Her gaze narrowed as she pulled her hand free of his. "Why?"

"In case we run into something creepy or slimy-or yucky."

"All right." She stepped back to allow him to pass.

He led her through the empty dining room. The hardwood floors were dirty, but otherwise in great shape. He stopped and bent down. "These will clean up and look terrific," he said, brushing his fingers against the wood.

She stopped next to him. Close, but not too close. He grinned. If his instincts were correct, he made Sandy nervous. The thought pleased him.

"The realtor told me all the floors are in excellent condition," she said. "I've been reading up on refinishing, in case some of them need a little work."

"You can't do that yourself."

She planted her hands on her hips. "Because I'm a woman?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "Give me a break. I don't need a man in my life to make things work. I can do it all by myself, thank you very much."

He stood up slowly, moving closer as he did. "Not because you're a woman. Because there's probably a thousand square feet of hardwood flooring on the first floor alone. It would take you months if you did it yourself, and some of the materials you have to use can smell pretty nasty. You wouldn't want your children breathing in that stuff for so long, would you?"

She held his gaze, searching his face as if looking for deception. "That makes sense," she said grudgingly.

"And because you're a woman." He grinned, then held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just kidding, I promise."

A slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "You haven't changed at all."

"Not enough to matter," he agreed. "Come on, let's check out the house."

He led the way to the large bright kitchen. Big windows opened onto the side yard and driveway. The curtains looked as if they'd been lunch for a hungry swarm of moths, while an army of ants trooped across the white tile counters. Sandy checked out the pantry and utility porch behind the kitchen, and Kyle opened cupboard doors.