she’d have asked Jace to take a look. After Saturday night, she couldn’t look him in the eye, let alone ask him for a favor. She could fix it herself. Lou was always showing her how to do things around the house. She’d let Jace take over Mr. Fix-it because it seemed to make him feel good. Same as it did when he took the boys for an outing. She knew he felt like he had to make up for Lou’s death. Though they’d never talked about it, guilt racked him for not being there that day. But they never would talk about it, the whole subject taboo in the family.
    Just then, his truck pulled into the driveway. Taylor’s hands started to tremble, and she almost dropped the carafe.
    What was he doing here?
    He slammed the truck door. A black T-shirt molded his chest, and his jeans hugged in all the right places. She’d felt exactly how right against her the other night. Lord, he looked good. Too good. He took her breath away. With a bag tucked under his arm, he flipped through his keys as he walked up the path to the front door. Sunlight gleamed off his hair.
    The key rattled in the lock, then the door opened. She’d given him his own set because he often came over to take care of a job when she wasn’t home. She hadn’t expected him today. In fact, she’d brought the paperwork home in order to avoid him if he dropped by the office.
    She smelled him first, a clean, recently showered scent. When on earth had she started noticing the way he smelled? Thinking like a woman in heat.
    Fishing in the bag as he entered the kitchen, he stopped . Then lifted his head. Taylor’s skin prickled. The room temperature rose. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.
    “I thought you’d be at work,” he said.
    “I’m working at home today. I thought you’d be out on that job with your dad.”
    “It didn’t need four of us.” He pulled a box out of the bag. “Connie told me yesterday that your faucet was leaking. I brought a new one.”
    “It’s probably only a washer. I don’t think it needs a whole new faucet set.”
    “I’ll return it if it doesn’t. Got some washers, too.”
    She was still standing at the sink, with the carafe resting on the counter. Her fingers hurt from holding the handle so tightly. “Well, thanks. I was making coffee, if you want some.”
    “Great. I’ll take a look while it’s brewing.”
    He hadn’t moved, maybe because she hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to get too close, probably thinking she might throw herself at him again. Lord, this was difficult.
    She finally managed to cross to the other counter, where she busied herself measuring out scoops and pouring water. In a few moments, the rich scent of fresh coffee filled the air. But she could still smell him, as if he filled her head like the bubbles in a glass of champagne. The bag rustled, the cupboard under the sink where she kept the small tool chest creaked open, then the box plopped on the linoleum. Metal chinked against metal as he sifted through the tools looking for what he needed.
    She chanced a quick glance. His gaze was on her, rising from the hem of her shorts to the sliver of bare skin between the waistband and her shirt. Her nipples