“Ma’am, I can’t find your house. Can you give me directions?”

He had a smooth, husky voice like a male phone sex operator. Lydia squeezed her thighs together and kept the plastic pressed to her ear so as not to miss a syllable. She’d been on the line for about two minutes and each second was sheer bliss.

The cable guy was giving her the hots.

“Um, sure. Where are you now?” She sounded like an idiot, all squeaky and silly.

“I’m right off Pulley Road near highway 97.” A sound, as if he was shifting in the truck’s seat echoed through the phone. “My directions must be wrong, because you surely aren’t here.”

Lydia giggled like a teenager, completely unlike her thirty-six year old self. “No, I’m at least five miles from there.” She proceeded to give him directions, amazed her brain functioned enough to remember what to say.

“Do you mind hanging on the line with me until I get there?” He chuckled. “It saves me having to dial the phone again.”

Lydia smiled at the empty room. “Of course I don’t mind. What’s your name?”

“I’m Elijah Cavanaugh, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Most folks call me Eli.”

Eli. Perfect. It fit his voice like a custom-made pair of boots.

Lydia’s tongue decided to run away and become stupid. “Eli, you have, ah, a really nice voice.”

A pause which lasted at least ten minutes, or it felt like ten minutes. What was she thinking? Some stranger at the end of the phone line was going to be flattered by her?

“Why thank you, Ms. Childers. That’s right kind of you.”

His sweet southern drawl and manners were refreshing to a woman used to urban life. Rural North Carolina obviously offered more than strawberry fields and horse farms if the cable guy was any indication. He hadn’t dismissed her compliment off-hand either, perhaps…

“No, it’s not kind, it’s just the truth.” Her cheeks flushed hotly. “I don’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s all right.” He said “all” like it had an extra letter in it—ahll.

Lydia paced back and forth in front of the sliding glass doors, her bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. Her heart beat a steady tattoo as her mind conjured images of the mysterious cable guy.

“Where are you now?” She scrambled for something, anything to keep him on the phone.

“I’m turning down Brookstone Lane, over near the old red barn.” He sighed. “I remember when it wasn’t old and there wasn’t any new houses out here. No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry about that. I guess I screwed up the directions when I called in. It’s a brand new house and I’m from Raleigh. I haven’t been out here long enough to know my way around.” She took a breath to slow herself down.

“You don’t need to be sorry, ma’am. I’m sure you gave our office the right directions.” He cleared his throat. “I do believe I’ve found your neighborhood. Clearwater Springs?”

Lydia’s entire body clenched with excitement. He was almost there. She glanced down with horror and remembered that after her shower, she’d thrown on a holy pair of shorts and a stained T-shirt with no bra. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even brushed her teeth!

“Ah, yep, that’s me. Third road on the left, all the way in the back of the cul-de-sac. See you in a minute!” With a curse, she hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom, nearly skidding into the wall.

In the bathroom, Lydia made a face at her reflection with the blonde hair flying every-which-way. She could have at least used some gel. After brushing her teeth in record time, she threw the clip on the vanity and tried to do something with her hair.

Before she could even think about changing her clothes, the doorbell rang. Lydia looked at herself in the mirror.

“Be nice, even if he looks like Quasimodo. With a voice like that, it doesn’t matter if he does have a hump.”

With a nervous laugh, she ran out of the bathroom and down the hallway. The doorbell sounded again.

“I’m coming!”

Then she laughed again at her own stupid joke. Jesus, she was acting like an idiot. Lydia’s mind ran through all the images of Eli Cavanaugh in the seconds it took to open the door.

He wasn’t anything like she pictured. Not a damn thing.