"I'm your tenant," Kyle said.

Sandy swallowed a groan. It didn't matter, she told herself. It couldn't matter. "You live there with your wife?" she asked, daring to have one last flash of hope.

"Nope." His grin broadened. "I'm not married."

She noticed something in his eyes as he held her gaze a second longer than was comfortable. A brief flicker of interest. Sandy folded her arms over her chest. Even as her heart continued to flutter in her chest, and her palms grew damp, she firmly squashed any romantic thoughts her foolish hormones might want to generate.

Kyle wasn't interested in her. She was sensible enough to know the truth about herself. She didn't need to wear a paper bag over her head, but she'd never once stopped traffic. She was okay-looking, nothing more. Kyle was gorgeous. The kind of man who made a woman forget how to breathe. His not-so-subtle come-on was simply reflex. Not interest. She wasn't his type. More important, he wasn't hers.

She nodded at him, then smiled impersonally. "It was very nice of you to welcome me back to Glenwood, but I don't want to keep you from whatever you have planned." She waved toward the motorcycle. "I'm sure we'll run into each other from time to time."

He didn't take the hint. Instead, he moved closer. "When the real estate agent told me you'd be arriving today, I made sure I was available. I figured you'd need some help getting the old place ready."

"I have everything under control. The furniture doesn't arrive for several days. Between now and then, the children and I will be able to clean the house. I've made a list." She nodded toward the front seat where she'd left her clipboard.