The Parent Trap. Lissa Manley
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butterflies that had taken up residence in her tummy. It had been a long time—forever, actually—since a man other than her father had come to dinner.
She was being ridiculous worrying, though. She had no reason to be nervous. This was dinner with her daughter’s best friend and her dad, nothing more.
Jill had agreed to the dinner because it was important that she become acquainted with the people her daughter spent time with. Maybe it was overprotective, but besides her dad, Zoe was Jill’s only family, the single most important person in her life. She’d protect her no matter what, even if it meant agreeing to invite to dinner a man she’d never met. They’d enjoy a nice meal, and that would be that.
Besides, Kristy’s dad—what had Zoe said his name was?—might be a short, middle-aged balding guy with bad breath and a paunch. Suited her just fine.
Putting on a smile, she opened the door to greet Kristy and her dad, vaguely noticing that Zoe had jumped forward to pull Kristy into the house.
Jill momentarily lost the ability to speak when she saw the tall, well-built, attractive man standing next to Kristy, the setting sun at his back.
Not balding. Not short. No paunch in sight. Early thirties, if her guess was right. And while she couldn’t possibly tell from this distance, she was pretty sure a guy who looked as good as Kristy’s dad did—all brown, wavy hair, dark, seductive eyes and broad shoulders—wouldn’t have bad breath.
Okey-dokey. So he was her fantasy man come true in the looks department, and she’d always been a sucker for a handsome guy. Didn’t matter.
She couldn’t let it.
A bottle of red wine in one hand, Brandon Clark stared at the tall, breathtakingly pretty blonde in the doorway, waiting for her to speak. She stared back, her blue eyes wide and unblinking in the light of the setting, early-autumn sun.
“You must be Zoe’s mom.” He extended his free hand, initiating the introductions, since she wasn’t saying anything. “I’m Brandon Clark.”
The woman—Jill, if he remembered correctly—blinked rapidly several times, her smooth, creamy complexion coloring the tiniest bit.
Brandon drew his eyebrows together. Why was she acting so surprised? He resisted the urge to check if he had something disgusting stuck to his face.
Before he could confirm or deny that fear, she smoothed her cream-colored sweater down and spoke. “Uh…yes, yes, of course. I’m Jill Lindstrom, Zoe’s mother.” She took his proffered hand in her much smaller, smoother one, sending tiny streaks of warmth up his arm, taking him off guard. When was the last time that had happened?
“Please, come in,” she said, quickly pulling her hand from his and gesturing him into the house. She turned to Kristy, standing with Zoe in the foyer.
Both girls were looking back and forth between him and Jill, expectant looks on their faces. Oh, man…
“Hey, Kristy,” Jill said, waving. “Glad you two could make it.”
Kristy smiled eagerly. “Hi, Mrs. Lindstrom.” She looked at Zoe and let out a silly laugh, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
Brandon raised one brow. Kristy definitely looked as if she had a big, juicy secret. The suspicions he’d had about Kristy and Zoe’s motives for this dinner flared again, setting him on a slight edge. Even though Kristy had sworn she and Zoe just wanted him to meet Jill for no particular reason at all, he smelled a major setup. Especially now that he’d seen her.
He tried not to let that unfortunate information bother him, even though anything remotely romantic coming of tonight’s dinner was impossible. No way was he going to start down a road that might set him up to lose someone he loved again. Not after Sandy had been taken away from him in such a lingering, heart-ripping way. Not even a gorgeous, family sort of woman like Jill could sway him from that vow.
Zoe gestured in the direction of a small hallway to the rear of the entryway. “You two go on into the kitchen and talk,” Zoe said as if she were an adult talking to kids instead of vice versa. “We’ll be upstairs.” She and Kristy took off up the stairs, giggling the whole way.
Brandon watched them go, shaking his head. “I think we have a couple of matchmakers on our hands,” he said to Jill, following her down the hallway. The smell of either lasagna or spaghetti and what he pegged as garlic bread filled the air, making his mouth water.
And yearn for what he used to have. Dinners in a warm kitchen with a woman he loved. Cleaning up together afterward. Cuddling on the couch later and watching TV. Heading upstairs to bed…
Jill turned around when she hit the quaint kitchen, which had oak cabinets and blue-and-white checked curtains. She spread her glossy-looking lips into a big smile. “You figured that out, too?”
He nodded, shoving thoughts of another time, another life far away where they wouldn’t bother him quite so much. “Hope you like red.” He handed Jill the wine, relieved that it didn’t seem as if she was in on the whole matchmaking scheme.
“Love it, and it will go perfectly with the lasagna.” She set the wine on the counter, then moved to the cupboard. “Good choice.”
“But not exactly lucky,” he said, noting how Jill’s wavy, shoulder-length hair color was an unusual combination of honey-gold and wheat-colored blond he really liked. Was it as soft as it looked? “Kristy has been talking of nothing but this dinner for days. I was constantly updated about the menu possibilities, so red wine was a no-brainer.”
“Ah, I see. I’ll just get a couple of wineglasses out, along with the garlic bread in the oven, and then we can eat.” She gestured to a wooden stool at a small eating bar on the other side of the Formica counter. “Have a seat for a minute.”
Brandon sat, propping his forearms on the edge of the counter. “So you suspected the girls’ motives, too?”
“It didn’t take too much to figure it out,” Jill said, setting two wineglasses on the counter. She then moved to the oven, picking up an oven mitt along the way. “Zoe was pretty obvious and very persistent.” Bending, she opened the oven and checked the foil-covered loaf of garlic bread.
Brandon rubbed his jaw, doing his best not to stare at the nice view of Jill’s rear end, but failing. Man, she looked good in those jeans. “Hmm. Must have been planned down to a T. Kristy told me what to wear and asked me if I’d brushed my teeth before we left.” He let out a rueful laugh, impressed by the girls’ planning. “I’m sure she would have hit me with some aftershave if she’d thought of it.”
Jill straightened, the bread in her hand. “I agree they’ve manipulated us into this evening for their own ridiculous purposes.” She looked at him, a hint of regret shining in her pretty eyes. “I hope you don’t mind too much.”
He shook his head. “Nope. I agreed to this because I wanted to spend more time with Kristy and because Zoe is the only friend Kristy has made since we moved to Elm Corners two months ago. I’m not about to squash her enthusiasm for their friendship.”
He didn’t add that he was ecstatic that Kristy seemed to be happy for the first time in forever. He prayed she settled into small-town life and that their relationship would grow stronger now that he’d ditched his job as a corporate attorney with killer hours in favor of opening a restaurant so he could spend more time with Kristy. Being a restaurateur was in his blood; he’d grown up in the business in Seattle, watching his father run two successful fine dining establishments with his brother.
Brandon loved his daughter more than life itself, and was determined to raise her right, despite having to do it alone. Even though he would still be working a lot of hours, especially until he hired a manager, Kristy could spend time with him at the restaurant after school. He was his own boss now, a blessing he planned to take advantage of to build a closer relationship with his daughter.
“Well, Zoe seems fond of Kristy, too,” Jill said, putting the bread on a cutting board. “It’s